Formerly just a girl

The Icelandic Naming Committee lists 1,853 permissible female names. “Blær” is not one of them. Blær sued:

Blær Bjarkardóttir, the 15-year-old girl who was suing Icelandic authorities to have her name officially approved (so far she has been known as “girl” in the National Registry), won her case at Reykjavík District Court this morning, reports.

“I am very happy … Finally, I’ll have the name ‘Blær’ in my passport,” she said of the court’s verdict.

Blær was also suing the state for ISK 500,000 ($3,950, €2,900) in damages but the court rejected the request.

The Committee insisted that “Blær” was a male name.

Blair Brown was not available for comment.

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The sum of all fierce

Anyone who thought the newly depleted Memphis Grizzlies — they have new players, but they’re not through the full trade routine yet, and Rudy Gay is gone — would roll over and die tonight (you know who you are) probably pointed to the second quarter, in which the Griz scored all of twelve points, and said “Told ya so.” You were wrong, offensive-rebound breath: Memphis made up half of their 24-point deficit in the third, and the Thunder defense had to stiffen markedly in the fourth to dispatch the Griz, 106-89.

Still, here’s the real eye-roller: Oklahoma City shot a sterling 55.6 percent (40 of 72), Memphis 34.7 percent (34-98). Twenty-six more shots! Then again, the Griz collected offensive rebounds like they were Pogs, snagging 21 of them. OKC had four, or not quite half as many as Zach Randolph. In fact, Z-Bo didn’t bag a bucket until the second half, but by then he’d already had a dozen rebounds, and he finished with 19. What’s more, Jerryd Bayless had a season-high 23 points, and both Mike Conley and Marc Gasol broke into double figures. Still, with only nine players available, Lionel Hollins had to husband minutes carefully, especially since the Griz have a game tomorrow night against the Wizards, whom we do not take lightly.

And here’s another one to revolve the pupils: Memphis had twelve steals and blocked two shots; OKC pulled off only five steals, but blocked ten shots. (Serge Ibaka, who wasn’t an offensive factor tonight, got six of those blocks, a season high.) Batman and Robin were active — Kevin Durant had 27 points, Russell Westbrook 21 — but fercryingoutloud, guys, watch the temper. This may be why quiet glue guy Nick Collison (12 points, seven boards) collected the game-high +24.

This homestand lasted one whole game: there’s a trip to Cleveland Saturday, and then back home to taunt the Mavs.

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Of tellers and telling

Jennifer’s advice for those of you in the drive-thru lane at the bank:

When I got off work today, we ran by the bank to make a deposit. It is unseasonably warm in our part of the world and so we had the windows down. We generally shut off the engine when sitting in the bank drive-thru since our little car is LOUD.

So there we were minding our own business. We’d already sent our little cylinder to the teller inside and were chatting about things. I happened to hear the man in the next lane speaking to the teller. He was sending his cylinder back because he wanted his cash “in hundreds.”

And that is not the sort of statement you’d want other people to hear:

What if that person in the next lane isn’t me? What if they hear you ask for that cash back/withdrawal in hundreds? How far will the bad guy follow you for at least $200?

A bad guy once kicked in my door for a meager $3.25, so “the ends of the earth” is probably close enough.

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Where have all the readers gone?

Bayou Renaissance Man contemplates the numbers from his various stats packages:

Sitemeter … shows a dramatic drop in visitors from about June, which finds some (but not exact) correlation in declining page views recorded by Blogger’s own Stats tool. However, it’s not reflected to anything like the same extent by Google Analytics, and certainly isn’t reflected in Google Feedburner. Why it’s so marked in this measurement, but not in others, I don’t know.

My own Site Meter curve looks somewhat like his, albeit not as tall: there’s a downward slope from January through September, a small pickup in October, a decline in November/December. January 2013 is running slightly ahead of January 2012. The summer, of course, almost always means less traffic, what with people on vacation and whatnot, and there were, you may remember, issues with Site Meter last summer. As for the rest of it:

That drop correlates almost exactly with a slight but steady increase in readership through my blog’s RSS feed … suggesting that what I lose here, I’m gaining there. I suspect that regular readers are migrating to my RSS feed.

And Site Meter can’t count the feed unless someone comes to read the article. (More precisely, I have not figured out a way to embed SM’s tracker in the feed.) Still, my traffic is almost exactly what it was in 2005: 800-900 a day, though today half of that comes from the feed, which I track with a WordPress plugin.

I do log any unusually busy days — 1250 visitors or more — separately. The busiest day ever was 12 May 2009, mostly due to this: 13,636 showed up. Another 2,479 appeared the next day. (Second best: 8,379.)

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Pooch screwed

Alpha dog threatened with demiseThis little fellow, perhaps a pit/American bulldog mix, was sent to the pound by his owner for reasons of imagined moral turpitude:

According to the prior owner, the dog was seen “hunched over” another male dog, therefore, in this owner’s mind, the dog must be gay.

The former owner apparently does not know that “hunched over, aka humping behavior” is typically a sign of dominance in dogs, rather than something to signify a dog’s sexual orientation.

At this writing, rescue operations were pending: otherwise, the pound will pull the plug at 1 pm.

Update, 1:30: Adoption accomplished.

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This story’s just six words long (part deux)

From a few years back:

Ernest Hemingway, it is said, once came up with a short story — a good one, yet — that ran all of six words: “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”

The key phrase there is “it is said.” The Quote Investigator tracks this one down, and finds it to have been misattributed:

In 1917 William R. Kane did write an article that was thematically linked to these short-short tales. The story title Kane suggested was “Little Shoes, Never Worn”.

In April 1921 the newspaper columnist Roy K. Moulton credited “Jerry” with pointing out that the advertisement “Baby carriage for sale, never used” embodied the plot of a story. It is possible that this recognition may have been facilitated by a familiarity with Kane’s earlier article.

Further references follow. Hemingway died in 1961, so this was old news before he was.

(Originally from this tweet by Hari Kunzru; sent my way by Bill Peschel.)

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The floggings will continue

Did you know there were International Academy of Web Television Awards? Neither did I. But here’s the fiendishly clever Felicia Day on their blue (not red) carpet:

Felicia Day at the IAWTV Awards

Day won the award for Best Writing (Non-Fiction) for the Web series The Flog, which looks like this:

Be still, my heart.

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There’s always second place

Which, in a two-player card game, is last:

There’s a card game called casino, where one of the objectives is to get the aces. There are four cards on the table, and each player has four cards in hand. My college girlfriend was playing me, and there’s an ace on the table. She went first, the ace remained, so I picked it up on my next turn. But I quickly discover she had an ace IN HER HAND, with which she could have picked up the ace on the board. “Why didn’t you pick up the ace?” “I wanted you to have it.” I was really ticked off; love was one thing, but one does NOT throw the game.

It’s too small a sample to be statistically valid, but I can tell you that the women I dated back in the day — we won’t discuss “back in the night” — were more than delighted to beat the crap out of me at card games, board games, (almost) whatever.

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Frock vs. frolic

Unlike a few young actresses you could probably name, Dakota Fanning would rather you thought of her as strait-laced:

“I don’t do enough adventurous things, because I’m like, ‘I might get hurt.’ But when we were doing Night Moves, Peter [Sarsgaard], Jesse [Eisenberg], and I went to these hot springs in Oregon, and I didn’t have a bathing suit. The woman who worked there said, ‘Oh, not a problem. Clothing’s optional after 8pm.’ And I was like, ‘Whoa. No, no, no! Not doing that. Here. With any of you!’”

And she didn’t, either.

(Via Nudiarist.)

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This is not your grandfather’s Night Mare

“It is my duty,” Princess Luna told Scootaloo, “to come into your dreams.”

Princess Luna and Scootaloo

And that applies even if you’re a guy who sells comic books:

[I]n this dream, I was at the shop, looking at the sales of My Little Pony #1, and how quickly it had sold out, and I was lamenting how I didn’t raise the orders when I had the chance, the stupid thing had multiple covers on it, didn’t I realize people were going to want to buy full sets of all the covers? Plus, the Bronies. THINK OF THE BRONIES.

I awoke from this horrible nightmare, immediately sitting straight up and gasping for breath, heart racing, just like people never do when waking from nightmares except in movies, but that dream brought my concerns about the My Little Pony orders to the forefront of my thoughts. Yeah, there are multiple covers, and this is just the thing where the fans would buy one of each cover, and besides, this pony thing’s huge, it may be worth the risk to order crazy numbers on this thing. And, after talking it over with folks at the shop, and putting out feelers for customer interest, when it came time to do the couple-o-weeks-prior-to-release adjustments, crazy numbers were placed, nearly quadrupling our original order.

As it turned out, MLP:FiM #1 turned out to be the largest-selling title in publisher IDW’s 23-year history. How much of our dreamy comic-book guy’s triple-digit order was left? “About a half-dozen copies,” he says.

Somepony in Canterlot — no manes names mentioned — ought to give Luna a raise.

(Roger sent me that story, for which I thank him.)

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Beginner’s cluck

At first, I was going to dismiss this as just another plaintive wail from a clueless newbie:

Yahoo! Answers screenshot: I just bought a domain name to make a website, but now I need to make my website. Is there any web host that I can transfer my domain to, and get a free site? I do not want to pay anymore than I did. I am looking for a site builder and I want to transfer the domain. Once again I need a free web host, that will transfer my domain.

But that was before I noticed the user name — “First Choice Computer Services,” indeed — which suggests, or wants to suggest, far more in the way of technical chops than is in evidence. I’ve heard of starting businesses on a shoestring, but most of those guys actually had shoes.

Alternatively, this may be “choice” in the cattle-business sense: one grade below prime.

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Focus on the product

The Belle-Sharmeer approach here is to show you the goods, the whole goods, and (almost) nothing but the goods:

Belle-Sharmeer hosiery ad

There were about a dozen ads in this series — this one appeared in 1954 — which promoted the availability of the product in four sizes. The largest size, for some reason, is called “Classic,” which at least has the advantage of not sounding particularly pejorative.

Wayne Knitting Mills, as suggested by the name, grew up in Fort Wayne, Indiana; the shots, however, were called by Munsingwear, which bought them out in 1923.

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You’ll feel better in the morning

Will Truman has the best one-liner of the week, even if it does exceed a single line by a hair:

People with low self-esteem rush to the defense of damaged brands. That might explain my continued — albeit waning — affiliation with the Republican Party.

I sympathize.

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The interminable Cute Factor

Conventional wisdom has it that men grow distinguished, while women merely grow older, and at least one contemporary doctrine contends that this is an inevitable consequence of patriarchal privilege; I tend to believe that we guys simply give less of a damn. But this may be changing:

I think the historical discrepancy between men and women’s level of concern for their own attractiveness may be shrinking. A woman with money and power and a life she enjoys may be interested in her appearance, but less so than if everything in her life depended on being attractive to men, particularly after a certain age. No highly experienced professional woman really gives much of a hoot whether she can look like Eva Longoria, any more than a successful man wastes much time wishing he were a young Brad Pitt. A powerful woman in public life just hopes her looks are respectable enough that we can change the subject and consider something else; Elizabeth Warren easily passes this test, while Hillary Clinton, unluckily for her, does not.

Of course, if actual physical appearance mattered all that much in politics, Sarah Palin would be starting her second term right about now, and she’d surely have a wardrobe consultant at taxpayer expense. I suspect that a substantial portion of the electorate — maybe half, maybe more — doesn’t care.

Update/Disclosure: After I first read the passage quoted above, my first thought was “Yeah, but look how much younger Warren is.” Eight, ten years? Two. Which proves, I suppose, that I can jump to conclusions at least as well as someone half my age.

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Just south of Twenty-Fecund

Odd little story in yesterday’s Oklahoman:

One particular two-story house in the 200 block of NW 17 has two sets of porch steps. They call it “The Twin House.”

Who calls it that? The last three families to live there. These families either moved into the house with twins, found out they were expecting twins while living there, or found out and had twins born while living at 209 NW 17.

Of course, what we’re all dying to know is this: How will that affect resale value? Quips a former resident (and father of twins): “I have buddies that won’t even drive down that block anymore.”

Addendum: Fishersville Mike recalls:

Reminds me of my family’s first house.
We had three boys.
In 1977, we sold to a family with three boys.
They sold to a family with two boys.
The wife said — no more kids.

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Feel the steak

This particular utterance by Francis W. Porretto seems unusually pertinent to me and to the fictional realm in which I’ve been working:

A sound story will illuminate one or more of the eternal verities. It’s an element as necessary as a cast of characters: the “steak” of the fictional product. But the entertainment value of the story will arise from how cleverly and imaginatively the writer casts the conflicts that envelop his protagonists: the “sizzle” that will draw the reader into the tale, and will cause him to seek out that writer’s works in the future. Though he would spurn a writer who failed to provide a goodly portion of “steak,” the intelligent reader becomes a fan of a particular writer almost entirely because of the “sizzle.”

And we who write are fully aware of it.

Over in the ponyverse, a subset of said sizzle is referred to, perhaps ungrammatically, as “feels”: the implication is that we respond robotically in the absence of same. Forty percent of the way through The way she used to be, I drew this reader comment:

Even at this stage in the proceedings, the feels are starting to flutter. Not full, tear-jerking feels, but I have a feeling that they’ll be getting there.

Even though due attention was paid to certain eternal verities — kindness is eventually rewarded, sex for the sake of sex is not necessarily a bargain, and broken hearts are at least somewhat mendable — I’d likely have lost this reader, and undoubtedly several others, were it not for regular tugs at the heartstrings. (No, not you, Lyra.) And this isn’t purely a function of the romance genre, either: Dead Pony Flying, which opens after the funeral of one of the Mane Six, seems like it ought to be immeasurably sad, yet the ending is downright triumphant, and sometimes I think I actually hear the smiles.

And the more I think about it, the happier I am about it. I’m sure, given proper instruction and a metric ton of reference materials, I could construct an intricate plot involving characters who’d rather be doing something else but are needed to impart a Great Moral Lesson — but who’d want to read it?

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