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I like the sound of this:

It is relatively simple to search for designer discounts
on the web. Lady Gaga wore a bright magenta shirt and teamed it
with a simple square pattern. If strange symbols are replacing the real ones,
you’re surely looking at a house and it’s just looking at a house and it’s just looking at a house the whole time.

This is almost existential, I think.  “If strange symbols are replacing the real ones”–I could see T.S. Eliot writing that.  Granted, he would decide it wasn’t very good, but I could see it.

This set me thinking that someone should create poems compiled from spam comments.  Well, some searching revealed that, in fact, someone has, and it’s quite funny!  Check it out.

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I’ve sat here refreshing my statistics all the live-long day,

But the Internet has yet to send a single view my way.

And however much I try

Still nobody’s stopping by

To see what I have got to say.

 

 

When you write a lot of stuff in cyberspace

Your page view count is how you know your place,

And I’m afraid that mine

Is not exactly fine–

It’s a particularly sorry case!

 

 

Now, there have been other days, it’s true,

When every other minute I would get a view;

It made me feel important;

Even though perhaps it oughtn’t

Since they were all spammers from Tartu!

 

 

My average view count’s just a little over six,

But after this it will sink just like a bunch of bricks.

This might not seem much to you,

But I am an obsessive blogger who

Has just got to get his fix!

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I’ve been wanting to do another one of these after I had so much fun with my political and football ones.

 

Mass Effect (series)

The Reapers are bad

Because they will kill us all–

So let’s kill ourselves.

Fallout: New Vegas

Why would you gamble

In a wrecked economy

Based on bottle caps?

Half-Life 2

1984

With gravity guns, crowbars–

And more depressing.

Metal Gear Solid

Two days to prevent

A nuclear disaster.

But let’s chat some first.

Halo (series)

Generic soldiers

Fighting generic monsters.

The Fans will love it!

Call of Duty (series)

Generic soldiers

Fighting with one another.

A Halo killer!

Deus Ex

A million choices;

Branching paths and decisions;

All destroy the world.

Doom 3

U.A.C. has guns,

Teleporters and ships, but

“No duct tape on Mars.”

Perfect Dark

A female James Bond

To be the next Goldeneye?

More like Moonraker.

Knights of the Old Republic II

Take away the Force

And Jedi are incomplete.

Much like the ending.

Feel free to add your own in the comments.

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Ah ha, Charles Fort, you tricky rascal, you! I knew I’d find you one day!

Charles Fort. Image via Wikipedia

Some readers may recall that I did a rather silly post, nearly a year ago now, trying to think of the last name of some philosopher whose first name was “Charles”.  Well, the other day I finally stumbled across his Wikipedia page again. That’s one mystery solved.

So, after all that, what was the deal with this Fort guy?  He was, from what I read, a bit of an oddball.  He didn’t really trust mainstream science much, and had a way of coming up with his own offbeat sort of logic.  

Not that he seems to have taken any of that seriously either,and to go by his Wikiquote page, he was a very witty fellow, and it sometimes seems like his interest in weird stuff was an excuse to make clever quips. 

So, that’s Charles Fort in a nutshell. (Which, some would say, is exactly where he belongs.)  I hope you you found this worth the wait.

 

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[Inspired by the Knights of the Old Republic series, to be sung to the tune of “On a tree by a river”, from Gilbert and Sullivan’s The Mikado. I wrote this about six years ago, which is why it’s even worse than my typical efforts. I guess it’s the closest I’ve ever come to writing “fan-fiction”, because I imagined Revan singing it to Bastila.]

On a beach by the ocean, Canderous was seen,

Saying “Ordo, Clan Ordo, Clan Ordo!”

And I said to him, “Canderous, what do you mean

Saying: ‘Ordo, Clan Ordo, Clan Ordo?'”

Is it some race of aliens, soldier?” I cried,

“Or Tarisian gang with which you were allied?”

Said he: “They’re my clan–and should be unified!

O, Ordo, Clan Ordo, Clan Ordo!”

He thrust out his chest daring foes to defy

Clan Ordo, Clan Ordo, Clan Ordo.

And that warrior fire came into his eye

For Ordo, Clan Ordo, Clan Ordo!

He stood up at once, and he shouldered his gun;

Then he blasted away for the moon of Dxun.

And he promised to finish what he had begun

With Ordo, Clan Ordo, Clan Ordo.

Now, I feel just as sure as I’m sure that my clan

Isn’t “Ordo, Clan Ordo, Clan Ordo”;

That if you so desire, we certainly can

(Like Ordo, Clan Ordo, Clan Ordo)

Rekindle those passions that burned once before

And love one another, perhaps even more.

And I’m sure it won’t end in a violent war–

In contrast to Ordo’s Clan Ordo.

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Thingy had a great idea on her blog last week. The idea is to take one basic scenario and then write it in the style of different authors. Be sure to read her post first. I loved it, and I just had to try a few of my own. But read Thingy’s original post and get the aforementioned “gist” before you read mine.

H.P. Lovecraft (Cosmic Horror)

Into the blasphemous January gale stepped Jack Wilmarth.  By the banks of the inconceivably ancient Massachusetts river, he surveyed the queerly-shaped yews.  At length, he selected a log and aimed with his axe a blow at it, but the bizarre atmosphere of that eldritch locale distracted him, and he chose an unfortunate angle and wounded his thumb.  As the wound spread onto the snow, he turned to behold a strange motor approaching along the ancient mountain paths trod in antiquity by the native tribes…

P.G. Wodehouse (Humor)

“What ho, what ho—it seems young Jack has made a frightful fool of himself!”

“Indeed, sir?”

“Well, the young buffoon seems to have gone out for a bit of a ramble and thought to himself he’d try his hand at wood-chopping—you know, like those frightful blighters who go about in check shirts and great hats do—but it seems he rather gave the wood a bit of miss and hit his own hand instead.  Caused a bit of a scene on the snow, I mean to say!  Must’ve looked like the first scene of A. Christie’s latest, I should think!”

“Most distressing, sir.”

“Yes, well, if his fiancée hadn’t happened by in her car so they could biff off to hospital, I think we might have found ourselves reading about the poor fish in tomorrow’s obituaries.  Still, all’s well that ends well, what?”

“Indubitably, sir.”

Ayn Rand (Objectivism)

The weak, contemptible looter Jack was far too incompetent when he stepped out of the cabin to chop wood.  He was weak-willed, and incapable of realizing Man’s natural superiority over nature, and so foolishly cut his thumb and bled deservedly in the snow.  For he had failed to comprehend the eternal philosophical truth that…

[5,000 similar words omitted.]

…he raised his head to see a beautifully-made automobile approaching through the wood, demonstrating Man’s mastery of metal to conquer the Earth.

Thomas Hardy (Tragedy)

Jack made his egress from the small-gabled forest cabin of round logs, with a view to perhaps building a fire to warm him and heat his comestibles.  But alas, it is often the case that Fate will frustrate the efforts of mortals endeavoring to improve their situation, and so he was dismayed to injure his thumb on the instrument he used for the task.  He saw the snow around him turn crimson, and glanced up to see a vehicle in the lane beyond the cabin, but it passed him by.  It is ever so that cruel Fortune will present to us the means of salvation, only to just as quickly snatch them away…

(A Role-Playing Video Game)

[Set Player Name.  Player name = “JACK”]

[You see a door inside the cabin. Open it? Y/N]

[JACK chooses “Y” Exits to snowy morning scene.  You see an “Axe of Unbeatable Strength” Use? Y/N]

[JACK chooses “Y” Damage: self = 10 x 2 CRIT. Damage: Log = 0.  HP – 20]

[Play cinema scene of car pulling up.]

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[To the tune of the Scottish folk song “Ye Jacobites By Name“.]

Ye Patriots by name, lend an ear, lend an ear,

 Ye Patriots by name, lend an ear,

 Ye Patriots by name,

 Your faults I will proclaim,

 Your gameplan I must blame, you shall hear.

(Chorus: “Ye Patriots by Name”, etc.)

When to Run, and When to Pass, by the chart, by the chart?

 When to Run, and When to Pass, by the chart?

 When to Run, and When to Pass?

Two throws for each run, alas,

 Against the league’s top class falls apart.

(Chorus: “Ye Patriots by Name”, etc.)

What makes defensive ends slow their pace, slow their pace?

 What makes defensive ends slow their pace?

 What makes defensive ends

 Unsure which threat to defend,

 And let your speedy friends out in space?

(Chorus: “Ye Patriots by Name”, etc.)

Then leave some plays un-thrown, and shift gears, and shift gears

 Then leave some plays un-thrown, and shift gears.

 So leave some plays un-thrown,

 Don’t give up on the run,

 And titles you’d have won last two years.

(Chorus: “Ye Patriots by Name”, etc.)

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“Apocalypse ‘12”,

So the Mayans had said.

“Mark on your calendars

That you’ll all be dead.”

And ev’ryone came

To the center of town,

To look at the clock

As the minutes ticked down.

We all knew it would end

But we didn’t know how.

“Be ready” we said,

“For anything now”.

They primed all the missiles,

The oceans did rise,

The sun started growing

To no one’s surprise.

Bob Frost, he took bets

On “fire” or “ice”.

I said “10-to-1 water”

And he said “no dice”.

A relieved Harold Camping

Lit a vict’ry cigar;

And even  Cthulhu

Drove up in his car.

Behind him by barely

So much as a step

Came old Yog-Sothoth

And Nyarlathotep.

As twilight approached

We only could stare

And wait for the horsemen

We knew would be there.

The sky opened up

And there they appeared,

Looking as awful

As everyone feared.

There came a grim hush

To all of our chatter’n’

As those four moved into

Their last landing pattern.

Then one of the riders

Lost hold of his steed,

And the blasphemous bronco

Was off at full speed.

The Unearthly rider

Into space he was thrown;

‘Twas like the “Ghost Riders”

Meet “The Strawberry Roan”.

The next day the feeling,

As the headline explains:

Was “Apocalypse Called

On Account of the Reins.”

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My friend Thingy informs me of a disturbing phenomenon.  Apparently, there is a chilling statue of the television character “the Fonz” in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. I mean, everybody has their own tastes, but personally I think it’s bizarre-looking.  The eyes are especially unnerving.

Wikipedia says there are also statues of Mary Tyler Moore throwing her hat in the air and Jackie Gleason as Ralph Kramden in Minneapolis and New York, respectively. I am not a huge fan of statues in general, but at least statues of historical figures who actually did real, important things make some sense.    But fictional characters?  From comedies?  Seems weird to me.

Maybe it’s the same reason it looks so strange to me to begin with. Statues are better suited to looking solemn, because that fits better with being unmoving.  Something that appears to be grinning manically and yet does not move seems unnatural and sinister. (The Mary Tyler Moore statue is also kind of odd looking to me, although less so because it appears not to be multicolored.)

I don’t blame the sculptors for how these look; it seems like they did as well as anyone could have. It’s just an impossible task.  What interests me more is why you would want statues of fictional comedic characters in your city.  Maybe I’m too old-fashioned, but it seems kind of like saying “we didn’t have any real famous people, so it was necessary to invent some.”

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Moralists rail against most forms of gambling,

Their fingers they wag, and implore us and beg us

To see to it we never decide to go rambling

In places like Monte Carlo, or, Lord help us, Las Vegas.

But the most sinister game of chance that I’ve seen

I was able to play in my home by myself.

It’s referred to as “Fantasy Football”, and I mean

To say it’s as bad as some dice or cards on a shelf.

Well, I picked out my players in the pre-season draft

After poring o’er pages of prognostic palavers;

But by the third week, all my choices looked daft,

My runners were hurt, and all my receivers on waivers.

All the “experts” whose advice I naively did seek

Told me that I’d win based on the stats they projected

Which were based on what happened last week—

But things never, oh never, went as they expected!

Oh, you should rather pull slot machine levers

Or hit on 19 in a game of Blackjack,

Than go out and start  “hot” wide receivers

Or pick up the alleg’d “workhorse running back”.

I tried to get clever in order to trick ‘em

And my strategy became downright contrarian,

When I heard a name and was told “never pick ‘em!”

I’d snap him right up, dropping the stars I was carryin’!

But my efforts all were completely for naught;

My “sleepers” got stuffed by opposing noseguards

While the star I had dropped then went out and caught

17 passes for well over 200 yards.

I’ve had quite enough of this mad game of chance,

I don’t think knowing the sport helped me out in the least;

I could go and play baccarat or roulette in France

And I think my odds of success would be greatly increased!

(more…)