Obsidian Wings

Unclear on the Concept

by von

Yes, back again, with a reminder.  This is a blog.  Ernest G. Gygax died on March 4.  There was no entry. Frankly, that's unacceptable.  Why?  Well, how about, "Moe said so."  Or, if you're a purist, "Gary sent us."  (To which the orc responds, "Huh?")

(You got the references, right?)

Here's your open thread.  You can LARP anything you'd like on it, save politics.*

*There is something to be said about the intersection between role-playing and blogging under a pseudonym.  Unforunately, having given up role-playing games almost two decades ago, I ain't qualified to say it. 

This Day In YouTube

by hilzoy

Funny:

Funny and educational!

(Via The Edge of the American West.)

A More Appropriate Thread

by hilzoy

Jeff, in comments to a previous thread, wrote:

"Note: there are things in comments that I'd like to reply to, and in a few days, when there's a new thread available for such things, I probably will. But how difficult is it to say to yourself "This precious gem of a idea can wait, as long as a whole day or two, and will not wilt on the vine"? How hard is it to realize that this thread, just this ONE, is NOT about you, sterling example of bloggerdom though you might be.

If you have anything to say that MIGHT be offensive, mail it to hilzoy -- let her make the decision, or curb your self-important egoism and post on a more appropriate thread."

I'm really grateful to Jeff for that. In return I offer this More Appropriate Thread™ on which to have all those discussions.

Farewell To A Giant

by hilzoy

I note with chagrin that Thomas at RedState has decided to retire from RedState, and that he has chosen to thank us as he leaves:

"Fifth, I want to take a moment to thank Markos Moulitsas Zuniga, Duncan Black, Oliver Willis, the whole crew at Obsidian Wings, and the writers of any other far-left wing moron factory I've inadvertantly omitted, for sending us the waves of cretins who've, between them, managed to make target practice a sport for the whole family again."

I thought I might mark this moment by noting some of Thomas' finer moments. It's hard to pick just a few, but here are two of my favorites:
First, from "Politicizing Tragedy Or The American Left And Human Filth: Distinguish If Possible":

"I no longer see the Left as a set of political opponents. I understand them now to be what they are: An uncompromising, barely human mass of malignancy, that exists only to be crushed electorally and culturally once and for all. Or, as a wiser man than I put it, The Evil Party."

Second:

"I repeat: Should the entire American Left fall over dead tomorrow, I would rejoice, and order pizza to celebrate. They are not my countrymen; they are animals who happen to walk upright and make noises that approximate speech. They are below human. I look forward to seeing each and every one in Hell.*"

How we in the moron factories will manage without Thomas' shining example of Christian charity and compassion is a mystery that passeth all understanding.

***

* This is not the only time that Thomas has committed the sin of presumption by claiming to know God's will not just in general cases -- e.g., His disapproval of murder or idolatry -- but in specifics as well. Personally, I do not believe that any finite and fallible human being has the knowledge to which Thomas lays claim, which gives me some hope that, despite Thomas' somewhat surprising view that he will be in Hell along with the entire American Left, he might be wrong, and find favor with God.

Pretty Bird Woman House

by G'Kar

I hate to ask for money, but I am willing to make an exception for particularly good causes. And I think that Pretty Bird Woman House, a women's shelter on the Standing Rock Sioux Reservation, qualifies. Some fine example of humanity burned down the shelter, and they need some $70,000 to buy a new place to house the women they protect. They're within $14,000 at this writing, but if anyone here could spare just a few dollars to help them along, that would be wonderful. Sexual violence is a horrifying constant for the women of the Standing Rock reservation, and places like the Pretty Bird Woman House are vitally and sadly important for them. It's an expensive time of year, but anything you can spare would help.

You can donate by visiting their blog or the Chipin page. Or use the widget below. Thank you.

Hat tip: Bitch, PhD.

Military Musings

by G'Kar

Inspired by some recent reading, both here and elsewhere, I wanted to address some matters military. Since this post is somewhat meandering and since I'm just a guest here, I'll put the post below the fold so readers can skip past to the more important stuff.

Miles Deep, Inches Wide

by G'Kar

I just wanted to express a quick note regarding my location (occupied Narn) and how it affects my assessment of the situation on the ground there. While I see a lot here, I hardly see everything even in my relatively small slice of the pie. Therefore, while I can provide some useful on-site information regarding the situation, I am not privy to everything that is occurring and my vantage point may even make it more difficult for me to make assessments regarding the big picture, because I am so involved in questions down in the weeds. Therefore, while I will offer what information I can, I will try to separate facts from opinion by noting when I am relating something I have familiarity with as opposed to an assessment I have arrived at on my own.

I want to point this out because I do not want to want to take more authority to myself than is justified. If I'm seeing something on the ground, I have no hesitation in pointing out what I know. But that does not mean that I think that my opinions about what should be done should confer any special weight.

And to ensure that this post has some real purpose: open thread.

Anti-Althousiana, Hooray!

by von

I DON'T GENERALLY READ Ann Althouse; I find her shtick -- and a lot of it is shtick -- to be kinda boring.  Indeed, that Professor Althouse attempts treat blogging as performance art doesn't mean that all of her performances are art (or particularly good).  But curiousity got the better of me, and I clicked through Hilzoy's post to see last hour's tempest in a teapot.

Now, I don't claim exceptional vaginatise: I'm pretty familiar with vaginas, but I don't have one and it seems that having a vagina is required to be an expert in all things vagina.  Still, I'll offer my two cents.  I just don't see how crunchy, oniony hoop equals vagina.  At least the vaginas that I've seen or known, that is.  (In the event that someone in the audience does have a crunchy, oniony hoop for a vagina, umm, more power to you.)  Maybe I'm stupid.  Maybe I have insufficient insight or imagination.  Maybe I just lack the stones.  But I just don't see it.  So, what Hilzoy said.

Then I saw the following update at the end of Althouse's post:

UPDATE: This post has spawned a whole subgenre of anti-Althousiana. I discuss that here.

Now, I'm never surprised when Althouse claims that a post of hers -- even one as obviously mockable as this one -- spawns a "subgenre," "hotbed," "phylum," "maelstrom," "orgy," "Big Mac and a bunch of fries," and/or "whole buncha" of anti-Althousiana.  Like I say, she's got a schtick.  But again curiousity got the better of me and I couldn't stop clicking through. 

Oh boy.  I admit that I couldn't finish reading her follow-up post, having not, in the first 1000 words, seen any indication that Althouse thinks her onion-ring-as-vagina claim was a satire, stupid, or just plain strange.  Also sapping my strength was Althouse' assertion that her provoking comment "was a little casual Freudian interpretation of a Hillary Clinton campaign video" -- really, a trifle! -- and following up with thousands of words responding, point-by-point, to her various perceived "critics."  A mite bit contradictory, no?  Or, as the second commentator on her follow-up post (Josh) observes:  "Me thinks she doth protest too much."

I suppose Althouse's defense of her thesis is somewhat interesting as an example of a person both self-unaware and self-indulgent.  One also sincerely hopes that Althouse understands the irony in her assertions that:  "The famously controlled former First Lady is pleased there are people like you. ... Me, I'm not so obedient. Even though I voted for Bill Clinton in 1992 and 1996 and may very well vote for Hillary, I don't accept these things at face value."  (You go, girl!  Don't take sh_t from no-one.)  Similarly perplexing is her claim that "[i]n the whole history of the world, if there is one person for whom a cigar was not just a cigar, it's Bill Clinton."  Even if I were to accept as much, why does it follow that an onion ring isn't sometimes just an onion ring?  Was there some onion ring scandal of which I am blissfully unaware?  Indeed, Althouse's "Freudian explanation" of an idiot Hil-dog campaign video reveals more about the good Professor than anyone else, including, most of all, Hillary and Bill. 

Now, unlike Althouse, I almost certainly won't be voting for Sen. Clinton.  Nor did I vote for Bill -- although, frankly, I would have voted for him in '92 (had I got around to voting that year).  But come on. 

UPDATE:  Worth noting is that Althouse claims to have intentionally created all this, and several of her commentators claim (on her behalf) that this is a work of satirical genius.  Even if we take all this as true -- and maybe it is -- it still doesn't excuse these post as being terribly boring and unfunny.  For satire to work, there has to be some plausible connection to reality. 

But am I contributing to the problem by feeding the beast?  Does Althouse get a thrill that many think her views limited and unthrilling even assuming they're satire?  Do you get bonus points for being intentionally dense?  Does this attract law students to Wisconsin?  Is it a wise move for your students?

I hazard no -- to the last two questions, at least. Indeed, I have a slight role in interviewing law students for the summer program at my large, midwestern firm.  A law student emphasing his or her love of Professor Althouse or her classes in an interview or is slightly less likely to get a thumbs up from me.  Sorry, but these sorts of things do matter:  they're signals.  One thumbs down to a candidate is almost certain to end his or her chances for a position. 

Of course, all of this is deluded Anti-Althousiana from someone who thinks Althouse's shtick is annoying, dull, or just plain stupid (and sometimes all three).  But it drives up the pageviews!  It creates controversy!  It's performance art, man!  Look at me!  Look at me!

We're looking, Ann.  We don't think you're crazy.  We get what your trying to do.  None of it is very impressive.

UPDATE 2:  Despite your love of the new traffic, it's not clear that the link from InstaPundit is particularly approving.  But, since Althouse has an evident desire that we all look at her, I'm happy to oblige. 

File Under .... General Idiocy

by von

JACK TRUDEAU, former QB for the Indianapolis Colts, faces three years in prison for hosting a high school graduation party.  The crime?  Alcohol was served:

Hosting a party for Park Tudor graduates at his Zionsville residence, former Indianapolis Colts quarterback Jack Trudeau collected car keys and listed names on a clipboard -- but denied that he supplied any of the alcohol that authorities found there early Saturday, according to Boone County court documents released Monday.

.....

Authorities filed a felony charge of obstruction of justice Monday against Trudeau, who could face up to three years in prison. Police say he failed to provide the list of the young people attending the party.

....

Trudeau was charged after police found students from Park Tudor, a private school on the Far Northside of Indianapolis, celebrating their graduation with alcoholic beverages in his home. According to the police report, when officers arrived, Trudeau was at the front of his home with a clipboard in his hand. He told officers that he was taking everybody's names and keys so no one could leave the party. According to the court documents, he said that if underage drinking were going on, he didn't supply the alcohol -- but added that he wasn't checking people's coolers or bags as they entered the party.

Authorities said Trudeau had told his guests that he didn't want them to wind up like Jon Pavey, a star receiver on the Zionsville Community High School football team who was critically injured in a one-car accident May 25.

This is ridiculous.  Granted, Trudeau may have broken the law and, granted, he might have been a bit of a prick.  But is there nothing better for these officers and Boone county's prosecutor to do than put a guy in jail for having, at worst, a misguided sense of what's in the best interests of these kids?  (I say "at worst" because it's not at all clear to me that 18-year olds, eligible to both vote and die for this country, shouldn't also be permitted a beer in a private residence.)  There is, after all, an honest-to-God crime wave occuring in Indianapolis.  Although I realize that it hasn't affected tony Zionsville, couldn't the Zionsville police at least make a stab at giving a damn?*

A Distant Episode

by von

WE BREAK FROM POLITICS* to reconsider our relative youth.  And one of the better tunes from the late 1990s:

You're such a willing stick

to beckon that wanting knife and

you've been looking for it

the right blade, all your life

saying: "who's gonna cut

me down to a size that suits me?

is there a worthy sculptor

among all you fine young knives?"

Jets to Brazil, "King Medicine," Orange Rhyming Dictionary.

Of personal interest, there's a video of JtB playing this very song at the Empty Bottle in Chicago, Illinois.  I happened to be in the audience at that show.  You won't see me in the video, of course, because my sacred duty at such things is to sit at the bar down my Maker's Mark and Cokes in restless silence with only an off-tempo shake of the knee to demonstrate that I'm paying attention. 

Incidentally, it's simply untrue that pouring Coca-Cola in a glass of Maker's Mark is a good way to ruin bourbon.  It's the best way.

*A cynic might point out that, given the news, the only thing a liberalish Republican can do at this point is to remember their youth.  Fortunately, I have it on good authority that no one who reads this blog is a cynic.

(Those who know the source of the title of this post also should know that the referenced work has absolute nothing to do with the content of this post -- save that it supplied a title that, taken wholly out of context, kinda fits.)   

Closing Time

by Andrew

I believe that when we leave a place a part of it goes with us and a part of us remains. Go anywhere in these halls, when it is quiet, and just listen. After a while you will hear the echoes of all of our conversations, every thought and word we've exchanged. Long after we are gone, our voices will linger in these walls for as long as this place remains. But I will admit that the part of me that going will very much miss the part of you that is staying.

G'Kar, Babylon 5

This will be my last post at Obsidian Wings. Not, as has noted, that anyone is likely to notice I'm gone, since I've done a lousy job of keeping up of late anyhow. <g> I have no desire to leave, but given my personal circumstances, it appears to be the best of my available options.

Bring Back Fat Apollo!

by von

If you want politics, go here (Andrew on the Fairness Doctrine) or here (Hilzoy on Hillary).  If you want to bs about today's games, go here.  If you want to gamble on the Cornerites, Publius is your man.  By popular demand, however, this is your Battlestar Galactica Open Thread.  Use it wisely.

Because of the Colts game, I'm DVR'ing my BSG fix for tomorrow.  So, to avoid spoilers, I'll not be patrolling comments.  Play nice.

I'll leave you with a few thoughts:

Number Six in Playboy?  The fifteen-year old nerd in me rejoices.  (OK, OK, the nearly-thirty-three-year-old nerd in me is also relatively positive on the subject.)

Is anyone else thinking that we've been a while since a supporting character has died?  My bets are on Galen or Anastasia taking the hit for the dramatic team.

And bring back fat Apollo!  That was the worst training montage since The Karate Kid.  (Granted, the 'Kid also had the All-Valley Karate Tournament montage -- perhaps the best film montage of all time).  Alternatively, if anyone knows how Apollo managed to drop 45 pounds in thirty seconds of screen time and about a month of "show time" (judging from the storyline), let me know.  I could stand to lose a few as well.

Dreams Go To Die

by von

5:34 left in the 4th, and it looks like New Orleans is about to fall to the Chicago Bears (currently it's 32-14, with Chicago driving at the NO 20).  I never bought NO as a legitimate contender, and, having lived in Chicago for a number of years, I still have some residual love for the Bears. 

But the real game starts 6:30 EST.   

You Can't Take the Sky From Me

by Andrew

If memory serves, when my taste for Babylon 5 was first revealed here at ObWings, there was some discussion of another sci-fi show called Firefly. As luck would have it, I received both Firefly and Serenity as Christmas gifts, and Amanda and I had time to watch the full series and the film over the holiday. Given it's a Friday going into a long weekend (for some, anyhow), this seems like a fun opportunity to discuss the show's merits, both relative to the film and relative to B5 and other sci-fi shows and films out there. Not to mention a good open thread. Have at it.

A Christmas Story

--by Sebastian

Personal anecdote open thread.

I went to Denver for Christmas to visit my family.  As you may have heard, there was a bit of snow in Denver around that time.  Fortunately I was traveling on Saturday--two days after the Denver airport reopened.  There was a warming trend while I was there.  It got up to a daily high of 32 degrees (that is freezing for our European readers) by the time I left. 

So Saturday morning I woke up at 4:30 in the morning to catch the first flight to Denver.  I met my taxi cab in the front at 4:45.  He was on time, which is a bit rare, so I was thrilled as much as I can be thrilled at 4:45 am.  (I'm a night person so I have to admit that isn't very thrilled on an absolute scale.)  I threw my luggage in the trunk and the driver slammed it shut.  Then he went to the front and made an unpleasant discovery.  He had locked his keys in the car. 

I struggled for an appropriate non-hysterical response.  I realized that in my jacket pocket I had my phone, my wallet and my iPod.  I immediately called a tow truck to open the door.  The man on the other end assured me that he could make it to my location within 45 minutes.  That wasn't going to cut it for my flight.  I asked him to come anyway (the cabby was going to need it at some point).  The taxi service sent another cab, but that didn't help with my luggage.  The driver offered to bring it to the airport, but I knew I wouldn't be able to get it through security unless I waited--which I couldn't do and catch my flight.  He suggested that the airline would send it to meet me in Denver, but that was pre-9/11 thinking. 

I had a nasty cold, but I wanted to see my parents, sister, brother-in-law, nephew and niece, so I decided to travel without luggage.  Even though I was late, it proved easy to get through security with zero luggage.  I flew to Denver, went straight over to WalMart, purchased a pair of longjohns, two sweatshirts, two pairs of sweatpants and a backpack for about $70.  Thank God for Walmart!  My sister was sick too, so I spent a bunch of time with her sipping tea while huddled in blankets.  This San Diego boy isn't built for cold weather. 

The day after Christmas I met with our very own Andrew and his lovely wife.  Both were charming.  Andrew was fun and chatty, his wife was a bit more quiet but had an obviously sharp intelligence about her. 

So for our ObsidianWings reunion (hmm if we haven't met yet is that just a 'union') I'm not suggesting Denver in the winter.  Honestly I would recommend San Diego any time of year.  I played beach volleyball yesterday when it was an unseasonably warm 70 degrees within sight of the water. 

Be well everyone!  Happy New Year and all that rot.  :)

Blah Blah Blah

by hilzoy

As far as I can tell, the entire world is doing one of three things:

(a) dying

(b) attending a funeral

(c) waiting for something.

I tuned in CNN over the weekend, and felt like a refugee from Sixth Sense: "I see dead people!" All the time, over and over. I flipped to CSPAN, and they were, honest to God, showing the funerals of Caspar Weinberger and Coretta Scott King.

Meanwhile, Bush continues to act as though he has all the time in the world to decide what to do about Iraq. Congress starts up in two days. Last time I checked, Iraq had not entered a whole new level of violence after Saddam's death, but there's always time for things to get worse. No one quite knows what's about to happen in Somalia, now that the ICU seems to have given up the ghost.

Hanging fire.

There is, however, one piece of vital news: the Gävle Christmas Goat has survived the entire Christmas season without being burnt down. Apparently, this is due to "a special flame-resistant chemical coating", which seems to take the fun out of it. Maybe next year people will try to destroy it in some new way. Torpedoes. Ravening hyenas. Vast swarms of flame-resistant-straw-eating ants.

If anyone else has found any interesting news (other than the Congressional Republican Whineathon, which I found very amusing), let me know.

***

UPDATE: On the bright side, via Matttbastard I learn that I am an antiamerican satanist:

"How many times have both left and right scolded me (and others) for pointing out that liberalism, at least the style currently in vogue, is incompatible with Americanism. Liberalism is mental illness evidenced by worship of evil and hatred of good. Liberalism is Satanism.

GP is right: the left is the enemy. It is not just an alternative political order. Western republican-democratic government cannot coexist with liberalism. It is our bounden duty to put away the left. "

Also, I am the enemy. The sick, sick, enemy. Also, insane. At least, my voice is:

"There is an enemy in America- Powerful -Shrill- Self-Hating - It has never been more obvious, it has never been more open... than it is today- mourning Saddam!

It is not a fringe element.

It is not a minority.

It is the voice of today's American Left. (...)

Don't ever allow a Leftist to lecture you on human rights again... Ever.

Lord, please help those sick, sick people."

To the last bit I can only say: Amen.

***

Yet another update: Apparently, there's a town called Poetry Tulip in Georgia. Also: Experiment and Po Biddy Crossroads. I don't think any of these make my top four list (Cheesequake NJ, Meddybemps ME, Eek AK, Bugscuffle TN), though Poetry Tulip comes close. What a wonderful name.

A Modest Proposal

by von

Don't know whether it's something Brian Boitano would do, but Erick Erickson (of RedState) reveals a surefire way to deter future visits  from Jehovah's Witnesses.

UPDATE, AND ON A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT SUBJECT:  Just don't forget the little people, Jonathan, when you go on Nancy Grace.  (Jonathan Polak, Goldman's attorney in the most recent lawsuit against O.J. Simpson, used to represent certain co-defendants of one of my clients in a long-running civil RICO case.)

The War On Christmas: Foiled So Far!

by hilzoy

One of my favorite things about the Christmas season is being able to see what, if anything, will befall the Gävle goat: a huge goat made of straw that is built each year in Gävle, Sweden, and usually destroyed. Last year I wrote about the incineration of the 2005 goat here:

"That's my ancestral country for you! When Swedes declare a war on Christmas, they don't just ask cashiers to say 'Happy Holidays', or call 'Christmas trees' 'friendship trees'. (...) No: in Sweden, they don't go in for such pathetic half-measures. When they declare war on Christmas, they burn down the Christmas goat! Repeatedly! Except for the years they decide to run it over with a car, or blow it up! Now that's what I call secularists gone wild."

Wikipedia has an amusing article on the Gävle goat, from which I learned that the goat has, on various occasions, been lit on fire, kicked to pieces, run over by a car, "sabotaged" (?), and (my personal favorite): "burned by unknown vandals reportedly dressed as Santa and a gingerbread man by shooting a flaming arrow or molotov cocktail at the goat at 21:00 on 3 December."

Also: "One year when they had guards posted around the goat the temperature dropped way below zero. The guards thought they ought to go inside to get something to warm them up. They went into a nearby restaurant, but before they even had a chance to raise their glasses they saw flames shooting from the goat outside the window."

Various protective measures have failed: in 1979, "the goat was burnt even before it was erected. A new one was built and fireproofed. It was destroyed and broken into pieces"; in 1985, "even though the goat was enclosed by a 2 m (6.5 ft) high metal fence, guarded by Securitas and even soldiers from the Gävle I 14 Infantry Regiment, it was burned down in January"; and in 1987, "a heavily fireproofed goat was built. It got burned down a week before Christmas." Webcams have been tried and foiled, and "on 2004-11-27 the Gävle Goat's homepage was hacked into and one of the two official webcams changed to display "Burn Bockjaevel" (translation: Burn F*cking Goat) in the left corner of its live feed."

And there are those who say Swedes have no sense of humor.

In any case: I am thrilled to report that as of now, the Gävle Goat still stands:

"Vandals tried to set fire to a giant straw goat in central Sweden but failed to burn down the traditional Christmas monument, which has been soaked with flame-resistant chemicals, officials said Friday.

The overnight raid was the season's first attack on the 43-foot-high Christmas goat in the city of Gavle, 90 miles north of Stockholm. The goat has been burned down more than 20 times in the last 40 years in what has become a yule tradition.

"Somebody tried to set fire to the right front leg, but the flame-resistant chemical worked 100 percent," said Kurt Lagerholm, chairman of the goat committee.

"There's smell of gasoline and the ribbon is a bit smutty, but otherwise it's unhurt," he said."

For now, at least.

Here's the goat's webcam, and here's a picture. Isn't it impressive? And wouldn't it be a shame if something were to happen to it? (Heh heh.)

Open Thread

by hilzoy

William Arkin, the Washington Post's normally sober military/security blogger, has written a Rumsfeld Christmas song:

"Snowflakes roasting on an open fire,
Rummy's in his final throes,
Useless memos being fed to the pyre,
Hosannas sung by GI Joes.

Everybody knows the voters said you have to go,
Iraq has got to be made right,
Have a blast making fabulous dough,
I'm sure the Boards will love your spite.

We know that Gate's on his way,
He's got the exit strategy for which we've prayed.
All those in uniform will hardly cry,
They long ago saw past the 'oh goodness my.'

And so I'm firing this joyful shot,
At Rummy and his lousy crew,
We'll still uncover many crimes, many ways,
But the world is safer 'cause you're through.

We know that Gate's is on his way,
He's going to find the place in Rummy disarray,
The troops may be gung-ho but they are fried,
Let's hope and pray the Green Zone's days are equally nigh.

And so I offer up this borrowed phrase,
The military's black and blue,
You point your finger everywhere, every way,
The blame however falls on you."

Wow.

Also, the Poor Man has found a truly awesome kitten page. I won't copy the one The Editors posted, which is wonderful. Instead:

Discuss.

Not About Torture!

by hilzoy

The BBC has this wonderful story:

"A German art student briefly fooled police by posing as one of China's terracotta warriors at the heritage site in the ancient capital, Xian.

Pablo Wendel, made up like an ancient warrior, jumped into a pit showcasing the 2,200-year-old pottery soldiers and stood motionless for several minutes.

The 26-year-old was eventually spotted by police and removed from the scene. (...)

Mr Wendel is reported to have entered the museum on Saturday where he changed into his outfit, jumped over a barrier and took up a position on a pedestal he had taken along.

"I got to the area where he was supposed to be, looked around and didn't see him - he looked too much like a terracotta warrior," Hong Kong newspapers quoted a security guard as saying.

As Mr Wendel's "performance art" did not harm any of the ancient relics, he was not arrested or charged but given "serious criticism", the reports said."

Here are some of the Terracotta Soldiers:

and here is Mr. Wendel having his costume removed:

If he were asking me whether or not to go ahead and do this, I would have to say: no, don't, however hard you try, you might damage one of the soldiers. Now that he has done it without doing any damage, and given that his costume and demeanor were so well done that guards actually walked right past him without noticing that he was alive, I can say: That is a truly excellent prank.

So: Is there something truly silly that you have always wanted to do? If so, what is it?

Because I'm Too Lazy to Make a Real Post

by Andrew

Inspired by Bob, who has some comments well worth your perusal in an earlier thread.

So we're all dog-faces. We're all very very different. But, there is one thing we all have in common. We were all stupid enough to enlist in the army. W're mutants. There's something wrong with us. Something very very wrong with us. Something seriously wrong with us. We're soldiers. But, we're American soldiers, and we've been kickin' butt for 200 years. We're ten and one!

If you can't laugh at yourself, who can you laugh at? Have at it.

Hej Från Sverige! (Öppen Tråd)

av hilzoy

The Swedish is beginning to come back...

Birdwatching in other countries is lots of fun: even the most ordinary birds are completely new, so everything is wonderful. Plus, as done by me, birding is basically an excuse to take very long walks while paying attention to my surroundings, and long walks here means long walks in hills covered with pine and birch trees, which is especially nice. Regrettably, I don't think I'm going to make it to an island I had thought of going to, not to mention the World's Largest Cheese Scraper, but I will have walked for ages and ages and ages by the time I go to Stockholm to meet up with my various relatives, most of whom I haven't seen in decades.

It's really astonishing to be in a country that's as clearly egalitarian as Sweden, coming from the US. There are no poor people that I've seen (and I have walked all over, as is my wont. I might be more hesitant to say this after being here for only a couple of days had I not seen the same thing when I lived in Stockholm for six months. I kept track: I saw one (1) poor-looking person during that time, and he was fairly clearly alcoholic.) There are also no McMansions, and I have yet to see one of those places like, say, Bar Harbor, where it seems as though money has been flowing around looking for any tiny crack it has yet to penetrate -- a doorknob that is not handmade by a master craftsman, a rosebush that is just an ordinary gorgeous rosebush, and not an incredibly rare new hybrid, etc. -- and rushed to fill it, the way water seeks out tiny fissures in a rock it is trying to penetrate.

It's also a country that plainly believes in public investment. There are all sorts of well-maintained parks with lots of people walking in them; public bike paths (also well traveled) and bike racks; all sorts of things that make it easy to have lots of fun for free. The cars are a lot smaller; I have yet to see an SUV. Everything is very tidy, and many of the houses have cheerful and well-maintained little flower boxes. And an alarming number of people are blonde; the kids' hair tends to be one shade away from white. There are a lot more immigrants than there were twenty-five years ago, chattering away in Swedish. Everyone has cell phones, and the food has improved a lot. (I remember, when I was living there, finding it pathetic that grocery stores made a big, big fuss about Fresh Potatoes!!!, but didn't seem to understand that, or why, it mattered that other vegetables be fresh. Tiny, defeated-looking clumps of celery; the odd mouldering onion; so much room for improvement, and all they cared about was Färsk Potatis!!!)

Geek-Fu

Because someone noted we haven't had an open thread in some time, and because I wanted to point out that someone stole my post title. The ObWings legal team is busy examining our options. Please remain calm.

Because this isn't just another deep space [blog] franchise. We stand for something.

How Many Centauri Does It Take to Screw In a Lightbulb?

Just because it gives me a chance to post another B5 reference. Open thread while I attempt to digest everything y'all talked about over the weekend. Ye gods, 300+ comments on Greenwald? Madness, utter madness.

Update: I excised a comment that was intended strictly in jest, because it can easily be taken the wrong way. My apologies.

Zip Fasten, or Fasten Zip?

by Andrew

Open thread, for those who'd like to discuss something other than what we're offering on sale today.

And presumably a much easier quote for this one.

Whoops

I'm sorry if you saw my post Asymmetric Warfare and now see that it has vanished.  I was working on it in draft (it should be done later today) but it isn't finished yet.  I think I pulled it back before there were any comments.  Until then I offer this cartoon, which may or may not have an interesting insight (hat tip David Bernstein).

The Smell of Better Vision

by Slartibartfast

That's supposed to be how you think of that burning-hair smell resulting from a UV laser burning multiple layers of cells from the surface of your cornea.  I really didn't notice much of a smell; hope that doesn't mean anything bad in terms of improved visual acuity.

That part, actually, didn't hurt.  Nor did the part where they put some sort of softening agent on my eye and then scraped off the top layer or two of cells.  The hurty-bits came later on, after the Valium (which I cheerfully accepted) wore off.  I wisely (ok, after some team-coaxing from both the doctor and my wife) abandoned the strategy of doing both eyes at once, so I'm typing this while squinting through an old pair of glasses from which the left lens has been removed, which are in turn covered by a pair of sunglasses to filter out those stray bits of light that have managed to sneak past the blinds.  Oh, and the radiance from the laptop.  Bad news: I have to do this again.

Lesson learned: the ability to endure pain means nothing when the pain is in your eye.  When your eye hurts, you're blind.  My sister is thinking of having this done; she thinks she'll be just fine because how bad could it be, compared with childbirth.  I'm interested in seeing how well childbirth prepares one for being able to see through freshly burned cornea.

Summary: still in some discomfort, and still not seeing well out of the eye that's been zapped.  Both are expected, but both mean I won't be around all that much.  In the meantime, consider this an open thread.

*Although reading and movie-watching are still painful, I managed to, finally, get the WWBBD reference.  It was a "free rental" (whatever that means) at the local Movie Gallery.

Not Dead.

by von

Not yet, at least.   I hope to be back by next week, dishing out my unique brand of von-justice to all comers.  Moreover, it'll be a new and improved von, finally in sync with the Administration.  But I can't be the only center-righty ready to come home to roost.  I mean, who could dislike the Dubai ports deal?  And who would be against handing out "Gold Cards" to recent immigrants?

Really?  The entire U.S. electorate? 

That hurts, man.

(Who the hell came up with the idea of calling Guest Worker ID cards "Gold Cards"?  Is it possible to play into the stereotype any further?  Why not call the program:  "Instant Credit For Illegals"?

(Are they even trying up there?)

On the home front, Calvin M. _____ was born February 14, 2006.  That's his daddy's birthday, whom I'm reliably informed is me.   

Open wide, ObWingians:  here comes that open thread you've been hungerin' for!

Imitation Is The Sincerest Form Of Flatttery Open Thread

by hilzoy

So I want to flatter Charles. I tried this on HoCB, but it didn't take, so I'm moving it here: this is a thread in which you can propose your very own tortured neologisms to describe political phenomena. Here are a few to get you started:

The effects of the Bush administration's legal doctrines on our country: Slomotalitarianism. Often propounded by Yoosful Idiots, this can lead either to Neoconstitutional monarchy or to outright Dicktatorship. In the special case in which slomotalitarianism is promoted by relentless appeals to fear of a shadowy enemy, its leader is known as a Cowardillo, and his subordinates as CryBybees.

Salvation By Feith: a glorious state that we spread around the world to counter nonexistent threats. While its architects are generally senior members of Washington DC's oligopolite society (the celebrated noplandinistas), its foot soldiers are inexperienced conservative twenty-somethings, often resulting in Heritragedy, a NoElectricitsumami, and a shocking increase in the Halliburden of disease.

See how easy? Now it's your turn.

Open Thread: Utterly Random Rainy Afternoon Edition

by hilzoy

So it has just dawned on me that the SuperBowl is tomorrow. I have only watched one in my life -- when I had just moved to Baltimore and the Ravens made it. It was a huge and glorious civic event: my dentist dyed his hair purple, skyscrapers were lit in purple (guess what the Ravens' color is?), and some even left lights on in windows spelling out GO RAVENS! But normally I just don't see the point. (Oddly, I like college football, though.)

In the meantime, now that Iran has been referred to the UN, I thought I'd recall another Bush administration nonproliferation success story (cough), which seems to have faded out of the news, but regrettably not out of reality:

Image from The Propaganda Remix Project.

Indictment For A Belated New Year's Wishes

I review the bad habits spread before me:

The wine, the cheese, the bourbon and gin;

The drinking-too-much-on-the-odd-school-night;

The chips and crackers (the better to have cheese with);

The smokes that diminish, one-by-one -- but now only only every other month;

The hours wasted on blog posts, and comments, and arguments that never will be resolved; and,

The work that never seems to end and yet I can't say no to it, and it comes more more more like I'm a hungry sparrow-chick.

All you damn bad habits.

Yes, I think I'll keep you all.

Happy New Year!

Shameless Self-Promotion

by hilzoy

Nominations for the Koufax Awards are now open. So if you have a favorite group blog, or a favorite series (cough, Graham Amendment, cough), or a favorite commenter (cough, too many to mention, cough), don't let our winsome modesty stand in your way.

Whither Newark?

History will recall that my first reaction to being routed through Newark for my red-eye voyage home was, "I can't explain it, but I've always had a visceral dislike for the Newark Airport."  But the timing worked out and I acceded to the travel agent's suggestion.

San Diego-Newark-Indianapolis may not be the most direct route, but, for a time, it looked like an ideal one.  After a deposition in Del Mar, I managed to meet Sebastian for coffee in San Diego.   (Note:  whatever mental picture Sebastian you have, make him a few inches taller.  Unless you already picture him tall, that is.)  I got to the airport early and had no trouble boarding my 10 p.m. flight.  The logic of hope dictated that the storm that was pummeling Indianapolis and Chicago just then would be somewhere in mid-Pennsylvania when I arrived in Newark, and then would be somewhere in eastern Pennsylvania when my 6:40 a.m. flight departed Newark for Indianapolis.  I would fly over the storm twice, but would not be stopped by it.

It was not meant to be.  My gut reaction was the right one.  And, sadly, the logic of hope is a bitch.

Ahh, well.  At least the airport has wireless internet access.  (And a cafeteria called "A Taste of Newark."  I shudder to think.)

This is your hopeless open thread. 

Teh Funny!

by hilzoy

The entire point of the rest of this post is to get you to click this link. (Via Pharyngula.) Trust me: do it now, and skip the summary.

***

OK, mistrustful people: it's a description of a fight about linguistics, which is, in the world of the piece, "widely and justifiably seen as the centrepiece of the high-school science curriculum"; and, in particular, about whether 'Wrathful Dispersion' should be taught alongside the usual evolutionary theories of historical linguistics.

"The opponents of Wrathful Dispersion maintain that it is really just Babelism, rechristened so that it might fly under the radar of those who insist that religion has no place in the state-funded classroom. Babelism was clearly rooted in the Judeo-Christian story of the Tower of Babel (Genesis 11: 1–9); it held that the whole array of modern languages was created by God at a single stroke, for the immediate purpose of disrupting humanity's hubristic attempt to build a tower that would reach to heaven: "Let us go down," God says to Himself, "and there confound their language, that they may not understand one another's speech." Wrathful Dispersion is couched in more cautiously neutral language; rather than tying linguistic diversity to a specific biblical event, it merely argues that the differences among modern languages are too perverse to have arisen spontaneously, and must therefore be the work of some wrathful (and powerful) disperser who deliberately set out to accomplish a confusion of tongues. (...)

In the early days of evolutionary linguistics, Babelists used to taunt French-speaking evolutionists with cries of "Your father was a Roman!" WD, by contrast, acknowledges that languages can indeed change over time, and some Wrathful Dispersionists even concede that modern French, Spanish, Italian, Portuguese, Romanian, and so on may actually have developed from Latin after all. The existence of Latin itself, however, and its mutual unintelligibility with, say, Old Church Slavonic or Proto-Bantu, could only have arisen through the wrath of the disperser. When asked to provide evidence for the existence of a single global language in pre-dispersion times, they reply that of course no such evidence can be found, because the disperser in his wrath was quite careful to obliterate all traces of it. (...)

In lieu of offering any evidence for their own proposal, most Wrathful Dispersionists prefer to devote their energy to attacking the evolutionary approach to historical linguistics, which they generally refer to as Grimmism. Much of their animus is directed against the lone figure of Jakob Grimm, whom they depict as having made up the idea of linguistic evolution off the top of his head, and they delight in pointing out novel "exceptions" to Grimm's Law, such as the fact that English has the word paternal where Grimm's Law obviously predicts fathernal. The evolutionists respond that paternal was a later borrowing into English from Latin, to which the Wrathful Dispersionists reply triumphantly, "So your trees and waves can't explain everything!" (...)

Wrathful Dispersionists are also fond of pointing out gaps in the written record, noting that there is no physical evidence of different languages dating back any earlier than five thousand years ago, a date which is suggestively close to the one commonly attributed to the Tower of Babel by biblical literalists. The bulk of their case against evolutionism, though, is based on the notion of irreducible perversity. For example, they argue that the sheer alienness of Basque—its apparent lack of any resemblance to any other living language—could only have come about by deliberate, wrathful (and, the Babelists would add, divine) intervention. Similarly, they claim that the notorious "ruki rule" in Sanskrit (/s/ becomes retroflex in the environment of /r/, /u/, /k/, or /i/—a "calculatedly chaotic conglomeration comprising two vowels, a rhotic, and a surd") is so arbitrary and so confusing that it must have been the conscious invention of someone who was absolutely determined that Sanskrit should be thoroughly incomprehensible to native speakers of any other language, such as Finnish."

If you don't feel like discussing linguistics or evolution, consider this another open thread.

Yikes!

by hilzoy

I once (at another school) had a colleague who used our department's research budget to hire half the football and rugby teams as his research assistants. As a result, not only have I come in to find a (clothed) student I didn't know in my office using my computer; I have also encountered unclothed students engaged in, well, I didn't stop to look, but something involving intertwined limbs and moans, in my colleague's office. (The door was open, for some completely unfathomable reason, and his office was next to mine.)

Mercifully, however, I have never had to deal with this:

"HALF-NAKED MALE: STOP HARASSING US YOU PERVERT OR I'LL REPORT YOU!

ME: (still holding door) You'll report me for your having sex in my office? "

Sheesh. (Via Kevin Drum.)

[Update: you really, really should click on the link and read the whole thing.]

Department of Huh?

by hilzoy

Haymaker

You are one of life’s enjoyers, determined to get the most you can out of your brief spell on Earth. Probably what first attracted you to atheism was the prospect of liberation from the Ten Commandments, few of which are compatible with a life of pleasure. You play hard and work quite hard, have a strong sense of loyalty and a relaxed but consistent approach to your philosophy.

You can’t see the point of abstract principles and probably wouldn’t lay down your life for a concept though you might for a friend. Something of a champagne humanist, you admire George Bernard Shaw for his cheerful agnosticism and pursuit of sensual rewards and your Hollywood hero is Marlon Brando, who was beautiful, irascible and aimed for goodness in his own tortured way.

Sometimes you might be tempted to allow your own pleasures to take precedence over your ethics. But everyone is striving for that elusive balance between the good and the happy life. You’d probably open another bottle and say there’s no contest.

What kind of humanist are you? Click here to find out.

-- Excuse me? It's a really fun quiz, and it asks really interesting questions, and, yes, I did choose a vacation in a large house in Tuscany with a pool and all my friends and family over retracing Darwin's voyage to the Galapagos, and no, my idea of the perfect garden is not rectilinear, and yes, I do have fun, but: this is the most inaccurate summary of my personality anyone has ever come up with. I was not attracted to atheism, or anything else, by the prospect of liberation from the Ten Commandments. If I don't see the point of abstract principles, I'm not sure who does. I mean, for heaven's sake, I'm a Kantian moral philosopher! I loathe both Shaw and Brando (well, maybe not the very young Brando.) But my favorite actor is Alan Rickman, and as for people I admire, there are lots of them, but tinny playwrights with thin reedy philosophies are not among them.

Sheesh.

On the other hand, do you think the sexiest man alive would be more likely to appear in my living room if I were a haymaking Kantian? If so, I'll just have to curl up with Saint Joan.

Consider this an open thread.

Let's Rock And Roll!

by hilzoy

Enough with the serious stuff. Here, via Steve Clemons, is the worst right-wing rock I think I have ever heard. It's called 'Bush Was Right', by, well, the Right Brothers. You must, must, listen to the sample. Just do it. I've posted the lyrics on the flip, so you can sing along. And you will surely want to. Heh heh.

Seriously, though, I think the left writes much better right-wing music than the right does. Just think of the songs in Bob Roberts: the wonderful 'thump-ada thump-ada' bass behind these lyrics:

"Some people are rich
Some people are not
But they complain and complain and complain and complain and complaaaaaaiin!"

Or the plaintive, Stevie-Nicks-imitates-Joan-Baez folkie singing:

"We are marching for the children
We are marching for the poor
We are marching for self-interest
We'll march forever more..."

(if you haven't seen Bob Roberts, you must. The world-view is a bit wacky and conspiratorial for my taste, but the music is great. Plus, you get to see Alan Rickman, playing a campaign manager accused of swindling an S&L and a charity while running drugs for the CIA, decline to answer questions about this, and then bark: Excuse me; I have to go pray.")

So here's the deal: if anyone wants to write a parody right-wing rock song, do it. Better still, if anyone wants to record a parody right-wing song (paging xanax), do it, put it on the web somewhere, and post the link. If you don't have space, email the music file to me (within reasonable limits), and (since I have some space on my .mac account) I'll host it and link to it here. We cannot allow the unintentional self-parodies of the right to go unanswered. Best entry wins a virtual gold star.

And Now For Something Completely Different...

by hilzoy

(Via ack ack ack) Guess what this is?

That's right: a knitted version of the human digestive system! If you look closely, you can see that it has all its parts; or you could go here and see more pictures, with the gall bladder et al. conveniently labeled.

The person who knitted it said: "I spent way too much time sitting in Evo-Devo class thinking, it's a tube, isn't it?"

Consider this an open thread.

I Hate Writing Grants Open Thread

by hilzoy

Sorry to have been absent: I have been writing a grant. Ugh. -- For the most part, philosophers don't do grants, since so few people are willing to give us money. As far as I'm concerned, this is great. But in a moment of folly I decided to say I'd write one anyways. Ugh.

Besides, I am in a dismal mood about the country. Bush is, as Charles said, facing a crisis, and I cannot for the life of me see any reason to believe either that he is capable of seeing what needs to be done to get himself out of it (basically: taking on a bunch of entirely new advisors who are serious, responsible and knowledgeable, and being willing to listen seriously to them), or willing to do those things. His entire history suggests that he does not like to admit his own shortcomings -- this is, after all, the same George W. Bush who drove his car into a garage wall the one time his wife dared to criticize one of his speeches. Since he has already driven the country into a wall, I'm not sure what he has in store for us this time, and I'm not sure I want to know.

Consider this a gloomy, dispirited open thread.

John Thullen: Literary Genus

Yes I often misspell words.

This time I didn't.

An open thread (as if the other ones weren't functioning as such).  :)