Perhaps they’ll like it

In the process of grumbling about Air Google’s new digs, Warren Meyer notes:

By the way, if anyone read the fabulous book Barbarians and the Gate, they** will remember RJR Nabisco’s construction of a corporate aircraft palace in Atlanta marked the beginning of the end of that company’s fiscal extravagance.

Which, shortly thereafter, became the beginning of the end of that company, period.

But what I wanted to talk about was the footnote connected to “they”:

I know this is grammatically incorrect, but I am exhausted with English’s lack of a third person singular gender-neutral pronoun and hate saying “he or she.” English is a language built bottom up from actual usage, so lacking any better idea, I support “they” as the solution.

It’s a legitimate gripe, and “he or she” does sound somewhat clumsy. Still, I’ve used it fairly often, on those occasions when I haven’t decided simply to reword the whole sentence just to get out of using that particular construction. (And once in a while I’ll use “she” as the default, partly because of some vague concept of “fairness” and partly because I write stories in a fantasy universe with a preponderance of female characters.)

“They,” I suspect, can migrate from plural to singular; “you” did it, largely supplanting “thou” along the way. And what will we miss if — when — it does? Not much, really.

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Before she got her signature bangs

You guys at the Oklahoman are officially forgiven for this.

Addendum: Zooey Deschanel has in fact seen that.

Further addendum: The captioning service has apologized to ZD.

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She don’t use proofreaders

Flaming Lips typoDo you realize — that this howler actually appeared in the Oklahoman’s “Weekend” section today?

Then again, maybe it’s no big deal. I started typing FALMING into the Google search box, and before I finished the word they’d already suggested the correct name of the band. At the top of the suggestions, no less.

On the other hand, it took me three tries to come up with a working link to the online version of the album review. (This seems to work for now.) I hate to say that this is a common occurrence for the paper, but I’m not the only one who’s noticed this sort of thing.

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Dues having been paid

He won’t mind so much if you call him Sir, because he’s earned it:

I haven’t been worn out or defeated, and I’m not pretending that I’m going to take over the … whatever or save the planet. But I’m someone you can look up to if you are young, and I’m not going to pretend that life hasn’t taught me some serious lessons. I’ve got the deadpan humor to prove it. I know what to say when people die. I know how to react when shit hits the fan. I know when I need help and I know when I can be helpful. I know my dependents and my dependencies.

It never gets old. Facing life never ceases to be scary. I may be getting to that point at which I become like the old soldier who hasn’t died yet. Like the gambler who makes a killing cheating, gets caught and knows how to shut up and give the money back. I understand the role of chance, and I know not to ever depend on it but capture it when it comes.

Actually, I can say at least some of these things of myself, but I definitely don’t aspire to being called Sir.

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By way of introduction

In case you’ve just arrived from, thank you for coming, and please be advised that Ms Gibson went to an awful lot of trouble to make me look more interesting than I actually am.

For the statistically-minded: there are over 21,000 pages here, somewhere on the far side of five million words. No one person has read it all. I’m not even sure I have read it all.

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Quote of the week

The Bayou Renaissance Man has traced the current political and cultural bifurcation, and this is what he finds:

I submit that the problem boils down to the distinction between two approaches to life, the universe and everything:

1. Everything that is not permitted, is forbidden

– OR –

2. Everything that is not forbidden, is permitted

Nanny Bloomberg is the absolute slave of #1.

It’s also worth noting that prohibiting something has never yet stopped it from happening. Forbid murder? It happens every day — once every 36 minutes in the USA, in fact, according to the FBI’s crime statistics for 2011 (the last full year for which they’re available at the time of writing). Forbid alcohol? Yeah … we all know how well that worked last time it was tried! Forbid drugs? Yeah, right. Forbid extramarital sex, even on the grounds that it’s a Divine command, not just a civil law? I was a pastor. I daresay that 99 out of every 100 couples I married were already sexually active — and between a quarter and a third of them were already pregnant! No, never in human history has forbidding something actually stopped or eradicated it. Not once.

Perhaps it’s time to put the NO POLAR BEARS ALLOWED sign back on the front door. (Obviously it works; I’ve never seen a polar bear on the porch.)

The only thing forbidding something has achieved, from a historical perspective, is to expand the authorities’ power to crack down on their subjects.

Then again, that’s all they want. “My way or the highway” — and you don’t even get to pick your own exit.

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For all you hot-headed believers

A couple of Fridays ago, I tossed up some live footage of Rebecca Black and Dave Days teaming up on a remake of Rihanna’s “Stay.” A formal studio version was promised, and it’s finally materialized:

It’s a bit more polished than the live take, unsurprisingly, and I admit to being impressed with this new serious-ish version of Days, who made his name as a parodist.

RB still refuses to take herself too seriously, as witness this goofy loop she put up on Vine.

And I can’t even begin to argue with this:

Although the reverse can be true: there are plenty of examples of songs I used to hate that I can stand now that they’re not being blared at me 24/7.

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Customer detention specialists

The economy being what it is, even here in this alleged Capitalist Paradise, former vendors would very much like to be present-day vendors again. I’m thinking, though, that after two and a half years, they should get the message that I’m not coming back to them, and I shouldn’t have to unleash a stream of old-fashioned Anglo-Saxon to convey that message.

Still, if they won’t take “You call me again and I’m going to cut off your head and crap down your throat” for an answer, what am I to do?

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Guys have this too

But let the record show that it was a woman who brought it to my attention:

I used McCall’s 6076, one of my new favorite patterns. It fits well without a lot of alteration — just my usual PGA. (Pizza Gut Adjustment)

I have a little less of that than I used to, though I’m still far from svelte, if not far from Papa John’s.

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Take that, aftermarket

For some reason I find this story strangely heartening:

Manufactured between 1936 and 1940, the BMW 328 ranked as a dream sports car in its days and remained a dream for most. With a total run of just 464 units, it was a rarity even during its production years. A substantial number is still around today. Most suffered from the unavailability of the original Hurth gearbox, which led to the use of synchro gearboxes from other manufacturers and the committing of a cardinal sin amongst collectors: A departure from the true original.

73 years after production of the 328 stopped, BMW Classic and supplier ZF Friedrichshafen AG laid up a small production run of 55 gearboxes. According to BMW Classic spokesman Stefan Behr, the units are not remanufactured, but new: “What’s special — apart from the technical complexity — is the fact that the parts are approved by FIVA and FIA. Cars with the unit may start in races sanctioned by these bodies,” Behr said.

Price of the gearbox is €19,748.33 including VAT, which is probably a few dollars more than what you’d pay for the 8-speed automatic in the current 328i.

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You should see his hovercraft

Then again, maybe you shouldn’t:

A porn addict who inserted a live eel up his backside after copying a kinky blue movie had to endure an all night emergency procedure by surgeons in southern China after finding he couldn’t get it out.

One member of the medical team proved a master of understatement:

“This was a particularly idiotic stunt and could have caused him a serious injury. Eels have small but very sharp teeth.”

For what it’s worth, under the rules of the governmental health-care system in China, this is not considered a pre-existing condition.

(Via Interested-Participant.)

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Ponied up

Last year at this time, I hadn’t even considered doing short fiction of any sort, let alone the stuff I actually ended up doing. And even if I had, I wouldn’t have expected this much traffic:

3000 views at Fimfiction

I mean, this doesn’t make me a household word, but apparently it’s now acceptable to mention me in the house.

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Not a single Buck was given

We knew beforehand that Kevin Durant would sit out this “meaningless” game; were Russell Westbrook not working on his Iron Man streak — 394 consecutive game appearances, way ahead of anyone else in the NBA — he’d be riding the pine too. It was Scott Brooks’ idea to let the kids play this one, and three of them posted career highs: Reggie Jackson 23, Perry Jones 14, and Jeremy Lamb 13. These were, however, the only Thundermen in double figures, as the Milwaukee Bucks took command late in the third quarter and spoiled the season finale at the ‘Peake, 95-89.

Not that we were getting all the senior Deer, either: rookie John Henson, usually a power forward, spent 44 minutes in the middle, racking up a game-high 28 points and 15 rebounds. Monta Ellis, who’d play 50 minutes if you’d let him, was on the floor for only 11. Even Marquis Daniels, who’d spent much of the latter half of the season in the doghouse, was set free.

If there’s anything to be learned from this, it’s that the kids need to work on the long ball. (OKC made only three out of 21 treys, two by Thabo Sefolosha during his seven-minute stint, and one by Derek Fisher.) And hey, Milwaukee was happy to get the win. As the phrase goes, worse things can happen, and the playoffs start this weekend. (MidFirst Bank already has the seven-story banner along I-44 west of the Broadway Distention.)

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Truth stumbled upon

Live TV coverage of just about everything these days is steaming, if you ask me.

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PSY. See?

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Please don’t go

How you gonna keep ’em down on the farm after they’ve seen Portlandia? This particular item comes from Long Island, but you can hear it in this town just as loudly:

Advocate: Let’s keep our young people from leaving! There’s a … brain drain!

Public: How do we stop it?

Developer: Build denser housing! Let’s make it … affordable! Walkable! Let’s make it … mixed-use sustainable smart growth … with a downtown, pedestrian-friendly feel.

Municipality: Development approved!

Seriously. You could sell the idea of an abattoir in Bricktown if you promise to make it “mixed-use.”

The inspiration for all this flapdoodle, apparently, turns out to be the Underpants Gnomes:

Phase 1: Create a cool city.
Phase 2: ?
Phase 3: Retain talent.

That will be $500,000.

Don’t get me wrong. I like busy street scenes and weird little shops and, yes, bike lanes. But the idea that the creation of busy street scenes and weird little shops and bike lanes will make Joe Average, Jr. shout “Huzzah! I don’t have to leave this crappy little burg after all!” is risible in the extreme, even if you trot out that half-million-dollar research study showing potential diminished crappiness.

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