Friday, October 28, 2011

This Is A Thing? Yes, This Is Definitely A Thing!

Quite some time ago, I was a little surprised when every media outlet in the universe went batshit over the fact that Michelle Obama had appeared in public wearing shorts. Shocking! Shocking, I said. (Actually, I think I settled on "Meh".)

The latest thing the world is wetting its panties over is the fact that Kate Middleton has a SCAR!
As usual, I can't be bothered to actually read all of the associated stories or do any other kind of research, but from what I have read (the headlines), I gather that this scar is the result of some "serious childhood operation" and it left a "huge" scar! (It doesn't seem all that huge in the photos, but for all I know, it snakes around for a few more feet under her hairline and then dives down her back - artfully hidden behind the shoulder straps of anything she's wearing. Who am I to debate what "huge" means?)

I think in this case, I'm going to have to agree that this may, in fact be A THING!  There are a couple of things to consider.

First of all, in some ancient cultures* prospective royalty was required to strip naked in front of their subjects-to-be and demonstrate that they were unblemished in any way.  Bodily imperfections were deemed a disqualification for Royal Succession, ("strange women lying in ponds distributing swords", notwithstanding). The British Monarchy seems to have abandoned this benchmark of perfection and, in fact, some news story I was almost paying attention to this morning did a serious expose' on all of the other Royal scars in evidence. (For a family that mostly sits around being fanned and fed grapes by liveried retainers, those guys sure manage to hurt themselves a lot. It's a good thing they seem to have bred out that nasty strain of hemophilia that dogged European Royalty for so long.)

The second and much more important consideration is this; just what produced that "huge" scar? It'd be one thing if the Palace had announced that she got it when she got clocked in the head in an unfortunate incident when a playmate hopped off of the other side of a Teeter-Totter. (It's amazing how hard it is to find a list of Britishisms for playground equipment, so I just settled on one that sounded poncy to me.)  I'd also totally be okay with an explanation that described her past involvement with a roving band of 8-year-olds beating the crap out of their rivals in the school cafeteria.  There's certainly honorable precedent for warlike Monarchs and having a nascent Valkyrie in the Royal Succession would be pretty damned cool.

But that's not what happened!  The Palace says it was a "serious childhood operation".  And I want to know what was the purpose of the operation. For all we know, they removed her little baby brain and replaced it with saved specimens from HITLER'S BRAIN!**  Do you know that Kate isn't whispering sweet nothings about Volksgemeinschaft and Lebensraum in William's ear every night? This could be evidence of a long ranging plan to reassert Empire and British WORLD DOMINATION! I don't know about you but I've never trusted that queen they've got.

Or it could be a harbinger of an ALIEN INVASION! Those movies you've seen may just be part of a conspiracy to make you believe that aliens implant themselves in peoples' torsos and then come bursting out of their chests all gory and drooly and covered in stuff that looks like milk that's three days past its expiration date!  Maybe the aliens don't need to pop out once they're implanted in a nice cozy human brain. And then, you get one of them married into the Royal Family and - BLAMMO! - no need for any of that silly "Take me to your leader" nonsense.***

I'm not saying this has to be an evil plot for world domination (although that's the most likely situation).  It's also possible that Rupert Murdoch was just planning ahead (or a head - get it?), and had Kate implanted with a camera and recording device years ago! Keep your eyes peeled for News Corp coming up with completely unexplainable inside scoops.  Paying off butlers and hacking cell phones is so 2010!

The fact is, there are all sorts of explanations for what that "serious childhood operation" was all about.  And most of them are NOT GOOD.

I think this bears some protracted, irrational, paranoid vigilance.


--------------------------------------
*In keeping with my habit of conscientious, in-depth research, this "fact" comes from some fictional Fantasy series I read at some time since I've been alive and reading.  Challenging my facts and/or conclusions would be most unsporting and petty of you.

**How, you might ask would the British have gotten their hands on Hitler's brain samples? Well, everyone knows that the Russians got to Berlin first at the end of WWII.  And everyone knows they covered up the real story behind Hitler's demise. And everyone knows the KGB kept Hitler's Brain in a jar for decades. So anyway, 1989 and Glasnost rolls around and little Kate would have been just 7 years old. And the Queen could easily have challenged Gorbachev to prove how much the Soviets were changing by getting him to hand over some HitlerBrainChunks™to be installed in a future bride for her Grandson.  Those Royals have a long history of betrothing infants to each other.  Maybe the Queen had HitlerBrainChunk™ surgery performed on thousands of little prospective future brides.  It's not so far-fetched. You do the math!

***I don't know if the Queen is involved in this scenario or not,  but it wouldn't surprise me one little bit.

Thursday, October 27, 2011

My Alma Mater Jumps on the Bandwagon. But Its a Fine Bandwagon.

Fellow Emerson College Alumnus, Eric (no, not that Eric, the other one), pointed me to this video on FaceBook today. I approve.

Since most of you won't have a clue what half of the in-jokes are all about, I'll risk a spoiler to show you the part that really spoke to me.


Truth be told, a lot of the in-jokes are so current that they went over my head too, but...laundry machines that text you?  Sweet!

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Take That Home With You. You Can't Leave It Here!

Today's missive is about stuff you don't want anymore.  Or stuff that comes into your possession...that you'd rather never to have possessed. Here's a key thing to keep in mind:  If you don't want something, odds are nobody else wants it either.

I think we can all agree that nobody loves dog shit.  Most places make you pick up after your dog and dispose of its output somewhere other than the sidewalk.  That's a good thing.  Most people obey this rule out of good citizenship or the possibility of being shamed by witnesses.  I'd lay odds that actual enforcement isn't needed all that often. And honestly, unless a cop witnesses someone walking away from their beloved Fifi's deposit, what enforcement options are there? Yes, I'll admit that when pooper scooper laws first went into effect, I had visions of cops leaving tickets on steaming piles all over the place. I was a little puzzled about what this might achieve.

But it turns out that some people are really concerned about enforcement. In Fairfax, VA, a case is about to go to court because one woman has accused another woman of not cleaning up after the dog she walks. The Plaintiff's got pictures of the alleged poop to present as evidence.  The article goes on to talk about some places that make you register your dog's DNA so that offending poops can later be matched to the miscreant for prosecution.

This may seem overzealous to some of you, but I totally understand. As you should know, we have three cats. One of them -- and I'm not sure which one -- has particularly smelly poops and you can't go anywhere near the litter box for like 15 minutes after he--or she-- has been in there.  If I could only assign blame I might be able to do something about this problem. I'm not sure what I'd do about it, but I think figuring out which one is the mad bomber would be a good first step. Gimme a break--I can only think of so many things at one time.

Right here in New York, the Metropolitan Transit Authority has decided that there's too much garbage being left in the subways.  To combat this problem, they've come up with an idea that's sheer GENIUS!  They're running a pilot program where they've removed trash cans from a few stations. This makes perfect sense to me. If someone throws trash on the platform because they're too lazy to hold onto it until they can navigate the 50 feet to the next trash can, of course they'll hold onto it until they can get up to the street and find one.

The garbage train will be a thing of the past in no time.

I think we can extend this logic to solving some other problems.  It's one thing dealing with stuff that actual New Yorkers need to get rid of every day, but the city is further burdened by stuff that visitors want to get rid of.  There are a couple of million commuters who come into the city every day and a bunch of them drive.  There are trucks that come into the city every day to make deliveries.  And what do they all have in common?  They create exhaust.  And they leave it here. I don't think it's too much to require that anyone driving in from outside of the city limits should be required to have a hose pumping the exhaust into the passenger compartment for storage until they leave the city again.  I realize this might cause a big buildup of exhaust at places like the New Jersey side of the GW Bridge, but let New Jersey figure out what to do with it.  If they're so great, let them come up with somewhere for those guys to work on their side of the bridge.

We also have a lot of tourists visiting the city.  According to something I found on the internet without looking very hard, there are almost 70,000 hotel rooms in NYC. Now based on my usual strategy of making stuff up, let's assume that 85% of those rooms are filled on any particular day.  And let's further assume there's an average of 2.87654 people in each of those occupied rooms. That translates into more than 6.8 BILLION people visiting the city every year. (My math may be a little off, but it's pretty damned close -- just stick with me.)

We like that those people all eat in the city.  They help keep our restaurants and our street vendors employed.  But an unfortunate result of all that eating is that they digest that food while they're still here.  And that's putting a real burden on the city's sewage treatment facilities.  I don't think it would be unreasonable to remove the toilets from those 70,000 hotel rooms.  That astronaut lady who drove from Texas to Florida a few years ago to resolve a love triangle wore a diaper for the trip.  I've seen what they call toilets in some parts of the world and wearing a diaper (and taking it home with you), doesn't seem like such a bad trade off!

I bet there are a lot of other ways we could keep New York cleaner if we just put our minds to it.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Political Piety And The Four Horsemen of The Apocalypsapalooza

Question: What's the difference between a smelly guy screaming at you on a street corner and a few guys with  $500 haircuts who get a lot of airtime on Fox?  Answer: Ya got me.

I suppose I may be suffering from a bit of selective amnesia, but I can't remember a Presidential Campaign season so filled with candidates who really, really, really didn't want to run, but God told them they had to.  Herman Cain, Rick Santorum, Michele Bachmann and Rick Perry have all explained that to some extent or another, their campaigns are divinely inspired. In Michele's case, since she has to defer to her husband in everything, I'm assuming the actual instructions were delivered through him.  And it was Anita Perry who "saw the burning bush" and passed on God's mandate to Rick. (For months, Sarah Palin claimed to be waiting for a sign from God and I have a hard time believing He never gave her the word or told her not to run. It's a lot more likely she was prattling on about something or other and just missed the message.)

I mean, c'mon; think about it. Even the most religious people look at you a little funny when you start saying God's been talking to you.
God says "Make Crazy Harry next Pope or We show you what Great Flood was like."

Even back when you couldn't walk six feet without tripping over one God or another, your neighbors were likely to just ignore you when you started saying things like "God doesn't want you eating oysters.  He told me so"!

Moses took 40 years of shit for claiming he was having conversations with God.
 (Oops, wrong Moses movie.)

And Moses didn't just say, "Trust me. God's got our back".  He had evidence! He had Egyptian-smiting plagues, parting of seas and food dropping out of the sky twice a day -- always an open table, no waiting!  Think about it; Moses gives them 40 years of miracles and the best he can get out of the Israelites is "Sure he's bug-fuck crazy, but he's got the map.  What're ya gonna do?"

I don't know about you - (he uttered rhetorically with a wink) - but I have a problem with candidates who hear voices and make decisions based on them.

March 4, 2013; 3:21a.m. (in a scary potential White House bedroom): 

Anita:"Wake up Rick! God's on the hotline!"
Rick: "I'm sleeping, dear. Can you take a message?"
Anita: "Riiiiiick! It's God.  And He sounds peeved!"
Rick: "Fine, Honey. Just give me the highlights."
Anita: "Well, some of it is more impressions than specific information, but the gist seems to be that you're supposed to walk in a counterclockwise circle around the Lincoln Memorial 7 times while playing a trumpet next Tuesday. Then you should offer up 3 white sheep, 2 chickens and a yearling ox as a burnt offering to the Lord. After you've finished with that, He wants you to smite the Hittites. And He's not pleased with the Log Cabin Republicans, either. He thinks they could use a little smiting too."
Rick: "Uh huh. I'm not sure I can act on such a vague message but I'll take it up with the Cabinet in the morning.  Was there anything else?"
Anita: "Yes.  He thinks we should pay a State Visit to Hedonism II. And redecorate The Residence."

It's not that I deny the possibility that God is instructing half of the Republican contenders; I just have a healthy bit of skepticism about it.  I mean, why isn't He picking just one horse and betting the farm on that one? Or maybe one of them really has the Supreme Blessing and the other ones are just delusional pikers?  And how long before they start outing each other?

17th Republican Candidates Debate:

Moderator: "Governor Perry.  If you are elected as the next President and find yourself having to work with a Democrat dominated Congress, how do you intend to get your programs enacted?"


Rick Perry: "Well, let me just quote Ezekiel -- 'And as for them, whether they listen or not – for they are a rebellious house – they will know that a prophet has been among them'."


Michelle Bachmann (interrupting):  "Governor, I knew Ezekiel! Ezekiel was a friend of mine! Governor, you're no Ezekiel!"

Audience: "SMITE! SMITE! SMITE! SMITE!"

It's not like there aren't a few precedents for God telling one guy to pass on an important message and then watching while all of His children just point and laugh at the guy.  You'd think after all this time, He might try telling the rest of us what He has in mind and which guy to vote for.  I don't want to tell God how to do his business -- I'm just sayin'.

I don't suppose any of this makes any difference since I'm planning to vote for Obama, whichever horse the Republicans choose to put in the race. I will, however reconsider that decision if only one Republican is left standing because all of the others fell victim to frogs, boils, locusts and diseased livestock.  Hey, I'm skeptical, but it's not like you have to hit me over the head to get through to me.


Sunday, October 16, 2011

Just Some Stuff That Needed To Be Photographed.

Tiles in Courtlandt Street subway station.





Progress on the World Trade Center:

A bevy of NewsVans at Occupy Wall Street:

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Perpetual Care: 19th Century Manhattan Style.

One of the older  landmarks from early Manhattan is Trinity Church and the attached cemetery down on Broadway at the foot of Wall Street. It dates back to 1696.  Some time in the early 1800's New York City decided there shouldn't be any more burials in Manhattan south of Canal Street, so Trinity Church bought a parcel of land at what was then, the north end of Greenwich Village; on Hudson Street between Clarkson and Leroy Streets. (The spot now labeled James J. Walker Park).


On that spot, they established the St. John's Burying Ground.  Here's a shot from the NY Public Library's archives showing the cemetery while it was fully established. (Note the large monument on the right side of the frame; it's where we'll be going.)

As the 19th Century went on, that block of Leroy Street became fashionable and wealthy residents built townhouses there and changed the name of the block to St. Luke's Place.  Ultimately, they decided it would be much more pleasant to live across the street from a park instead of a cemetery. By this time, it's estimated that there were approximately 10,000 people buried there (although only about 1000 had gravestones).  In 1896, the city took over the property under Eminent Domain and gave the church two years to move all of the bodies to their new cemetery at 155th Street and Broadway.

As far as I can determine, the church took the attitude that the city had unfairly appropriated their land and now all of the bodies were their problem.  Roughly 250 families paid to have their loved ones moved uptown and the rest were, apparently plowed under.

The new park was designed by the firm of Carrere and Hastings, later famous for designing the main branch of the New York Public Library that stands at 42nd Street and Fifth Avenue.  The park they designed, St. James Park was a Victorian garden with lush landscaping, a lagoon, a gazebo and a sunken garden.  The only evidence of it having been a cemetery was that they retained (albeit in a different location), the monument I mentioned from the above photo.

For some reason, after only seven years, it was decided that the neighborhood needed a playground instead of a Victorian garden and the park was changed again.  The next time anyone was reminded that the playground had once been a cemetery was in 1939 during another round of renovations.  Workmen hit an underground vault and unearthed a small casket.  The casket had been designed to mimic an Egyptian sarcophagus and had a silver plaque identifying its occupant as Mary Tisdall, aged 6 years and 8 months.  She had died on April 14, 1850.  According to The New York World-Telegram "The girl's cast iron casket...had a glass window in the top.  Her white silk dress still looked fresh and dainty.  After 89 years you could still see that she'd been a pretty yellow haired child."

The park has been renovated a number of times since then and renamed for former mayor (and St. Luke's Place resident), James J. Walker.  Here's a bit of what it looks like now, viewed from Hudson Street. (Yeah, I just did a screengrab from GoogleStreet.)
And that monument I referred to a couple of times?  It now sits on the north side of the park near the entrance on Leroy Street.
I'm guessing they saved it because it was attractive (and the largest monument in the cemetery) as opposed to any real sense of reverence.  Based on the fact that most of the bodies were never moved from where they were originally interred, it's doubtful they bothered to move the bodies associated with this monument when they relocated it.

Here's the monument as it looks today.

Those are a couple of firemen's helmets and a hose-nozzle on the top.

The north side of the marker is engraved:
Here are interred the bodies of Eugene Underhill aged 20 years 7 months and 9 days and Frederick A. Ward aged 22 years 1 month and 16 days who lost their lives by the falling of a building while engaged in the discharge of their duty as Firemen on the first day of July MDCCCXXXIV (1834)


The south side reads:
This monument is erected by the members of Eagle Fire Engine Company No 13 in connection with the friends of the deceased to commemorate the sad event connected with their death and the loss which they deplore

 This bronze plaque is on the east side of the marker, the only nod toward the fact that a few thousand people are still buried under the ball fields and swing sets.

It looks like there was another plaque on the west side of the monument at one time, but that one is missing.

I hope Eugene and Frederick and all of their neighbors are sports fans.

Sunday, October 9, 2011

There Are Enough "Quotes Of The Day" To Go Around.

"Yeah, now I gotta go find some drowning babies to save before the next family reunion. This is some bullshit." - Retta Sirleaf (Parks & Recreation) on learning that her aunt, Liberian President Ellen Johnson Sirleaf was named a Nobel Peace Prize recipient.

"Choose Your Battles Wisely" Is Probably Really Good Advice.

Really good advice tends to be wasted on me.

So I'm taking this opportunity to publicly announce that Retractable Dog Leashes and I are now mortal enemies. Henceforth, they are officially my Evil Nemesis and I will not rest* until I've eliminated them from the landscape.  And because I'm so brave and courageous,** I'm not even launching this as a sneak attack. Retractable Dog Leash people; from here on, I'm in your face!***

 An example of my Evil Nemesis.****
You're probably wondering why I'm so incensed about Retractable Dog Leashes (hereinafter RDL's).***** Honestly, there are certainly more pressing issues I might choose to take on.  I get that. But I have my reasons for choosing this as my CAUSE, and I'll get back to that.  In the meantime, my loathing for RDL's is born of the following facts:

-RDL's provide no actual benefit to dog owners/walkers.
-RDL's provide no actual benefit to dogs.
-RDL's require an extensive list of "Do's and Dont's" to avoid hurting yourself/others/your dogs. (scroll down a bit on the "directions" tab of the link.)
-RDL owners have never read the list of "Do's and Don'ts".

Let's get a bit more specific.  Maybe you think it might be good to have a leash that allows your dog to run ahead of you a bit.  "Oooh", you think. "I can hit the release button and Fifi can run at her own speed while I amble along at a relaxed pace".  Well, sure...that'll work for about ten or fifteen or 20 feet, depending on how obnoxiously long of a leash you've bought.  Then Fifi gets drawn up short when she hits the limit.  I'll admit there's something mildly amusing about watching Fifi's ass slide out from under her while her yappy little head becomes a stationary object, but how often can you indulge your sadist funny bone before it becomes old?  And if you're planning on running with your dog anyway, is there really any advantage to you or your dog to be gained from being further away from each other?  Your dog is not stupid enough to feel like he's suddenly alone running free.  He's still tugging on his leash because you'll never be fast enough to keep up with him.

Or maybe you think, "Oh, this'll be good because I can stand on the sidewalk while Bigfoot drops a load in that thicket of underbrush I don't feel like navigating".  This is stupid because you'll either A.) have to navigate it anyway in a minute to scoop up Bigfoot's poop, or B.) you're planning to leave it there, in which case you now suck for reasons in addition to being a twit who needs to be twenty feet away from your dog. Repeat after me: If you're in a place where you need to have your dog on a leash, you're in a place where you can't walk away from his steamers.

I'm not going to comment on the problem of the leash suddenly retracting and popping you a good one in the eye. Or the dog taking off while the leash is wrapped around your finger/hand/wrist and amputating the offending extremity. These are your problems and I'm not going to waste time worrying about your problems.  We're here to talk about how you're causing me problems.

You, the clueless RDL user are causing me problems because you're walking down the street talking on your cell phone or yakking with your friend while Behemoth the Giant Mastiff runs brainlessly and randomly back and forth over the sidewalk as I approach and he knows perfectly well he can wrap that twenty foot lead around my ankles.  He knows perfectly well that you think the whole "let's get innocent bystanders involved in walkies" is so cute. Or that you're so involved in everything but walking your dog that you'll be oblivious.

 The final straw came for me yesterday when I was walking home.  As I'm crossing the last intersection before getting to my house, I encounter a woman walking her dog.  She's crossing the intersection at a ninety degree angle to me.  And when she gets to the curb, her dog (a piddly little dachshund), balks.  All twelve pounds of this little dog sits down and refuses to step up onto the sidewalk.  So the woman, who clearly has difficulties with the concept of who is the "Alpha" in this relationship, walks twenty feet further while letting out her RDL.  When the dog refuses to follow her, she sits down on the sidewalk and tries (without success) to convince her dog to come to her.  She clearly thinks this is fucking adorable.  I think I've carried fifty pounds of groceries for the last eight blocks and I shouldn't have to play limbo or jump-rope just to get the last 100 yards between me an my house.

I realize that this is a completely futile crusade I'm launching here.  My clandestine glaring and facemaking won't have any of their desired effects no matter how intimidating I manage to make them. And direct confrontation on the street isn't terribly effective either.******  But, in the long run, I'll probably be less disappointed when this futile crusade yields less results than I would be if I took on any of a large list of other futile crusades. I have very limited expectations.

That's some wise battle choosing, right?

P.S.  I realize there are other symbols available to denote multiple footnotes but I totally forgot how to make things show up as superscripts, so you're stuck with multiple asterisks.  Maybe relearning that bit of info would be a worthy cause for me.
------------------------
*"will not rest" is totally just a figure of speech. I'll probably go to bed shortly after I publish this.  In fact, I'm kinda tired and I may just finish writing this in the morning. One really shouldn't initiate hostilities without a good night's rest.

**What?  Like the massively powerful Retractable Dog Leash lobby is gonna put a hit out on me? Oooooh, I'm so scared.

***"in your face" is also probably a figure of speech. I'll probably satisfy myself with clandestine glaring and/or making faces behind your backs. But it'll be really confrontational clandestine glaring and face making.

****Dear "Great Choice",  I don't hate your product in particular; I hate the entire product line regardless of manufacturer.  You just happened to have one of the best pictures available online.  Please don't sue me.  You should be honored.  Really.  Please don't sue me.  Or sic the massively powerful Retractable Dog Leash lobby on me.  And don't sue me.  Please?

*****You probably don't give a shit about why I'm so incensed about RDL's, but humor me, please.

******I've run into this guy a few times in the neighborhood and he says something snotty every time we encounter each other. Next time it happens I'm gonna follow him around the neighborhood while chain smoking.  Confront that dude!

Friday, October 7, 2011

Yesterday's News Today.

I'm posting the results for Michelle's weekly Thursday Photo Challenge only a day late.  That's practically like time traveling to be early.  For me, anyway.

Let's start with Round:



We'll move on to Square:
 Which is a bit of an anachronism since New York doesn't seem to know the definition of a square.  Washington Square is one of the only square squares in the city. And I think even that is a rectangle.  Madison Square Garden is decidedly circular. Most Squares in NY are really Triangles.

Times Square? A bunch of triangles.
Herald Square?  Triangles.


I didn't have a helicopter handy but I assure you, Abingdon Square is a big freakin' triangle.

For the traditionalists among you, here's a "stay the hell off my triangle" triangle.

I did better than I expected with Sticky



Procrastination is surprisingly difficult to come upon in visual form. And to be perfectly honest, I'm pretty sure this has graduated from "I'll finish cutting it down someday", to "I bet it'll fall down all by itself eventually".

And, last but not least, we have faith.  Well, I don't have it but this guy does.  I think. (It's also entirely possible he's proclaiming a lack of faith, but I'm not looking a gift bumper sticker in the mouth...as it were.)

Monday, October 3, 2011

It's Official. My Secret Weapon Has Been Perfected.

I've kept this quiet, but my blog contains a sedative that, until now, has only been capable of reaching actual readers.  As of last Friday, I am now able to indiscriminately inflict my weaponized soporific upon anyone within a 3 mile radius...whether they read the blog or not.


Tune in later this week when I'll make the Lion lay down with the Lamb...or the cops and the protesters on Wall Street.

Sunday, October 2, 2011

I'm Probably Doing This Wrong But I'm Willing To Risk It.

I don't think I've ever actually recycled a post before.  I know that I made a conscious decision I wouldn't do that when I first started blogging because:

A.) It seemed lazy to me.
B.) It was a clear signal that the blogger (me) had nothing to talk about
and
C.) Reasons A and B seemed particularly pathetic when I had been blogging for less than a year.

As time went on, I started to take a perverse pride in never having recycled a post. 

Today, I announce that my pride, perverse or otherwise, is willing to take a hit.  Ah well.

Here's the thing, though.  Most people, when they get around to recycling posts, seem to choose one of two options. Either they pull up what they think is a post from their "Greatest Hits", or the go to the archives and choose a post the re-iterates a stand they've taken about something that may be current again. (More accurately, I think they pull up a post from the past intended to say, "Remember when I said this and nobody else was talking about it at all?  Well I was right then and I'm right now, so nyah, nyah, nyah; bask in my personal brilliance!)

Anyway, I'm pulling up a post from the past because I've got nothing to babble about today.  And I figured I'd pull up a previous post where I babbled about having nothing to babble about.  Or nothing worth babbling about. At least, not babbling well.

Remember how Seinfeld was a show about nothing?  Well, sometimes, Polybloggimous is a blog about having nothing to blog about.  Or sometimes it's a blog about blogging not well about blogging and having nothing to blog about.

Or something.

With that in mind...Sherman, set  the WABAC machine to 2010!

Postus Interruptus
 August 24, 2010

I've tried to make it clear that Polybloggimous is all about you!  I don't mean it's about you -- clearly, most of the stuff here is about me -- but I really try to make sure I'm taking you into account before ever hitting that PUBLISH POST button.  I really don't want to put stuff here that's just going to leave you scratching your heads or wondering WTF, or especially thinking, "Holy Crap. why is Nathan bugging us with crap like this?"

Yesterday, I wrote a post that was intended to riff on PBS's Sunday cooking shows and then introduce you to an idea I had for my very own cooking show --  Medieval British Cuisine.  On the face of it, this should have been at least mildly promising.  Primal Grill really is episode after episode of Forty Guys Make a Hamburger.  New Scandinavian Cooking really is a weekly exercise in cooking outdoors for no discernible reason whatsoever. Not only do they cook everything outdoors -- last week, they buried a roast in a hole in the ground to cook it -- they also have their chefs stand knee-deep in a fjord if they're making seafood.  'Cause you couldn't possibly understand how seafood might have made it all the way to the shore.  And I actually like Colameco's Food Show, but I'm willing to admit that the show consists entirely of the host watching chefs make things, and then he tastes the stuff and then he grunts a lot.  It's Tool Time, just about making food instead of building manly stuff.

So, anyway, I figured I could come up with some ideas for a show about Medieval British Cuisine -- surely an oxymoron if there ever was one.  I kind of envisioned episodes about peasants poaching deer from the Lord's estates.  There'd be stuff about how to prepare a hearty acorn stew with rocks!  Maybe some tips on dealing with spoiled food -- eat it, of course, do you want to starve?

And my "best" idea had something to do with making your livestock last.  If you wanted meat, you could just amputate one of your goat's legs.  That would give you enough meat for a couple of meals, and your goat would just limp a little until you got hungry again.  Not to mention, if you propped up the goat's rear end, you could still milk it.

As you may be realizing by now, the entire idea of the post was a recipe for disaster (no pun intended - really).  I have deleted the whole thing with impunity.

And, no matter how painful you may have found this post to read, it doesn't hold a candle to the sheer craptaculous-ness that the actual post would have inflicted upon you. You may thank me at your leisure.

P.S.  I may have deleted the post, but I'm still willing to use my blog-fail as blog-fodder.  This may be crappy content, but it is content.

P.P.S.  Here's a picture that would have made it into the post somewhere.  Consider it the visual equivalent of pounding a square peg into a round hole.