Now this is my kind of guy

Check this out:

Someone got so annoyed with the misuse/misunderstanding of the fallacy of begging the question, he made an entire (albeit satirical) website about it, complete with printable error cards, gently reminding offenders of their bungle:

Now that is fabulous. I urge you to copy this picture and save it. The next time an anchorperson misuses the BTQ phrase on your local television or radio news (wait for it, it’ll happen), email the picture to the station.

I especially like the section called “Frequently Begged Asked Questions.” Heh. And lo and behold, he shares my disdain for the biggies:

  • Could of, would of, should of
  • “I could care less”
  • Apostrophe abuse

And, oh bliss and joy, he also has merch.

This is going to be a good day.

Fink out.

The worst?

While researching the New York Times this morning, I stumbled across a Virginia Tech link. Referring to the horrible tragedy there last year, when Cho Seung-Hui went on a rampage and killed 32 innocent people, the Times quotes US government officials as saying it was the “deadliest shooting rampage in American history.” The phrase, according to my research, has morphed somehow over the last year and a half or so, and now the Virginia Tech killings are viewed as the “worst massacre in American history.” Hmmm. That didn’t sound right to me. I kept digging.

Well I think they’re forgetting something. A couple of somethings, actually…

Although it wasn’t a “shooting” rampage, per sé, it was still a murderous one. In 1927, sicko wackjob Andrew Kehoe, upset about school taxes, killed his wife before detonating homemade bombs at his Michigan farm (with all its animals tied up so they couldn’t run). That was bad enough. But what people in the East Lansing village of Bath didn’t know was that he had also planted half a ton of dynamite underneath the newly-built elementary school.

Bang. Thirty-eight kids and seven teachers, dead. Flesh hanging from street signs. As a mother, I cried when I read this:

Mrs. Eugene Hart sat in the street, with her two little dead girls, one in each arm and her son, Percy, lying dead in her lap.”

You can pick up the story here, but it ain’t pretty reading.

Ok, so the Bath school bombing wasn’t exactly a “shooting.” Got me on a technicality.

But how do the Feds explain Wounded Knee, where nearly two-thirds of the Sioux population (mostly women and children) were backed into a ravine and slaughtered? Several conflicting accounts were bandied about, but the math tells the tale: over 300 Sioux dead, compared to only 25 US Cavalry casualties — mostly from friendly crossfire.

So what about this? Does it not qualify as a serial killing? The Feds call it a “battle.” Well sweety, when the “battle” involves 230 unarmed women and babies…I don’t know about you, but that takes the “deadliest massacre” cake in my book. No wonder Washington failed to recognize it; seems old habits die hard. It wasn’t until Dee Brown’s 1973 book exposed the whole nightmare that people knew the real truth.

After Wounded Knee, this editorial appeared in the Saturday Pioneer newspaper in Aberdeen, South Dakota:

The Whites, by law of conquest…are masters of the American continent, and the best safety of the frontier settlements will be secured by the total annihilation of the few remaining Indians. Why not annihilation? Their glory has fled, their spirit broken, their manhood effaced; better that they die than live the miserable wretches that they are.”

The writer of this editorial? L. Frank Baum, author of another small, inconsequential piece of literature called The Wizard of Oz.

RF, killin’ your inner child

Photo of Big Foot courtesy US National Archives

RNF V

Random Neuron Firings

Today’s RNFs are the result of this morning’s readings, and last night’s observations.

  • Finally, somebody stands up to Shaquille O’Neal. Note to self: beware of anyone who says, “Anyone who knows me knows I’m a comedian.” Ew.
  • Don’t you hate it when you’re reading along, getting into someone’s personal story, only to find out at the bottom of the page that it’s a sales pitch?
  • As much as I’m loving this jazz camp, the drive to Tiffin is starting to wear thin. Here is a picture of the lovely Je-nay-nay, doing her jam session performance. She was delightful, as was Samuel. (I forgot to take a photo of him. Nuts.)
  • How long do you think this guy practiced?
  • I have 5 pages finished on the 10-page project due this Sunday.
  • This going to bed at 1 a.m. is for the birds.
  • Bo Derek was 16 when she started dating John Derek. He was 46.
  • I find it odd that alligators can only be found in the US and China. That’s it. Nowhere else. There are also 1.5 million alligators in the US alone…and less than 1,000 crocodiles.
  • Ever wonder why honey is so easy to digest? (hork)

All right. No more excuses. Time to get back to “The Paper.”

Fink out.

I say shut up

Am I in a mood this morning? Um, yeah.

Mavis and I were never allowed to shout “Shut up!” when we were kids. I can hear Mother: “Don’t say ‘shut up.’ It’s not nice.”

Well, I’m not feeling very nice today, so I’ma tell somebody to shut up. To Mother, up in heaven: pay no attention to the following.

Al Sharpton – Shut up.

This guy is the adult version of the kid you remember back in school, who tattled on everyone for everything. He’s also got to be the busiest man on the planet. He must do nothing all day but listen to multiple talk shows on radio and television, and read political pundits by the thousands — just to see if anyone made a comment that might be construed as racist.

Mr. Sharpton apparently thinks his fellow African Americans lack the mental fortitude to see that Don Imus is an idiot, and they need Al to intercede for them. If I were African American, I would be completely insulted. I’d wanna backhand Sharpton and tell him to go get a real job. [Yes, we know your ancestors were owned as slaves by the ancestors of Strom Thurmond. Get. Over. It.]

After the thing last year, and then adding on the comments from yesterday, yes, Imus can’t keep his mouth shut. But that’s why God gave us fingers: to change channels on the radio.

Quoth the Sharpton:

I find the inference of his remark disturbing because it plays into stereotypes. We will determine in the next day or so whether or not his remark warrants direct action on our part.”

Direct action? Direct action? Who is this guy? Fuh cripesake, stop worrying about some loudmouth moron on a radio show and focus on some real issues. You want to consider taking direct action because Imus said something you didn’t like? You call yourself an “activist” for African American issues, and you have time for this?

And don’t even get me started on the double standard issue. (“We can say the ‘N’ word and call women ‘hos’ and other filthy names, and openly degrade and exploit black women in music and videos…but only us.”) Where’s the direct action being taken on that score? I mean, honestly. Who says “boo” when black comedians openly ridicule “white people?” I’ve seen it on television a hundred times over the years, from Richard Pryor to Damon Wayans to Chris Rock. They say things like, “White folks do this…” or mimic some uncool, uncoordinated, uninformed and generally irrelevant nerd in reference to white people in general. That’s not a stereotype?

Can you see a white comedian pulling this in the reverse — and still walk away with a career? Feh.

See? You got me started. Look what you did.

Anyway.

Al – shut up. Focus on real problems, as opposed to getting all frothed up over the blatherings of an old man who fried his brain one too many times back in the 60s. He’s not worth your time.

Fink out (of coffee…can ya tell?).

And the “band” rocked

Sheew…late night, late blog post.

Last Friday night, I went to my son’s house and played the Rock Band video game. I stood and watched for awhile, then jumped in. I sang “Long Time” by Boston, then launched into “Enter Sandman” by Metallica (fuzzy cell phone photo by B.J. here). Son Sean is playing “bass,” Lance is on “guitar,” and their friend Mark is on “drums.”

It was especially hilarious because all the people in the photo are actual musicians. So, why weren’t we making “real” music? (I had a discussion about this at a Summer Solstice bonfire I attended the other night, too.)

Well, I think part of the answer is “the challenge.” How close to the original — right down to the singers’ inflections and the players’ licks — can you get? It’s not as easy as you think, when every aspect of your “playing,” from rhythmic integrity to intonation, is taken into account when assigning the scores. The biggest difficulty for me was to avoid the temptation of putting my own licks in. That gets points deducted, Skippy. Found that out the hard way.

And here’s something new. According to this article in the London Financial Times, Apple Corps, the company started by the Beatles to control their empire…

…has become more active in recent months since Jeff Jones took over as chief executive. The company, whose board includes Paul McCartney, Ringo Starr, Olivia Harrison and Yoko Ono Lennon, has allowed Beatles compositions to be used on American Idol and in a Las Vegas show.”

So it appears that the iron grip on the Fabs’ music in the mainstream might be loosening a bit, thanks to this Jeff Jones guy, whoever he is. I had a discussion over coffee this morning about this very issue. Mavis was unsure about the whole idea, her comment being, “Is nothing sacred anymore?” She worries about the trivialization (read: overt commercialism) of the Beatles catalog, basically opening it up to be viewed as video game fodder and not creator of the singular defining musical epoch in the history of pop culture (which it is).

I said I thought it was about time that Beatles music joined the mainstream because of the new fans they could attract — fans who would likely not bother with a lot of their music if it weren’t in a video game.

What do you think? Feel free to weigh in on the matter.

Personally, I will be first in line to beg my son to download the entire Beatles Xbox catalog. But that’s just me being silly. And I am not going to become addicted to Rock Band. I can stop anytime I want.

Fink out (to look at the latest Xbox song packs).