I See The Village People

Which is the worst M. Night Shyamalan flick? Signs Lady in the Water The Village The Sixth Sense Unbreakable All of the Above    Free polls from Pollhost.com

(Why? Because it's a poll, and it's free.)

dating tip: quality dates me

I am a very high-quality man. Not just quality, or high-quality (and the dash is important, just like me), but very high-quality.

I know that sounds arrogant, but let’s consider the facts:

• I’m slim (whereas 98% of American men age 26 to 28 are mostly Molson muscle)
• I’m attractive (I was listed in Maxim as one of America's top heartthrobs, right up there with George Clooney and Orlando Bloom --and the men who populate that sample are celebrities, gods in gabardine slacks)
• I’m relatively young (whereas 82% of American adult men are old farts)
• I’m intelligent (IQ tested at 150 when I was a child, which is smarter than you could ever hope to be, and higher than 99.96% of the population. I've only gotten smarter with time, and hope to pass Einstein by 29)
• I’m educated (whereas 77% of American men cannot point to Turkey on a map, unless it's a map of the fridge)
• I have my financial shit together (have my own bank and a Master's degree in Credit History, hundreds of gold bars stacked under the bed, my good looks are insured through Lloyd's, Gatsbyesque raconteur)
• I have a strong libido, more testosterone than Floyd Landis, with the five o'clock shadow to prove it
• Many of my interests tend to be more popular with women than men: literature, organic hydroponics, yoga, radical feminism, Brad Pitt, Appletinis, guns, gambling, etc.

The above list explains why I typically receive 5000-10,000 (sometimes more) responses whenever I post personal ads. This is in addition to getting hit on almost every time I go out alone, proposed to in the subway, barraged by modeling offers, harrassed by paparazzi, and generally sick of seeing myself on billboards.

So, I have a *lot* of choices of women who want to date me. Given that, of course I choose to date only the highest quality women -- women who are also fit, attractive, intelligent, educated, financially successful, members of Mensa, allergic to pistachios, not too picky about Thai food, and mezzo-soprano. I’m attracted to women from any race and a wide age range (21 to 50 or so) so the pool of women who meet those requirements is quite large, which allows me to add all sorts of additional restrictions if I want -- must be a deist, must be anarcho-syndicalist, must despise children, must be financially independent or self-employed and available for frequent world travel, etc.

And believe me, the etc. is what gets 'em.




[via Ed Brayton, read the post that inspires]

Update: It's nice to be noticed.

evolution in action

David Postman nails a recent shift in strategic language, comparing Dick Cheney, June 22 to Ken Mehlman, August 13. New new GOP talking points:

Look, the fact is that our mission in the war in Iraq is critical. We agree on that; we agree it's wrong to cut and run. But look, we're not coming in and saying "Stay the course." The choice in this election is not between "Stay the course" and "Cut and run," it's between "Win by adapting" and "Cut and run."

I always thought "stay the course" was old school, Dana Carvey material, to be followed with "thousand points of light."

photos of Mistaya Canyon, Banff National Park

If you've seen one box canyon, you've seen 'em all. But Mistaya Canyon is worth the five-minute walk if you're a box canyon novice, need to stretch your legs, or want to exercise your erosion photography muscles.

photos of Johnston Canyon, Banff National Park

These photos of Johnston Canyon were taken at about 10:00 a.m., the best time to visit this ultra-popular stopping point. (Of course, in Banff, which stopping point isn't ultra-popular?) Sadly, we didn't have time to go all the way up to the paint pots.

Merriam-Webster's recognizes "spyware," "supersize," other neologisms

Almost 100 new words for the 2006 version of the 11th edition of their college lexicon. Best part: both "drama queen" and "unibrow" made it.

(Slate picks the best dictionary here.)

don't confuse the sheeple

State traffic viziers thought it'd be wise to remind drivers to keep a safe distance between their car and the car in front of them. Their solution: put big dots on the side of the road, eighty feet apart, and signs adjuring drivers to "keep two dots" distant.

The results?

The problem Saturday was that drivers did what they were told - they stuck to the instructions on the signs, Murdock said.

The dots are spaced to keep cars two seconds apart when traffic is moving at the speed limit - 60 mph, she said.

When traffic is moving more slowly, vehicles can be closer because they don't move as far in two seconds. But when speeds were slower during the heavier traffic Saturday, drivers maintained the 160-foot distance, causing long backups behind them, Murdock said.

'Way back in my high school driving course, the teacher warned us to assume that every other driver was either an idiot or an asshole. I've yet to observe otherwise.

The Descent: decent (plus, dissent!)

Plato once described the search for truth as a journey out of a cave. The Descent, though, makes no pretense at allegory, and thus succeeds as a tense thriller splashed with gory surprises. It starts off a chick flick and ends up a slasher flick with the moral stature (and visual appeal) of Kill Bill, as six gal pals' Appalachian spelunking trip goes from awry to horrific. Along the way: a few conventional scares, mostly capable characterization, gorgeous scenery, inoffensive dialogue, digs at American cinema, and copious bloodflow.

The movie isn't flawless. The jarring opening deflates into turgid exposition, the romantic subplot requires a hefty bit of spousal cluelessness, and the disorienting action sequences rely too heavily on quick cuts. But it still hangs together, a better Hills Have Eyes. (Though, in this one, the eyes are vestigial. You'll see.)

Sample dissent, via RottenTomatoes, comes from Claudia Puig of USA Today.

When it comes to female bonding and physical exertion, one wonders, why couldn't the group have just passed on spelunking and spent the weekend attending yoga classes at a spa?

Thank you, Claudia, for reminding us that women are just walking stereotypes.

telepathy in utero

We've all had this experience: slumped on the sofa, watching Days of Our Lives, accompanied by a pint of ice cream, a box of Cheezits, and our twelve-week-old fetus, when a disembodied voice floats out of the ether. Mummy, it says, always in a Lancaster twang, Mummy, try pickles on the Cheezits.

Telepathy in utero is vivid and real, potentially frightening to those who wonder where the voices come from, and how they know English. Little is known about the mechanisms and causes involved, but research pioneered by D.B. Cheek and David Chamberlain proves beyond a ghost of a doubt that fetuses can communicate with their mothers beyond hormones and kicks.

The phenomenon usually involves a tiny voice making specific demands, for food, noise reduction, softer lighting, or music better than "Baby Loves Mozart." Equal to demands are complaints that the mother isn't listening, or has confused the fetus's voice with the hell-spawned demon from before she met Daddy, a common mistake.

To hear your fetus's transmissions, you have to tune to the right frequency. First, find a quiet place, preferably with some sort of "white noise" in the background, such as John Tesh or public television (or John Tesh on public television). Clear your mind by repeating a meaningless phrase, something like "The check is in the mail" or "Don't call us, we'll call you." And then wait.

With a little practice, you can listen to other mothers' fetuses. If you're that bored, go for it.




[114th in a series]

OSD may join lawsuit against state

Just back from a road trip, only to learn that the OSD budget, up for vote this Monday, contains an interesting new wrinkle: funding to join a lawsuit.

Olympia School Board President Russ Lehman has proposed earmarking $5,000 in district dollars each of the next two years to join a coalition of teachers and school districts across Washington that is prepared to sue the state if lawmakers don't set aside as much money as they think is needed for schools.

"I think we need to articulate to all Olympia School District taxpayers that we're doing everything we can to access the resources that we need to provide the highest quality education for our students," Lehman said.

The coalition is monitoring the work of Washington Learns - a group of committees authorized in 2005 by the Legislature to study the state's education system.

Washington Learns' recommendations for changes could be one factor in whether the coalition of school districts and teachers decides to sue. Washington Learns is set to make a preliminary report in November and a final report in 2007.

The lawsuit isn't news, on the media radar since at least last October, but OSD's consideration--backed by the WEA--certainly is. Here's hoping they find it in their budget to take a stand for the funding schools deserve.

you say planet, I say planetoid

(Yes, philo-philosophy family, this is for you.)

Astronomers are unable to agree on a definition of "planet," but have called for a conference to--one hopes--resolve their differences.

Some argue that if Pluto kept its crown, Xena should be the 10th planet by default - it is, after all, bigger. Purists maintain that there are only eight traditional planets, and insist Pluto and Xena are poseurs.

"Life would be simpler if we went back to eight planets," said Brian Marsden, director of the astronomical union's Minor Planet Center in Cambridge, Mass.

Still others suggest a compromise that would divide planets into categories based on composition, similar to the way stars and galaxies are classified. Jupiter could be labeled a "gas giant planet," while Pluto and Xena could be "ice dwarf planets."

"Pluto is not worthy of being called just a plain planet," said Alan Boss, an astrophysicist at the Carnegie Institution in Washington, D.C. "But it's perfectly fine as an ice dwarf planet or a historical planet."

Consulting a lexicographer won't work. Ambrose Bierce is no help. Samuel Johnson's "erratick or wandering stars" is vague and inaccurate. Even fabled Dictionary.com leaves the door open for planetoids.

(Astrologers, working with only seven planets for the last few centuries, largely have ignored the controversy.)

photos of badlands near Morrin Bridge, Alberta

When I was a tyke, I satisfied a burgeoning geological curiosity when dragged by my parents out to the badlands near Morrin Bridge. Ranging up and down the slopes, searching for dinosaur bones, I would spend hours in rockhounding bliss. It was great to go back after all these years. The badlands are less forbidding, but every bit as fun--and fossil-filled--as I remembered them.

photos of an Alberta coal mine

A highlight of our Alberta visit was a sidetrip to a coal mine, where beautiful mountains of beautiful coal are gathered up and burned to fuel the Albertan economy. Remarkably, the company is required by law to return the hills and dales to their original state once extraction is finished. Visually, at least, they succeed. Click "read more" to see all seven photos.

photos of hoodoos, Milk River, Alberta

Enjoy these photos of the Milk River hoodoos, a must-see if you're ever in Alberta. Princess of the Hoodoos is my lovely wife, Melissa. (Click "read more" to see all ten.)

ahead of the curve

Via Obscure Store, from the L.A. Times, a backlash against casual work wear:

The trend toward casual dress has gone so far that Matt Smith, a 27-year-old Century City lawyer, is on a quest to establish "Tie Tuesday." He would like to wear a suit to work but knows he'd be ridiculed. Instead, Smith dons a tie every Tuesday and hopes other men in his office will follow. So far a couple have.

Someone else, though, was there first.

Jim Anderson: pathfinder, trendsetter, trailblazer.

meanwhile, back at the real world

I come back home to find out that Great Britain may have foiled another 9/11-scale attack, and that James Dobson is sticking up for Mel Gibson. Would anyone blame me for wanting to head straight back for the Canadian Rockies, waiting for the end of civilization?

it's a wired, wired, wired, wired world

Harvie Heights is a "suburb" of Canmore, which sits just outside Banff National Park, and, like Canmore, primarily exists to provide hotel rooms for tourists. There are enough lodges and chalets in the vicinity that, even though the wireless internet at our hotel is down, we're siphoning a signal from a neighbor. So, to be honest, I'm blogging from Harvie Heights just because I can.

Today we trekked up to the Columbia glacier, where eighty years of global warming have chopped back the ice field by over 5,000 feet, averaging over sixty feet per year. (Signs mark the decades, a too-concrete reminder of the planet's latest mood swing.) Tomorrow, Lake Louise. Thursday, home, twelve straight hours in the car. I have enough Swedish Fish to make it.

End transmission.

Banff beckons

So I'll be leaving Hanna, and internet access, for the next few days. It might not be 'til Thursday when you hear from me again. Upcoming alliterative topics: tour guides and Tim Hortons. Plus a full recap of the grand venture circleward. Hasta pronto.

blogging from the frozen north

He's been blogging for over a year. He reads my blog. (Never comments.) And yet I had no idea he's online, furiously posting massive essays about once a week--such is his modesty. If I hadn't come and visited Hanna, I might never have known.

Ladies and gentlemen: Ryan, a thoughtful, intelligent, young man, a committed, Christian man, a man you don't want to get married around. (Yes, that's a friend he had kidnapped, blindfolded, and left to find his way back to civilization with a GPS unit and a bus pass, somewhere in Calgary.)

We may not always see eye to eye, but we root for the same hockey team. Good enough.

never go in the woods without a topo map

While I'm on vacation, part of which involves tent camping, I thought I'd point out the outrageous lawsuit of the week, if not the century. Sadly, the story gives little detail, tantalizing but ultimately frustrating us, but what we know is that a 23-year-old of dubious intelligence is suing the federal government for not warning him about a 20-to-30-foot cliff in the vicinity of his campsite, which he fell into while... yes... finding a place to pee.

Oh, and it was dark out.

Now, I may not be a legal authority, but I do know a little bit about camping, and rule number one of Woodsmanship is when you set up camp, immediately scout the environs for a safe place to urinate. Mr. Mersereau wandered offsite to relieve himself, and found out exactly how dangerous it is to ignore this vital rule.

[link via Obscure Store]