April Fools!

I just came back from getting gangbanged by fifty hunky men!

I've just signed an exclusive contract with Titan!

I just accepted a dream job and will be moving to London to sit around and do nothing!

I just inherited a million dollars!

I've found Jesus and will now blog only about my Bible study group meetings!

I am become Death, Destroyer of Worlds!

I can now reveal that I'm a CIA operative charged with finding Osama bin Laden. Turns out, he's been in Cape May, New Jersey the whole time!

I'm running away to Canada with Scott to be married. We're registered at Tiffany's, Mr. S Leather, and Barnes & Noble!

I'm witty and clever and do hilarious April Fools jokes that always dupe everyone!

Ah, Spring!

Is there anything better than, on a beautiful spring day, watching shirtless college guys in shorts play frisbee, while just across the path baseball players strut around in their tight pants showing off their bubble butts and cup-clad packages getting ready for a game? I think not! Really gets the hormones pumping. God, I need to get laid...

"I'll Show That Little White Furball Who The Star Is Around Here!"

Lady Yan Yan, the Berlin Zoo's female panda, dies of constipation in the midst of Knut-mania at the zoo. If the elephants start dying, we're going to have to take a hard look at Knut's nighttime activities. He's totally poisoning the other animals, y'all!

(Via Defamer)

Many Happy Returns!

Happy Blog Birthday to Note! May there be many more.

When You Think About It, It's A Wonder This Wasn't Made Ages Ago!

I mean, the pun is so obvious! Girls Gone Wilde!

(Via Bookslut)

Stupidest. Title. Ever.

The Sci-Fi Channel is known for its... less than good made-for-TV movies. They gave us such gems as Mansquito, for instance. But I just saw an ad for a movie about murderous ravens entitled, wait for it, Kaw. Kaw!!!! As in the sound ravens and crows make, except that if I've ever seen it written out before it was certainly written with a "c" (though a Google search indicates that some people do indeed spell it with a "k"). Still... Kaw? They've really run out of real, or even made-up, words, and been reduced to onomatopoeia? Wow.

I'm A Laaaaaaaaaady...

You Are 40% Lady

You tend to make up your rules of etiquette, throwing all conventions aside. And while you try to be a lady (sometimes), your behavior is often quite shocking.

Are You A Lady?

(Via Manhattan Offender)

"Oh, Baby, Conjugate My Genitive!"

Dean Dad gives us dirty talk for word nerds.

Ah, The Dulcet Sounds...

...of snoring. Though it's a bulldog doing so in that clip, that's pretty much what a pug like my dear departed Dusty sounds like, too. Isn't it just adorable? (Dusty slept with my mother, not me, so I got to think it was cute, while she got to lose sleep to it. Thanks, Mom!)

(Via Cute Overload!)

And The Winner Is...

The winner of the first annual Becky, "awarded to the promulgater of the single most ridiculous or misleading bit of linguistic nonsense that somebody manages to put over in the media," is announced. Congrats to the cranks and the credulous fools who print them!

(Via Maud Newton)

More Answers To Your Burning Questions

More questions to answer!

Note:

What was your major, Mr. Nerd?

English, baby! The liberal arts major only slightly more useful in the job market than History! Wooooo! (No offense to my History major brethren and sistren; I love you! And you're probably more successful than I am, so don't pay me any mind.)

How long will it take you to give up on the real world and return to academia, where you can persue theory in peace?

As I've discussed before, towards the end of my college tenure I was quite certain I was going to become an academic. Once I got out, however, and started researching the academic world, I decided it totally wasn't for me. The whole "Life of the Mind" is a great dream, but the reality has so much other bullshit that I just couldn't deal with.

If you're not having sex on a regular basis, are you at least getting drunk? If so, with whom?

I don't drink. I've never been drunk in my life. I just don't "get" alcohol; I think it tastes foul. I think my mother, who also doesn't like alcohol, gave some sort of taste bud receptor mutation to my sister and I that makes alcohol just totally unappealing.

I often wonder, though, what kind of drunk I'd make. Would I turn angry? Start weeping? Get really, really lovey? Hopefully, I'll find out someday.

Even though you have a bad track record with the sex (thus far), what kind of fantasy kiss makes your knees melt?

I'm actually going to save this question and make a post out of it (coming from a slightly different track). Stay tuned!

and (for bonus points)

If boring is a trait exhibited by someone who actively seeks out new information on a regular basis, reads frequently and critically, all-the-while piecing together lots of grammatically correct prose, what the hell does an interesting person do?

Well, goes out and interacts with people occasionally.

Vince:

You mention you want to get laid in the next year. Give us some details. What is your perfect date? And how does it go from a date to a full on sexcapade?

I've given this a lot of thought and I really can't say I have a good answer. Dates are just... not my thing. Not that I've been on a lot of them or anything, but when I think "date," I think very pedestrianly: dinner, movie, heavy petting, etc. Actually, a nice night in front of a TV MST3King the heck out of it sounds divine, but that's more of a third or more date kind of thing. Bookstores are always cool.

Thanks, guys!

Yet Another Argument For Gun Control

Shoot me in the eyes, so I don't have to even accidentally ever see this again! My eyes!

Finally, A Place To Research My Dissertation Comparing Tobacco Use In Shelley And Voltaire!

Some of the New York Public Library's more unusual collections.

(Via Maud Newton)

Pack Your Bags, Y'All, We're Going To Coruscant!

Best Sci-Fi Movie Fashion

(Via Smart Bitches)

Library Trivia

Did you know Garfield is the 11th most widely held book among libraries? That Jesus is the most written about person in libraries? These and other fascinating facts regarding the 1000 titles most widely held by libraries here!

(Via Books, Inq.)

Canines In Danger!

A pair of Labrador Retrievers currently in Malaysia sniffing out pirated DVDs have had a hit placed on them. Baaaaaaad Malaysian pirating syndicates! Baaaaaaaaaad! Don't make me unleash Cute Overload! readers on you! Those people would make the Triads tremble!

Tests, Tests, Tests!

Your Leprechaun Name Is:

Sneaky Twinkletoes

What's Your Leprechaun Name?

Your Scandinavian Name is:

Jensen Love

What's Your Scandinavian Name?

You Are 2: The Helper

You always put on a happy face and try to help those around you. You're incredibly empathetic and care about everyone you know. Able to see the good in others, you're thoughtful, warm, and sincere. You connect with people who are charming and charismatic.

What Number Are You?

You Are a Chocolate Bunny

A traditionalist, you secretly want to dress up like a bunny. And not just on Easter.

What Easter Candy Are You?

Star Wars Horoscope for Libra

You are on a lifelong pursuit of justice and determined to succeed. You convey the art of persuasion through force. You always display your supreme intelligence. You have a great talent in obtaining balance between yourself and your surroundings. Star Wars character you are most like: Obi Wan Kenobi

What Is Your Star Wars Horoscope?

The Words! The Words... They Buuuuurn!

What the hell is this student talking about? Maybe you can figure it out, but all I get is that they apparently need to go live in a cave somewhere, because language pains him or her so much.

Something For The Fellows

How can you not love something put out by a label named Gay/Nerd Music? (NSFW)

(Via Towleroad)

Answers To Your Burning Questions

Recently, I solicited questions from you, my adoring fans, and promised that I'd answer them. But I'm fucking boring, so only two of you bothered to ask anything, which is just fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine. I mean, I don't care that no one loves me enough to even try and get to know me a little better. That's just swell!

ANYway, thanks to Bigg and Gayprof for being curious, and here are your answers!

Bigg:

What do you do for a living?

Well, I've kinda gone into this recently, so you know all about it, but, in a word: nothing.

What do you look for in a guy?

Humor. Intelligence. Wit. A big cock.

What do you do for fun?

I'm boooooooooooring as hell. My idea of fun is reading, watching TV, and surfing the Internet. No wonder I'm out of shape and celibate, huh?

GayProf:

Tell us what your plans are for the next year.

Nothing dramatic, just get a job, get laid, discover the cure for cancer. You know, no biggies.

Out And Proud

Read GayProf's post. It's brilliant. (Though thaat goes without saying, of course.) Especially because it encapsulates exactly my way of thinking about such matters.

On a slight tangent inspired by his post, though, I want to say that I truck not with (the very, very small group of) heterophobes and queer separationists/supremacists. But, though I can understand the impulse to want to "fit in," I really don't understand assimiliationists. One would think, looking at me -- white, solidly bourgeois, suburban, straight-acting (well, I look that way to people who don't know me very well, though, apparently) -- that I'd be all for it, since it's hardly a jump. But you forget one thing: I'm bloody boring as hell! I have nothing but respect for and not a little bit of envy towards, the drag queens and flamers, the porn stars and the leather pigs. Let us all be who we want to be and let our flame burn bright as we wish! Be boring or be brash; that's what individual freedom is for and we shouldn't try to squash that.

Welcome, Sport Fans

For the sports fans in the audience, I've done a link exchange with the lovely folks over at American Legends. I just hope that anyone who comes her from there isn't too disappointed when they see that my only interest in sports is half-naked sportsmen! Still, it's always good to expand one's horizons, so go check them out!

So, So True

Who Runs the Human Body?

In the human body, which organ is in charge?

All the organs of the body were having a meeting, trying to decide who was in charge.

The brain said: "I should be in charge, because I run all the body's systems, so without me nothing would happen."

"I should be in charge," said the heart, "because I pump the blood and circulate oxygen all over the body, so without me you'd all waste away."

"I should be in charge," said the stomach, "because I process food and give all of you energy."

"I should be in charge," said the rectum, "because I'm responsible for waste removal."

All the other body parts laughed at the rectum and insulted him, so in a huff, he shut down tight. Within a few days, the brain had a terrible headache, the stomach was bloated, and the blood was toxic. Eventually the other organs gave in. They all agreed that the rectum should be the boss.

The moral of the story?

You don't have to be smart or important to be in charge... just an *sshole.

(Via Comedy Central Jokes)

Everything I Ever Needed To Know About Greek History...

...I learned through Hollywood.

(Via Bread and Circuses)

On A Lazy Sunday...

...one posts a picture instead of writing anything!

(Via The Pretty Boys Club)

Begosh And Begorrah! It's Saint Paddy's Day!

It's Saint Patrick's Day, so go out, have some Guinness and protest the lack of gays in the NYC parade by bagging yourself a hot Irishman! Erin go Bragh!

(And for the redhead-lovers in the audience, check this guy out [mildly NSFW])!

Better Living Through Movie Reviews

Pajiba's just giving me all kinds of ideas today. This time, a movie review about credit debt leads to a comments section full of good advice and information. If you're a college student, read it! Don't let the credit card companies seduce you into getting into a pile of debt!

I Prefer To Be Called A "Garcon De Joie"*

An offhand remark elsewhere brings us the question: "How many partners does it take before one is 'officially' a slut/whore/skank/misogynistic-term-for-promiscuous-women- propagated-by-a-sexually-repressive-patriarchal-culture-obsessed- with-and-frightened-by-female-sexuality?"

Personally, I don't think sluttiness is a number or a frequency, but a state of mind. A true slut (as opposed to someone who is labeled that in jest by friends or by catty girls in high school in a volley of psychological warfare) is a slut not because they're sexually promiscuous, but because they're using sex for the wrong reasons: in a misguided effort to boost self-esteem, as a reaction to emotional trauma earlier in life, a manner of getting back at someone, a reaction to peer pressure, or some other maladaptive behavior. Enjoying sex and having multiple partners is not sluttiness; an unhealthy attitude towards sex that causes one to seek out sex for the wrong reasons is sluttiness.

But what do you guys think? Number, frequency, attitude? What makes a slut?

(* I have to thank Note for introducing me to that lovely synonym for "boy whore.")

Painful Confessions; or, Marketers Are Evil

From the "I hate to admit it because it makes me feel dirty and question my taste" file: the previews for Blades of Glory are making me think it might actually be really funny and that I kinda want to see it, despite the fact that I really don't "get" Will Ferell's appeal, and that I know that in the end it'll probably be really stupid and sucky. I hang my head in shame!

Evening News Gone Wild!

If only all local news was like this! My favorite part: around the 2:15 mark, where the designer seems to have gotten so distracted by the male model he forgets to answer the anchor's questions. *hehehe*

Oh, and all you Oxygen-watchers out there, looky who the first model is! Yes, it's Romania's hottest, indecipherable crybaby, Sorin! Thankfully, they didn't have him speak. He's much prettier when he doesn't have to speak. *LOL*

(Via Towleroad)

Failure

HeoCwaeth's latest post regarding her anxieties about being in grad school coming from a working class background elicited a strong response in me, because it actually touches on many aspects of my own current situation. I wrote a long-ass comment to her post, but I'm going to recopy it and rework it a little for here, just because I feel I really need to get it off my chest.

As long-time readers may be aware, nearly two years after graduating, I'm still unemployed. If my parents weren't so insanely wonderful, I'd be really screwed. Month after month of no reply to applications, or interviews that lead nowhere, is discouraging to say the least. Frankly, I often feel like an abject failure. Explaining to people that I'm still looking for a job is humiliating. Every time someone asks, "What do you want to do?" I mentally cringe and sigh and want to scream, "I DON'T KNOW! I JUST DON'T FRICKIN' KNOW! I just don't want to be a loser!" Of course, I don't say those things. I just hem and haw about "proofreading" and "editing" and "temporary jobs" and stuff. But the shame is real.

Not to toot my own horn, but I'm a smart fellow and everyone expected me to do really well right away, so I feel like I've let everyone, including myself, down by not. The worst thing is the thought that maybe I never will, that I'm not good for anything and just a bum who will never make anything of himself, that I wasted my education and natural intelligence by being lazy and unemployable. I don't want to be a wasted life.

It all comes down to fear of failure, of being a failure, of disappointing my parents, who have worked so hard to give me all the opportunities and luxuries I've enjoyed that others, perhaps more qualified and more deserving, have never gotten, which also adds guilt to the mix. And I also fear disappointing myself. I always promised myself that I'd find something I loved and do well at it, that I wouldn't have to do what my parents and sister have done, settle in jobs they don't necessarily like just to pay the bills. It doesn't look like I'll get to keep that promise, between the fact that I don't know really what I want to do, the fact that I can't get a job anyway, and the fact that I'll probably end up in some dead-end job I loathe just to keep afloat. That future scares me, almost as much as the thought that I'll never get a job at all.

It's not that I haven't touched on these issues with friends and family, but I'm both embarrassed by my situation and feel like such a whiner by complaining, so I just don't feel comfortable being fully honest with my loved ones. Objectively, I have things great, and I realize that. It's kinda cool to just be able to do whatever and not have to worry about making a living. But I can't live like this forever; I don't want to live like this forever! I can't just magically will a job into existence, though; if no one wants me, I just have to keep slogging on. And people just don't realize how tough it can be out there. Everyone wants tons of experience in these narrow little fields, and I just don't have that. And menial jobs aren't interested either because they see my education and think I'm too good for them and will be unhappy and leave fairly quickly, and, yes, probably, but I NEED A FUCKING JOB SO JUST GIVE ME ONE AND PAY ME! *breath* So I'm confined to this strange limbo of being either underqualified or overqualified and no one wants to touch me. (Kinda like my sex life. But that's another whine for another time.)

I don't know how much sense this all makes, and I know this probably doesn't all hang together cohesively, and it probably comes out as just another whinge by an over privileged middle class brat, so I doubt this is my best post. I just needed to write it out for myself.

My People Are So Articulate

Oh, my god!

Sidebar Welcome

Added Esme's Before the Beginning to the sidebar.

Words To Live By

folderol n 1) a useless ornament or accessory: trifle 2) nonsense

This ornament is just a cheap bit of folderol!

mansuetude n the quality or state of being gentle: meekness, tameness

The mansuetude of this species of primate is due to its lack of natural predators.

I'm Killer, Baby!

Get Your Monster Name

Get Your Cyborg Name

(Via Books, Inq.)

When Nerds Go Too Far

Stuff like this is what gives us all a bad name.

Listen up: Ninety-eight percent of nerds, geeks, dorks, gamers, Trekkers, "Jedi," comic book readers, anime fans, fanfic authors, convention-goers, and, yes, even furries, are sane, well-adjusted people with families and careers who are well aware of the line between reality and fantasy. We simply enjoy science-fiction or fantasy or one of their attendant activities as a hobby, and even those who are a little extreme in their devotion are mostly harmless, perfectly nice people, and still contributing members of society. We're not all losers who live in our parents' basement, never know the touch of a woman (because nerds are always straight in the popular imagination), and have absolutely no idea how to interact with/handle reality, thus retreating into perpetual adolescence and fantasy.

Because of the nature of the material and the openness of many science-fiction/fantasy media fandoms, we probably do have a high proportion of misfits, but misfit does not automatically equal crazy. Oh, we've got crazies, all right, but they'd be crazy regardless of their interests. And, frankly, there are crazy people everywhere, in any group you can think of. As with stupidity and the obnoxiousness, craziness is a trait well represented in every race, creed, color, class, profession, and pursuit; no one group has a lock on the maladjusted or the insane.

(Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go to my garage and complete my life-sized Battlestar Galactica Viper. I must complete it before next week, when the Cylons will attack and I will have to take over as wingman for Apollo. *LOL*)

(Via Bookninja)

"I'm Free!"

John Inman, best known as Mr. Humphries from Are You Being Served?, has died.

This makes me very sad, folks; I'm an Anglophile by nature, I think, but the Anglophilia was really jump started by Are You Being Served? and the other PBS Britcoms. Mr. Humphries was my favorite character and his portrayer a wonderful gentleman who was beloved by everyone who knew him. It is truly a sad loss; he will be sorely missed.

Though the character's fey, campy qualities are considered problematic by some, I always thought Mr. Humphries was actually a very positive portrayal of a gay man (especially for the 1970s). He was accepted and loved by his peers, had a rich and varied social life, and was, frankly, probably the most sensible one on the show. In sum, he was fabulous, in every sense of the word, and that's not a bad thing for a young gay to see on the TV sceen.

My sincerest condolences go out to his partner, friends, family, and fans. Farewell, John Inman, and thank you for the laughter.

The Ten Greatest Heterosexual Men Of Our Time

If this is the best you breeders got, then all I can say is, "God love ya!" to all the straight women out there! You gals got it rough!

(Via Gawker)

Okay...

...who bought the Obi-Wan robe? Because I now want to have dirty, geeky sex with you! (As long as you look like Ewan McGregor, anyway.)

(Via Defamer)

In Which I Ste... Er... BORROW An Idea

So these guys are doing a Q&A kind of thing where commenters can ask them questions. Now, both of those blogs are sexier and more interesting than mine (also potentially NSFW, BTW), and, thus, have higher readerships, but content is content, so... what do you want to know?

Happy Now, Sparks?

Vince's penis is mad, presumably also bad and dangerous to know. Beware!

Sorry, Folks...

...I just ain't got nothin' this week, apparently. I hate not having any content for you, my most wonderful and devoted readers, but that lazy-ass Muse of mine is taking another nap. My fellow bloggers are also letting me down, insofar as there's nothing out there I can even just link to. Hopefully, I'll have something tomorrow.

I Insulted An Englishman

So I was at this retirement party today for a friend of mine who has been a professor of Health & Exercise Science for some 35 years (and, yes, I was decades younger than almost all the other people there), because I roll hardcore like that, and I think I mortally insulted an Englishman. You see, he was across from me at the table and had this lovely accent.

Looking for topics of conversation (I didn't know anyone there except for the guest of honor and one other person), I asked him, "So how did a nice Aussie like you doing in New Jersey?"

Finishing chewing a bite of sandwich, he gave a rather withering look, and said, "I'm not Australian."

"Really?" I rejoined. "New Zealander?"

"No, I'm an Englishman."

Turns out he's from London. Apparently, though, he's been mistaken for an Aussie before, even by real Aussies, so that made me feel better, since I'm rather good at recognizing accents, and, since the Australian accent is heavily based on London Cockney of the 19th century, it makes some sense that at least some areas of London still produce an accent that sounds similar.

Still, it was a bit... awkward. I was a little afraid he'd go hooligan on me there for a sec. But I wasn't headbutted from across the table, and we ended up having a nice conversation about John Adams and Thomas Jefferson. He's quite knowledgeable about American history, it turns out, moreso than most Americans, I'd hazard (though, sadly, that isn't terribly difficult).

Apologia Pro Descriptivism

Being of a descriptivist leaning in matters of language doesn't mean you "don't care" about language, or have no firm opinions about its usage, or think we should all just live in anarchy. It just means we don't go around alternately wringing our hands at and handing down jeremiads against those "heathens" who dare transgress some niggling little rule or another. We think language is beautiful because of its malleability: language is always changing, and that's great! We get our kicks from looking at and understanding language change from a historical/cultural/social/linguistic viewpoint, not in denigrating those who don't hew to some sort of imagined golden age of stylistic purity. We understand that all the hand-wringing in the world isn't going to stand in the way of split infinitives or the use of "ain't"; we cannot change the ever-changing. Being a descriptivist also means that we (try, at least) to overcome the pride and elitism at the base of much prescriptivist thought.

Language is not just for a few stuffy, self-appointed arbiters to hoard and lord over; language is for everyone!

To Be Honest, I HAVE Thought About It Before...

...but "like a 9 volt battery" certainly isn't a flavor I would have considered. It almost (though not at all, really) makes me want to taste it for myself. I love metallic tangs. I think I'll pass, though.

Just GREAT!

You'll die from an Unlikely Illness (like the plague).

You will unfortunately succumb to a random and unlikely disease. Only to find out after death that eating more broccoli would have cured you.

'How will you die?' at QuizGalaxy.com

(Via Pharyngula)

I Amuse Myself So; or, I Have Absolutely Nothing Else To Write About Tonight, So I'll Throw This Out There

When my Dear, Departed Dusty still lived, any time anyone would say "Son of a bitch!" in front of him, I would cover his ears and mock-scold them for making him think sons of bitches were a bad thing. Though if they called HIM a "son of a bitch", I would simply point out that, to him, that's not an insult, since he actually was a son of a bitch. Either way, I always chuckled at myself for my tremendous wittiness.

That's it; that's my story. Isn't it posts like this that keep you coming back?

*POW!* *WHAM!* *ZAP!* *SMASH!*

If you have even an ounce of nerditude or je ne sais geek in you, whether of the comic book variety or not, then Chris's Invincible Super-Blog is, to use phrases he himself would, "the most awesome thing ever" and "will blow your mind"!

He's funny, folks; we're talking spit-take-on-the-monitor hilarious. His wit and snark are second to none, but never cross over into bitter, snide condescension, due to his adorable self-deprecation and obvious love of his subject matter. He's not afraid to call a spade a spade, however. If a comic book is bad, he'll tell you; and his evaluations of some of his most frustrating and... colorful customers are cutting and familiar to anyone who's ever worked in retail. And, frankly, any site that contains a comic book character cold-cocking a polar bear in its banner MUST be read-worthy! Go read! (Especially you, GayProf!) You are now freaking out!

Lezzie, Lezzie, Lezzie, Oi, Oi, Oi!

Female koalas in captivity turn into group-sex-loving lesbians. Know what this means? Coming soon: Marsupials Gone Wild! Wooooooooooo!

(Via The Fagats Guide)

One of Life's Random Little Annoyances

Know what I hate? That no matter how careful you are or how long you contemplate it, you never open a pack of saltine crackers the right way (the right way being so that the salty, slightly puffed top of the crackers are facing you). You end up, then, eating the pack of crackers backwards and I hate that!

Greeks Bearing Gifts

"...[L]eather pants, abdominal *eight*-packs and jiggling disco-tits"? These are bad things? They're exactly why I'm drooling to see 300! Screw heroism and Classical history and give me some man-candy and disco-tits!!!

Sidebar Updates

Added Snarky Bastards; the name says it all!

Vince has moved to Wordpress, so I updated his link. Snazzy new template, too.

Added Manhattan Offender. Prepare for offense and crotch shots!

"Luke, I Am Your... Teddy!"

Darth Ewok

But Is It FREE Cable?

(Via Snarky Bastards)

Don't Worry, British Conservationists...

...the "non-breeding" pair are just gentrifying the neighborhood before the breeders move in. It's nature's way: the "circle of real estate," if you will. Beautiful, isn't it?

Helen Keller''s Favorite Color

What was Helen Keller''s favorite color?

Corduroy.

(Via Comedy Central Jokes)

Sex Is Scary

At this point, I think I'm just scared of sex. Three reasons:

1) I don't know what I'm doing, so it's just going to suck like all the other times I've tried it, and I won't even get to cum (just like all the other times).

2) It'll never live up to porn or Scott's life.

3) I'm afraid of mess or embarrassment, so I don't want flatulence or excrement or vomit ruining a sexual encounter, to become someone's tale of bad sex related to friends in tones alternately of disgust and amusement. But douching is actually very bad for your colon and I have a fairly strong gag reflex, so it looks like sex is just gonna be a theoretical concept forever.

So Where Are All These "Many" Who "Would Die To Be With" Me?

You scored as The All-Round Cute Gay Guy. You are a cute guy who many would die to be with! The All-Round Cute Gay Guy 60% S + M guy 60% Raging Queer 50% A Big Bear 40% Straight Acting 30% Straight Queer Basher 0% Straight 0% What type of Gay are YOU? created with QuizFarm.com

(Via Manhattan Offender)

A Meditation On American Identity

Throughout American history, the question "What is an American?" has plagued our national psyche. I've come to think that this anxiety about "what it means to be an American" is itself intensely American. Since American-ness is not based on traditional, arbitrary ethnolinguistic sorting, but instead a set of shared beliefs regarding democracy, plurality, equality, and opportunity (beliefs often, sadly, more honored in the breach than the observance) as articulated in the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution, it stands to reason that being an American is by its nature a precarious identity. Ideas are intrinsically harder to pin down than characteristics like ethnicity; what group you're born into is decided for you, but what ideas you subscribe to must be decided for oneself.

Of course, this is all high-flown and abstract; most Americans don't think about or question their American-ness, and see it in traditional tribal terms. And, in an increasingly diverse and multicultural world, a lot of Frenchmen (and Britons and Indians and Chinese and...) are thinking about what it means to be [insert nationality here] when they are no longer the homogeneous ethnolinguistic groups that once made national self-identification so simple.

But America is still unique: our history, from the very beginning, can be seen as a working-through of the question "What is an American?" It started out as "white, Christian, landowning adults" and has slowly, sometimes painfully so, expanded to include women, the poor, and those of color. We're still grappling with that question today, with controversy over illegal immigrants, homosexuals, Muslims, and others. I don't think the question will ever be totally settled. And I think that's a good thing. It keeps us honest and allows us to grow and evolve as a people in a way other nations can't. Thoughts, anyone?

My Tatoo Says, "Meat Make Nice With Rat, Cousin"!

Ever had the feeling that those Chinese characters so many people get tattooed on themselves don't actually say what they think they do? Well, in a lot of cases, you're totally right.

Control+Alt+...

Delete!

(Via Bookninja)

A Day Late, But, Since This Is Blog Is Free, You Ain't Short A Dollar

Happy Chinese New Year!

Welcome, Year of the Boar/Pig!

The Problem With America

The problem with America is that we have no castles, damnit!

(Via Books, Inq.)

Huh?

Look at this picture. (Warning: Picture contains gratuitous homosexuality.) Look at the guy on the far left with the fedora and sunglasses and crap. Is he making out with the other guy's forehead? Because that's what it looks like. Is that a fetish I've never heard of? Or are the little twinky boys just so damn high on E he thinks he's actually kissing the other guy's mouth?

Just Call Me Chip (Or Dale)...

'Cause when it comes to hoarding books, I'm like a squirrel with its nuts!

(Via Bookninja)

Y'All Come Back Now, Ya Hear!

More than y'all wanted to know about "y'all"!

(Via Languagehat)

Parrot Power

A parrot who fancies himself a bit of a humorist. (I'll resist a "Polly want a..." and "he has a bigger vocabulary than George Bush!" joke. You can insert them mentally at your leisure.)

For The Muggles In The Audience...

Top 11 Funny Ways Harry Potter Dies in Deathly Hallows

(Via Bookninja)

Black, Twelve-Inch...

etymology. Take it the base, bitches!

(Via Gawker)

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO(+Chocolate)

Happy Valentine's Day
to all my wonderful readers!

Billy Joel

My place of employment (until Friday, anyway) is a retail environment. As many retail environments do, it has the local soft rock station playing over the loudspeaker. The backroom, by contrast, has the more rock-oriented radio station, which is more in keeping with my colleagues' tastes, playing. Either is fine with me; I have rather catholic and non-judgmental tastes in music.

However, I've been doing heavy computer work in the front for the past week, so the soft rock station is always in the background. As is the case with most radio these days, its playlist is a little... limited. They just don't seem to have much variety in their programming. They have certain songs and they just play them over and over and over again. Which is annoying, but it's the corporatization of radio, and Clear Channel is Satan, yadda yadda yadda, so it's the world we live in. I can accept that, if grudingly. But it's driving me absolutely insane because this station plays entirely too much Billy Joel. I was never much of a fan to begin with, but after the past few days, I want to go to the Hamptons and make him crash his car into something again. "Scenes From An Italian Restaurant" and "Piano Man" are on at least twice a day and it makes me want to hurt someone. God, Billy, I just want to listen to music, not have to follow the plot line of an art house film! Enough with the narrative already! And you're really not a great singer, either. Gah!

Radioactive Webbing

Apparently, Spider-Man has killed Mary Jane with his radioactive cum. Well, that's one way to break up...

(Via Bookslut)

Lancing Out The Pus

I'm a bit of a packrat, a hoarder, especially of books (surprise!). Clutter is the order of the day for any area I inhabit. It's out of fear. Fear that if I throw something out it'll be worth something someday, or I'll need it, or I'll never be able to find another like it, or if I throw it away it won't be saved so it can help humanity reconstruct after Armageddon, or that if I get rid of it I'll lose forever whatever wisdom that particular collection of words and sentences can impart and be the worse for it, or... I could go on and on and on.

It ]the fear] is like a tumor or abscess or some other growth, metastasizing, diverting resources (namely time and money) away from "healthy" tissue to itself. But over the past few months, I've been forcing myself to start "draining" the abscess by thinning things out, putting things where they should be, actually throwing stuff out or giving it away, including books. I have to say, it feels good. I have to keep going slow, however, due to laziness and the habit of my anxieties to kick in when major change occurs suddenly. But I intend to keep on until I'm as close to a state of minimalism, mentally and materially, as I am constitutionally capable of. Because breathing the clear air of freedom from fear is exhilarating and spiritually positive and it's what I need in my life.

Party Hearty

The greatest parties in the history of the West.

(Via rogueclassicism)

Supervillain Test

You are Mystique

Mystique 44% Dr. Doom 44% Mr. Freeze 39% Lex Luthor 31% Magneto 29% Apocalypse 26% Catwoman 25% Poison Ivy 23% Dark Phoenix 21% Kingpin 17% Green Goblin 16% Juggernaut 16% The Joker 15% Venom 15% Riddler 14% Two-Face 4%

Sometimes motherly, sometimes a beautiful companion, but most of the time a deceiving vixen.

Click here to take the Super Villain Personality Test


(Via Pharyngula)

I Don't Quite Know How I Feel About This

Bunny show jumping. Seems vaguely wrong, somehow, though I can't quite put my finger on why.

(Via Cute Overload!)

Box?

Pardon the vulgarity of the question, but could any female or straight male reader enlighten me as to why a euphemism for the female genital cavity is "box"? 'Cause, while I'm no expert or aficionado of the female genital cavity, but I know what it looks like via porn and stuff, and it in no way reminds me of a box.

Lying

I don't like to lie. I like to believe I'm a fundamentally honest person, so it makes me uncomfortable. I'm also enough of a worrier (who ME?) that I'm always afraid I'll get caught. Plus, I'm not particularly good at it. Of course, that doesn't mean I don't still do it.

I particularly don't like lying to my parents. But sometimes there's just no better option. To illustrate this, let's say I went to Seattle to visit Scott. (Don't worry, Scott, BTW; I'm not going to show up at your doorstep unbidden... for now.) What on earth would I say to my parents? That I'm going to visit this guy on the other side of the country who I've only ever met online and whom I consider a sort of surrogate big brother? Yeah, that'll go over well! My mom's paranoid about cyberstalking and stuff as it is! My only choice would be to lie.

Lying is just so much easier than the truth sometimes, which I guess is why so many people do it so often. It's just so tempting and potentially dangerous. It's very hard to know where to stop, especially for some people of less-than-strong constitution. Frankly, I sometimes worry about myself, that a flaw in my character allows me to lie with relative ease to those I love and trust (and who love and trust me in return). Am I not the good person I see myself as being? Am I just a lying schmuck? Or am I just human?

Nest Values Have Never Been Higher!

Gay penguins in San Francisco gentrifying the neighborhood. How stereotypical! And adorable.

It's A Jungle Out There

And by "out there," I mean "on your skin".

Embarrassing Books

Books famous figures wish we'd all just forget. If only we could!

(Via Bookninja)

The Sun Shoots Its Wad

Because I'm twelve: Coronal Mass Ejection. *snicker*

But Reading Is Like Lovemaking For Your Brain!

People prefer reading to having sex. Kinky!

(Via Bookslut)

Chris Is Cute!

Cute animals and cute guys together? I'm in love!

(Via Homer's World)

Blog

I've heard/read many people say that "blog" is an ugly word. I guess I can see why they would say such a thing. It's not as mellifluous as... well, the word "mellifluous." The sounds that comprise it aren't the world's most attractive. I mean, "blah" and "guh" don't exactly scream "music to my ears!"

Still, to me, there's something satisfyingly Anglo-Saxon, in the same way that all the good curse words in English are, about the word "blog." Also, I've never really heard a good suggestion to replace it, and, at this point, it has stuck and will be around for the foreseeable future. Sometimes, utility outweighs aesthetic considerations. And sometimes beauty is beside the point. Besides, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. .... Wow, cliche much? How about another one: Beauty is only skin deep. (I'll stop now before we get too hackneyed!)

So, to sum it up, I like the word "blog."

I've Found It! I've Found It!

A loooooong time ago, I wrote about how I knew there was a word that meant something along the lines of "the beauty or elegance of a piece of writing." (It was so long ago, I can't find the relevant post with a cursory search; if you remember when it was, let me know, so I can go and see if I'm totally embarrassing myself by totally misremembering what I wrote.) There were a few suggestions by kind commenters, but I never really figured out the word I was talking about. Quite by chance, however, I think I've stumbled upon it at Rogueclassicism's Classical Words of the Day feature! "Concinnity"! It's a beautiful word.

concinnity • \kun-SIH-nuh-tee\ • noun

: harmony or elegance of design especially of literary style in adaptation of parts to a whole or to each other

Example Sentence:

Julia maintains that no modern play can rival the concinnity of the classical Greek tragedies.

Did you know?

The Romans apparently found perfect harmony in a well-mixed drink. The cocktail in question was a beverage they called "cinnus," and so agreeably concordant did they find it that its name apparently inspired the formation of "concinnare," a verb meaning "to place fitly together." "Concinnare" gave rise to "concinnus," meaning "skillfully put together," which in turn fermented into "concinnitas." English speakers added the word to our mix in the 1500s as "concinnity."

Live! Nude! Greeks!

Despite what one could conceivably conclude from their art, particularly their sculpture, ancient Greek men weren't nude all the time. But it's actually quite fascinatingly complicated as to when they actually were nude and in what contexts they depicted nudity in their art.

(Via Rogueclassicism)

Okay, Now COUGH!

How to diagnose the ills of a piece of fiction. Unfortunately, fiction has a sucky HMO, so its "doctors" aren't always the best.

(Via Books, Inq.)

Thanks A LOT, Creepy Guy With The Ridiculous Mustache

Thanks to that infomercial (you know the one, it's always on and it has that lady in the sparkly shirt), I'm obsessed with my colon. Is it impacted? Is it negatively affecting my health? Should I trust a man who looks like a pedophile and buy his colon-cleaning supplement? Damn you, colon-obsessed pedophile with an awful mustache! Damn you to hell!

First Polar Bears...

...and now hedgehogs are getting screwed by global warming. Poor little fellow.

(Via PhDiva)

February

Some trivia on this month.

(Via Books, Inq.)

What Can One Say But "Enjoy The View!"?

Ewan MacGregor in a kilt.

Dear God, It's Me, Fido

What do dogs pray for? Bones and bellyrubs, I expect.

(Via Books, Inq.)

Share The Love With Our Furry Friends

Hey, even cats get depressed. Thus, a kitty on antidepressants and looking good, feeling great because of it! Go drugs!

It Seems That Yesterday WAS A Good Day To Die

Sidney Sheldon dead at 89. This sounds awful, but I actually thought he'd already died. I could have sworn I read that somewhere. Anyway, cheers to man who gave us "I Dream of Jeannie" and some really gripping trashy novels. (My grandmother gave me Rage of Angels when I was, like, ten or twelve; if you've ever read it, you'll understand when I tell you that that was an incredibly ballsy move on her part. She kicks ass!)

Molly Ivins dead at 62. The brashy, sassy, kickass-y Texan liberal feminist had battled cancer for several years now and, unfortunately, finally succumbed. Ms. Ivins was a hilarious and biting writing/commentator and she will be sorely missed.