Words I'd say in front of the Savior

Elsewhere, I was slightly involved in a discussion of how to run an internet forum I used to participate in pretty heavily before it grew completely craptastic. The person who runs the forum for money (the "Guide") for the company that owns it apparently dislikes naughty words, since the only time she ever shows up is when someone complains about the language. Unfortunately, the least intelligent and most incompetent of the "Hosts" (people who run the forum for free on behalf of the person who gets paid to run it) took it upon himself to invite her to join the discussion. Naturally, the Mighty and Powerful Guide said that naughty words must not be allowed. Someone asked her which words, to which she answered, "Any words I wouldn't say in the presence of the Savior." And that got me thinking -- not just about the monumental dumbassery of her reply (How the hell is anyone supposed to know what words she would use?) -- but about what words I would say "in the presence of the Savior."

I imagine that the only words I'd say in front of Jesus Christ would probably be "Thank you," "I'm sorry," and "Yes, sir." Other than that, I expect I would shut up and listen -- you know, what with Him being the Almighty Creator of the universe and all.

Oh, I forgot one. I'd also say, "Let's watch TV," because I've spent all these years in Church being told that I should be concerned about what shows I'd watch if the Savior were with me, so I guess He expects to watch TV any time He visits.

Oh, and I'd also say, "Excuse me while I go change my clothes," because I've also been taught that it would make me uncomfortable if I wasn't wearing a suit and tie when I met him. Although I don't actually own a suit anymore (Yay self-employment!), so I guess really I'd have to say, "Excuse me while I go buy a suit." And since I can't really buy suits off the rack (not much selection in a 50 extra-long), I'd also need to say, "Could you come back in a week or 10 days after the alterations are done?" But then, I don't have money in my budget for a suit either, so I guess I'd also have to say, "Could you lend me a few hundred bucks?"

So if I were the Mighty and Powerful Guide, all anyone would be allowed to say on the forum would be:

1. Thank you.
2. I'm sorry.
3. Yes, sir.
4. Let's watch TV.
5. Excuse me while I go buy a suit.
6. Could you come back in a week or 10 days after the alterations are done?
7. Could you lend me a few hundred bucks?

Come to think of it, that would be a marked improvement over the usual level of discourse there. Maybe I should apply for the job.

I've been called a dog before...

...but never for my hearing. Shamelessly lifted from mortuus, BTW.

You are a dog

Or maybe you are a mosquito, you certainly can't be human. The highest pitched ultrasonic mosquito ringtone that I can hear is 21.1kHz

Take the mosquito ringtones hearing test

The evening redness in the West

Check this out:

They were cattle, mules, horses. There were several thousand head and they were moving quarterwise toward the company. By late afternoon riders were visible to the bare eye, a handful of ragged indians mending the outer flanks of the herd with their nimble ponies. Others in hats, perhaps Mexicans. The sergeant dropped back to where the captain was riding.

What do you make of that, Captain?

I make it a parcel of heathen stockthieves is what I make it. What do you?

Looks like it to me.

The captain watched through the glass. I suppose they’ve seen us, he said.

They've seen us.

How many riders do you make it?

A dozen maybe.

The captain tapped the instrument in his gloved hand. They don't seem concerned, do they?

No sir. They don't.

The captain smiled grimly. We may see a little sport here before the day is out.

…The lattermost of the drovers were now coming through the dust and the captain was gesturing and shouting. The ponies had begun to veer off from the herd and the drovers were beating their way towards this armed company met with on the plain. Already you could see through the dust on the ponies' hides the painted chevrons and the hands and rising suns and birds and fish of every device like the shade of old work through sizing on a canvas and now too you could hear above the pounding of the unshod hooves the piping of the quena, flutes made from human bones, and some among the company had begun to saw back on their mounts and some to mill in confusion when up from the offside of those ponies there rose a fabled horde of mounted lancers and archers bearing shields bedight with bits of broken mirrorglass that cast a thousand unpierced suns against the eyes of their enemies. A legion of horribles, hundreds in number, half naked or clad in costumes attic or biblical or wardrobed out of a fevered dream with the skins of animals and silk finery and pieces of uniform still tracked with the blood of prior owners, coats of slain dragoons, frogged and braided cavalry jackets, one in a stovepipe hat and one with an umbrella and one in white stockings and a bloodstained weddingveil and some in headgear of cranefeathers or rawhide helmets that bore the horns of bull or buffalo and one in a pigeontailed coat worn backwards and otherwise naked and one in the armor of a spanish conquistador, the breastplate and pauldrons deeply dented with old blows of mace or saber done in another country by men whose very bones were dust and many with their braids spliced up with the hair of other beasts until they trailed upon the ground and their horses' ears and tails worked with bits of brightly colored cloth and one whose horse's whole head was painted crimson red and all the horsemen's faces gaudy and grotesque with daubings like a company of mounted clowns, death hilarious, all howling in a barbarous tongue and riding down upon them like a horde from a hell more horrible yet than the brimstone land of christian reckoning, screeching and yammering and clothed in smoke like those vaporous beings in regions beyond right knowing where the eye wanders and the lip jerks and drools.

Oh my god, said the sergeant.

I said the same thing as the sergeant when I read that passage. Oh my God. I have a hard time calling anything I do writing after reading that.

The book is Blood meridian, or, the evening redness in the West. The writer is Cormac McCarthy.

My favorite award

My favorite award is the one they give for being the best player in the World Cup: the Golden Ball. I like it because the common Japanese slang word for testicle is kintama, which literally means "golden ball." I enjoy hearing people say things like "Zidane won the Golden Ball." That never fails to put a smile on my face.

The complete idiot's World Cup final

Apparently, Zidane neglected to read this book


before the game.

He especially should have read "Chapter 1: DON'T HEADBUTT OTHER PLAYERS!"



Not to mention "Chapter 2: BECAUSE THE REFEREE WILL THROW YOU OUT OF THE GAME, YOU MORON!"



Unbelievable.

World Cup

Sometimes it seems to me that people in foreign countries take this whole World Cup thing a bit more seriously than most Americans do.



This is simultaneously one of the coolest and one of the funniest things I've ever seen. I really like this kind of highlight video thing in general, with all its "human drama of athletic competition." (This one, for example, gives me chills, because I remember all of those moments when they actually happened.) I hardly understand any of the Spanish -- the theme seems to be something about blessings and curses -- but the thing I love about this video is its steadily rising note of hysteria and over-the-top imagery. By the time it gets to the bleeding tattoo (about 1:05 in) and the narrator is screaming "THE TOURISTS! THE REPORTERS! THE SPONSORS! THE FRIENDS!" or whatever it is, tears of laughter are running down my face. When he finally shouts "EL FUTBOL!" I fall out of my chair and roll on the ground until my laughter subsides.

And maybe the funniest thing of all is that it's a beer commercial. "Quilmes: the beer of the heart" I think it says at the end.

Separated at birth

Patrick Stewart and Zinedine Zidane

Some YouTube favorites

Following in the footsteps of Bill Simmons and Curmudgeonly Yours, here are some of my YouTube favorites.

Fat guys dancing are usually funny, but Evolution of Dance proves that even guys who are in shape can amuse.

I wish I could do impressions.

Bas Rutten is a genuine bad ass. Follow his self-defense advice and you will win your street fight. You will also go to jail for a long, long time.

Ann Coulter is a vicious, crazy skank, but Henry Rollins has the cure.

How far would you go for a flying car? (Watch carefully and learn a little-known fact about Einstein.)

At some busy intersections in Japan, they set the traffic lights so all the cars are stopped and all the pedestrians can cross at once, even diagonally. I used to joke that they should try the same thing with the cars and see what happens. Apparently, they actually do that in India.

I point to the Star Wars Kid not to mock him, but because I see his "act" as a pure and innocent celebration of life. It's unfortunate that kids his age are generally too stupid to see that and apparently harassed him into psychiatric care as a result of this video.

Speaking of Star Wars, surely nothing could be more fun than two nerds fighting with light sabers, unless maybe it's two kung fu guys fighting with light sabers.

Comedians constantly make fun of George W. Bush's supposed lack of intelligence, but of course they must be exaggerating. After all, no genuinely stupid person could possibly become President of the United States.

This is why I love the internet. I love the way anyone with a couple hundred dollars, a lot of spare time, and tons of creativity can create art out of garbage like Diet Coke and Mentos and share it with the entire world.