"What foods taste better as leftovers?"
Finding ourselves uninspired, we turned to Plinky for help, and this is what we founnd.
Sigh.
For those of you who don't know, the traditional Jewish yuletide feast consists of Chinese take-out. Nothing says Christmas like General Tso's chicken and won ton soup.
When we lived in New York, a short-lived but enjoyable Christmas tradition consisted of a movie and then a trip to our former boss's Christmas party. It never ceased to impress us how packed the movie theaters were on December 25. Yesterday, FOS indulged in the tradition by taking in "Avatar." We are sufficiently jealous.
We're not sure how easy it would be to replicate the tradition in northern California. Plenty of movie theaters, of course, but not quite so many Chinese take-out joints--and none in the New York City mold. You need to get the food just right: dripping in grease, served in leaky cardboard containers, inedible fortune cookies (OK, that's a redundancy). Out here, all the Chinese restaurants are basically. . . restaurants--sure you can GET take-out, but the quality level is slightly higher than one desires.
The closest thing we have to the New York style greasy wok is Panda Express--kind of the McDonald's of Chinese food. Their oily eggrolls do provide us with somewhat Proustian moments, but it's not quite Christmas of old.
Did we answer the question? No?
OK, macaroni and cheese.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Friday, December 25, 2009
And So This Is Christmas. . .
. . . and what have we done? Well, not much. We went over to the in-laws and had turkey and opened presents. The Solipsist got just what he wanted: an assortment of tube socks and a membership in the jerky-of-the-month club. In the spirit of the holiday, though, we would like to begin a new Christmas tradition by virtualizing an old one--at least, an old one in the Solipsist family.
Every year, DOS composes a Christmas "fable" and sends it out to a select--we hesitate to say "lucky"--few. Now, with the technology available to us, we share this year's fable with the world. Merry Christmas! And, we're sorry!
"A FABLE FOR THE TABLE OF EVERY TOM, DICK OR MABEL"
Fellman Fernquist had not left the house, except for brief walks around the block, in 30 years. It seems that 30 years ago, on October 19th at 7:00 pm to be exact, he had watched a commercial for "Sneezego," a new cold medicine. The commercial ended with the caution: "Until you know how Sneezego affects you, you should not drive or operate heavy machinery!" Since Fellman had never taken Sneezego, he did not know how Sneezego affects him. Moreover, since Sneezego was soon removed from the market (due to an unfortunate side effect that caused nostrils to fall off), Fellman could never know how Sneezego affected him. Thus, he could never drive or operate heavy machinery. Thus, he was confined to areas he could walk to unless he could get a ride from someone else. . . but only from someone who knew how Sneezego affected them! Since he knew no such persons, Fellman's life became a dismal series of days at home which lasted for, as noted above, 30 years. . . so far!
How, you might ask, did he survive? And well you might ask that!
Go ahead.
Ask!
I'm waiting. . . .
We're all waiting!
WELLLL?!?
Ah, that's better!
Funny you should ask.
As it turns out, Fellman survived, nay, thrived, by being an on-line gift consultant specializing in books, DVDs, CDs, etc.
How it worked was: A client would email the specifications of a potential giftee and Fellman would tell said client what the best gift for said giftee would be.
Obviously, the Christmas season was Fellman's busiest time of year. (See how we worked that in?)
That being the case, we herewith reprint the best of Fellman's suggestions so that you, dear reader, should you have a problem giftee similar to those below, will benefit as well. In the interests of saving both time, space, and typing, I will not copy the whole request; merely will I list the TYPE of giftee (or perhaps I will type a LIST of giftee) and Fellman's suggestion:
Ready?
We begin!
FOR THE PERSON WHO:
--Wants to read an epic biography of Herman Windt, the man who, while serving time in a southern prison, actually carved out of soap the pistol that John Dillinger used to make his escape from that very same prison, we offer the massive
Gun Wittler Windt
--Loves musicals about Jews kvetching, in the style of Dennis Miller, the DVD of
Rent
--Loves Shakespearean plays about people without Barbie dolls who slurp their food, a first edition of
Toyless and Crass Eaters
--Wants to learn how to take measurements of more than three pieces of dough to be used as sacrifices to a pagan deity, the book
Weighing Four God-Doughs
--Wants to learn about the tragic outcome of the test run of computerized communists that killed so many people
Beta Reds, Then Dead
--Wants to read the tell-all biography of Sebastian Nostril, who lived his life as nothing more than a huge nasal cavity
"No Body Nose": The Troubles I've Seen
--Likes children's literature about ape-like golfers and photos taken by people named Blo
Hairy Putters and the Half Blonde Prints
--Can't tell the difference between snakes and heavy machinery used to move Italian sandwiches around, the Barchart Quick Study Guide
Adders and Sub Tractors
--Wants tales of knights who earn their living amidst the early morning moisture, the CD soundtrack of
The Pro Dew Sirs
--The epic film about Yelmachin Turnblatt, the wealthy cockney with a speech impediment who wandered throughout the world giving away motor vehicles
'Ave a tar
--And, finally, the sad, but ultimately triumphant story of Hugh Montenegro, a boy who was severed in twain at an early age but finally learned that the people who work in funeral homes could help him,
Half Hugh Heard about the Morgue Hands
Any and all of these are available, not only to Fellman's clients, but to each and every one of you at Yellmungiplotz.com.
Order them now!
Merry Christmas and, because the hearing implements on a wildebeest are good luck, a happy gnu's ear!
Every year, DOS composes a Christmas "fable" and sends it out to a select--we hesitate to say "lucky"--few. Now, with the technology available to us, we share this year's fable with the world. Merry Christmas! And, we're sorry!
"A FABLE FOR THE TABLE OF EVERY TOM, DICK OR MABEL"
Fellman Fernquist had not left the house, except for brief walks around the block, in 30 years. It seems that 30 years ago, on October 19th at 7:00 pm to be exact, he had watched a commercial for "Sneezego," a new cold medicine. The commercial ended with the caution: "Until you know how Sneezego affects you, you should not drive or operate heavy machinery!" Since Fellman had never taken Sneezego, he did not know how Sneezego affects him. Moreover, since Sneezego was soon removed from the market (due to an unfortunate side effect that caused nostrils to fall off), Fellman could never know how Sneezego affected him. Thus, he could never drive or operate heavy machinery. Thus, he was confined to areas he could walk to unless he could get a ride from someone else. . . but only from someone who knew how Sneezego affected them! Since he knew no such persons, Fellman's life became a dismal series of days at home which lasted for, as noted above, 30 years. . . so far!
How, you might ask, did he survive? And well you might ask that!
Go ahead.
Ask!
I'm waiting. . . .
We're all waiting!
WELLLL?!?
Ah, that's better!
Funny you should ask.
As it turns out, Fellman survived, nay, thrived, by being an on-line gift consultant specializing in books, DVDs, CDs, etc.
How it worked was: A client would email the specifications of a potential giftee and Fellman would tell said client what the best gift for said giftee would be.
Obviously, the Christmas season was Fellman's busiest time of year. (See how we worked that in?)
That being the case, we herewith reprint the best of Fellman's suggestions so that you, dear reader, should you have a problem giftee similar to those below, will benefit as well. In the interests of saving both time, space, and typing, I will not copy the whole request; merely will I list the TYPE of giftee (or perhaps I will type a LIST of giftee) and Fellman's suggestion:
Ready?
We begin!
FOR THE PERSON WHO:
--Wants to read an epic biography of Herman Windt, the man who, while serving time in a southern prison, actually carved out of soap the pistol that John Dillinger used to make his escape from that very same prison, we offer the massive
Gun Wittler Windt
--Loves musicals about Jews kvetching, in the style of Dennis Miller, the DVD of
Rent
--Loves Shakespearean plays about people without Barbie dolls who slurp their food, a first edition of
Toyless and Crass Eaters
--Wants to learn how to take measurements of more than three pieces of dough to be used as sacrifices to a pagan deity, the book
Weighing Four God-Doughs
--Wants to learn about the tragic outcome of the test run of computerized communists that killed so many people
Beta Reds, Then Dead
--Wants to read the tell-all biography of Sebastian Nostril, who lived his life as nothing more than a huge nasal cavity
"No Body Nose": The Troubles I've Seen
--Likes children's literature about ape-like golfers and photos taken by people named Blo
Hairy Putters and the Half Blonde Prints
--Can't tell the difference between snakes and heavy machinery used to move Italian sandwiches around, the Barchart Quick Study Guide
Adders and Sub Tractors
--Wants tales of knights who earn their living amidst the early morning moisture, the CD soundtrack of
The Pro Dew Sirs
--The epic film about Yelmachin Turnblatt, the wealthy cockney with a speech impediment who wandered throughout the world giving away motor vehicles
'Ave a tar
--And, finally, the sad, but ultimately triumphant story of Hugh Montenegro, a boy who was severed in twain at an early age but finally learned that the people who work in funeral homes could help him,
Half Hugh Heard about the Morgue Hands
Any and all of these are available, not only to Fellman's clients, but to each and every one of you at Yellmungiplotz.com.
Order them now!
Merry Christmas and, because the hearing implements on a wildebeest are good luck, a happy gnu's ear!
Thursday, December 24, 2009
In Which We Alienate a Friend of a Friend
"The people who are guilty of treason are Barack Obama, Nancy Pelosi, Harry Reid, Barney Frank, Charles Schumer and the rest of the thugs that are currently in power. They are the ones who have no regard for the Constitution. George Bush was and is a patriot. Obama is not fit to tie his shoes."
The rantings of a redneck survivalist hiding out somewhere in the Appalachians? Afraid not. The above is a direct quote from a Facebook "wall post" of a friend of FOS (and acquaintance of YNSHC). The truly disappointing--and scary--fact is that said FOFOS is an educated man--a LAWYER, no less!
We could dismiss his rantings as unworthy of response, but that would be a copout. So:
"They are the ones who have no regard for the Constitution." As this is a recent post, we assume FOFOS is referring to the Senate passage of the health-care reform bill. We are unsure how the passage of major legislation by duly elected representatives after months of debate (during which almost the entirety of the "loyal" opposition saw fit to offer nothing but contemptuous lip service to the idea of bipartisan compromise) is a sign of disregard for the Constitution. Considering the fact that the main Republican objection to healthcare reform centered on the "public option"--OPTION, mind you, not "requirement"--and that said public option is absent from the final legislation (thank you, Joe Lieberman for proving that Jews can be as obtuse as anybody else, in case any of you were worrying about our plans for world domination)--considering all this, we fail to see exactly what these right-wing bomb throwers are so incensed about.
"George Bush was and is a patriot." If by "patriot," you mean one who "loves his country," maybe: We have no idea what is in George Bush's heart and would almost like to think his actions the result of a misguided, empty-headed, but well-intentioned wish to do what is right for the country. That would mean we didn't spend the first eight years of the 21st century under the leadership of a fanatical warmonger and his plainly evil cabal. We doubt that, though.
As long as we're discussing extra-constitutionality, we might--might--offer in evidence of Bush's own misdeeds a multi-trillion dollar war launched under false pretenses. And if FOFOS is still under the impression that Saddam had WMD or anything to do with 9/11, then we implore his clients to seek counsel from someone who reads the papers.
We also wonder how FOFOS feels about President Obama's recent decision to send more troops to Afghanistan. That should at least offer some comfort to the militaristic wing of the country. Or is it only constitutional for a president to attack countries that never attacked us?
We close by assuring FOFOS that, if he is right, and Obama and his cronies have violated the Constitution, it is only a matter of time before the various pieces of legislation come before the Supreme Court, which, despite Obama's successful machinations to slip a subversive female onto the bench (Sotomayor. . . doesn't exactly sound 'murrican to us!), still finds itself under the sway of the Roberts-Scalia-Thomas-Alito gang. Perhaps FOFOS can argue the case.
Ah, now we're in the Christmas spirit!
The rantings of a redneck survivalist hiding out somewhere in the Appalachians? Afraid not. The above is a direct quote from a Facebook "wall post" of a friend of FOS (and acquaintance of YNSHC). The truly disappointing--and scary--fact is that said FOFOS is an educated man--a LAWYER, no less!
We could dismiss his rantings as unworthy of response, but that would be a copout. So:
"They are the ones who have no regard for the Constitution." As this is a recent post, we assume FOFOS is referring to the Senate passage of the health-care reform bill. We are unsure how the passage of major legislation by duly elected representatives after months of debate (during which almost the entirety of the "loyal" opposition saw fit to offer nothing but contemptuous lip service to the idea of bipartisan compromise) is a sign of disregard for the Constitution. Considering the fact that the main Republican objection to healthcare reform centered on the "public option"--OPTION, mind you, not "requirement"--and that said public option is absent from the final legislation (thank you, Joe Lieberman for proving that Jews can be as obtuse as anybody else, in case any of you were worrying about our plans for world domination)--considering all this, we fail to see exactly what these right-wing bomb throwers are so incensed about.
"George Bush was and is a patriot." If by "patriot," you mean one who "loves his country," maybe: We have no idea what is in George Bush's heart and would almost like to think his actions the result of a misguided, empty-headed, but well-intentioned wish to do what is right for the country. That would mean we didn't spend the first eight years of the 21st century under the leadership of a fanatical warmonger and his plainly evil cabal. We doubt that, though.
As long as we're discussing extra-constitutionality, we might--might--offer in evidence of Bush's own misdeeds a multi-trillion dollar war launched under false pretenses. And if FOFOS is still under the impression that Saddam had WMD or anything to do with 9/11, then we implore his clients to seek counsel from someone who reads the papers.
We also wonder how FOFOS feels about President Obama's recent decision to send more troops to Afghanistan. That should at least offer some comfort to the militaristic wing of the country. Or is it only constitutional for a president to attack countries that never attacked us?
We close by assuring FOFOS that, if he is right, and Obama and his cronies have violated the Constitution, it is only a matter of time before the various pieces of legislation come before the Supreme Court, which, despite Obama's successful machinations to slip a subversive female onto the bench (Sotomayor. . . doesn't exactly sound 'murrican to us!), still finds itself under the sway of the Roberts-Scalia-Thomas-Alito gang. Perhaps FOFOS can argue the case.
Ah, now we're in the Christmas spirit!
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Typo Negative
How people deal with typos in instant messaging (IM) says something their character. What it says, we're not sure. But something.
Are you the type of person who , when IMing just lets it gly and assumes that yuour ingerloocutor will get the giust of what you'tre saying regardless of any67 unflortruabnet mistakes?
Or are you the type who feels the need to produce clean copy at all times, even if it leads to moments like this:
----the type who geels the need--
Damn it!
BACKSPACEBACKSPACEBACKSPACE. . . . .
--the type who geels the need--
DAMN IT!
BACKSPACEBACKSPACEBACKSPACE. . . . .
--the type who geels the need--
ARRRRRRGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!
Do you use "backspace" more than the spacebar?
We, obviously, are in the latter camp. A side effect of our profession, perhaps. We demand--not perfection from our students, obviously--but conscientiousness. And typos suggest a lack of care. In the olden days of manual typewriters, one could overlook teh occasional typo. We could hardly expect people to take time to scratch out every mistake or kill countless trees in the pursuit of paper perfection. But if all it takes to produce the illusion of flawlessness is careful proofreading and a handful of keystrokes, then there's really no excuse.
In the last paragraph, we intentionally used "teh," which we understand is something of an ironic buzzword. People deliberately transpose the letters that are so often transposed accidentally by way--we guess--of postmodern commentary on the act of producing digital text. A question arises: How do we know if the typer of "teh" is being ironic or merely careless? And should we assume that every "the" is merely a mistyped piece of satire?
In our classes, we make a point of telling students that, if ever we misspell something on the board, it is actually a test of their powers of observation. We think they've fallen for it.
Or should we say, they've fallen for ti?
Are you the type of person who , when IMing just lets it gly and assumes that yuour ingerloocutor will get the giust of what you'tre saying regardless of any67 unflortruabnet mistakes?
Or are you the type who feels the need to produce clean copy at all times, even if it leads to moments like this:
----the type who geels the need--
Damn it!
BACKSPACEBACKSPACEBACKSPACE. . . . .
--the type who geels the need--
DAMN IT!
BACKSPACEBACKSPACEBACKSPACE. . . . .
--the type who geels the need--
ARRRRRRGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!
Do you use "backspace" more than the spacebar?
We, obviously, are in the latter camp. A side effect of our profession, perhaps. We demand--not perfection from our students, obviously--but conscientiousness. And typos suggest a lack of care. In the olden days of manual typewriters, one could overlook teh occasional typo. We could hardly expect people to take time to scratch out every mistake or kill countless trees in the pursuit of paper perfection. But if all it takes to produce the illusion of flawlessness is careful proofreading and a handful of keystrokes, then there's really no excuse.
In the last paragraph, we intentionally used "teh," which we understand is something of an ironic buzzword. People deliberately transpose the letters that are so often transposed accidentally by way--we guess--of postmodern commentary on the act of producing digital text. A question arises: How do we know if the typer of "teh" is being ironic or merely careless? And should we assume that every "the" is merely a mistyped piece of satire?
In our classes, we make a point of telling students that, if ever we misspell something on the board, it is actually a test of their powers of observation. We think they've fallen for it.
Or should we say, they've fallen for ti?
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
We Can Quit Any Time We Want To
No, this is not an ultimatum to Solipsist Nation inspired by yesterday's sick day. Thank you all for your well wishes and concerns--all TWO of you. We see who our true loyalists are: Catswing and Anonymous. (For her reward, Catswing gets a hyperlink to her blog; for Anonymous, recognition as a Solipsist loyalist--a Soloyalist, if you will--is its own reward.) We're feeling better, today. We really needed the day more for mental health reasons than physical ones. (Maybe we needed more time?)
Where were we? Ah, yes, today's post.
We read yesterday about the lengths to which teenage girls (boys, too? The article was vague) go to break their addiction to Facebook. ("To Deal with Obsession, Some Defriend Facebook") Apparently, overuse of the social-networking site causes young people to neglect their studies, fall behind in their college applications, and lose touch with the real world.
Kids!
Seriously, though, we applaud these youngsters for taking the first step and admitting they have a problem. Some have gone so far as to admit their powerlessness in the face of their addiction and turn themselves over to a higher power--i.e., parents, who take control of the users' accounts and hide the passwords. Some have even gone so far as to disconnect their internet. (But then how do they read The Solipsist?)
The big question we have is, what the hell do these kids need Facebook for so badly?
We admit we love FB, too. But for us, FB does fulfill a "need"--the need to stay in touch with people we would otherwise--because of distance, time constraints, or sheer dislike (we're talking about you, MP)--not be in touch with. Our modest collection of 30-odd friends (and another 30 who are not so odd) consists of several categories, the largest of which (23.1%) is old college friends. "Current friends and colleagues" make up only 15.4% of the total, a clear minority. The other categories and percentages are as follows:
Theater people: 18.5%
Former colleagues: 13.8%
Family: 13.8%
Writers Dock Party: 9.2%
Miscellaneous: 4.6% (That's you, Terry)
Also, a solid 1.5% of our friends are people who SWEAR we know them, but of whom we have no particular memory (and we'll say no more about that--if only to make everybody wonder if we're talking about THEM). (OK, it's Erin.)
What we're getting at here is that most of these folks are not people we would have the opportunity to communicate with or see regularly. It was a thrill to reconnect with some of these folks. But for teenagers? They see each other every day. Who have they LOST contact with? If they really want to hang out with each other, can't they do it in "Meatspace" (thanks FOS for that descriptor)?
If they did, they could also experience some REAL addictions. Or have drugs and alcohol gone out of style?
Where were we? Ah, yes, today's post.
We read yesterday about the lengths to which teenage girls (boys, too? The article was vague) go to break their addiction to Facebook. ("To Deal with Obsession, Some Defriend Facebook") Apparently, overuse of the social-networking site causes young people to neglect their studies, fall behind in their college applications, and lose touch with the real world.
Kids!
Seriously, though, we applaud these youngsters for taking the first step and admitting they have a problem. Some have gone so far as to admit their powerlessness in the face of their addiction and turn themselves over to a higher power--i.e., parents, who take control of the users' accounts and hide the passwords. Some have even gone so far as to disconnect their internet. (But then how do they read The Solipsist?)
The big question we have is, what the hell do these kids need Facebook for so badly?
We admit we love FB, too. But for us, FB does fulfill a "need"--the need to stay in touch with people we would otherwise--because of distance, time constraints, or sheer dislike (we're talking about you, MP)--not be in touch with. Our modest collection of 30-odd friends (and another 30 who are not so odd) consists of several categories, the largest of which (23.1%) is old college friends. "Current friends and colleagues" make up only 15.4% of the total, a clear minority. The other categories and percentages are as follows:
Theater people: 18.5%
Former colleagues: 13.8%
Family: 13.8%
Writers Dock Party: 9.2%
Miscellaneous: 4.6% (That's you, Terry)
Also, a solid 1.5% of our friends are people who SWEAR we know them, but of whom we have no particular memory (and we'll say no more about that--if only to make everybody wonder if we're talking about THEM). (OK, it's Erin.)
What we're getting at here is that most of these folks are not people we would have the opportunity to communicate with or see regularly. It was a thrill to reconnect with some of these folks. But for teenagers? They see each other every day. Who have they LOST contact with? If they really want to hang out with each other, can't they do it in "Meatspace" (thanks FOS for that descriptor)?
If they did, they could also experience some REAL addictions. Or have drugs and alcohol gone out of style?
Monday, December 21, 2009
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Bits and Pieces
We have a new favorite animal: the zonkey, a zebra-donkey hybrid, on view now in the Gaza Zoo.
Well, OK, not really a "hybrid."
Actually, the zoo's two zebras died recently, so, finding it too expensive to replace them, zookeepers did the next best thing: They dyed their donkeys.
This kind of cutting-edge thinking may prove to be the salvation of cash-strapped zoo administrators everywhere. Can't afford peacocks? Staple crepe paper to some chickens. The strategic application of papier-mache can turn large dogs into rhinoceri, elephants, and any number of horned or antlered creatures. Duct-tape and spray-paint can transform cats into sea lions. The possibilities are endless.
Speaking of horses--or at least donkeys--of a different color, we watched parts of "The Wizard of Oz" last night. We were struck by Dorothy's despair upon her apparent abandonment by the Wizard. Despite earnest invitations from the Scarecrow, et al., to remain in Oz, she emphatically restates her desire to go home.
We just wondered: Why?
Look, put your arms out. In one hand, "place" Oz: In the other, place Depression-era Kansas. Yellow brick vs. Dusty dirt. The Lollipop Guild vs. The WPA.
Is there really a contest? In Oz, you don't even have to worry about wicked witchery, both its practitioners having met their doom. You could live happily in the presumably benign-if-pyrophobic dictatorship of the newly-appointed Scarecrow. Why would you want to leave?
Just because there's no place like home doesn't mean you should really want to live there.
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