Decade-ence

The end of the decade—improbable as it may seem—is drawing nigh. And everyone is starting to compile their “Best of the 2000s” lists. I came across Pitchfork’s top 20 and thought, heck, I’m pretty much a Nick Hornby character (if I were to make a list of my favorite movies of the past decade, High Fidelity—based on a Hornby novel—would definitely be on it), I can do that. (Actually, Pitchfork does the 200 best albums; I’m not that ambitious.)

So I am starting my own countdown of my twenty-six favorite albums of the past ten years. Twenty-six? Yes; round numbers are boring. If I were more ambitious, I would add fractions of albums and come up with my favorite 26.54 albums. I’m not that ambitious.

I’ll start at number 26 and over the next few weeks continue the countdown to number 1, my favorite album of the 2000s. Some of you may already be able to figure it out, or can at least narrow it down.

I should point out that this is not meant to be a definitive “Best of the Decade list.” It’s just my own personal favorites.

26. Interpol, Turn on the Bright Lights, Matador Records, 2002

Mi hermano introduced me to Interpol (the New York City-based band, not the international police organization) a couple years ago, and while I like all three of their albums (to date), their debut is the one that stands out. All the reviews I have read about it liken the album to Joy Division, but I really don’t entirely support the comparison. Joy Division (one of my favorite bands ever) songs sound like transmissions from a dark and terrifying alternate universe. Sure, Turn on the Bright Lights is dark and atmospheric, but doesn’t quite bring the Joy (if you know what I mean). Still, I’m not a big fan of identifying all of a band’s influences; the album is perfectly exciting to listen to all on its own. The snaky guitars, the moody if often cryptic lyrics (in “NYC,” for example, “The subway she is a porno/The pavements they are a mess/I know you’ve supported me for a long time/Somehow I’m not impressed”; well, they have a point), the often tremulous vocals—sure, they may wear their influences on their sleeve, but it all adds up to a dish that rises above its ingredients.




25. Wilco, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, Nonesuch, 2002

I had been aware of Wilco for a few years (especially their Mermaid Avenue collaborations with Billy Bragg), but not being a big fan of alt-country, I never really went out of my way to listen to them. But their fourth album, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, effectively transcends all genres—it’s all over the map, which is what I find to be much of its appeal. And part of its problem. The story behind the album is probably more famous than anything on it: the band recorded it for Reprise Records (a Time Warner label), the label felt it was not commercial enough and refused to release it. The band bought the album back from them and left the label, streamed it in its entirety on its Web site, site traffic went through the roof, the subsequent tour was a hit, and other record labels began a bidding war for the right to release it as a proper album. Ultimately, Nonesuch (ironically, another Time Warner subsidiary) won and it was released in 2002. Some could argue that the record fails to live up to its hype, but I’m not one of them. How can you not like an album whose first song (“I Am Trying to Break Your Heart”) opens with the line “I am an American aquarium drinker,” or gets you to earnestly sing along with silly lines like “Take off your Band-Aid because I don’t believe in touchdowns”? (Hmm...that could be the Syracuse University football team’s motto.) Elsewhere, sonic experimentation and musical complexity sit side by side with simple melodies and bright choruses. The lyrics also get a bit more coherent and often wistful; “I still miss those heavy metal bands/She used to go see on the landing in the summer/She fell in love with a drummer/She fell in love with the drummer...I miss the innocence I’ve known/Playing Kiss covers/Beautiful and stoned” (“Heavy Metal Drummer”). What may have turned off Reprise is that many of the songs fail to end properly; even the simplest most straightforward tracks are likely to devolve into weird bits of noise or, as at the end of “Poor Places,” a woman repeating the words “Yankee Hotel Foxtrot” over and over (letters of the phonetic alphabet, lifted from a box set called The Conet Project: Recordings of Shortwave Numbers Stations—boy, that sounds like a compelling listen!). This one stayed in the iPod for a while in 2002.




24. Morrissey, Years of Refusal, Attack Records, 2009

I know what you’re thinking: Morrissey? Really? In this decade? Are you time-tripping back to the 80s again? Well, um, er, yes. I mean no. I mean... Sure, after about 1993 or so, I sort of lost track of Morrissey—and he actually went into hiding from about 1997 to 2004. Curiously, rather than emerging as the sort of old, past-it dinosaur he lampooned in the 1990 song “Get Off the Stage,” he seems to have taken on almost elder-statesman status, and has even been embraced by all the emo fans—a genre, it bears mentioning, that largely owes its existence to Morrissey. And to his credit, he’s not always still whining about the same old things; he’s settling into a graceful middle-age (he turns 50 this year), with a whole new set of things to be miserable about. (And, heck, if Mick Jagger still can’t get no satisfaction at age 60+, what makes anyone think Morrissey ever will?) His three records this decade (2004’s You Are the Quarry, 2006’s Ringleader of the Tormenters, and 2009’s Years of Refusal) haven’t changed his basic formula, but have expanded it a bit, and even added a few new wrinkles (literally, as well as figuratively). By post-comeback album number three, most of the rough edges have been sanded away, and it’s probably the most focused album—and best set of songs—he’s come up with in a while. In fact, when we last left Morrissey in 2006, he had apparently found love and was living in Rome. That, unsurprisingly, didn’t quite work out, and, after all, Moz happy is not what the punters pay for, so now in 2009 he’s throwing his arms around Paris “because only stone and steel accept my love.” We’ll see about that; the next album he’ll be writing nasty songs about the Eiffel Tower. Anyway, the opening song on Years, the raucous “Something is Squeezing My Skull,” pretty much addresses the likely criticism: “I know by now you think I should have straightened myself out/Thank you, drop dead.” That’s telling ’em. One of the singles was “That’s How People Grow Up,” which is fairly typical Morrissey: “I was driving my car/I crashed and broke my spine/So, yes, there are things worse in life than never being someone sweetie.” I guess “There Is a Light That Never Goes Out” didn’t quite work out. Anyway, Years of Refusal is not likely to turn around anyone who never liked the guy to begin with. But for those of us who have grown up with him (The Smiths were required listening in college in the 1980s), it’s nice to still have him around.

[Video embedding disabled. Bastard.]

23. The Flaming Lips, Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots, Warner Bros., 2002

For my money, and it is my money, actually, the one perfect Flaming Lips album is 1995’s Clouds Taste Metallic, but most people tend to agree that 1999’s The Soft Bulletin is their high-water mark, eschewing much of the psychedelic trappings for a new emotional directness. Yeah, I suppose, but I think the follow-up, 2002’s Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots perfectly captures the twin essences of the Lips (the two lips?), the out-there wackiness and the down-to-Earth humanity. That this is all dressed up in a concept album about a Japanese girl who has to defeat evil robots—and works far better than you would think—is quite remarkable. Technically, the concept ends about halfway though the record, or at the end of side one in the old days of vinyl. The problem, as laid out in track two, “One More Robot/Sympathy 3000-21,” is that the robots are developing human emotions—which can never be real emotions. (It sounds kind of like the premise of the new Battlestar Galactica.) Anyway, a big part of what makes the record work are the beautiful melodies and near sonic perfection of the production. Like Pink Floyd, whose influence is all over this album’s follow-up, 2006’s At War With the Mystics, the Lips may not be virtuoso musicians, but they know how to use a recording studio to their best advantage. Another big part of this album’s success is Wayne Coyne’s fragile voice, which can even make you weep as you sing along with lines like “Oh, Yoshimi, they won’t believe me, but you won’t let those robots eat me.” Still, what puts this album on the best-of list is the stand-out track “Do You Realize??” which is quite possibly the most beautiful song ever recorded, and if it doesn’t make you weep, then you are a pink robot.




22. XTC, Wasp Star, TVT Records, 2000

I put this on this list simply because XTC is one of my favorite bands of all time, and this album, as it happened, ended up being their swan song. Steven H. got me into XTC back circa 1986 via the Waxworks collection of singles—and it was just about this time that Skylarking and “Dear God” had come out. Most cool people have one or all of the “holy trinity” of essential XTC records—Drums and Wires (1979), Black Sea (1980), and English Settlement (1982)—but some of us have it all. Andy Partridge and Colin Moulding were (are?) two of the best songwriters around and that XTC were never a household name is one of history’s great injustices. Another was their record company-induced “lost decade”; after 1993’s not very good Nonsuch, they got stuck in record contract hell and were prohibited from either recording anything or getting released from their contract. They were simply ignored and it took six years and a phalanx of lawyers to extricate them. So by the time they finally reappeared in 1999 with Apple Venus—a lush, acoustic-orchestral album—they had lost guitarist Dave Gregory and were down to a duo. Recorded at the same time, but the other side of the stytlistic coin, was Wasp Star, released in 2000, which was what the punters wanted: a straight ahead album of pop-rock gems. And it delivers. “Playground” is a great set opener, and if there are any weak moments, it’s “Wounded Horse” (which should be shot). “I’m the Man Who Murdered Love” got some radio play, at least in L.A., at the time. Alas, after Wasp Star, Colin Moulding retired from music, but Andy Partridge has been releasing some rare recordings and demos, and working on new material. (He apparently has been collaborating with Robyn Hitchcock.)




21. The New Pornographers, Twin Cinema, Matador Records, 2005

The New Pornographers are a Vancouver-based collective (or “supergroup,” if you prefer) spearheaded by AC Newman and comprising alt-country diva Neko Case, John Collins (The Evaporators), Dan Bejar (Destroyer), and Kurt Dahle, among others. (I know, household names, all.) Every two years, they come together, record an immaculate collection of po-rock gems, and then return to their proper projects. 2003’s Electric Version was great, but 2005’s Twin Cinema is even better, with just about every track a gem. This one stayed in the iPod throughout most of the latter half of 2005. AC Newman writes most of the stuff (Dan Bejar usually gets a surreal song or two per album, in this case “Jackie, Dressed in Cobras,” whose title and refrain “On a train devouring the land/A girl’s going insane over her man” wouldn’t make this out of place on a Robyn Hitchcock record. Neko Case’s solo showcases, “The Bones of an Idol” and “These Are the Fables” make me want to explore her solo records. Twin Cinema has more hooks than a coatrack factory, smart writing, great harmonies, and loose yet flawless performances. I confess, the much mellower follow-up, 2007’s Challengers, was more that a bit of a disappointment. But it’s 2009, and there’s still time for a new New Pornographers record to come out. Hope springs eternal...



To be continued...

App Happy

Over at PrintCEO Blog, I tell the sordid tale of my growing obsession with iPhone applications.

Building a Bridge to the 20th Century

So I am at this moment on eternal hold with Verizon, as I am trying to get rid of my landline phone service. The process had been going well; it was all being done by an automated system, and it seemed like it would be fairly simple, and I could avoid the awkwardness and guilt I always feel when having to cancel via a human. Then, after I chose the option not to transfer my account to another residence, the system decided it needed to transfer me to a human, which then put me on eternal hold (8:54 and counting).

The awkwardness and guilt will not be there this time.

So while listening to the cheesy hold music, I thought I would try to accomplish the same thing online and see which was faster. I naturally assumed that I would have to set up an online user ID and password, which seemed silly since I was only trying to cancel my account, but whatever.

So I get to this sign-up screen, and had to run upstairs to get a glass of water so I could come back down and do a spit-take (emphasis added):

PIN Delivery

Full Access My Verizon Registration (Temporary PIN required)
View and pay your bill, add or change services, plus cool stuff like listen to your home voice mail over the Web and more!

Please choose the delivery method for your temporary PIN:

• Phone call/message to XXX-XXX-5280
• U.S. mail

For immediate access while waiting on your PIN, continue with Limited Access Registration.

Limited Access My Verizon Registration (Temporary PIN will be sent via U.S. mail)
Pay your bill and set up automatic payments. No other features available.

• Limited access

Please complete full registration when your PIN arrives.

So let me get this straight. If I want "immediate access" while waiting for my PIN, I need to get a temporary PIN--but the temporary PIN is sent by U.S. mail?! That's an interesting definition of "immediate." And how long does the proper PIN-getting process take if the "immediate" option involves U.S. mail?

Haven't they ever heard of a little thing called e-mail--you know, that crazy thing all the kids are using? What century are we in? Wait--I'll send my liveried footman round in my horse-drawn brougham to pick it up and bring it round to my Victorian drawing room where I can read it by gaslight.

You know, I can set up user accounts online just about anywhere else and get e-mailed PINs in literally seconds. So now I have either sit on hold forever, or wait for someone to call me back, or wait for a PIN to arrive in the mail? Just to cancel my phone service? Even if I were setting this up as a new account to pay bills online, it would still be pretty ridiculous. I think I shall avoid doing business with Verizon in the future. Or the past, as the case may be.

Finally got a human after 13:51. Total length of call: 16:24. She was very nice, I will say that.

Apres Moi, Le Deluge...Or, I Am a Klutz

Coffee is a remarkable substance.

It has self-replication and multiplication abilities that seemingly defy the basic law of conservation of matter. Some time ago, I was in a diner that advertised a "bottomless cup of coffee," so I asked the waitress, if one overturned such a cup, would it flood the planet? (We didn't see her near our table much after that.)

Even more curiously, I have found the the consumption of a single cup of coffee triggers an improbable series of biochemical processes that makes it necessary to stop at every travel plaza on the New York State Thruway and/or Mass Pike. Again, there is a very basic violation of the law of conservation of matter going on here.

I bring up the subject of coffee because I happened to spill a full cup of it this morning, and the sheer volume of liquid coursing over the desk and--more to the point--into my MacBook Pro was far greater than the initial quantity in the cup. I could literally watch it increasing before my eyes. If I hadn't been in such a panic to unplug things and rescue various electronic devices from the deluge I probably would have wrung out the entire spent roll of paper towels and attempted to develop a series of formulas that can calculate the extent to which coffee replicates itself in a given unit of time.

However, my rescue attempts were futile; the MacBook made a "pfffff" noise, there was the smell of burning plastic, and the screen went dark. That's never good. I took it down to the Apple Store in Crossgates Mall and as soon as they tried to boot it up, pink smoke billowed out from under the keyboard. Leave it to Apple to even design stylish billows of smoke. Either that or Jeannie had been trapped in my computer. Still, it rather stunned the Genius Bar folks. Needless to say, there was a mass shaking of heads that was reminiscent of a particularly tragic episode of ER. I am a Toastmaster; that now means that I am the master of a computer that is toast. So I guess it's time to get a new computer... They are, at the moment, seeing if they can rescue my hard drive or at the very least the files on it. Happily, most important stuff is backed up.

I will say thanks and kudos to the staff of the Crossgates Apple Store; every time I have ever had some sort of problem (and happily there have never been too many) they have always been exceedingly helpful and pleasant. I guess my only complaint is that I have been using Apple computers literally longer than most of them have been alive...

P.S. Robert/Kristin: do Lucy or Trixie have an extra sippy cup I can have?

Off Keynote

I just subscribed to the McSweeney's iPhone app, which beams over its daily "Internet Tendency" stories. A recent one that should be required reading is the very Robert Benchley-esque "A Literal-Minded Corporate Executive Gives the Opening Address at His Company's Sales Conference." An excerpt:

The past year has been a challenging one. Many of our clients went out of business. Many of our friends lost their jobs. Many of you who hate working here had to continue working here because no one else was hiring and you couldn't move back home because your parents rented out your room to avoid foreclosure.

However, the year ahead looks brighter, or at least not nearly as apocalyptic. The economy seems to have turned a corner, and we have emerged from the worst recession in a generation stronger than before, thanks in large part to nothing in particular that we did so much as crippling failures on the part of our competitors. While your hard work during this difficult time has been commendable, now is the time to return to doing what we do best: disinterestedly selling software that will eventually render us professionally irrelevant.

The Most Horrifying Thing I've Ever Read

Today on Yahoo! News:

among the findings of a new "60 Minutes"-Vanity Fair Poll released Sunday...[n]early half of the respondents chose Wal-Mart as the institution that best symbolizes America today.

Nooooo!!!!! I mean, have you been to a Wal-Mart?

I can't help but think that last week's Onion story was correct:

Nadir Of Western Civilization To Be Reached This Friday At 3:32 P.M.

An international panel of leading anthropologists, cultural critics, biologists, and social theorists announced this week that Western civilization will reach its lowest conceivable point at 3:32 p.m. Friday.

"From the prehistoric Lascaux cave paintings to the stirring symphonies of Mozart to today's hot-dog eating competitions and action films with comical gerbils, culture has descended into a festering pool of mass ignorance," said Yale sociologist Paul Riordan, who has spent his career analyzing western civilization's fall into the depths of depravity. "If our calculations are correct, this complete erosion of all that is enlightened and unique will reach absolute rock bottom on the afternoon of Sept. 25, 2009."

Added Riordan, "It is scientifically impossible for civilization to sink any lower than it will this Friday."
...
Experts predict that the penultimate catastrophe will occur at approximately 7:15 p.m. Thursday night, when the social networking tool Twitter will be used to communicate a series of ideas so banal they will instantaneously negate the three centuries of the Renaissance.

It Might Have Been Finished!

Whew! The final chapter of It Might Have Been is now up at http://massmedea.wordpress.com. Now the hard part: selling it!

Prints Charming?

Via Gizmodo, someone has worked out that if you printed the Internet (and I think we all know people who have tried, in one form or another; you know, the ones who can't bear to read anything on screen), it would take, among other things:

• 57,000 years of non-stop 24/7 printing
• 45 million ink cartridges, or half a million liters of ink (personally, I'd use toner, but that's just me)
• 700 square miles of paper
• 40,000 trees

Actually, if for some reason I were going to print the Internet, it would be more environmentally sustainable to first create a printer that prints directly on the trees without having to cut them down. And if readers can't make it to the forest where those trees are, I would set up a live Web cam in the forest so they can view on the Internet the printout of...um...the Internet... Hmm...this is sort of a media Möbius strip, isn't it?

Journalism in the 22nd Century

Over at Movie Mis-Treatments, from the director who bored and confused you in Battle of the Worlds fires up the Confuse-O-Vision for 1960's Assignment: Outer Space:

It is 2116 (four years after the Solar Federation assumed control of all the planets and got rid of a pesky guitar player?) and ace reporter Ray Peterson has been sent by the editor of the Planetary Chronicle of New York to report on a "routine check of infraradiation flux on Galaxy M12." Because what could possibly be more newsworthy and exciting than a “routine check” of something? “Routine,” “usual,” and “humdrum” are always words that get an editor’s toes a-tapping. No wonder newspapers are dying.

It Might Be Getting Close to the End

Over at It Might Have Been, the first of the final three chapters--Chapter 25 "Our Mutual Friend" and this one's one of of my favorites.

IMPORTANT NOTE: The concluding chapter will be posted on Friday, September 18. After that point, the It Might Have Been blog will remain up for a further three weeks while I make another pass through the manuscript, but will be taken down and no longer available online as of Friday, October 9, as I start the process of shopping the book around.

Lost in Translation

Or something. Anyway, it happened again: if it's on the Internet, it must be true! Foreign newspapers once again believed an Onion story. From Wired UK:

Yesterday's edition of The New Nation, a Bangladeshi newspaper, included an article credited to the "Onion News Network, Lebanon, Ohio" with the startling headline: Conspiracy Theorist Convinces Armstrong Moon Landing Was Faked. What followed was a faithful reproduction of an Onion story from August 31:

Apollo 11 mission commander and famed astronaut Neil Armstrong shocked reporters at a press conference Monday, announcing he had been convinced that his historic first step on the moon was part of an elaborate hoax orchestrated by the United States government.

According to Armstrong, he was forced to reconsider every single detail of the monumental journey after watching a few persuasive YouTube videos, and reading several blog posts on conspiracy theorist Ralph Coleman's website, OmissionControl.org.

Another paper, Daily Manab Zamin, also ran the story, translated into Bengali. Both have now acknowledged that they reprinted the story without checking it, and have apologised to their readers.

"We thought it was true so we printed it without checking," the New Nation's associate editor told the AFP, which doesn't inspire too much confidence.

That's still not as good as several years ago when Beijing's largest newspaper reprinted an Onion story about Congress threatening to move out of Washington unless the city builds a new, modern Capitol building.

Media Overload

This is an interesting idea:

Is it a book? Is it a movie? Is it a Web site?

Actually it's all three.

Anthony Zuiker, creator of the "CSI: Crime Scene Investigation" U.S. television series, is releasing what he calls a "digi-novel" combining all three media — and giving a jolt to traditional book publishing.

Zuiker has created "Level 26," a crime novel that also invites readers to log on to a Web site about every 20 pages using a special code to watch a "cyber-bridge" — a three-minute film clip tied to the story.

Starting next Tuesday, readers can buy the book, visit the Web site, log in to watch the "cyber-bridges," read, discuss and contribute to the story.

Ultimately, it will come down to the quality of the content. Well, maybe. It would be interesting to craft a story in which the multimedia aspects were interwoven into the plot and functioned as something more than "Hey, look what we can do." Maybe "Level 26" does that; I do not know. I'd be willing to give it a shot.

But then sending book readers to a Web site from a printed book isn't really all that exciting or clever. Textooks, non-fiction books, and others already do this regularly in the form of references. Still, I can envision an application where an e-book reader like a later-generation Kindle can seamlessly integrate multimedia content into e-books. (But then this was a discussion I remember having circa 1993 when CD-ROM-based multimedia content first started coming out.) Actually, an e-book reader on a smartphone like the iPhone would already be able to handle this.

But then if anyone lives in New York or Los Angeles and subscribes to Entertainment Weekly, they will, in the September 18th issue, get to see the first implementation of a video player embedded in a printed publication. Let's hope it's not as lame as the e-paper-based Esquire cover last year (my copy of which, by the way, finally died).

Habitat for Oh the Humanity!

I bet this architectural idea will go over like a lead... well, you know. Three guesses who they've always got on the CD player. I bet it could use a house Plant. Still, who wouldn't want to live in a blimp? I think it would make for a very good year.

Like a zeppelin airship crash-landed in the Australian forest, Bellemo & Cat's 'Cocoon' is nestled artfully on a steeply sloping site.

The weekender is located in a dense, bushy, holiday hot-spot along Victoria's famous Great Ocean Road. The architects designed the house as an object; an ovaloid form floating high above the challenging site to capture the dramatic views.

Skip to My Loo

Public lavatories are notoriously vile places, but unfortunately they can't always be avoided. An interesting conundrum (and perhaps "interesting" is not the term to use..."unspeakably dull" might be better) I often run into is whether to, after washing my hands, to use a paper towel or an air dryer. I inevitably prefer the paper towels, especially if the lavatory in question uses a dispenser that has one of those no-touch motion sensors. Not that I'm Howard Hughes or Monk or anything, but, still, public lavatories are wretched enough to begin with. And those air dryers take far too long.

With that exciting prelude, I was interested (and the same caveat applies to the use of that word here as above) to read the results of a recent study, sponsored, it should be pointed out, by the European Tissue Symposium, a paper tissue products advocacy group (which begs the question, do paper tissue products really need an advocacy group? I mean, after all, there are certain paper products that will, um, never be replaced by, say, electronic methods, although there are some Web sites that make it tempting to try. Although, I bet if you have a cold, one of their meetings might be the best place to be.) Anyway, about the study:

There were four parts to the study: Part A looked at the drying efficiency of hand drying method; Part B involved counting the number of different types of bacteria on the hands before and after drying; Part C studied the potential contamination of other users and the washroom environment; and Part D took a bacterial sampling of Dyson Airblade dryers in public washrooms.

Paper towels and the Dyson Airblade were found to be equally efficient at drying hands, each achieving 90% dryness in approximately 10sec. However, the warm air dryer was considerably less efficient, taking 47sec to achieve the same level of dryness.

Twenty subjects (10 male and 10 female) were used in Part B. Three different agar growth media (nutrient, cystine-lactose-electrolyte-deficient and mannitol salt agar) were used to count and identify the bacteria on the fingerpads and palms before and after washing and drying.

Paper towels were found to reduce the number of all types of bacteria on the fingerpads by up to 76% and on the palms by up to 77%. By comparison, the Dyson Airblade increased the numbers of most types of bacteria on the fingerpads by 42% and on the palms by 15%. However, after washing and drying hands under the warm air dryer, the total number of bacteria increased by 194% on the fingerpads and on the palms by 254%.

Good! I certainly was in the right all these years. Three guesses, though, who had issues with the study's methodology. Yep, the Dyson Airblade people who said, in essence, that the researchers were full of hot air. So to speak.

To be honest, though, when it comes to the unspeakable vileness of public loos the hand-drying method is the least of my worries. Door handles, water taps and knobs, etc., are far more gross. Which is why I really like the trend in public bog design to make everything as touch-free as possible. It's finally getting to the point where I don't have to don my HazMat suit.

One question I do have involves the environmental responsibility of paper towels vs. hot air dryers. Sure, paper requires the cutting of trees and can take up space in landfills, but trees are a renewable natural resource and hot-air dryers run on electricity and likely have some carbon cost associated with them. The answer, perhaps, can be found at The Wild Center, the Natural History Museum of the Adirondacks up in Tupper Lake, NY. They have considered the environmental impact of just about everything, it seems, and pride themselves on their green building(s). And their lavatories do not use air dryers, but rather paper towels made from 100% recycled paper. Q.E.D.

CD Universe

I want to take this opportunity to praise my favorite online retailer--CD Universe. I really don't buy much else aside from CDs, DVDs, and books (CD Universe does not sell books, alas), so whatever meager disposable income I have I usually spend at CD Universe. I have been shopping there since around 2002 or 2003, they have just about everything in stock that I have ever looked for, their prices are on a par with--or are often cheaper than--Amazon, and since their warehouse is located in Connecticut, most stuff usually comes the day after it ships without having to pay extra shipping.

Such has been my satisfaction with them that it was only recently that I had to find out what their return policy was (a CD came lacking an actual disc!). I sent it back with a short explanation, and they shipped a replacement the next day and even reimbursed me for the postage. They also don't spam me like Amazon does with those "When Databases Attack" e-mails promoting things I wouldn't want in a million years. If you're ever in the market for CDs (although I think I'm the only one who buys them anymore), DVDs, games, or even MP3s, I highly recommend them.

"I'm Going to Dickens World"

Via Steven H., from across the pond, Dickens World, a theme park in Chatham, Kent:

jump on board the Great Expectations Boat Ride for splashing good fun, take a trip back in time to a Victorian School complete with nasty schoolmaster or get spooked in The Haunted House of 1859.

Visitors will get the chance to come face to face with some of Dickens' literary characters in their magnificent rendition of a Victorian town courtyard!

After all the excitement in the Dickensian courtyard, visitors can take a rest in the 4D cinema show at Peggotty's Boathouse or at the animatronic show in the Britannia Theatre - sit back and enjoy the story of Dickens' life and his literary works.

4D cinema show? I wonder if there is also an interactive Edwin Drood quicklime pit and an Our Mutual Friend drowning in the Thames. Still, it sounds a heck of a lot better than Disneyworld.

Interestingly, an Abba tribute band is playing there this weekend. I see the connection; few people know that the "Dancing Queen" was actually Queen Victoria.

It Might Still Be Continuing

Sorry...I've been traveling about; blogging has been light. So it goes.

But a new chapter, "Brianstorm," has been posted over at It Might Have Been. Apologies to the Arctic Monkeys (new album out next week!) for the title. By the way, the song has nothing to do with the chapter, aside from the pun.

Opting Out of Google

From the Onion News Network. Y'know, it doesn't seem like that much of an exaggeration to me.

Google Opt Out Feature Lets Users Protect Privacy By Moving To Remote Village

It Ain't Over 'Til the Fat Lady Tweets

The inexorable march toward the Apocalypse continues apace: the first Twitter Opera is about to debut in London (there's probably a joke about the "Upper-Class Twit of the Year Competition" to be made):

The libretto has been taken from the sublime to a ridiculous conclusion. Instead of a "little book" - its literal meaning – the latest, and most avant-garde, of operas will feature little "tweets". In a blatant attempt to shake off its fusty image, the Royal Opera House has teamed up with the micro-blogging site to produce The Twitter Opera with a libretto composed entirely of public tweets.

Curiously, I was going to tweet this over at Twitter, but it appears to be down again. Pity.

To the Moon

Speaking of Apollo, I recently finished a really good book that came out this year called Rocket Men: The Epic Story of the First Men on the Moon by Craig Nelson. This is a richly--nay, meticulously--detailed history of Apollo 11 that is a wealth of information and a nearly minute-by-minute chronicle of the events of July 1969. Basically, it's everything you wanted to know about the first moon landing--and many things you probably didn't want to know, such as why you really don't want to vomit in zero-gravity, some of the, um, waste disposal problems of earlier Apollo missions, and so forth. But it's also a pretty compelling story--even if it's one we all know.

Or thought we did. There was a fair number of things that went wrong, and even though you know that they landed on the moon and came back safely (except for those morons who deny the whole thing--there's a cool video of Buzz Aldrin punching out one of them), the book is actually quite suspenseful. For example, the programmed landing site on the lunar surface turned out to be strewn with huge boulders, so Neil Armstrong had to fly the lunar module manually and find a suitable substitute--as the fuel was running out. They touched down just as the needle hit E. It's quite gripping.

The book also includes all the background detail and history of NASA, the Space Race, the Missile Race, and pretty much everything you ever wanted to know about the first--and some would argue finest--decade of the U.S. space program.

There is a great deal of longing for a renewed interest in manned spaceflight (interestingly, if NASA ever completely gives up the idea of manned spaceflight, it will lose its lease on the Johnson Space Center in Texas and have to give it back to Rice University, as is stipulated in the lease). The book ends with a lengthy quote from Michael Griffin, the former administrator of NASA:

[T]he value of space exploration really is in its spinoffs, as others have argued. But it's not in spinoffs like Teflon and Tang and Velcro—and which in fact did not come from the space program [what did come {the author adds} are dialysis machines, CAT scans, MRI machines, space suit technology used for firefighters and oil derrick workers, and great strides forward in solid-state electronics, plastics, metals, lubricants, coatings, insulation, packaging, and water purification].

The real spinoffs are just as they were for cathedral builders, more fundamental. Anyone who wants to build spacecraft, who wants to be a subcontractor, or who even wants to supply bolts and screws to the space industry must work to a higher level of precision than human begings had to do before the space industry came along. And that standard has influenced our entire industrial base, and therefore our economy.

As for national security, what is the value to the United States of being involved in enterprises which lift up human hearts everywhere? What is the value to the United States of being a leader in such efforts, in projects in which every technologically capable nation wants to take part? The greatest strategy for national security, more effective than having better guns and bombs than anyone else, is being a nation that does the kinds of things that make others want to do them with us. [Rocket Men, page 346]

All eyes were on the U.S. on July 20, 1969--and there was even a brief thaw in the Cold War.

One of the memes in the news during the 40th anniversary of the moon landing was all the poll results which find younger people to be pretty blasé about the whole thing. That's probably not unexpected, as it is pretty far removed from their experience, just as those of us who were born in the late 1960s don't really appreciate the excitement of what, say, Charles Lindbergh accomplished with the first transatlantic flight. Or at least not on a gut level. (Most of us are just pretty annoyed by air travel these days.)

Still, it's hard not to see the Cassini images from Saturn or the Hubble photos and not be similarly awed at what we can accomplish when we put our minds to it. Sure, it's not the same as having a human being out walking among the stars, but it's still pretty impressive.

Anyway, it's a compelling and fascinating book. I highly recommend it. I also rcommend the excellent A Man on the Moon by Andrew Chaiken, a chronicle of all the Apollo missions, which I read back in the mid-90s (it had been published to coincide with the 25th anniversary of Apollo 11--tempus fugit!).

Music from the Hearts of Space

I've never been a fan of so-called ambient or New Age music, although it is pretty good for combatting insomnia. But it is bearable--and even listenable--when it has been mixed with radio transmissions from the Apollo missions, as the SomaFM Internet radio station has done with their Mission Control Channel. Right now, they are playing the Apollo 12 mission over what I can only assume is called "Bedtime on Tralfamadore" or something. It's very cool. And, hey, it sure as heck beats talk radio.

Antisocial Media?

I suspect every new medium has encountered some level of resistance from church elders.

According to Vincent Nichols, head of the Roman Catholic Church in England and Wales, modern friendships built around (or involving) heavy SMS volley, electronic mail correspondences, and social networking sites create "transient relationships" which put users at the risk of suicide.

Of course it does. Transient relationships? I bought one thing from Harry & David ten years ago and there's still no stopping them from e-mailing me.

I would imagine that if we went back in time to the advent of any new technology or communication medium, we would find all sorts of loopy pronouncements from those of the clerical persuasion, like "The Telephone: Collect Call from Mr. Satan," "The Telegraph: ... .. -." and probably even "CB Radios: Breaker, Breaker, Good Buddy...Of The Devil." And so it goes. Wait until the Pope starts Twittering. (I just checked. He's not. Yet.)

So what's the problem this time?

the Archbishop of Westminster believes that social networking sites encourage people to concentrate on their number of friends rather than build actual relationships, and they tend to view that number as a commodity.

Ah, because, of course, that never happens offline. Oh, and it's even worse than that:

your addiction to texting and email is ruining your relationship... with god.

You know, I think the archbishop is just bitter because god defriended him.

Grate Expectations

Sometimes an invention is so brilliant because it is so simple and yet no one had ever thought of it before. One of the winners of the 2009 International Design Excellence Awards (IDEA) competition is a cheese grater—with a solid bottom to catch the cheese. I wish I'd thought of that.

Another of the winners is a digital cookbook:

it sports a touchscreen and an edible print system with 18 "flavour" cartridges to recreate the taste of the dishes in the book.

I can imagine the dinner comments now: "Hmm...needs more magenta."

Blu-Rat

Could M&Ms--specifically, blue M&Ms--harbor healing properties? In cases of paralysis, quite possibly. Says National Geographic:

Fifteen minutes after [a] rat was paralyzed, researchers injected the rodent with Brilliant Blue G dye, a derivative of common food coloring Blue Number One. The dye reduced inflammation of the spinal cord, which allowed the rats to take clumsy steps—but not walk—within weeks, a new study says.
...
That lack of side effects may also help make the blue dye a boon to paralyzed humans down the road. "The beauty of it is that it wouldn't harm you," Nedergaard said—unlike previous compounds used to treat spinal cord injuries, which had toxic effects.

How blue is blue? Check it out:
Kind of looks like a furry Smurf. Do they come in any other colors? You could probably put together a pretty festive-looking menage à rat.

Jeff Bezos Ate My Homework

Remember last week when Amazon reached out its electronic tentacles and deleted copies of (heh) George Orwell books from customers' Kindles? Well, what if those e-books had been part of someone's homework? Don't take the law into your own handset, you take 'em to court:

A class action lawsuit filed today takes Amazon.com to task after the company deleted George Orwell books from customers Kindles.
...
The suit is being brought by Justin D. Gawronski, a 17-year-old high school student who had purchased Orwells 1984 to complete a summer homework assignment.

When Amazon deleted the book from his Kindle, it rendered the electronic notes he had taken worthless.

It suppose it's silly to point out that he could always just buy the print edition.

Crossword L[v]overs

This is pretty cool, via Gizmodo: an apartment building in Lvov, Ukraine, on whose edifice is painted an enormous crossword puzzle.
And the clues? Well, they are

located in different point of interests of the city, like monuments, theaters, fountains etc. So people while walking around the city can try to answer the questions and writing down the answers.

If you're stumped, all you have to do is wait until dark; the grid has actually been filled in with fluorescent paint that glows in the dark.
I wonder if being able to complete the puzzle is a requirement for living there. I can see it now: being evicted for not knowing 41-across.

The Importance of Being Ernest Borgnine

Over at Movie Mis-Treatments, the latest is the utterly loathsome "action" movie Laser Mission.

Say you had a computer system into which you could feed all the elements of every successful action-adventure-espionage movie and, through special software algorithms, have it automatically write the action flick to end all action flicks. This is no doubt the dream of every Hollywood studio executive, but my theory is that 1989’s Laser Mission was actually written by such a computer system. Unfortunately, it was written using the beta version of the software. Well, okay, not even the beta version. More like the alpha version. I take that back. Pre-alpha. So pre-alpha it has reverted back to the omega version.

Anyway, the movie is a non-stop stream of every bad action movie cliché, stuck together with a super-adhesive glue of sheer stupidity.

Still, it co-stars Ernest Borgnine.

Lost in the Supermarket

I have found that a good place to have a complete nervous breakdown is a supermarket. There are a number of reasons for this. First of all, there are far too many choices. While attempting to buy breakfast cereal, I’ve been known to fall to the floor in Price Chopper, curl into the fetal position, and start weeping uncontrollably. Does the universe really need more than one type of Frosted Flakes? Rice Krispies? (Snap, crackle, and freak out.) And the first person who can tell me that there is any difference between Wheat Chex, Rice Chex, and Corn Chex is going to get beaten with an ear of corn.

When trying to pick out toothpaste, I can make Hamlet look like the very model of decisiveness and action. Tartar control, or not tartar control? That is the question. It’s reached the point where I blindfold myself, run into the toothpaste aisle, grab a tube of something at random, and flee as quickly as possible. Okay, so once I accidentally grabbed a tube of Preparation H instead. The only trouble is I think my teeth are shrinking. But I digress.

For a good exploration of why consumer products companies are making us all completely insane and miserable, I recommend a good book by Barry Schwartz called The Paradox of Choice: Why More is Less.)

Tangentially, I was once in Price Chopper and saw a sign that advertised “semiboneless leg of lamb.” Semiboneless? Isn’t that like “slightly pregnant”? I mean, it’s a binary state—yes/no. On/off. 0/1. Bone/no bone. Must this be so difficult?

But for true supermarket anxiety, nothing can beat trying to read nutrition labels. I will admit that I do pay fairly close attention to comparing food labels, and I think by now I could easily obtain a Ph.D. in Advanced Mathematics. The trick is to find the number of calories per serving, find out what they consider a serving, and then--and this is the tricky part--determine how far removed from reality their estimate of a serving size is.

I was looking at a box of red beans and rice and according to the label, it contained only 190 calories per serving. Hey, that’s not bad! However, they considered a “serving” to consist of something like three grains of rice. Since I’m not a sparrow, I had to then work out what a realistic serving size for a human would be and then do the math.

Then there is comparing one product to another. The red beans and rice has 190 calories per serving, but it considers a serving to be 1/4 cup, but the rice pilaf has 150 calories per serving, but it considers one serving to be 1/3 cup. Okay, the lowest common denominator is 12... Help me, Spock!

Ah, but then there’s the Pasta-Roni option. The Olive Oil and Garlic Pasta has 220 calories per serving, but a serving size is 2.5 oz. Okay, 8 oz. per cup, four quarts in a gallon, 30 days hath September... The label also tells me that there are about 50 fewer calories “as packaged” than “as prepared.” That’s useful, because it lets me know that if I chomped down the dry pasta and had a few spoonfuls of the powdered mix, I can save some calories.

Oh, but the Three-Cheese Pasta has... And it’s usually at this point that the manager has me escorted out of the store, as I have been in the rice and pasta aisle for about 12 hours.

All that is bad enough, but then I read an article in New Scientist this week that found that the methodology used to determine nutritional information may be faulty--and could be off by as much as 25%! Well, that’s good to know. I have also discovered that screaming and pounding the floor with one’s fists is a good aerobic workout.

How do they determine how many calories are in a food anyway? In the same way that many of us prepare our meals: they burn it.

First of all, a “calorie” is a measure of heat. Specifically, it is a measure of the amount of heat that will raise the temperature of 1 gram of water from 14.5° to 15.5° Celsius. Making things even more confusing is that the “calorie” used by dietitians and nutritionists is actually a kilocalorie, or 1,000 calories, also referred to as a Calorie (with a capital C). (Yes, they hate us.) So if a food is said to have 200 Calories it actually has 200,000 calories. It would be pretty funny if labels listed the actual lowercase-c-calorie counts of foods! Well, maybe not funny ha-ha...

Anyway, the original method for measuring calorie (or Calorie) counts was developed by an American chemist named Wilbur O. Atwater. He used what was known as a “bomb calorimeter,” basically a fireproof container hooked up to a thermometer. He would put a food—say, a turkey leg or a piece of beef—inside it, burn it, and measure how much energy was released. Maybe it’s just me, but if I had been Atwater’s lab assistant, I would be burning with insatiable curiosity to put a human head in the bomb calorimeter. I mean, maybe if the Donner Party had had accurate nutritional information things might have tuned out differently.

But I digress.

As we all know far too well (particularly on long road trips) not everything in a food is absorbed by the human body, and the process of digestion itself burns calories (about which more later), so Atwater needed to add some extra steps, and through his research developed a series of tables that corrected the raw calorie counts based on type of food (protein vs. carbohydrate, for example). His research, while refined a tad over the years, is still the gold standard for generating nutrition label information. (A little bit of trivia for you: Atwater’s daughter Catherine married the famous economist John Kenneth Galbraith. It’s not particularly interesting but I thought I’d just throw it out there.)

Today’s calorimeters are a bit more advanced. As this article in Slate explains:

food laboratories often freeze their samples in liquid nitrogen and then blend them into a fine, monochromatic powder that can then be used in a variety of chemical analyses. In a Kjeldahl analysis, for example, lab techs remove nitrogen from the food powder and then use it to calculate the amount of protein the sample contains. A hexane extraction can gauge the amount of fat. Carbohydrates are usually measured by difference—they’re what is left over when you remove everything else.

Funny, I usually cook in that exact same way.

The methods developed by Atwater were useful, but new research suggests that it is still subject to a great deal of error. From the New Scientist article:

Nutritionists are well aware that our bodies don't incinerate food, they digest it. And digestion - from chewing food to moving it through the gut and chemically breaking it down along the way - takes a different amount of energy for different foods. According to Geoffrey Livesey, an independent nutritionist based in Norfolk, UK, this can lower the number of calories your body extracts from a meal by anywhere between 5 and 25 per cent depending on the food eaten. "These energy costs are quite significant," he says, yet are not reflected on any food label.

Take fiber (please!):

As well as being more resistant to mechanical and chemical digestion than other forms of carbohydrate, dietary fibre provides energy for gut microbes, and they take their cut before we get our share. Livesey has calculated that all these factors reduce the energy derived from dietary fibre by 25 per cent - down from the current estimate of 2 kcal per gram to 1.5 kcal per gram

Other nutrients such as protein are also subject to correction--and while this may not seem like a lot, it can add up over time. That is, as fat. The good news, I suppose, is that food labels tend to overstate the number of calories, although not consistently, and may give the impression that something that is actually healthier (the New Scientist article uses an oatmeal bar) has more calories than something unhealthier (a brownie).

Interestingly, there is evidence that suggests that food texture can also play a role in weight gain. That is, a food that is harder to chew (and, ergo, digest) burns more calories during the digestion process than something softer and chewier. A Japanese study found that women who ate soft foods gained more weight than women who ate harder foods. Thus, look for my new book, The All Rock-Candy Diet, coming soon to a disreputable bookstore near you.

Oh, and ingredients can also make a difference:

the brownie is made from refined sugar and flour, making it easier for our bodies to extract the available calories than it would be from the complex carbohydrates of the oatmeal in the cereal bar.

Cooking also imparts more calories to foods, too. It never ends.

So, what are we to do? Cry, basically.

Well, no, but on the one hand, there is the suggestion that food labels—and the methodology used to derive nutritional info—be updated to reflect the latest science. After all, Atwater’s methods are more than 100 years old. We know a scosh more about chemistry and biology and nutrition these days. On the other hand, it would be costly to do so—and how much stock do consumers put in food labels anyway? And is the margin of error on the current labels such that anyone would change their behavior all that much anyway?

It’s been my experience over the past few years that worrying about 20 calories here and 30 calories there is less effective than just eating sensibly and using “common sense.” (That is, salad, vegetables--good; pizza, 90-ounce Porterhouse steaks--bad.) Portion control and, more importantly, exercise are far more valuable in terms of beating the battle of the bulge. Avoiding junk food also helps. In fact, my treadmill tells me how many calories I am burning (itself a guesstimate that is prone to error). While on line at the supermarket, if I see a candy bar or some other unnecessary snack item, I look at the guesstimate of its calorie count and can figure if it has 200 calories, it will take an additional 20 minutes of running to burn it off. Once you start measuring foods in terms of how much exercise it requires to negate them, random snacking starts to lose its appeal.

What also makes bad eating habits lose their appeal is the thought of outgrowing one’s clothes and having to buy new ones. Which brings me back to the “paradox of choice.” At what point did buying jeans become so complicated? They have Easy Fit, Loose Fit, Baggy Fit, Boot Fit, Relaxed Fit, Unrelaxed Fit, Downright Tense Fit, and something called “Standard Fit” which is the most unhelpful name for something since they invented “regular flavor gum.”

And this I find this even more nervewracking than grocery shopping.

No Sanity Claws

Here's a headline to catch the eye, although it sounds like more of a surf-and-turf war:

Maine lobsterman charged in turf war shooting

PORTLAND, Maine – A turf war in the lobster-rich waters off Maine escalated into a dispute that left a lobsterman with a gunshot wound to the neck and another in jail, law enforcement officials said Tuesday.

What a crab. To think, musseling in on someone else's turf like that. He put his whole heart and sole into that business. This sounds like something right out of The Codfather. They're all just prawns in a larger game. The police should really clamdown on this sort of thing.

Site for Sore Eyes

I just revamped my proper Web site (www.richtextandgraphics.com). I tested it on a variety of browsers (naturally only Internet Explorer has problems with it, though they're pretty minor). If anyone else experiences anything weird, please do let me know.

It Might Still be Continuing

The saga It Might Have Been lumbers onward. We're up to Chapter 19--only nine chapters left!

Big Bother

You almost get the sense that Amazon did this more out of perverse humor than anything.

Some E-Books Are More Equal Than Others

This morning, hundreds of Amazon Kindle owners awoke to discover that books by a certain famous author had mysteriously disappeared from their e-book readers. These were books that they had bought and paid for—thought they owned.

But no, apparently the publisher changed its mind about offering an electronic edition, and apparently Amazon, whose business lives and dies by publisher happiness, caved. It electronically deleted all books by this author from people’s Kindles and credited their accounts for the price.
...
...it’s like Barnes & Noble sneaking into our homes in the middle of the night, taking some books that we’ve been reading off our nightstands, and leaving us a check on the coffee table.

What author and what titles? Oh, you can figure it out easily enough. Click the link if you're truly stumped.

A Hard-Scrabble Upbringing

Here's an interesting question (and perhaps a unique definition of "interesting"): how many words are in the English language? And how many of them do you think you know?

You may recall that last month the Global Language Monitor announced that the one-millionth word was added to the English language (and, it seems, another 411 have been added since then). By the way, that "millionth word" was Web 2.0. Great. So now even words have revision numbers. Anyway, according to the site, more than 14 words are added to English every day. And every one of them is a gem, of course.

Naturally, many professional linguists had no words to describe how outraged they were by such a seemingly definitive quantification of English words. But, hey, it's all a bit of fun, and it's best to take such estimates with a grain of salt.

After all, the biggest question facing "word spotters" is, "well, what is a word anyway?" That is, take the word...take. That's obviously a word. But what about all the spin-offs of it, such as taking, taker, taken, or even took, for that matter? And take can be either a verb ("to get into one's possession") or a noun ("the act of taking"). There is a definition of take unique to filmmaking, and one to crime. And so on. Are all of these different words? Or the same word? Or what? Perhaps we could assign partial word values to these instances--so that, say, take itself could be considered 1 word, but taking is 0.5 word, taken another 0.5, and maybe took, because if its spelling, could be 0.75 word. Or something. Take as referring to a shot in filmmaking could be worth maybe 0.3759665 word. Or...

Okay, I'm better now.

Then of course there are written numbers...one, two, three... Technically, the list of nunbers is infinite, so if someone wanted to write out every number and count each as a different word, that obviously means that English has an infinite number of words right there.

Then there are obscure scientific terms, plants, animals...heck, there are believed to be between five and eight million species of beetles alone, words all.

So there are all sorts of problems quantifying English.

It may be somewhat easier to quantify how many words a single person knows, but, after all, the same basic problems apply.

I ran across a way of coming up with a quick (well, kind of quick) estimate:

Professor David Crystal, known chiefly for his research in English language studies and author of around 100 books on the subject...suggests taking a sample of about 20 or 30 pages from a medium-sized dictionary, one which contains about 100,000 entries or 1,000 to 1,500 pages.

Tick off the ones you know and count them. Then multiply that by the number of pages and you will discover how many words you know.

Okay, I'm game. So I grabbed my large unabridged Random House Dictionary (Second Edition, published in 1987) and decided to, as the name Random House suggests, randomly pick one
page per letter and count how many words on that page I knew. I say "random" but not entirely; I tried to avoid pages that contained words all having the same prefix (like all the re-s, un-s or foot-s, etc.). I also avoided proper names, towns, countries, and pretty much anything capitalized. And, no, I didn't read the defintion of a word I previously did not know and then claimed that I knew it. Cynical are we?

Anyway, here's how the "raw data" turned out:

A (aggressive-ago): 29
B (bleeder-blind): 25
C (cognize-coinage): 31
D (defliate-degranulation): 43
E (esotharnax-essence d'orient): 32
F (ferule-fetus): 33
G (gaby-gain): 25
H (Hippo Regius-histocompatibility): 21
I (irregular galaxy-Isaac): 52
J (jet-jib): 28
K (knot-Kodály): 27
L (leathery-lederhosen): 23
M (minus-mirror writing): 22
N (Nesselrode-Neufchatel): 23
O (OPM-opsonin): 18
P (percolation-perfective): 30
Q (quadrillion-qualify): 28
R (rappel-raspy): 39
S (spokesman-spoonbill): 22
T (temporary-tenderable): 27
U (ugly-ulterior): 20
V (vespiary-vexillate): 31
W (War Between the States-warlock): 35
X (xenograft-xylene): 14
Y (Yarkand-yearling): 23
Z (Zola--zoon): 21

There were 26 pages, which works out to an average words-I-know-per-page of 27.77. The dictionary has a total of 2,214 pages. Which means that I know 61,481.08 words. That's probably far more precise than this little experiment warrants, so I'm prepared to say that I know somewhere between 60,000–65,000 words, not that use them all on a regular basis (despite what some people may think). And this dictionary was published in 1987, before the Internet and all the technological terms I use and abuse on a regular basis existed. Looking around my office, I see a variety of things that would not have been in a 1987 dictionary: WiFi, cellphone (although "cellular phone" is but not the shortened one-word term), iPhone, iPod, podcast, blog, thumb drive, USB, FireWire, cable-modem, optical mouse, MP3, Web browser, ...the list goes on.

It's not surprising that words are constantly being added to English. Unlike a lot of languages, English is a highly dynamic, democratic language in the sense that there is no central authority overseeing it and placing strict controls over what words can be added to the lexicon (like, say, French). As long as a word can be understood by some number of other people, it's fair game for the vocabulary. Sure, I complain about this as much as anyone, but that's the English language's great strength. One man alone—William Shakespeare—is responsible for adding more than 1,000 words to the English language (well, sort of; his works are often the first written instances of many words; surely his contemporaries knew at least some of them or audiences would have had no idea what his characters were saying!). Some of the words attributed to Shakespeare include "arch-villain," "bedazzle," "cheap" (as in vulgar or flimsy), "dauntless," "embrace" (as a noun), "fashionable," "go-between," "honey-tongued," "inauspicious," "lustrous," "nimble-footed," "outbreak," "pander," "sanctimonious," "time-honored," "unearthly," "vulnerable," and "well-bred.

English words can come from anywhere. It's all about communication. As long as we understand each other, anything goes. However, I draw the line at pwn and text as a verb.

Still, I find that any discussion of lexicography can't ignore the episode of Black Adder the Third, featuring Edmund (Rowan Atkinson) and Dr. Samuel Johnson (who compiled the first dictionary and whose house I visited a couple years ago) and this classic exchange:

Dr. Johnson: Here it is, sir: the very cornerstone of English scholarship. This book, sir, contains every word in our beloved language.
...
Edmund: Every single one, sir?

Dr. Johnson: (confidently) Every single word, sir!

Edmund: (to Prince) Oh, well, in that case, sir, I hope you will not object if I also offer the Doctor my most enthusiastic contrafribularities.

Dr. Johnson: What?

Edmund: 'Contrafribularites', sir? It is a common word down our way...

Dr. Johnson: Damn! (writes in the book)

Edmund: Oh, I'm sorry, sir. I'm anispeptic, frasmotic, even compunctuous to have caused you such pericombobulation.

Dr. Johnson: What? What? WHAT?

Prince George: What are you on about, Blackadder? This is all beginning to sound a bit like dago talk to me.

Edmund: I'm sorry, sir. I merely wished to congratulate the Doctor on not having left out a single word. (J sneers) Shall I fetch the tea, Your Highness?

Prince George: Yes, yes! And get that damned fire up here, will you?

Edmund: Certainly, sir. I shall return interfrastically. (exits) (J writes some more)

But no matter how we quantify our language, we should always make sure that in our word counts we never forget to include sausage.

Matter of Fact, It's All Dark

Unless you live in an underwater pyramid, you are aware that Monday marks to 40th anniversary of the first Moon landing. Apollo 11, however, launched 40 years ago this morning, and you can follow the mission in "real time" (+ 40 years, of course) over at wechoosethemoon.org. There is Flash animation, "live" transmissions in "real time," downloadable desktop mission tracking widgets, photos, and more. It's pretty cool.

Not Since Budokan

How's this for knowing who your audience is: Cheap Trick's latest album--cleverly titled The Latest--is available on 8-track tape. I'm not sure which is more surprising: that it's available on 8-track, or that Cheap Trick actually has a new album out.

Mega BUXX

Either prescription drug costs have gotten way out of hand, or there was some sort of system error:

The embarrassingly-named VISA BUXX card is a debit card for teenagers: parents get reports, control, etc. My daughter has one.

My lectures about financial responsibility appear to have failed: yesterday she charged $23,148,855,308,184,500.00 at the drug store. That's 2,000 times more than the national debt, which is a paltry 11 trillion.

The ever-vigilant folks at VISA added a $20 "negative balance fee," and have suspended the card.

But by using the CVS ExtraCare card she could have cut that $23 quadrillion by $10.

Word Up and Down

Over at The Guardian, a quintessentially English topic: what words make you wince? Some respond to the way they sound, some to their meaning, and some to the way they are abused. Some of the words I 'm not fond of:

• Anything from "corpospeak," such as "synergy," "leverage" (especially when used as a verb), or "disconnect" when used as a noun.
• "Bling."
• "Peeps," when not used to refer to those yellow polymer-based Easter treats.
• The suffix "-gate" appended to any type of scandal. "Watergate" was called that because it involved the Watergate Hotel. Likewise, the suffix "-holic" "or "-oholic" added to any kind of addict, like "chocoholic" or "workaholic." Someone who drinks excessively is called an "alcoholic" because alcohol is involved.
  
• "Text" as a verb, but I suppose I shall have to learn to live with it. Same with "friend" as a verb.
  
• The phrase "[x] is the new [y]."
  
• I really can't stand emoticons, or any other form of Instant Messaging shorthand, such as lol, btw, etc., especially when they seep into actual writing. I can see how they are useful on handheld devices that are unwieldy to type on, but when typing on a proper keyboard it's just uncalled for.
• Other Internet-coined words such as "meh" and "pwn" (instead of "own") make me want to chew my own head off.
  
• "Proverbial" when used to refer to something that is not mentioned in an actual proverb.
• "Literally" when used in place of "figuratively" (i.e., "he literally exploded with laughter," which would be rather messy).
• I used to have no problem with "segue" but then that dorky scooter came on the market and now everyone spells it "segway."
• I also am not a big fan of the word "blog" on strictly aesthetic terms but, again, I suppose it's something I shall have to live with. Same with "podcast."
  
• I've also never liked profanity all that much, except under extreme circumstances. Lately I've taken to reverting to quaint and archaic interjections like "egad," "dang," and "zounds," primarily for my own amusement.
  

Matt Groening has put out yearly lists of "forbidden words" (and phrases) that sensible people would do well to avoid. I'm embarrased to admit that at times I use some of these, usually when I'm just being lazy.

Pipe Dreams

Mi hermano told me this morning that in his hometown of Watertown, MA (appropriate), a plumbing museum has recently opened. And, indeed, it has: http://theplumbingmuseum.org. Apparently, it has been around since 1979, but only recently moved to its new location and reopened. I confess, I am intrigued. I am certain that one of the things they would mention is that the term "plumbing" comes from plumbum, the Latin word for "lead," which was what the original pipes were made of.

The museum features a history of plumbing, as well as "hands-on workshops." One shudders to think. Although I do wonder how often museum security has to yell, "That's not the restroom, that's an exhibit!"

Free Willy

Over at Movie Mis-Treatments, Peter Lupus (Willy in Mission: Impossible and Norberg in Police Squad) stars as the titular strongman in Hercules and the Tyrants of Babylon, making, as Jon Stewart might say, a mess o'potamia.

One of the more dubious film genres of the 1950s and 60s was the so-called “sword and sandal” epic. Technically called pepla, these movies were usually (but not always) made in Italy, often on a shoestring (or sandalstring), and starred burly American bodybuilders as heroes from antiquity, the Bible, or Greco-Roman mythology. Often, a single movie could have many different titles (Hercules Unchained was also called Ercole e la regina di Lidia and Hercules and the Queen of Lydia), and movies were occasionally named after heroes that weren’t actually in them (Maciste and the Queen of Samar was also called Hercules Against the Moon Men, for some reason, while Maciste at the Court of the Czar was also known as Samson vs. the Giant King as well as Atlas Against the Czar). I suspect it was all a diabolical plot to crash the Internet Movie Database.

Perhaps the most famous “actor” in these movies was the original Hercules, Steve Reeves, although others included Reg Park, Gordon Scott, Mark Forest, Brad Harris, Dan Vadis, and many others. For some reason, even though everyone else in the cast was Italian, audiences (or at least the producers) preferred leads with American-sounding names. So Sergio Ciani had to be credited as “Alan Steel,” which should have been a bit of a giveaway (his first choice of nom de film was Sidney Applebaum).

The movie was directed by Domenico Paolella, which is also the name of a delicious Italian rice dish.

Anyway, the "plot" concerns an evil trio of Babylonian rulers apparently named Salmon Oscar, Azure, and Tennille (there is even a Captain). Tyranny will keep them together.

Died in the Wool

Some days, it's very hard to choose whether one wants to abuse animals or children. Decisions, decisions... But here's a fun way to do both simultaneously: mutton-busting.

How I wish I weren't making that up.

Essentially, it combines the horror and sadness of rodeo with the terror of having children tossed from hyperactive and freaked-out sheep. Fun for the whole family! Probably not so much fun for the sheep. There is a plethora of upsetting video at the link.

Creeped Out

If you thought that today's ads were vile and loathsome, in some ways they're nothing compared to some of the "vintage" ads from purportedly quainter times. Remember when wife-beating was used to pitch such diverse products as coffee and postage meters? (Postage meters?) Does the sight of a pig smiling and graphically disembowling himself make you hungry for sausage? Remember those "man in the Hathaway shirt" ads that inexplicably featured guys in eye patches to sell shirts to either pirates and/or Cyclops? They're even more surreal when the one-eyed guy is holding a Bengal tiger kitten...the aftermath of a tragic zoo mishap, methinks. ("Aww...what a cute little kitty...what's that he playing with...Oh, my god!!!")

Anyway, if you want to be creeped out by vintage advertising, be sure to check this site out.

Oldies But...Not So Goodies

Via Boing Boing, I came across a great little blog called Awful Library Books--examples of old, quaint, or downright silly titles from the past that can plague library shelves if librarians don't practice what is apparently referred to as "weeding." One doesn't like to get rid of books, but some, well, you know... Top candidates: flash-in-the-pan biographies of temporarily famous people--or worse: how-to/self-help books from temporarily famous people, such as:
Then there are how-to books on really old stuff:
Maybe that kid who couldn't figure out the Walkman could use one of these.

Then there are the quaint books that obviously hearken back to a simpler time:
Then there's the just plain weird:
Curiously, my primary care physician has this book.

Anyway, it's an enoyable blog, especially for those who are amused by obsolete typography.