...

I watched Gentlemen Broncos at long last...

...

...wow.  Truly amazing.  Life-changing, even. 

I'm not sure what my favorite bit was.  I'm going to have to think about this one long and hard.

Hey Check Out This Book

You can look at more of it here.

It is called How To Tell The Birds From The Flowers And Other Wood-cuts.

And here is one page:

The Parrot and the Carrot one may easily confound,

They're very much alike in looks and similar in sound,

We recognize the Parrot by his clear articulation,

For Carrots are unable to engage in conversation.

Speculoos

I stumbled across a mention of speculoos biscuits while trundling around the internet, and it took me back to a distant summer afternoon, reading novels in a French cafe over a double espresso.  Apparently though it's not just me who has such an instantaneous reaction to these little cookies.  And it's not just associative pleasure - these things really are empirically delicious.

Sorry, specu-whats?  Well, "Speculoos are decorative caramelized biscuits and they were traditionally used to celebrate weddings and births, to teach history, and to chronicle war in Europe. Today Speculoos make up 20% of all the cookies eaten in Belgium and are still an important part of their culture."  I don't know about war, but fighting over them sounds sort of reasonable.  They taste like spices and sunshine and probably contain trace amounts of cocaine.  They're made by Biscoff (a company that apparently has formed some sort of heaven-made match with Anna's), and you can get them for free with any cup of coffee in most of Europe...but alas, here in the USA they only show up in unusual places, such as on Delta flights.  A number of food writers have remarked on this, actually, and I've just decided I'm going to quote these seasoned authors (as it were) to close out this entry.  Yes I am that lazy.  Plus I need to figure out where in Boston might stock these gorgeous little wonders.

From a guy called Francis Lam:
"But anyway, yes: the cookie. The great Delta cookie. Once you've had them, felt the slight, sudden shock of joy that comes over you while otherwise sitting stuffed and cramped in an unbearably loud machine in the sky, it is possible to find yourself unable to stop thinking about them, to find them popping up in your mind every once in a while when you are tired or hungry or yearning to breathe free. (In fact, while writing this, I could not resist having some and dipped one, for the hell of it, in nice olive oil. It was just about the best thing I've ever put in my mouth.)"

From a more pretentious guy called John Currence:
"What I love about the Biscoff is purely existential. Airline travel is on the verge of being unbearable these days. I feel like a feedlot steer being shuttled between uncomfortable sets of circumstances. The Biscoff is the consistent and delicious reminder to me that there is still something good about airline travel, as difficult as it may be to identify, wedged into a center seat. I also appreciate, in a world of over-consumption, that I am limited to those two miniature planks of loveliness. I could eat my weight in them and woe be to my waistline if I were to unleash a box of them and an ice cold glass of whole milk on my gluttonous urges. I have found myself after a trip with the 1-800 number for the Biscoff maker in my hand on an empty wrapper, with the offer of regular consumption, but have always let it go, so as not to spoil that moment on each flight when I want to scream and am saved by those two wonderful cookies."

A guy called David Lebovitz now tells me there's a spreadable version:
"Still, I gotta give it to those French tastemakers: the Speculoos à Tartiner was amazing. Imagine in not-too-sweet gingersnap, spicy and bold, that you can smear over a piece of baguette. Or lick right off the spoon. Move over Nutella. (Unless there’s a chocolate version. Then we’ll talk.)"

The Most Interesting Blogger In The World

I don't always drink soda...

but when I do, I prefer San Pellegrino Limonata.

Sita Sings the Blues

This one might not be for everyone (but then, when were they ever?)...but if you like flash animation, Hindu mythology, jazz singer Annette Hanshaw, or are just looking for a free feature-length film to watch, I'd advise you to give it a go.  Personally, I found the semi-autobiographical story both amusing and touching (and finally, thought-provoking), loved the narrators, and got drawn into a Wikipedia rabbit-hole on Sita and Shiva and Rama and a host of other figures I hadn't though about or properly investigated in ages and ages.  If you're looking for a serious telling of the Ramayana, perhaps you ought to look elsewhere, but for a lovely (cross-cultural) time, watch Sita Sings the Blues.

Life is Beautiful

Watch this film!

It will make you laugh while breaking your heart.  Very very good.  And (yet again) this isn't much of a review, but...

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!

Marketing Ploy

I'm seeing the beginnings of a trend of viral guerrilla product marketing, little clever, sneaky videos that pop up on Youtube to subtly sell something almost without your knowing it.

Here's one (link) that sells not only Rustler's One Finger Food, but also does a pretty good job selling the college-bros-filming-a-hilarious-video style.  I'm still not sure how they do it, but I'm 99% sure it's fake...if this were real, wouldn't his finger blow up?

This one (link) is a bit more professional-looking, but I believe it's a fake, firstly because of physics, and secondly because essentially all of their gear is by the company Hi-Tec.  Puts you in mind of that one with the massive water slide, eh?  I suppose this one works thanks to a slightly submerged platform...still, it's fun to watch, and certainly less painful than getting walloped over the head by Herbal Essences and GoDaddy and what have you.

Howl's Moving Castle

Okay, okay.  Cartoons are for children and I am no longer a child.  But watch this one anyway!  Director Hayao Miyazaki is really one of the more credible directors of anime on the market, and his films are lovely and happy and cover decent themes like feminism and pacifism and environmentalism without bludgeoning one over the head with it.

Plus, this particular film is based on a book by Diana Wynne Jones, which makes everything okay.  And the main character is magicked into an old woman for the majority of the time, so no worries about creepy manga romance.  And there is magic and flying cars and a talking ball of fire voiced by Billy Crystal.  And the animation looks a lot like this:

 
Okay a bit campy but generally a good time had by all.  So at least give it a try.  Because I love it.

Top Ten Books of Last Year

So...I'm not (irreconcilably) embarrassed to admit that it's not unlikely that the majority of books I've read this year have been by Georgette Heyer. Wince. Yes, the creator of the historical romance. What can I say, I like men in cravats and horse-driven carriages. I like books that use words like 'apoplexy,' 'reticule,' and 'bombazine.' I like happy endings.

However, I do, on occasion, read other genres, and so (without further ado), here's a list of my top ten - excluding all Regency - from the previous year(ish). Alphabetically by title:

Black Swan Green, by David Mitchell. Apparently I don't 'gush' - about anything - but Mom indicates that several times I recommended this book and stated how excellent I found it. It's a coming of age novel about a boy growing up in England in the 1980s where each chapter depicts an excerpt from each month in a year-in-the-life...if that doesn't particularly move you, think a voice comparable to (if not quite as enamored of itself as) the one in Middlesex.

The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak. I quite like reading young adult fiction, although I don't know what that says about me...so this one is set in one of my pet eras, WWII, and the narrator is Death, so how can you go wrong. Some of it is beautiful, some of it dark, some both. A fantastic book.

Corelli's Mandolin, by Louis De Bernieres. This I read in France, and so I suppose that was more than a year ago...I believe this was very popular and trendy a good few years ago, so I'm coming to it late on several counts. Another WWII book, this time away from the major fronts of battle, I found this one gripping until the end. By which I mean I'm not sure I wouldn't have rewritten the final scenes. Beautifully told, however, and worth a try if you haven't already?

Good Omens, by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. Yes. I read this once every couple years, and it is tattered and dogeared and generally in pieces. It's about the apocalypse, and it combines Gaiman's sense of magic with Pratchett's quirky wit. Very funny, very good.

Great Tales from English History, by Robert Lacey. A bit of nonfiction, I actually listened to these in the car on audiotape, and possibly it was Mr Lacey's hypnotic voice, but history has never been so enthralling. Well maybe it has. But not more...quite exciting stories, though, and supposedly more accurate (if less juicy) than Royal Babylon.

Griffin & Sabine, by Nick Bantock. This is actually the first of a trilogy. It's more like prying through someone's mail than reading a book - this is one of those where envelopes are built into each page. The whole thing's a work of art, if the story is at times baffling and/or flimsy.

The Lathe of Heaven, by Ursula K. Le Guin. Ooh. A guy whose dreams alter reality. Into a dystopia. Very short, riveting science fiction, with a dash of ethics and psychology. Also, it contains one of my favorite quotes: "...pique, umbrage, and ennui. Oh, the French diseases of the soul.” If you like this, you might also like Einstein's Dreams, although I think they're different enough to prevent monotony.

Neverwhere, by Neil Gaiman. Sort of like a creepy, earthy, modern-day Alice and Wonderland? Not sure about that comparison, but a very good read. (Yes, it's fantasy. Get over it.)

The Road, by Cormac McCarthy. More apocalyptic, dystopic landscapes, this is apparently McCarthy's most optimistic novel? What a guy...this is the most hair-raising on the list, be warned. I read it in one sitting, but I don't think I'll be watching the film.

Room with a View, by E. M. Forster. "It is fate; but call it Italy if it pleases you..." I suppose this one's a classic. It's slow-paced, but quite beautiful. Also, in my opinion, the film that corresponds to this book (contrary to some others) is definitely worth sitting through.

Mr Fry

I've been doing a lot of not-physics, and instead have been indulging my Stephen Fry kick. He is a very clever man. Last night, after finishing the "Big Fat Quiz of the Year: 2009," I watched QI for far too long, which is Mr Fry's game show (short for Quite Interesting) in which the questions are impossibly hard and and the panel of British celebrity guests gets more points for an interesting answer than for a right one. The scores most often end in the negatives. Rather comical, and quasi-educational? And here's a clip - granted, perhaps a less-than-hysterical one - on one of my pet topics. Give it a watch.



Other fantastic Stephen Fry moments include his role in the final season of Blackadder, which is always worth a watch, and anything with Hugh Laurie (another one of my favorites)...Jeeves and Wooster, A Bit of Fry and Laurie, etc.

Right. Well that may not have been my most convincing sell, but I've got to get back to the mechanism of transverse waves, or maybe I'll warm up a bit with this last episode on electricity...

Watch This.

WATCH IT. You will need about four hours. It's called North and South, and it's like a Pride and Prejudice remix. Plus, a bonus striking workforce.

I have no critique. But I do have a photo.


Mmmm...he ranks up there (in my humble opinion) with Sir Percival Blakeney and Fitzwilliam Darcy, etc. Not a limp cravat in sight! And people wonder why I have such unreasonable expectations of men.

Some Short Reflections on the end of Mr Tennant's Dr Who

Why hello.

Just finished watching the season finale of Dr Who on BBC America (yay) and, since it's the most cultural thing I've done thus far today (with the possible exception of attempting the application to "the Other place") I guess I'll have a go at a brief review.

And why not make it numerical.

1) First of all, let it be known that I do, in fact, find David Tennant perfectly dreamy, especially when he's out of character and in full command of his Scottish accent, but also when he's handling his sonic screwdriver (no comments, please). However, these last few episodes, the Doctor has seemed to me entirely too emo. I miss his humor (or, humour). I miss his scampering about in a flowy coat. I miss his companion - although perhaps not as much as he does, that's for sure. No matter how upstanding Mr Donna Noble is, an 80-year-old man is no substitute for the other half of whatever witty repartee we expect to be bombarded with. And so, for this reason, I'm rather pleased, or at least not completely devastated, to see this latest incarnation depart. Goodbye, Mr Tennant, we loved you, we'll miss you, but I at least am willing to put a brave front on and welcome your successor.

2) Which brings me to Dr 11. Chin up, Whofans...from the 30 seconds we got, he seems like a longer-haired, larger-chinned version of the same. Substituting geronimo (?) for the trademark allons-y...well, some things will take some getting used to.

3) And questions left unanswered...if my nerd-ville zip code hasn't been revealed yet, this should do it. What actually happened to the Master? If Tennant is no more, does that mean his clone living in an alternate reality with Billie Piper has gone longer and lankier, too? (what a shock for her). And what about that possible plotline, seemingly abandoned, with that woman River Song (strange name) who we met in the Library? There are some other questions that have flown out of my head, probably because my intro-level conception of physics doesn't like the idea of a man jumping out of a space ship, hurtling through a conservatory roof, and smashing onto a marble floor without breaking a bone, not to mention the possible implications of a large, boiling planet suddenly popping into existence a mile or so away from the surface of the Earth.

But - that's! entertainment! And I do enjoy it. Looking forward to the next season (Steven Moffat's new head writer!), not to mention any reruns. Right. Until tomorrow.