Cogito ergo vexo

Haunting images: Abandoned suitcases from a mental asylum

Fri, 14 Dec 2007 20:53:00 GMT

Clicky

This is an online exhibit about an insane asylum in NY, which was active from the 1800's till 1995, and housed over 50,000 during its lifetime. When the asylum was closed, some curators decided to search for historical items, and found over 400 suitcases forgotten in an attic. The suitcases had been brought by the asylum's inmates when they were committed, meaning some had been in that attic for nearly 80 years. Their contents revealed a lot of information about the mental health system in the early part of the century (most of these people were committed involuntarily for reasons that had nothing to do with mental health problems) and of the people themselves.

Very sad, and definitely worth exploration.

Thank you SA's Corridor

Tue, 17 Jul 2007 00:05:50 GMT

"Seriously, what the hell IS this? Who posts reams and reams of crap like this on the goddamn INTERNET?

Oh wait, that's right, practically everybody.

This would be more hilariously tragic if it weren't so common. Seems that everyone has to feel like the star of their own personal soap opera, with a real live audience hanging onto every boring and pointless event."

Shakespeare couldn't have put it better.

Edit: "She's like a tiramisu made out of various different flavours of madness." - Punslinger2000

Let this be a lesson to you.

Fri, 29 Jun 2007 14:30:24 GMT

Want info about my Weim & Boxer, re-homed around 04/05
Reply to: comm-362540791@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-06-28, 5:48PM CDT

My husband and I had a weimeraner and boxer that we gave to what we thought was a good home back in March of 2005. I recently found out that it wasn't a good home, and after contacting the man, he said he sold them. He couldn't give me info as to where they went, so I am posting in the chance that someone knows of where they may be. The weimeraner, Duncan, was a male born in 2000, so he's about 7 years old. The boxer was a flash brindle, without her ears cropped and was a runt. Her name was Millie and she was born in 2001, so she'd be about 6 years old. I just need to know that they are alright and doing well, so if you know of anyone who bought dogs that fit these descriptions, I'd very much appreciate any information. They were both very, very excitable and didn't like staying in the yard (if that helps :) . They would have been sold around 04-05 or somewhere around there. The man that sold them would have been from Cuba City, WI or southwest Wisconsin. These guys were my babies, and meant the world to me. I was just devastated to find out that what we thought we were doing for their good, ended up in them being split up and sold. I would really appreciate any information or leads! Thanks for any help you can offer!

Emphasis added. I never cease to be amazed by the depths of human stupidity. If they were really your babies why did you give them up over two years ago, and just now check on them?

Fri, 04 May 2007 18:06:01 GMT

Sorry for the interruption of service. Moving across country is harder than it looks. Regularly scheduled idiocy should resume shortly.

Despite the horror of the occasion, we did end up with one excellent quotivational moment this past week:

Scene: Breakdown lane of NB I-77, around MM 330.5, BFE, West Virginia
Time: 9pm-ish

The scene opens shortly after our protagonists' Penske truck has caused the explosive discorporation of an errant deer.

S: Do you hear a knocking sound from down there? Do you think the deer could still be alive under the truck?
D: No, the repair guy said he saw it a way back on the road, and it's definitely dead.
S: Maybe it's a zombie deer.
D: That would go well with the three-toothed repair guy looking like he's from Deliverance.
S: Great, zombie deer and psychopathic murdering repairmen. I shouldn't watch horror movies this late at night.
D: Maybe you should think about a Disney movie. Oh wait, I guess Bambi isn't a good suggestion right now, huh?

The first repair guy put the grill back on with duct tape. We lost the whole rest of the evening's drive time because Penske insisted we couldn't drive with only one light, and told us we had to pull over at the nearest hotel and wait for the second-tier repair team. The guys who could use actual tools I guess.

At least we made it up in one piece, and nobody died. Oh wait...

Wed, 31 Jan 2007 17:29:09 GMT

So last night I'm riding with several other people in the shuttle back to the car repair place. The driver is really talkative [read: lonely, pathetic] and insists on introducing us all to one another.

I mention that I do animal rescue and the lady next to me (high-powered executive type) gets SO amazed about it, asking me more and more questions. It was like a queen being just astonished at finding a peasant who wasn't dirty and illiterate, my word, dontcherknow. She asks how I finance it and I explain that we do have a few donors but mostly it's an expensive hobby. I use my usual line: "I don't play golf, I don't have cable TV, I pay for rabbit neuters for fun". Her jaw dropped and after a moment she got this look and she goes:

"Well that makes the rest of us seem pretty shallow, doesn't it?"

Like it was somehow a personal affront that I spend my money on a charity instead of pretty trinkets like her.

My response was, "Well, I'm nothing special, all of us have a calling, I was just lucky enough to find mine." Her reply: "Yes, but you actually DO something about it."

BIATCH.

This morning in the shower I thought of the PERFECT should-have-used comeback:

"Well, if you feel shallow, you can mitigate that by donating some money to a charity."

Ah well, can't win 'em all.

I enjoyed House last night. Poo-poo to all the naysayers. Having a character talked INTO an abortion as the morally right choice is a pretty freaking amazing thing to accomplish on network television.

Also, "Darwin says, let 'im die!" is my new favorite phrase.

NEWSFLASH

Wed, 24 Jan 2007 21:53:14 GMT

GUYFS GUYFS I'M A BIG OL' NERD.

I caught most of the PBS production of "Jane Eyre" the other night. Never having read Jane Eyre, and not realizing what how faithless-to-the-original the production was, my reaction was "oh hell, repressed victorian lust, that's HAWT" and I rushed out and bought a copy of the book. I was lucky and got a version with five critical essays appended. (How nerdical is that? I spent the morning reading a history of feminist literary critism FOR FUN.)

I enjoyed the novel but of course it was far less lusty and sensational than the dramitization had been. However one thing keept nagging me: I felt like I had read this story before.

Then I realized: I have read descriptions of House FF whose plots are almost IDENTICAL. Either someone was a' plagerizin', or there's no unique ideas left in the world.

So I decided to give it a whirl myself. Here's the imaginary text of some House fanfic, based on Charlotte Bronte:

Scene 1: Our protagonist, Mary Sue Jayne, is a very young nurse, walking from her brand-new place of employment, the Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, to a nearby Starbucks, at about 10am in the morning. She is musing on the fine winter morning when she has an Unexpected Meeting.

A rude noise broke on these fine ripplings and whisperings, at once
so far away and so clear: a positive grumble, rumble, a metallic
clatter, which effaced the soft wind-wanderings; as, in a picture,
the solid mass of a crag, or the rough boles of a great oak, drawn
in dark and strong on the foreground, efface the aerial distance of
azure hill, sunny horizon, and blended clouds where tint melts into
tint.

The din was on the road: a motorbike was coming; the windings of
the lane yet hid it, but it approached. I was just leaving the
steps up from the hospital grounds; yet, as the path was narrow,
I sat still to let it go by. In those days I was young, and
all sorts of fancies bright and dark
tenanted my mind: the memories of elementry school stories were there
amongst other rubbish; and when they recurred, maturing youth added
to them a vigour and vividness beyond what childhood could give. As
the bike approached, and as I watched for it to appear through the
dusk, I remembered certain of Bessie's tales, wherein figured a
North American gang called the "Hell's Angels," which, on their motorized
chargers, haunted solitary ways, and sometimes came
upon belated travellers, as this cyclist was now coming upon me.

The bike crested the hill,--bright orange, with evidence of dint and damage
all down one side, and on its back a rider. The man, evidently no pirate of the roads,
broke the spell at once. He passed, and I went on; a few feet, and I turned: a
sliding sound and an exclamation of "Fuck!"
and a clattering tumble, arrested my attention. Man and bike were
down; they had slipped on the sheet of ice which glazed the
road. I obeyed my instinct, and walked down to the traveller, by this
time struggling himself free of his bike. His efforts were so
vigorous, I thought he could not be much hurt; but I asked him the
question -

"Are you injured, sir?"

I think he was swearing, but am not certain; however, he was
pronouncing some formula which prevented him from replying to me
directly.

"Can I do anything?" I asked again.

"You must just stand on one side," he answered as he attempted to rise.
I did; whereupon began a heaving, icy, clattering process, accompanied
by a much cursing; but I would not be driven quite away till I saw the event.
This was finally fortunate; the rider was re-established. The traveller now,
stooping, felt his foot and leg, as if trying whether they were sound;
apparently something ailed them, for he halted to the steps whence I had
just risen, and sat down.

I was in the mood for being useful, or at least officious, I think,
for I now drew near him again.

"If you are hurt, and want help, sir, I can fetch some one either
from the hospital, or from the Starbucks."

"Thank you: I shall do: I have no broken bones,--only a sprain, and -- an old injury;"
and again he stood up and tried his foot, but the result extorted an
involuntary "Ugh!"

Now that he was stationary, I could see him plainly. His figure was enveloped in a
leather riding jacket, clasped against the chill; and I traced the general
points of unusual height and considerable breadth of chest. He had a dark face,
with stern features and unshaven mien; his stunningly blue eyes and gathered
eyebrows looked ireful and thwarted just now; he was past youth, but
had not reached middle-age; perhaps he might be fourty-five. I felt no fear of him,
and but little shyness. Had he been a handsome, heroic-looking
young gentleman, I should not have dared to stand thus questioning
him against his will, and offering my services unasked. I had
hardly ever seen a handsome youth; never in my life spoken to one.
I had a theoretical reverence and homage for beauty, elegance,
gallantry, fascination; but had I met those qualities incarnate in
masculine shape, I should have known instinctively that they neither
had nor could have sympathy with anything in me, and should have
shunned them as one would fire, lightning, or anything else that is
bright but antipathetic.

If even this stranger had smiled and been good-humoured to me when I
addressed him; if he had put off my offer of assistance gaily and
with thanks, I should have gone on my way and not felt any vocation
to renew inquiries: but the frown, the roughness of the traveller,
set me at my ease: I retained my station when he waved to me to go,
and announced -

"I cannot think of leaving you, sir, at so late an hour in the work-morning, in this
solitary lane, till I see you are fit to mount your bike."

He looked at me when I said this; he had hardly turned his eyes in
my direction before.

"I should think you ought to be at work yourself," said he, "if you
have a job in this neighbourhood: where do you come from?"

"From just below; and I am not at all afraid of being out late in the morning:
my employer himself has not arrived at work, so I will run over to Starbucks
for you with pleasure, if you wish it: they have a phone, and indeed, I am
going there to buy a coffee."

"You work just below--do you mean at that hospital?" pointing to Princeton Plainsboro.

"Yes, sir."

"In what department do you work?"

"Diagnostic Medicine."

"Do you know your head of department, Dr. House?"

"No, I have never seen him yet, this is only my third day, and I am installed in the nurse's station with Nurse Brenda."

"He is not at accustomed to come to work every day, then?"

"No."

"Can you tell me where he is?"

"I cannot."

"You are not a doctor an that department, of course. You are--" He
stopped, ran his eye over my dress, which, as usual, was quite
simple: my black merino cloak over my gaily colored scrubs; neither of
them half fine enough for a doctor. He seemed puzzled to
decide what I was; I helped him.

"I am the new nurse."

"Ah, the nurse!" he repeated; "deuce take me, if I had not
forgotten! The nurse!" and again my raiment underwent scrutiny.
In two minutes he rose from the steps: his face expressed pain when
he tried to move.

"I cannot commission you to fetch help," he said; "but you may help
me a little yourself, if you will be so kind."

"Yes, sir."

"Try to raise up my bike, on the underside you will find a walking stick:
you are strong enough?"

I should have been afraid to touch a wrecked and running motorcycle when alone, but when told
to do it, I was disposed to obey. I put down my purse on the stairs,
and went up to the prone bike; I endeavoured to lift it, but it was far too heavy,
and I could not raise it enough to free the walking stick which I saw entrapped beneath; I made effort on effort, though in vain: meantime, I was mortally afraid of its growling motor.
The traveller waited and watched for some time, and at last he laughed.

"I see," he said, "the mountain will never be brought to Mahomet, so
all you can do is to aid Mahomet to go to the mountain; I must beg
of you to come here."

I came. "Excuse me," he continued: "necessity compels me to make
you useful." He laid a heavy hand on my shoulder, and leaning on me
with some stress, limped to his bike. Having once caught the
handlebars, he raised it directly and sprang to his seat; grimacing
grimly as he made the effort, for it wrenched his sprain.

"Thank you; now make haste with your coffee, and return as fast as you can to your place of employ."

A touch of a booted heel made the bike first roar , and then bound away; and the dark stranger vanished,

"Like heath that, in the wilderness,
The wild wind whirls away."

I took up my purse and walked on. The incident had occurred and was
gone for me: it WAS an incident of no moment, no romance, no
interest in a sense; yet it marked with change one single hour of a
monotonous life. My help had been needed and claimed; I had given
it: I was pleased to have done something; trivial, transitory
though the deed was, it was yet an active thing, and I was weary of
an existence all passive. The new face, too, was like a new picture
introduced to the gallery of memory; and it was dissimilar to all
the others hanging there: firstly, because it was masculine; and,
secondly, because it was dark, strong, and stern. I had it still
before me when I entered Starbucks, and bought my coffee;
I saw it as I walked fast down-hill all the way home. When
I came to the steps, I stopped a minute, looked round and listened,
with an idea that a motorcycle's engine might roar on the causeway again,
and that a rider in a leather jacket might be again apparent:
I saw only the hedge and a pollard willow before me, rising up still and
straight to meet the winter sun; I
heard only the faintest waft of wind roaming fitful among the trees
round PPTH, a mile distant; and when I glanced down in the
direction of the murmur, my eye, traversing the hospital-front, caught a
reflection of light on the window of a UPS truck: it reminded me that I was late,
and I hurried on.

I did not like re-entering PPTH. To pass its threshold was to
return to stagnation; to cross the silent lobby, to ascend the
darksome staircase, to seek my own lonely little office among the nurses, and then to
meet tranquil Dr Cameron, bored Dr Chase, and dark Dr Foreman,
and spend the long winter day with
them, and them only, was to quell wholly the faint excitement wakened
by my walk,--to slip again over my faculties the viewless fetters of
an uniform and too still existence; of an existence whose very
privileges of security and ease I was becoming incapable of
appreciating. What good it would have done me at that time to have
been tossed in the storms of an uncertain struggling life, and to
have been taught by rough and bitter experience to long for the calm
amidst which I now repined! Yes, just as much good as it would do a
man tired of sitting still in a "too easy chair" to take a long
walk: and just as natural was the wish to stir, under my
circumstances, as it would be under his.

I lingered at the door; I lingered on the drive; I paced backwards
and forwards on the pavements outside the ER; the automatic glass doors were
closed; I could not see into the interior; and both my eyes and
spirit seemed drawn from the dark hospital--from the grey-hollow
filled with patientless days, as it appeared to me--to that sky
expanded before me,--a blue sea absolved from taint of cloud; the
sun ascending it in solemn march; her orb seeming to look up as she
left the hill-tops, from behind which she had come, far and farther
below her, and aspired to the zenith, so much more bright in its
fathomless depth and measureless distance than the darkness within.
Little things recall us to earth; the UPS truck beeped its horn;
that sufficed; I turned from sun and sky, opened a side-door, and went into the clinic, the rearbyways of which would allow me to pass to the elevator leading to the fourth floor and the nurse's station.

The clinic was dim, lit only by the high flourescent lights; a cold glow
suffused it. A ruddy shine issued from the great lobby,
whose glass doors admitted more sunlight than in here, revealing
crimson waiting chairs and institutional furniture, in a most pleasant
radiance. It revealed, too, a group near Dr Cuddy's office: I had
scarcely caught it, and scarcely become aware of a cheerful mingling
of voices, amongst which I seemed to distinguish the tones of Dr Chase,
when the door closed.

Oh a whim, I hastened to the Diagnostic Medicine conference room; there were windows there too, but no Dr Cameron. Instead, all alone, strewn across the table, I beheld a great black leather riding jacket, just like the one of the rider in the lane. It was so like it that I went forward and looked closer. At that moment, Nurse Brenda entered.

"What jacket is this?"

"That of the department head."

"Of whom?"

"Of Dr House--he is just arrived."

"Indeed! and is Dr Cameron with him?"

"Yes, and Dr Chase; they are in the clinic, and Dr Foreman is gone
for Dr Cuddy; for Dr House has had an accident; his bike slipped and
his ankle is sprained."

"Did the bike fall near the Starbucks?"

"Yes, coming down-hill; it slipped on some ice."

"Ah!"

Nurse Brenda departed, but shortly Dr Cameron entered, who repeated
the news; adding that Dr Cuddy was come, and was now with Dr House:
then she hurried out to give orders about a new patient Dr House had just
admitted, and I went back to my desk, wondering.

I could go on with other scenes but I think this is far enough to go for not that much LOLs. It just becomes more painfully obvious as I go on, that someone could post this on some FF site and some people would think it was such an excellent and OMG ironic anonymous meeting of Mary Sue and her employer/lover-to-be. Thanks to this site for the raw text.

Thu, 18 Jan 2007 20:35:35 GMT

It's been a busy month.

you may ask? (this is an actual candy bar I got for Christmas).

Yarly.

Just over 30 days ago I went up Wisconsin to interview for a position in Milwaukee. I got it. The time since then has been filled with panicky preparations for my move, the sale of both our houses, and the search for my replacement here at work.

While in Wisconsin I saw some neat stuff.

There was an old school building in Jefferson which had gargoyles all over it. I only snapped a couple but I plan to go back and document each one individually.

What a bizarre fucking thing to have staring at you while you're headed to class.

In the morning, there's a fog a few hundred yards out over Lake Michigan. The lake just seems to stop at a white wall.

A few hours later, the fog lifts and you can see for miles.

The Milwaukee airport has this bizarre sign. Pedestrians = milk in WI, I guess.

O'Hare in Chicago had a ginormous dinosaur displayed. The old bones made an odd contrast against the high tech of the bright lights and metal girders.

There was a family of morons that I got to sit next to for several hours. The leader was clearly identifiable by his unique markings.

Coming back home to NC, I was reminded of one of the good things about moving: No more of these. Click for big

Of course I also got some spectacular watertowers in WI:

Most NC watertowers are protected by fences, I guess to prevent the rednecks from ascending with their krylon and their declarations of love. In Wisconsin, I saw very few towers that had fences.

North Milwaukee, near my new job. 12/15/2006.

Same, detail of tank. 12/15/2006.

Decorated tank in Butler, WI. 12/15/2006.

This tank is very short and stubby for its size. Brookfield, WI. 12/15/2006.

See what I mean about being able to walk right up to them? Also, Wisconsin has some GREAT place names. Wauwatosa, WI. 12/15/2006.

Same as above, detail of tank. 12/15/2006.

Briggs & Stratton Factory tower. They make small engine parts. Wauwatosa, WI. 12/15/2006.

Same as above, detail of tank. 12/15/2006.

View of both of the above two towers. 12/15/2006.

"Penzey's Spices" factory tank. This was impossible to get to because it was so deep into the factory compound. 12/15/2006.

Same as above, from a good distance away, but showing a full view of the tank. 12/15/2006.

"Roundy's" is the group owning several local supermarket chains. That freaking pile of snow I was standing next to was about 8' high at the peak. 12/15/2006.

Alien-style tank. Wauwatosa, WI. 12/15/2006.

This next tank is my coup-de-gras among watertower collectors.

The sign. 12/16/2006.

The tower. Yes this is a freakin' water tower. When it was pointed out to me, I kept going "Where? Where?" because I couldn't process this as a tower. Milwaukee, WI. 2/16/2006.

Another view. 12/16/2006.

Yet another. 12/16/2006.

Detail of base. 12/16/2006.

Detail of tank. 12/16/2006.

View of the hospital. 12/16/2006.

Tank & hospital. 12/16/2006.

Detail of stonework on hospital. 12/16/2006.

More detail. 12/16/2006.

Another full-view of the hospital facade. 12/16/2006.

Lake Mills, WI. 12/16/2006.

Fitchburg, WI. 12/16/2006.

Two towers near Monona, WI. 12/16/2006.

Crappy view from the car of a tower on the outskirts of Milwaukee. 12/16/2006.

Ground-tank-style tower in Brookfield, WI. 12/16/2006.

Couple random humorous gifs from the last House promo:

OH YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

OH OH OH OH OH OH OH!

I <3 Cameron but duuuude wake uuuuuup.

And their affiliated icon-sized versions. Feel free to use as bases for yer own icons.

And finally, the month's backlog of COMICS!

My teacher friends love this one.

I have like 18 sets of Time Life Books. Curiously, "The Old West" is one I lack.

When people ask why I didn't send out cards this year, this is my reply:

Random psych joke.

Random Dilbert icon.

I love Hobbes' expression in this one.

This gives me an idea for a new journal layout.

My new favorite image macro. <3 Natalie!

I love these comics almost as much as I love dumb catchphrases.

I also adore elaborate set-ups for atrocious puns.

I laughed for DAYS over that one.

It all becomes clear, now.

Thu, 21 Dec 2006 18:24:00 GMT

I just found a really good analogy for how I feel about people. I may like certain individuals, I may crave interaction with them, but it's... it's like being allergic to peanuts. No matter how much I like them, no matter how much I crave them, I still swell up and die if I'm around them too long.

Another twist on the most common people rehome their animals.

I spent some time browsing the PVP archives the other day and rediscovered a few gems.

Funniest EVER.

I felt this way, once.

From 2001 when the "WAZZUP" commercials were all the rage.

These two are me and my partner.

No idea why this is so hysterical.

If it was psych majors she'd be reading Eysenck.

Two from Get Fuzzy. I love "Smack Arachnid". The first is just for exposition.

I went to Wisconsin this past weekend. Got a job and everything. I have about 20 watertowers to blog but they'll have to wait for later.

Wed, 20 Dec 2006 20:44:18 GMT

Wow, House was really ahead of the curve. This article about Erdheim–Chester reports the first known case of biliary (liver/bile duct) involvement in that disease:

"About 100 cases of ECD have been reported in the literature, until now none of them in the gastrointestinal tract, in the liver, or in the biliary system."

This is notwithstanding that House theoretically had a patient with ECD with liver involvement in 1993 and another in 2005, and Chase's estimate of "maybe 200 reported cases, ever".

For your nerdly consideration:

Biliary Manifestation of Erdheim–Chester Disease Mimicking Klatskin's Carcinoma

Felix Gundling, M.D. 1, Andreas Nerlich, M.D., Ph.D. 2, Wolf-Ulrich Heitland, M.D., Ph.D. 3, and Wolfgang Schepp, M.D., Ph.D. 1

Abstract:

Erdheim–Chester disease (ECD) is a rare non-Langerhans form of histiocytosis, characterized by infiltration of foamy, lipid-laden histiocytes often affecting the lower extremities and resulting in symmetrical osteosclerosis. Internal organs involved include the lung and the kidneys, reflecting progressive disseminated granulomatous infiltration. Progression may be fatal, especially in cases of systemic extraosseous involvement. Here, we report a patient with elevated serum levels of liver enzymes due to intra- and extrahepatic bile duct stenoses. The patient's past medical history was remarkable for ECD, since 1 yr before he had undergone surgery for a pituitary lesion in our neurosurgical department revealing the typical histological and immunohistochemical criteria of ECD. Because no biliary manifestation of ECD had been described so far in the literature, surgery of suspected bile duct carcinoma was performed unraveling an unresectable tumor of the hilar region. Surprisingly, histologic examination of intraoperative biopsy specimens failed to demonstrate malignancy but rather revealed another xanthogranulomatous lesion embedded in extended periductal fibrosis as is typically described in extrahepatic parenchymal organ manifestation of ECD. Other possible reasons for cholestatic liver disease were excluded. Secondary cholestasis was overcome by endoscopic dilatation and biliary stenting with stents being exchanged every 3 months. During follow-up for 7 yr we have observed only a slight increase of the hilar stenosis so far. This is the first report describing biliary manifestation of ECD. Even though ECD is a rare cause of cholestasis, it should be considered in patients with this disorder in the setting of multiorgan manifestation.

(Am J Gastroenterol 2006;101:1–3)

Wed, 13 Dec 2006 20:52:48 GMT

A few thoughts on last night's episode behind the cut.

I found 03x10 to be a very powerful episode. I think the acting was almost universally wonderful and I didn't have problems with in-your-face shipping or OOC behavior like 99% of TWOP posters seemed to have.

I'm not sure whether I'm reading too much into this, but I thought House's three visitors in this episode were supposed to be reminicent of Scrooge's three visitors. Instead of Christmases past, present and future; they represent the interactions between House and the people in his life, particularly with respect to the support they offer him. Cuddy represents past - although he clearly needs help, and she is trying to offer help, he rejects help, slamming the door on her face: just as with Stacy, who saved his life, and he shut her out. Cameron is present - House needs help even more now, and she barges in and gives him help despite his somewhat feeble protests. Right now, people in his life are trying to help him whether he wants it or not. And Wilson is the future - House is at rock bottom after his OD, clearly in need of yet unable to ask for help, and Wilson simply walks away. If House continues on this path, nobody will help him, even if he needs and wants it. I think he finally realizes this, and it is what motivates him to go to Tritter and offer to take the deal.

House himself drew the parallel between with the patient's mother ("You and I have found at that being normal sucks, because we're freaks. The advantage of being a freak is that it makes you stronger.") but I think the writers also drew a nice subtle parallel between House and the POTW herself. Both appear to be freaks on the surface but both of them can, with treatment, become somewhat more normal. The latter parallel refers not to House's genius and misanthropy but to his addiction.

House realized that his problem (and the POTW's) are not what they seem, when arguing with the child about the toy being a bear or a dog. House himself is guilty of a faulty syllogism. I take pain pills, I have a pain problem, therefore my pain pills are to combat my pain problem. But just as a collar and fur doesn't prevent the toy from being a bear, real pain doesn't prevent the need for pills from being a dangerous addiction. It was after this that he talks the mother into letting her daughter be normal - even if it's by lying - showing that he is finally accepting that sometimes, being normal is the right choice.

There was some discussion of whether House's OD was attempted suicide. Unlike many people I don't feel that it was suicide. It has been made clear that House is stupid when it comes to drugs, and I think he was just blinded by pain here. He took all the pills in a frenzy of need for pain relief, and simply wasn't able to think rationally that Oxy is a different drug and he would react differently to it than he does to vicodin. The suicide faction also argues that House's call to his parents was clearly a goodbye, but I think it was merely a device to show that Wilson's comment - "I thought you might prefer people over pills" was more insightful than House wanted to admit.

The scene between Cameron and Wilson is hard for me to grasp. I don't see that it served any real purpose to advance the story for either character, although perhaps I haven't watched it enough times. It looks like it's just to make Cameron be wrong about something, which is fine: I think it's fine for Cameron to be mad at Wilson - not because of what Wilson did, but because he won't admit that his motives aren't pure. I don't think she insists on pure motives, I think she insists on honesty. House himself doesn't care what you do or think, as long as you are honest about why you're doing it, and since they're driving her character to be like him, this is a logical stance for her to take as well. And as we see later, Cameron was wrong. Wilson's motives were pure; he would go to jail for House. A lot of characters got to be wrong about a lot of things in this episode and it's ok (to me) that Cameron was one of them. What I don't understand is why it was important to show her being wrong about this. And in what way did it advance the story for Wilson? He didn't need another person telling him he was wrong for what he did. I'd be very interested if anyone had any more insight into the purpose of this scene. There's a good possibility that it has a Biblical parallel but I'm just not up on my theology enough to spot it.

Finally just a note on the fandom. I'm continually amazed that instead of debating the deep, pertinant issues raised by this series; or being analytic about the underlying messages behind particular dramatic elements; people are wasting their time getting so mad about what the writers are or aren't doing with the characters. It's like getting mad because you want Spock to be a human and not a Vulcan. Sorry, but that's not the story we're watching today. If you want a choose-your-own adventure, reality TV is two channels over. Either enjoy the story for what it is, or GTFO.

And a few comics.

Originally published in 1941. Just wow.

Who is ever in the mood for customer service? Fortunately I have all kinds of ways to avoid helping people at my job.

Love the last two panels.

Fri, 08 Dec 2006 17:09:26 GMT

Just a few this week.

I only like this for the last panel.

This one I like because it reminds me of the subsequent image macro:

If you aren't familiar with this picture, it's not doctored in any way apart from the caption and framing. It's of a family belonging to a religious movement called Quiverfull. They believe that it's a woman's duty to give birth to as many kids as possible, to populate the earth with an Army of God. Their day is organized down to the minute, with hourly prayer meetings, and as soon as a daughter is old enough to change a diaper she is given a list of chores and younger children to be responsible for. The 13 year old is responsible for cooking for the entire family, IIRC.

Being forced to live that woman's life is my idea of Hell.

So I've noticed two incredibly odd phenomena at work:

First, people whom I have no familiarity with will greet me on the elevator. Not just a mumbled "hihowarya" but they make comments about my animals or ask about my impending move. These are not even people in my division, just people who happen to be on the same floor. I would never have guessed that I'm that recognizable. Why do they know about my life? Do I have some sort of cult following?

Secondly, how can anybody on earth not know how to use voicemail at this point? I transfer someone to another line; they call back 2 minutes later and the following conversation ensues:

"I got a recording."
Well, that means the person you are trying to reach is away from their desk.
"Should I leave a message?"
Well, yes, if you want a reply, that would be a key step towards getting it. I transfer them again, they call back AGAIN 2 minutes later.
"I left a message, will she get it?"
No, I just like to have your voice on tape telling us about your bowel problems. Sometimes I touch myself when I listen to it.

Speaking of which I got this email a few weeks ago. It got stuck in my spam filter, thank god.

First, I'm not a doctor. Second, DAMN.

Finally, I got another watertower this past weekend.

This tower is at the Charlotte Knights's Castle, just inside the SC line south of Charlotte. This is where the baseball team practices. This artsy view was taken from a moving car.
12/2/2006

Same as above, still view. Not nearly as nice thanks to the giant billboards. 12/2/2006

That may very well be my last NC watertower, as I don't plan on travelling anywhere new between now and moving to Wisconsin.

Mon, 04 Dec 2006 16:46:19 GMT

"A person is smart. People are dumb, panicky, dangerous animals and you know it." - Men In Black

My partner sent me a very interesting article. Text behind the cut.

Religion does untold damage to our politics. An atheist's lament.

By Sam Harris
Newsweek

Nov. 13, 2006 issue - Despite a full century of scientific insights attesting to the antiquity of life and the greater antiquity of the Earth, more than half the American population believes that the entire cosmos was created 6,000 years ago. This is, incidentally, about a thousand years after the Sumerians invented glue. Those with the power to elect presidents and congressmen—and many who themselves get elected—believe that dinosaurs lived two by two upon Noah's Ark, that light from distant galaxies was created en route to the Earth and that the first members of our species were fashioned out of dirt and divine breath, in a garden with a talking snake, by the hand of an invisible God.

This is embarrassing. But add to this comedy of false certainties the fact that 44 percent of Americans are confident that Jesus will return to Earth sometime in the next 50 years, and you will glimpse the terrible liability of this sort of thinking. Given the most common interpretation of Biblical prophecy, it is not an exaggeration to say that nearly half the American population is eagerly anticipating the end of the world. It should be clear that this faith-based nihilism provides its adherents with absolutely no incentive to build a sustainable civilization—economically, environmentally or geopolitically. Some of these people are lunatics, of course, but they are not the lunatic fringe. We are talking about the explicit views of Christian ministers who have congregations numbering in the tens of thousands. These are some of the most influential, politically connected and well-funded people in our society.

It is, of course, taboo to criticize a person's religious beliefs. The problem, however, is that much of what people believe in the name of religion is intrinsically divisive, unreasonable and incompatible with genuine morality. One of the worst things about religion is that it tends to separate questions of right and wrong from the living reality of human and animal suffering. Consequently, religious people will devote immense energy to so-called moral problems—such as gay marriage—where no real suffering is at issue, and they will happily contribute to the surplus of human misery if it serves their religious beliefs.

A case in point: embryonic-stem-cell research is one of the most promising developments in the last century of medicine. It could offer therapeutic breakthroughs for every human ailment (for the simple reason that stem cells can become any tissue in the human body), including diabetes, Parkinson's disease, severe burns, etc. In July, President George W. Bush used his first veto to deny federal funding to this research. He did this on the basis of his religious faith. Like millions of other Americans, President Bush believes that "human life starts at the moment of conception." Specifically, he believes that there is a soul in every 3-day-old human embryo, and the interests of one soul—the soul of a little girl with burns over 75 percent of her body, for instance—cannot trump the interests of another soul, even if that soul happens to live inside a petri dish. Here, as ever, religious dogmatism impedes genuine wisdom and compassion.

A 3-day-old human embryo is a collection of 150 cells called a blastocyst. There are, for the sake of comparison, more than 100,000 cells in the brain of a fly. The embryos that are destroyed in stem-cell research do not have brains, or even neurons. Consequently, there is no reason to believe they can suffer their destruction in any way at all. The truth is that President Bush's unjustified religious beliefs about the human soul are, at this very moment, prolonging the scarcely endurable misery of tens of millions of human beings.

Given our status as a superpower, our material wealth and the continuous advancements in our technology, it seems safe to say that the president of the United States has more power and responsibility than any person in history. It is worth noting, therefore, that we have elected a president who seems to imagine that whenever he closes his eyes in the Oval Office—wondering whether to go to war or not to go to war, for instance—his intuitions have been vetted by the Creator of the universe. Speaking to a small group of supporters in 1999, Bush reportedly said, "I believe God wants me to be president." Believing that God has delivered you unto the presidency really seems to entail the belief that you cannot make any catastrophic mistakes while in office. One question we might want to collectively ponder in the future: do we really want to hand the tiller of civilization to a person who thinks this way?

Mon, 27 Nov 2006 19:31:15 GMT

Kinda cute:

This is a brilliant idea which I predict we will be seeing very soon:

Get Fuzzy had a strip which didn't have much humor in the joke, but these two panels made a priceless icon-sized gif.

The final installment in the watertower series!

Pall Mall factory near Blacksburg, SC. 03/05/06.

Blacksburg, SC. 03/05/06.

The pride and joy of the watertower fan's collection: The Giant Ass, er Peach. Gaffney, SC. 03/05/06.

Same as above, wider view. 03/05/06.

Same as above, detail of the Peach's tail. Looks like an anal tag to me but maybe that's just my job getting to me. 03/05/06.

Nice older style tank. Liberty, NC. 05/13/06.

Same as above, detail of tank. 05/13/06.

Liberty's new watertower, not half as nice. 05/13/06.

New tower near Ramseur, NC. 05/13/06.

And their old tower. Again, nicer to look at than the newer design. 05/13/06.

Chatham County, NC, at the old Chatham Mills factory which is now an organic grocery store. Low-res picture. 07/02/06.

Powhatan factory in Johnson County, NC. Low res. 07/16/06.

Princeton, NC (NOT NJ). Low res. 07/16/06.

Cole Park Plaza tower in Chatham County, NC. I love this tower for no good reason. 08/12/06.

Random tower in north Raleigh, NC, off Creedmore Rd. 08/12/06.

My own personal tower: this was taken from my back door. I love the shading on the sky in this picture. Swepsonville, NC. 08/13/06.

Mooresville, NC. 09/23/06.

Marshall Steam Station near Mooresville, NC. This station is HUGE and worth a look apart from the tower, if you just happen to be driving in the ass end of the county with no reason to make a hasty escape. 09/23/06.

Mooresville, NC is Race City USA. All the more reason to leave. 09/23/06.

Here begins a little shift. My parter and I are going to be moving to Madison, Wisconsin, in the near future. We took a little trip up there a couple weeks ago, and here are the towers we saw.

Big-ass cow, with a gaily-painted tower. Deforest, WI. 11/04/06.

A tower whose name is fun to say. Oconomowoc, WI. 11/04/06.

Ground-tank style tower, Oregon, WI. 11/05/06.

Same as above, broader view. 11/05/06.

Oregon's main tower. Most towers we saw are this bulbous style. Oregon, WI. 11/05/06.

Oregon's older tower. Oregon, WI. 11/05/06.

Same as above, detail of tank. 11/05/06.

Same as above, detail of the building at the base of the tank. 11/05/06.

Same as above, close-up view. 11/05/06.

Verona, WI. 11/05/06.

Verona's second tower. The town is hardly big enough to rate two towers, but there you go. 11/05/06.

Speaking of Wisconsin, here are some other photos we took.

You ever been to Florida, and seen the signs all along the highway that say "ORANGES" and "CITRUS"? Well Wisconsin has a different specialty but just as much inclination to advertise.

And there are some things about Wisconsin I just can't explain.

My partner's new company has this sculpture in their parking lot.

The view from his new company. Reminds me of NC. I think we'll like it there.

...Or not. You see that plastic pole? All the hydrants have those. It's so the fireman can find the goddamn hydrant under the goddamn snow! This is the one thing that made me think, Fuck you, Wisconsin.

I guess we'll see how bad it can get in a month or so.

Mon, 20 Nov 2006 20:00:15 GMT

Today's comics:

Olive Oyl is CRUNK AS FUCK

Love the second panel here.

I love this strip for the visual subtlety - it took me a while to spot the silhouettes on the left. Also, a watertower sighting!

Speaking of watertowers:

Random small globe tower in Salisbury, NC. 12/31/2005.

Lovely pair of towers at an abandoned factory, near Salisbury, NC. 12/31/2005.

Same towers, showing the empty property. 12/31/2005.

Same towers, detail of tanks. 12/31/2005.

Interesting older tower, Waxhaw, NC. 12/31/2005.

These next two towers, I have no idea where I snapped them. Somewhere in NC. Probably the Durham area. 1/15/2006.

Second unknown. 1/15/2006.

Massive new-style tower, Concord, NC. 1/28/2006.

Stallings, NC. 2/12/2006.

Butner, NC. Why am I always listing to starboard when I snap these pics? 2/18/2006.

Oxford, NC. 2/18/2006.

Same as above, broader view to show a nearby statue. 2/18/2006.

Stovall, NC. Tiny tower on a firestation. 2/18/2006.

Same as above, detail of tank. Why the hell the markings for "empty" and "full" are apparently going in the wrong direction, I have no idea. 2/18/2006.

Bulbous tower near Clemmons, NC. This tower design interests me because it's less common in NC. 2/26/2006.

Drexel, NC. 2/26/2006.

Same as above, detail of tank. 2/26/2006.

Tank between Hildebran and Icard, NC. 2/26/2006.

Same as above, detail of tank. 2/26/2006.

The mountain towns are FULL of watertowers. Three just to the east of the one above. Icard, NC. 2/26/2006.

Closeup of two of the above. 2/26/2006.

Closeup of the third. 2/26/2006.

Same as above, from another angle. 2/26/2006.

Random one in the other direction, taken from the same spot. 2/26/2006.

If you look closely you can count all five of the above towers. 2/26/2006.

Amazingly gaudy tower. Mocksville, NC. 2/26/2006.

Same as above, detail of tank. 2/26/2006.

Old-style tower near a school in Morganton, NC. 2/26/2006.

Same as above, detail of tank. 2/26/2006.

Fat tower in Statesville, NC. These towers always remind me of one of the aliens from Duke Nukem. 2/26/2006.

I didn't write down the exact location of this older tower. It was directly behind a church, somewhere between Hickory and Morganton, NC. 2/26/2006.

Same as above, detail of tank. 2/26/2006.

Same as above, backlit view. 2/26/2006.

Another unknown tower somewhere in the mountains. 2/26/2006.

And another. 2/26/2006.

Another - I know this was about 5 miles west of Icard, NC but don't know the exact location. 2/26/2006.

Another - about 2 miles west of Icard, at a Drexel Heritage Factory. 2/26/2006.

OMG Watertowers!

Thu, 16 Nov 2006 17:35:15 GMT

So about a year ago, my partner's coworker's girlfriend mentioned that she has an unusual hobby: she takes photographs of watertowers. She knew that we drive around a lot in the course of our rescue work, and asked whether we would mind snapping photos of any interesting towers we came across.

Watertowers are interesting for several reasons. In the south, at least, many are labeled with the name of their township, so if you were in a low-flying plane you could pretty much navigate by towers alone. They range from decreipt metal boxes that look like they've been around since the turn of the century, to sleek bulbous things that rise from the trees like oversized fungi.

I also live right in the shadow of a watertower, and personally I feel that they are imposing structures. They have a scale that somehow makes them taller than they really are. You have this giant blob of metal perched high atop these tiny little legs. A building, well, you expect that to be really, really tall. But standing underneath a watertower you suddenly realize that a bunch of guys with rivet guns made something that keeps a million gallons of water 200 feet in the air and it's RIGHT ABOVE YOU.

Little did we know that photographing watertowers is a freaking ADDICTION. I don't know what it is about them, but from the first sighting we were hooked. I've driven hours out of my way for interesting towers and I'll whip off the highway at top speed if I see a new one. I now have 99 water tower pictures (not all unique) and am going to start regularly posting them on my blog. Each photo will be linked to a google map of the tower, for those interested in knowing the exact locations.

On the really, really off chance that anyone is interested in having these photos as prints, they will be available for purchase on my Cafe Press store.

I have two cameras, and the difference in quality between them is sadly very apparent. The lower-quality pics were taken with an Olympus Camedia D-390, and the higher-quality with a Sony Cybershot DSC-F707. Both are digital and I typically use the auto settings rather than the manual ones.

On with the towers! First batch of 32, taken between 11/10/2005 and 12/31/2005.

Our first tower (although actually there are two) - Hamlet, NC. 11/10/05.

A tower behind the historic West Village in Durham, NC. 11/23/05.

The Lucky Strike tower and smokestack, in Durham, NC. Durham was a big cigarette factory town. I need to get a better picture of this now that the area has been renovated. 11/23/05.

A tower atop the Liggett-Myers factory in Durham, NC. 11/23/05.

Tower off I-485 in East Charlotte, NC. 12/2/05.

Tower off I-485 in East Charlotte, NC. Taken from a moving car. 12/2/05.

Labeled towers are the best. Near Thomasville, NC. 12/2/05.

This would have been cool if not for all the damn wires. Near Lexington, NC. 12/2/05.

Another view of the above tower. 12/2/05.

Lovely tower in downtown High Point, NC. 12/2/05.

Blythewood, SC. No, the tower is not leaning, I was. I should have corrected this in Photoshop but I rather enjoy the effect. 12/2/05.

Benson, NC. Night shots rarely come out this well. The lighting is 50% due to my flash, 50% to the tower's spotlights. 12/10/05.

Dunn, NC may be the All-American city, but the tower was the nicest thing about it. What a butt pimple of a town. 12/10/05.

Pretty little tower north of Durham, NC. 12/10/05.

Same as above, broader view. It's an old school building. 12/10/05.

Johnston County, NC. 12/10/05.

Two backlit towers near Linden, NC. Dealing with backlighting is hard. Sometimes it makes a pretty effect, but when you're trying to capture the markings on a tower you're faced with the prospect of driving around to the other side which is such a pain in the ass. 12/10/05.

Raleigh, NC. Very small tower belonging to a racquet & swim club. 12/15/05.

Raleigh, NC. Nothing special. 12/15/05.

This tower is NOT in High Point, merely advertising a High Point Furniture Store near Newton's Grove, NC. 12/17/05.

Very pretty tower on the UNC-W campus in Wilmington, NC. 12/17/05.

Duplin County, NC. Off of I-40. I always seem to be driving by towers on rainy days. 12/19/05.

Raleigh, NC, off of I-540 at Six Forks Rd. Taken from a moving car (I was driving, no less). 12/19/05.

Weird tower off Six Forks Rd. in Raleigh, NC. 12/19/05.

The UNC Hospital watertower in Chapel Hill, NC. 12/20/05.

Same tower, broader view. 12/20/05.

Interesting brick column on this tower in Knightdale, NC. 12/24/05.

Painted tower off I-85 in north Charlotte, NC. Taken from a moving car, I need to go back and get one with more detail. 12/25/05.

Burlington, NC. Big textile/sock making town. 12/31/05.

Same tower, detail of tank. 12/31/05.

Graham, NC (duh). 12/31/05.

More tomorrow!

Wed, 15 Nov 2006 22:45:34 GMT

There's a housing development near me which is creepy as fuck, in a really children-of-the-corn sort of way.

They're all these lovely pastel colors and they are all identical.

"As the skipping rope hit the pavement, so did the ball. As the rope curved over the head of the jumping child, the child with the ball caught the ball. Down came the ropes. Down came the balls. Over and over again. Up. Down. All in rhythm. All identical. Like the houses. Like the paths. Like the flowers." (A Wrinkle In Time).

I don't know why but it really unnerves me. Kinda like finding a Borg cluster in your backyard. It doesn't help that it backs up the area's largest Walmart, either.

Excellent quote

Wed, 15 Nov 2006 20:07:17 GMT

I found this in my archived emails from January 2006:

"Think how utterly, evilly selfish it is to have a child. Think of it! 'Oh, honey, wouldn't a baby just be splendid? With its little hands, and its little feet and its little arms and legs and face and smile. Oh, we have to have one.' Great, and once it's done, here is another little human to have to grow and learn what a sick collection of animals it is into which he's been born; who has to learn the pointlessness of the asinine cycle of human life; the pain and unhappiness that accompany; the stupidity of the majority; the outrage of old age and death; the unfair circumstances of competition amongst organisms; the injustice of suffering, the absurdity of doctrines and ideologies; the cold blade of war; the inner demons of hunger, desire, self-loathing; who will be taught to hate and feel shame and fear and remorse, regret, guilt; who will one day suck from nonexistence another little conscious body to continue the hideous lineage of incessant dark-humor; and who will one day die, wrapped in a urine-stained, hospital-issued death-shroud, plugged into beeping, blipping machines, fed through dripping bags armed with needles and at the mercy of smart-ass little nurses, who know not yet that they, too, will be faced with this end. What more horrific and vile an act than that of having a child? There can be none. Torture is not worse, murder is not worse, nor rape or anything else, because it is birth that precludes them all. Were it not for birth, none of these other atrocities would have even a chance to be performed. It is the miracle of birth and life that drowns the light of the world, and it is that selfish abeyance of desire that is hung over the heads of all parents in the look of disgust on their disaffected teenager's face. How can one repay an infinite offence?"--Shane Smith

Source (thread now archived)

Tue, 14 Nov 2006 19:26:10 GMT

A blog highlighting brilliant graphical ads: http://www.adblogarabia.com

A few examples:

"The hypnotic power of WonderBra"

A joint ad campaign between Starbucks and Orbit Whitening Gum.

A clever, simple ad for a second-hand book store.

An ad for raising awareness of breast cancer through art.

Well worth a browse.

Mon, 13 Nov 2006 17:34:06 GMT

"if-you-dont-know-the-horse-girl-you-are-the-horse-girl"

Sadly, I am both of those people.

A few random comic strip icons. The fish is from a Rhymes with Orange splash panel.

Yesterday I read Terry Pratchett's new book, Wintersmith. Pratchett's descriptions of witches are spot on as descriptions of animal rescuers:

"It was all too easy to become a cackler. . . . 'Cackling,' to a witch, didn't just mean nasty laughter. It meant your mind drifting away from its anchor. It meant you losing your grip. It meant loneliness and hard work and responsibility and other people's problems driving you crazy a little bit at a time, each bit so small that you'd hardly notice it, until you thought that it was normal to stop washing and wear a kettle on your head. . . . That was a bad road. At the end of that road were poisoned spinning wheels and gingerbread cottages."

I sometimes wonder whether I'll know if I find myself on that road.

As usual it was a fully excellent book.

So it's not 'what did Chase do to deserve the punch' but 'what did House do to deserve the shove'?

Fri, 27 Oct 2006 17:31:55 GMT

I saw a wonderful PBS piece - "Independent Lens: The World According to Sesame Street" - about Sesame Street's efforts to produce programs in other countries. A few notable facts I didn't realize:

1. Sesame Street was created to give the urban poor some semblance of preschool education.
2. It was the first truly educational children's show and the first children's show not set in an idyllic rural or suburban environment.
3. They make every effort to not engage in cultural imperialism, to the point where they won't share characters who are recognizable american icons (Big Bird) in their live action segments. They create unique characters and settings for each country. In Bangladesh, for example, the "main" muppet character on "Shishimpur" is Halum, a Bangla-speaking vegetarian Bengal tiger.
4. The primary aim of expansion into other countries is the same as the aim of the original show: to educate underprivileged children in an attempt to give them a chance at a better life: "In an effort to reach children in remote areas, USAID-Bangladesh has partnered with Save the Children USA to produce and deploy a small fleet of flatbed cycle rickshaws that will carry a TV, a DVD player, and a generator to villages that are not serviced by power lines. A teacher will accompany the rickshaw once a week every week to watch Sismpur [sic] with village children, read the supplemental books afterward, and talk about letters and numbers." (Source)

I bawled for an hour and a half watching this show and am about to start sobbing again just writing this. How can anything so good and helpful exist in this terrible world? And all their efforts are just a drop in the fucking bucket.

Even when they do manage to achieve something good, someone somewhere will bitch about it: In South Africa, where something like one in five children has lost a parent to HIV/AIDS, they introduced an HIV-positive muppet named Kami, to try to educate 3 to 7 year old children about the realities of HIV/AIDS. Simple messages like "being friends with someone who has AIDS won't make you sick". The people at Sesame said they felt they would be doing a disservice to all the children in this situation, if they avoided the topic or glossed over it. And yet, when I heard about it (back in 2002 or so) all the US news said was "Dude, they're gonna show a homo muppet to teach about teh geys". In reality the character, supposedly a 5 year old girl, contracted the disease as a baby, from her mother, and was never intended for any other market other than South Africa. They showed footage of Pat Robertson bitching about this and even though it was four years ago I wanted hunt him down and bitch slap him.

One of the saddest parts was watching them attempt to create a show for Bosnia. They had both Serbs and Albanians in the production/concept staff, and the adults were so clearly uncomfortable with one another. The only point of agreement was that the show could not feature both the Serb and Albanian names on the sign. That would imply that the two cultures are united, and they still are not. The final solution was to produce two shows, one in each language. They would share about 40 minutes of dubbed stock footage (Bert & Ernie, counting cartoons) and have about 20 minutes of live-action, both Serb and Albanian, but dubbed separately into each language, in a small attempt to show children of each culture how similar they really are to one another. They showed the crew crossing armed borders into a Serb conclave so they could shoot a segment on a Serb girl baking bread with her grandmother. The shooting was interrupted by a wave of violence where people's homes were being burned.

Armed guards, baking bread with your grandma, and Sesame Street. Does. Not. Compute.

How much do you owe to Sesame Street? Do you still sing your numbers or letters in tune with how they taught you?

If so, go give some money to The Sesame Workshop. They're a non profit so it's tax deductable.

Now a few cartoons to lighten the mood. Lots of backlog from the past week. Some old, some new.

Natalie Dee and Married to the Sea

The Perry Bible Fellowship

Assorted:

Oh dear god I wish this would ever happen.

Mon, 16 Oct 2006 20:01:05 GMT

This is the most beautiful thing ever:

Also for no good reason (posted in SA):

Thu, 12 Oct 2006 14:58:40 GMT

O hell yeah.

While browsing the Get Fuzzy archives on comics.com, I realized the archives have been truncated to a year. I found The Get Fuzzy Archive" which fortunately has the complete archive. And I found an old, old strip which has a panel that is possibly the best icon fodder I've seen in months:

You got fullsize, 150x150, and 100x100 for all your iconing needs.

DO NOT GOOGLE

Wed, 11 Oct 2006 17:07:18 GMT

New tag: do not google. This will be an ongoing list of things NOT to google.

Google is a marvelous invention which allows us to truly realize the dream of unlimited instant access to information. However there's some information it's just better not to have.

Entries will be DNG or DNGIS depending on whether the evil specifically comes from a GIS (Google Image Search).

First entry:

mpreg. No, I wasn't trying to google mpeg, I saw the term in a forum and wanted a definition. Definitely some things you're better not knowing.

Once upon a time a GIS of "granny shoes" would bring up mostly pictures of cute little button boots and one DEAR GOD ONE OF THESE THINGS IS NOT LIKE THE OTHER. Oddly, that one is gone now.

Mon, 09 Oct 2006 16:10:31 GMT

Great quote from someone's DVD review site:

"A cynical idealist, he expects the worst in people, then is disappointed when he's proven right."

My god, so THAT'S what I've been feeling. I never understood why it still bothers me when people act exactly as I predict.

Also,

My subconscious rewarded me with a totally new episode of "House" last night. The hospital had burned down and everyone was trying to practice medicine in the rubble (it was never explained why they didn't just have the ambulances take people to the other local hospitals, nor why doctors would risk their lives clambering through burning rubble to find supplies when there were all these perfectly expendable nurses laying around). House decided to make some sort of power play aimed at establishing his own clinic, asking all the nurses and techs and several other doctors if they'd come work for him. And then just as they were getting ready to explain all this, the show was fucking interrupted for a special sneak preview of an animated modernization of Philip Pullman's "The Golden Compass," which, as interesting as I would find that, is NOT worth disrupting a House-in-progress.

I woke up hating my brain, since even in my sleep it allows Fox to screw me out of my stories.

Also, evolution at work:

RALEIGH - A 15-year-old driving a stolen truck was killed early Sunday after he lost control of the vehicle and crashed into a highway sign on the inner Beltline.

Raleigh police spokesman Jim Sughrue said Alfredo Medina was driving a stolen 2000 Ford pickup truck about 12:30 a.m. when the crash occurred near the Lake Boone Trail exit. It appears the truck had been stolen from a home on Overlook Road in northern Wake County over the weekend, Sughrue said.

Sughrue said Medina was apparently speeding when he lost control of the truck, crashed through a guard rail and struck the highway sign. He was killed by the impact.

AWESOME

Fri, 06 Oct 2006 17:06:47 GMT

Gifses and iconses from Marykir's cap of the S3E5/E6 commercial.

Slower, more frame-dense versions of the same can be found by removing the -2 from each name.

A friend said:

"You know something that bugs me about House? He always has exactly the same amount of stubble on his face. It only looks like a real day or two's worth of growth if it sometimes is clean-shaven, sometimes a little longer. They're working too hard at the not-working-at-all on appearance look."

I typed 6 paragraphs in response to this, then realized that nobody probably needs to know that I can carry on that much analysis of this topic.

Someone on the forum pointed out that it's been established that the character has lots of older things which were once cutting-edge technology (his ancient tv and alarm clock, for example), but he also has lots of new technology toys. She said, these two facts together show that he just always buys at the top of the tech curve and then just keeps using the same things till they break. So her answer to the stubble question was, he probably bought one of those Don Johnson shavers back in the 80's and has used it ever since.

But yeah, this bugs me too. I think it would be more in character if you could assume he shaved once a week - say, Sunday morning. So Mondays he just looks a little rough, by Friday he's furry. Laziness fits what we know about the character better than out-of-date trendiness. I suppose we could assume that every episode starts on a Monday...

However, it's actually NOT identical at all times. If you, um, spend as much time looking at pictures as I do, (shifty eyes) you notice that there's quite a bit of variation, mostly seeming unintentional, but often used as a visual indication of how crappy the character is feeling. Back in "Three Stories", in the flashbacks to before his surgery, he was clean shaven. In the last ep of last season, he had a much heavier beard, to show that he'd been unconscious for two days, and in the first ep of this season (when he was able to run) he was *almost* clean shaven, but the stubble got heavier as the pain returned. So there's the implication that this is partially the result of his pain issue.

There's also actually one ep where they fucked up, they shaved the stubble on his neck shorter than on his face. There's a very clear demarcation line along his jaw that isn't usually there.

And wow I just thought about that way too fucking much.