Yeah!

Watch this...all the way through.

Kabloomers!

Some good old-fashioned Deestruction!


Tempus II from Philip Heron on Vimeo. (via Today's Big Thing)

Bond. James Bond.

Bess tells me that half of the world has seen at least one James Bond film. 

And if anyone knows this, she would...

I'm Getting More and More Rubbish at Remembering Where These Come From...

...But hopefully you will forgive me.

Idiom Du Jour

This time, it's the colorful expression: to warm the cockles of one's heart.

What does this mean???

Actually, that's probably the wrong question...for some reason, no one misses the warm-and-fuzzy feeling this little phrase connotes.  If anything, people (at least, people who think about language) are scratching their heads wondering, "why the heck does this mean what it means?"  Well.  Excellent question.

The idiom popped up towards the end of the 1600s as to rejoice the cockles of one’s heart.  And so, this time period (the era of Enlightenment, Rennaissance, and Words Stemming From Latin and Greek) leads those in the know to suggest that 'cockles' is simply a corruption of the Latin cochleae cordis, heart's ventricles.  This implies that the whole expression is a rather plebian gaffe based on a less-than-witty academic joke.  ...yes, nerds.

However, before we call this idiom "done and dusted" (??? okay that's for next time.  I bet it's got something to do with letter-writing.), there are a few other hypotheses out there for what got this one started.  And this explanation has got some muscle behind it...or should I say mussel.  Aha.  Cockles, you see, are a type of shellfish (specifically, a bivalve mollusc) commonly eaten throughout British history and found in at least one other bit of linguistic folklore (re: contrary Mary's garden - and that's yet another story).  Allegedly, cockles, or their shells, look like hearts, or their inner chambers.  So that would lay that to rest, although not everybody buys it.

One final explanation is something that I'm not sure I buy.  I can't verify it, but supposedly a lesser-known definition of 'cockle' refers to the chamber of a baker's oven or potter's kiln.  Just possibly, through some kind of metaphoric extension, the idiomatic phrase came about from the image of a kiln heating up.  Lovely and poetic...but again, I'm not sure about the historical or linguistic truth.

They Don't Allow You To Have Bees In Here

A list of the types of bees (hopefully comprehensive...but probably not, as apparently there are about 20,000 types of bees :/ okay...anyway):
Bumble (Bombus terrestris, B. pratorum, etc.)
Carder (Bombus sylvarum, Anthidium manicatum, etc.)
Carpenter (Xylocopa virginica, etc.)
Cellophane (Colletes thoracicus, etc.)
Digger (Habropoda miserabilis, Centris pallida, etc.)
Honey (Apis mellifera)
Killer (Apis mellifera)
Leafcutter (Megachile pluto, M. rotundata, etc.)
Mason (Osmia lignaria, O. ribifloris, etc.)
Orchid (Euglossa viridissima, etc.)
Parasitic/Cuckoo (Nomada luteoloides, etc.)
Plasterer (Colletes daviesanus, etc.)
Stingless (Trigona carbonaria, Austroplebeia australis, etc.)
Sweat (Neocorynura electra, Dialictus zephrum, etc.)

...actually, this is a really stressful assignment.

Hmm.  There are, I see, many different bee families, each with many different bee subfamilies, genuses (genii?), species, and subspecies, each with their own individual behavior (nocturnal or not so much?  social or loner?? carnivorous??).  These families are: Andrenidae, Apidae, Colletidae, Dasypodaidae, Halictidae, Megachilidae, Meganomiidae, Melittidae, and - of course - Stenotritidae.

And furthermore: wasps, hornets, yellow jackets, and ground bees ARE NOT BEES!

Semanticizing

Strategy without tactics is the slowest route to victory. Tactics without strategy is the noise before defeat.
Sun Tzu

Strategy is buying a bottle of fine wine when you take a lady out for dinner. Tactics is getting her to drink it.
Frank Muir

So I remember reading somewhere some witty and informative remark discriminating these two concepts...but these two clearly weren't it.  I personally find the first one less than illuminating, while the latter quote is, while more colorful (and probably a better illustration) vaguely insulting.  However, essentially:

Strategy is the overarching and often long-range plan, framework, or set of decisions that has been laid in place in order to accomplish a large or complex goal.

Tactics, meanwhile, are the individual and distinct maneuvers, procedures, or events that work for the benefit of the strategist and towards the ultimate intended result by taking advantage of opportunities provided by the overall strategic configuration.

The rather more brief notion that [s]trategy requires thought, [while] tactics require observation (Max Euwe) is probably not untrue, but I feel that most often the reverse is true as well.

And of course, the outcome - pragmatically speaking - is the most important bit of this whole lesson: However beautiful the strategy, you should occasionally look at the results (Winston Churchill).

Foil or Sabre?

Three swordfighting scenes from three of my favorite (kitchy) films:

The Princess Bride, of course:


Never say no to The Scarlet Pimpernel:


And okay by some massive oversight, the sword fight from The Great Race hasn't been uploaded to youtube, so I had to choose between the bar fight and the pie fight...:


Enjoy!

The Rude Man

...or the Cerne Abbas Giant has been chilling out on a hillside in Dorset for some time now.

Although actually, no one is quite sure just how long he's been there.  The history is fairly interesting - read more about it here.  And of course, Wikipedia is always a font of information.

Intense...

Especially around the 3:52 mark.

Lazier and Lazier...

Again from Looking Sideways, but this time I'm not even bothering to re-type it for you.  A picture's worth a thousand words?

...I won't make a habit of it, don't worry.

In Living Color

Quoted from the book The Art of Looking Sideways, but I remember this stuff from...somewhere else.  A neuroscience class, maybe.  Or a free lecture.  Or perhaps anthropology.  Who knows.

All languages have black and white.
If there are three words, the third is red.
If there are four, then it is green or yellow.
If five then whichever didn't make four, yellow or green.
If six, it is blue.
If seven, it is brown.
If eight or more, then purple, pink, orange, and grey are added in any order.

I was rather surprised about blue.  And, as you are probably thinking, it isn't precisely this simple...but essentially this is the rule. 

Also, apparently English has only thirty color words.

The Tragic Life and Times of Ginger Beer

I just found out (from Wikipedia) that one of my favorite soft drinks (ginger beer) is the rightful heir to a throne long usurped (uslurped?  no?  moving on...) by ginger ale.  Bah!

At the turn of the previous century, there were two gingery brothers - golden ginger ale, aka ginger beer, and dry ginger ale.  (These two, by the way, appeared to have crazy alcoholic cousins, but that's another story.)  Golden ginger ale was dark, strong, and spicy; Mr. Dry, on the other hand, was rather sweeter - although never let it be said that Golden was horribly bitter - mild-mannered, and, well, generally quite bland.  The former (the golden child, if you will) was destined for greatness, while the latter took a backseat as a mixer for cocktails and alcoholic beverages.

Then Prohibition came and went.  Oh, the horror!  After a decade of distorted drinking, dry ginger ale rapidly gained ground that never should have been trodden by this bland - bland! - and boring carbonated beverage, and the place that was rightfully destined for golden ginger ale was snatched from those fizzy ginger fingers.  (Wow, I know.  Never attempt this again.)  And the balance has never been restored.

Now, when one enters a supermarket, the soda aisles are lined with pale ale pretenders, while golden ginger ale, my (non-alcoholic) beer of choice, has been relegated to regional distributors and specialty shops.  To add insult to injury, dry ginger ale isn't even made with cane sugar anymore.  It's high fructose corn syrup and the barest gingery ghost, and we're just supposed to swallow it down.  It's a shame, a real shame.

Beyond Disturbing

This is quite possibly the worst thing I've ever seen.  Not for the faint of heart.

SOMEONE EXPLAIN IT TO ME.

>_<

Clasp This

How do you fold your hands together?  We were discussing this at dinner the other day...personally, my right thumb is on top, but both of my parents are lefties (when it comes to finger-crossing, at least).

Apparently there is evidence for a cultural bias with regard to this.  An article - in a scholarly journal, no less, indicates that for arm-crossing (not the same thing, but close...) right-handed Europeans are dominantly left arm on top.  Although It's not tied to handedness, either.  Who knew?

Bleh my fingers feel weird the other way around.

Lily, Rosemary and the Jack of Hearts

This song from Bob Dylan's 1984 album Blood On The Tracks used to be my least favorite (on the aforementioned album).  But it has definitely grown on me like a fungus...perhaps I've just been in a story-song mood lately, or perhaps listening to the lyrics make me - for the first time ever - want to do something tacky like write a screenplay.

Anyway, here's the words - tell me what you think is going on?  Is there more than meets the ear?  (And sorry it's so long, although that at least is not my fault...)

The festival was over and the boys were all planning for a fall
The cabaret was quiet except for the drilling in the wall
The curfew had been lifted and the gambling wheel shut down
Anyone with any sense had already left town
He was standing in the doorway looking like the Jack of Hearts

He moved across the mirrored room, "Set it up for everyone," he said
Then everyone commenced to do what they were doing before he turned their heads
Then he walked up to a stranger and he asked him with a grin
"Could you kindly tell me, friend, what time the show begins?"
Then he moved into the corner, face down like the Jack of Hearts

Backstage the girls were playing five-card stud by the stairs
Lily had two queens, she was hoping for a third to match her pair
Outside the streets were filling up, the window was open wide
A gentle breeze was blowing, you could feel it from inside
Lily called another bet and drew up the Jack of Hearts

Big Jim was no one's fool, he owned the town's only diamond mine
He made his usual entrance looking so dandy and so fine
With his bodyguards and silver cane and every hair in place
He took whatever he wanted to and he laid it all to waste
But his bodyguards and silver cane were no match for the Jack of Hearts

Rosemary combed her hair and took a carriage into town
She slipped in through the side door looking like a queen without a crown
She fluttered her false eyelashes and whispered in his ear
"Sorry, darling, that I'm late," but he didn't seem to hear
He was staring into space over at the Jack of Hearts

"I know I've seen that face before," Big Jim was thinking to himself
"Maybe down in Mexico or a picture up on somebody's shelf"
But then the crowd began to stamp their feet and the house lights did dim
And in the darkness of the room there was only Jim and him
Staring at the butterfly who just drew the Jack of Hearts

Lily was a princess, she was fair-skinned and precious as a child
She did whatever she had to do, she had that certain flash every time she smiled
She'd come from a broken house, had lots of strange affairs
With men in every walk of life which took her everywhere
But she's never met anyone quite like the Jack of Hearts

The hanging judge came in unnoticed and was being wined and dined
The drilling in the wall kept up but no one seemed to pay it any mind
It was known all around that Lily had Jim's ring
And nothing would ever come between Lily and the King
No, nothing ever would except maybe the Jack of Hearts

Rosemary started drinking hard and seeing her reflection in the knife
She was tired of the attention, tired of playing the role of Big Jim's wife
She had done a lot of bad things, even once tried suicide
Was looking to do just one good deed before she died
She was gazing to the future, riding on the Jack of Hearts

Lily took her dress off, buried it away
"Has your luck run out?" she laughed at him, "Well, I guess you must have known it would someday
Be careful not to touch the wall, there's a brand-new coat of paint
I'm glad to see you're still alive, you're looking like a saint"
Down the hallway footsteps were coming for the Jack of Hearts

The backstage manager was pacing all around by his chair
"There's something funny going on," he said, "I can just feel it in the air"
He went to get the hanging judge, but the hanging judge was drunk
As the leading actor hurried by in the costume of a monk
There was no actor anywhere better than the Jack of Hearts

No one knew the circumstance but they say that it happened pretty quick
The door to the dressing room burst open and a cold revolver clicked
And Big Jim was standing there, you couldn't say surprised
Rosemary right beside him, steady in her eyes
She was with Big Jim but she was leaning to the Jack of Hearts

Two doors down the boys finally made it through the wall
And cleaned out the bank safe, it's said that they got off with quite a haul
In the darkness by the riverbed they waited on the ground
For one more member who had business back in town
But they couldn't go no further without the Jack of Hearts

The next day was hanging day, the sky was overcast and black
Big Jim lay covered up, killed by a penknife in the back
And Rosemary on the gallows, she didn't even blink
The hanging judge was sober, he hadn't had a drink
The only person on the scene missing was the Jack of Hearts

The cabaret was empty now, a sign said, "Closed for repair"
Lily had already taken all of the dye out of her hair
She was thinking about her father, whom she very rarely saw
Thinking about Rosemary and thinking about the law
But most of all she was thinking about the Jack of Hearts

Chickens Don't Clap

So I'm out of town for a few days...excuse the general slackery?

Perhaps this will appease you. 


I'll make it up to you soon enough.

O-Dear

Possum: an order of marsupials (Diprotodontia) native to Australasia.  Possums range in size from from that of a small-ish mouse to that of a large-ish cat.  Species can be omnivorous, herbivorous, insectivorous, and even specialist eucalyptus or nectar feeders.  They are nocturnal and mostly to entirely arboreal.  Some species have adjusted well to urban habitats, but others are threatened or endangered by human presence.

Opossum: an order of marsupials (Didelphimorphia) found in the Western hemisphere, most likely originating in South America, but which has spread up the Eastern coast of the USA and even further north than Toronto, as well as West through to Middle America.  Opossums range in size from that of a small-ish mouse to that of a large-ish cat.  They are omnivorous, have immunity or resistance to an unusually large variety of toxins and poisons, hold the record for toothiest land mammal, and sleep in the daytime.  They have been known to "play possum," but their semi-prehensile tail doesn't allow the mature adult to hang upside-down from trees (although young opossums have been known to dangle for brief spells).

If you're thinking of a possum, you're most likely actually thinking of an opossum.  Sorry.

Smallpox

This seems strange to me, but I read it in a journal article...so I guess it's not a lie?

Apparently smallpox, the first human infectious disease (or any other disease, I think...) to be made preventable by innoculation, is also the only human infectious disease to have been entirely eradicated. 

Which arguably makes one Mr Edward Anthony Jenner of Gloucestershire the most humanitarian man in the history of, well, humanity.  Let's hear it for Eddie and his cowpox/smallpox jab, saving countless millions since 1796!

Antiquing

Ughhh...I have found a new love, and unfortunately it is high-end antique luggage.

Suffragette City

...actually, nothing to do with cities in this one.  Women's right to vote, yes...

 So isn't this interesting?  And arguably quite pretty?  I found it on ebay (yes...), but it's an example of suffragette jewelry.  Made in the UK during the Victorian era, this type of accessory was beauty with brains.  Bracelets, necklaces, earrings, and brooches exist, but the colors of the gems are always the same, and - in true Victorian spirit - they spell out a message. Pearls, peridot, and amethyst; white, green, and purple...this stands, in the words one Mrs Pethick-Lawrence, for, "[p]urple as everyone knows is the royal colour. It stands for the royal blood that flows in the veins of every suffragette, the instinct of freedom and dignity...white stands for purity in private and public life...green is the colour of hope and the emblem of spring."  Perhaps a bit antiquated in sentiment, but the substance at the root still seems solid enough to me.

Incidentally, it's purple and not violet.  A common misconception has recently arisen that the colors are green, white, and violet, for "Give Women the Vote"...a nice notion, but unfortunately one that came about a hundred years too late.

Oww

Possibly broke my thumb playing the wrong kind of football...

I'll be back tomorrow :)

Turner's Approach to Venice

Addictive Greenery

Does anyone remember the reason why Rapunzel was up in that tower in the first place?

If you are a bit rusty on your fairy tales, you're probably grabbing a coin right now to toss - heads is evil/domineering/tyrannical (step)father, tails is wicked witch. (Am I riiight?)

The version I read as a kid is all about the witch. But what did a mean old lady ever have against a somewhat ditsy/spazzy girl with super-long hair? I've got the answer to that, too. And you see, it all comes around to the father - although this guy was less evil and more bumbling. Apparently Rapunzel's mom had an intense and prolonged craving for something green and leafy and made Mr R. steal some from a forbodingly walled garden. And you can probably guess how things went from there.

But wait...green and leafy cravings? No, my Grimm's wasn't a thinly-veiled pro-drug manifesto (at least, not in this instance), and I know this because the veggie was clearly named. Problem is, I can't find the book, so I'm not 100% sure what that name was.

My instinct was arugula (aka rocket - yeah!), probably because I get unnatural urges to consume large quantities of this particular lettuce. But upon reflection and introspection, I'm now thinking the leaf in question was rapini. Plus, it sounds like Rapunzel, which is nice...because that's a ridiculous name, princess or no. (And actually, was she even a princess?) Rapini is also known as broccoli rabe/raabe/raape/rape...yipes..., a lot of other Italian words, and possibly mustard greens. It looks pretty boring and doesn't seem to have any addictive properties. I don't think I've ever consciously eaten any though, so it may be exquisitely delicious. You'll have to take Rapunzel's mom's word for it.

Oh, there's another option for what herb the aforementioned mother was hungering for - rampion. This one's an obscure Medieval English thing and is kind of like a turnip. And there's your dose of general knowledge for the day.

Cookery

Never again will you be tortured by culinary vocab confusion.

Bake: Cooking with dry heat (usually in an oven).

Roast: Cooking with dry heat. Actually, technically baking and roasting are identical, although back in the days, roasting meant over a spit.

Grill: Cooking on a grill, usually directly over hot coals, an open fire, or some other heat source.

Broil: Cooking directly under a heat source, usually in a gas or electric oven. Broiling may also mean cooking on a grill, where the heat is under rather than over the food item.

Lupins...

Musicology 101

The Beatles may have gained the secrets to their success here, at the Top Ten in Hamburg, but the Fab Four who got their fab in Germany weren't necessarily John, Paul, George, and Ringo.  In fact, according to some (less-than-unbiased) parties, "Stuart [Sutcliffe] is the fourth Beatle. It was John, Paul, George and Stuart. Then it was John, Paul, George, Stuart and Pete. Pete Best is the fifth Beatle, without question. And all the others can be the sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth, tenth, eleventh...whatever they want."  That's from Pauline Sutcliffe, by the way.  So who were these other Beatles then, and why didn't they make it to the Bandstand?

There's Stuart Sutcliffe, of course, who was Lennon's art school friend who played the bass (he was mediocre), gave the Beatles their signature hair (with the help of his German girlfriend), and died in April 1962 from a brain hemorrhage.  His story is dramatically depicted in the 1994 film Backbeat.

Then you have Pete Best, the pre-Ringo drummer who played with the Beatles in Liverpool and Hamburg for two years before being booted out for 'reasons unknown' in 1962.  Was his curly hair wrong for the mop-top look?  Was he just too good-looking?  Or was he crap at the drums?  The world will never know...

And don't forget Brian Epstein, the band's discoverer and first manager, who died in 1967 of an accidental sleeping pill overdose.  Apparently there's a film coming out actually called The Fifth Beatle, and that Beatle is Brian.

The next candidate for the fifth Beatle would also be the second George - referring to producer George Martin.  He also accompanied the band on piano when the occasion arose...and other than that, his story is pretty boring.  No offense.

There's a slew of other possible fifths, from personal assistant and road manager Neil Aspinall to various musical contributors, loyal journalists, and band members from precursor bands, such as the Quarrymen, Johnny and the Moondogs, and the Silver Beatles.  Whichever way you look at it though, there's no girl Beatle.  What's that all about?  Looks like my British Invasion fantasy isn't about to happen.  Oh, also because I'm not British.  Or born in the 1940s.  Drats.

Happy Fourth!

Now, flaunt at your own discretion.

Not A Clue...

Cheeky

I bet you never considered your cheeks before.

Actually, I bet you did.  But I bet you never thought about how useful they were for your very survival.  I have, though.  I remember reading ages ago about how some animals - like mammals - have cheeks, while others - like fish and a lot of reptiles - don't.  Now I can't find where I read that, but when I type in "evolution of cheeks" to Google Scholar, a plethora of official looking articles confirm my foggy suspicion...cheeks are food bags made of face.

So if I didn't have cheeks, half of my pierogies would have ended up on the floor tonight, and while that may sound like an interesting - if disturbingly extreme - dieting tip for some, I personally quite like pierogies.  And cheeks.  And to hell with dieting.

Excuses, excuses...

No post again today really...

This time I was driving ten hours round trip to see some BRAIN SURGERY.  with REAL LIVE BRAINS.  attached to REAL LIVE PEOPLE.  whatnow.

A little further from home, Venus was looking especially bright tonight.