it's only words, and words are all a heh-heh-heh...

More word-watching: it seems as if the word "closure" is all but completely taking over any senses the word "closing" (in its gerund sense) formally covered. Example: a headline in the local paper noting that a cinema is at risk of "closure." I would have said that it's at risk of "closing" - i.e., it's going to go out of business. To me, "closure" still indicates a condition or situation of being closed (or a part of something that keeps it closed, like a strap or buckle). I think closure-mania arises in part from its trendy pop-psych usage ("we just needed closure on this issue"); at any rate, it still seems odd to me to see signs about "lane closures" rather than "lane closings" on the freeway.

It's interesting when the frequency of a word increases not just because of one but two increasingly popular usages. I'm thinking that if one studied the frequency of the word "server" in English, a graph of that frequency would show a sharply upward slope from the '90s onward. This is due not only to the technical usage of "server" in computer networks but also to its usage as a gender-free substitution for "waiter" and "waitress."

Oh...and in the "another theory shot to shit" department: given the (unfortunately homophobic) reputation attached to the name "Bruce" in the '60s by innuendo about the relationship between Bruce Wayne and his young ward Robin, and songs like that "Big Bad Bruce" number that was endlessly featured on the Dr. Demento show in the 1970s, I would have expected that the name's popularity dropped from the '60s onward (indeed it has) - but my theory (which is mine) was that it might have experienced a resurgence in popularity due solely to the macho beacon that is Bruce Springsteen (maybe an assist from Bruce Willis). Alas - the graphic name-frequency site I linked to a month or so back demonstrates that in fact, "Bruce" has continued its slide off the popularity charts. Maybe more kids are being named "The Boss" since the early '80s?

ps: number number, winding winding, adhere ad here. No takers...sigh...

I feel mysterious today...

- a less sensitive digit
- losing one's breath in circles
- apply solicitation in this place

Offer solutions in the form of others.

a dog story

It seems to be the thing around here to talk about dogs, so here's my go:

As I'd mentioned, we were on vacation at our friends Bob and Susan's house in Lancaster, California, last week. On Wednesday afternoon (I think), their friends Dennis and Laura dropped by. They were talking about their dog, and how they'd found him. They went to the humane society looking to adopt a cat, but along the way, they found themselves looking at the puppies. One dog in particular, a lab called by its previous owner Bo, charmed them. And when they found out the puppy was to be put down the next day (unfortunately, this humane society is not a no-kill facility), their minds were made up, and they came home with an unexpected puppy.

So they're talking to Bob and Susan about their dog, and Susan notes that, hey, that sounds a lot like the dog Yvonne (their neighbor) had had. Yvonne had had to give up the dog because she simply didn't have time to take care of it, her life having become unexpectedly messy shortly after she got the puppy. The more everyone talked, the more it became clear that Dennis and Laura's dog had been Yvonne's. Even the name given by the humane society, Bo, matched the name Yvonne had given her puppy.

Keep in mind that Lancaster has a population of over 100,000 - it's pretty amusing, and fairly against the odds, that Bob and Susan would know both of the folks who'd adopted this particular dog! A good thing, too - Yvonne had been worried about Bo, but hadn't been able to find out what happened.

So, a happy ending for humans and pup.

cutting off the soles of my shoes, climbing a tree, and learning to play the flute

Well, I'm out here in Sunny California* on vacation, staying with a couple of friends here in the hometown of Frank Zappa, Lancaster, California. It's one of those afternoons when everyone just poops out, and so while everyone else naps, I'm posting. I'm looking out the window at the lovely xeriscaped backyard at our friends' house, where some sort of small tree (everyone but me here would know its name) is in bloom with lovely pink, red, magenta, and white petals above leaves the color of not-quite-ripe bananas.

We drove into Pasadena yesterday, in time to have our ears assaulted downtown by four or five firetrucks dispatched to (presumably) a fire a block or two from where we were eating lunch. Oddly, when we walked past that block afterwards, there wasn't the slightest sign that anything had happened. Maybe an employee of Restoration Hardware was shoplifting a $75 faux-vintage silver toilet-paper roll holder and was diverting attention?

Unfortunately, our attempt to visit the grounds and library at Huntington Gardens was thwarted by our failure to note in advance that it was closed Mondays. Tomorrow we're meeting an online acquaintance for lunch.

But the main thing we're doing is: lotsa nothing. I'm getting behind on that - gotta go. Beer, a book, and a comfy chair are calling me.

* In fact, at this moment, the sky is filling with leaden gray clouds, and there's rain in the forecast. But hey - it's probably twenty degrees warmer than it is back home, so I'm sure as hell not complaining.

it doesn't matter - someone else will come along and move it

Here's today's wacko theory. Full disclosure: most often, I've parted my hair on my right - but in the last few years, with a shorter haircut, I've kinda switched back and forth. I haven't noticed women swooning at me and men wanting to be me (or vice versa) in any greater incidence on days when I part it on the left. And of course the theory utterly fails to take account of the main reason why I (for example) parted my hair on the right all those years: my hair naturally just goes that way. This may mean, of course, that I am naturally a nerd.

meme patrol

I'm wondering where the whole "Blanky McBlank" characterization-thing started...you know: like yesterday afternoon I momentarily spaced out while driving, and ended up one lane over. I apologized to Rose, saying "Sorry - turned into Drifty McLanechange there for a moment." It seems to me that I started seeing that sort of thing maybe a year or two ago...anyone have any clues where it might have come from?

been busy...

I'm still here.

So, particularly around here, this headline from last week's Onion is just a little bit creepy...

Very strange: first, last fall, Wisconsin has the guy who shot that bunch of hunters...then last week, the guy who killed himself after having murdered the Chicago judge's husband and mother...and now this church killer (our local paper charmingly linked to the killer's website (on, grimly perhaps, poisonous plants) which I am not doing). I was going to make some crack about how this isn't Florida...but then I remembered our illustrious history - Ed Gein, Jeffrey Dahmer...I guess that book was called Wisconsin Death Trip for a reason...

trivia

The little beep made by our microwave when you punch a button sounds like, and is the same pitch as, the beeping sound used over the beginning of the title sequence on 24. Effectively, this means every time one of us uses the microwave, it's a mini-promo for the show...since I, at least, think of that sequence every time I hear it. I wonder if the show's producers paid off the microwave manufacturer?

Also: I think "Cocky Pope-Hopeful" is one of the most brilliant phrases ever. I want it on a t-shirt.

well, what else do you do with gilded statuary?

Here's my idea for protest art:

Build an enormous, gilded statue of George W. Bush. Mount it on a platform with squeaky wooden wheels, and have it dragged through the business district at rush hour by a team of rope-wielding "slaves" dressed in dirty togas. Optionally, equip the whole thing with a small throne, whose occupant can lash the slaves.

an inanity wrapped in dumb inside stupidity

Apparently, some officials in California are considering replacing the state's gasoline tax, currently assessed per gallon, with a tax-per-mile scheme that might, among other idiocies, entail tracking the driving habits of every Californian. Aside from the rather massive privacy issues involved here, this is an idea that shoots for, and achieves, previously unheard-of levels of dumb.

Let's see, first of all, such a policy would all but eliminate a key incentive for people to buy more fuel-efficient vehicles, such as hybrids. So J. Flatchlington Asshole in his Hummer would pay exactly the same as the Thrifties in their Prius, assuming they drive the same number of miles. And of course there'd be a thriving market in odometer rollbacks, GPS disablers and misleaders, and other system hacks. People would suddenly develop addresses in Nevada or Oregon...and of course, while the current system assesses the gasoline tax to out-of-state drivers who purchase gas in California, the proposed new system could not do so.

Oh - and would there be either (a) a massive initial expense in converting every vehicle in California to the new system, or (b) a massive lagtime while newer vehicles are fitted with the system, while older ones wait to be replaced (creating a drag on the new-car market as well - not to mention raising yet again for Californians the price of new cars with state-specific gizmos included)?

The rationale is that - horrors! - fuel-efficient vehicles mean less gas purchased, and therefore fewer funds in the coffers to maintain roads. The proposal, then, is rather like that of a heroin addict trying to figure out what he needs to do to get more money...rather than addressing the addiction that's his real problem.

Look! He's shallow, like us!

Not of galaxy-imploding significance, but...is anyone else a little queased-out that Paris Hilton's new boyfriend is named "Paris" as well? I mean, what are the odds?