This is an old post, but it’s worth revisiting. Turns out people care about good writing. Who knew?
Via Grammar Monkeys.
This is an old post, but it’s worth revisiting. Turns out people care about good writing. Who knew?
Via Grammar Monkeys.
Jonah Goldberg surmises that “at least 99 percent of the things we know are things other people figured out first.”
Discuss.
Just last week we brought your attention to an unfortunate misspelling. But thanks to our enormous reach and influence, few had a chance to see it before it was corrected. Here’s the new and improved version of the same billboard, shot Saturday night:
Now, as someone who once made his living as a proofreader—and who is still charged with those duties on occasion—I have to smile at what happened here. Someone had to write the headline; someone had to design the layout; someone had to print the material; someone had to apply that material to the billboard. And all along the way, there were others, no doubt with degrees and qualifications and important-sounding job titles, who signed off on it.
What’s the point? That, despite our rather vain attempts to arrive at perfection, people still make mistakes. Even collectively. So maybe we should all lighten up a little.
The 200-lb. cast aluminum 2.4-liter V8 that powers the Red Bull RB08 is capable of going from 0 to 100 mph and back to 0 in under five seconds—while easily reaching 18,000 RPM.
Oh…and it’s also musically gifted:
The winners of the 2012 Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest have been announced. Though this year’s entries seem, on balance, to be somewhat weaker than previous years’, Cathy Bryant’s grand prize-winning effort is positively sublime:
As he told her that he loved her she gazed into his eyes, wondering, as she noted the infestation of eyelash mites, the tiny deodicids burrowing into his follicles to eat the greasy sebum therein, each female laying up to 25 eggs in a single follicle, causing inflammation, whether the eyes are truly the windows of the soul; and, if so, his soul needed regrouting.
Likewise the winning entry in the “Crime” category, submitted by Sue Fondrie:
She slinked through my door wearing a dress that looked like it had been painted on…not with good paint, like Behr or Sherwin-Williams, but with that watered-down stuff that bubbles up right away if you don’t prime the surface before you slap it on, and—just like that cheap paint—the dress needed two more coats to cover her.
Apparently, Facebook is populated by individuals “carefully stage-managing their online image.” And “browsing Facebook or another social media site increases our levels of narcissism as well as our self-esteem.”
In other news, shooting black tar heroin in your eyeballs is bad for you.
Saw this billboard in my neighborhood last night.
Help me out here. Am I missing out on some sort of inside joke?
Yep, she’s a Jailbird. And proud of it. She’s taking part in the 2012 Spokane Lock-Up benefiting the Muscular Dystrophy Association. She might not be able to rely on good behavior to get out so that’s why she needs your help…http://www2.mda.org/goto/srobertsdowney
It would have been Jerry Garcia’s 70th birthday today. And even though we listened to some Grateful Dead just the other day, we certainly can’t let the day pass without a nod to Captain Trips.
Here’s the Jerry Garcia Acoustic Band, live, playing “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.” Seems fitting somehow.
[audio:https://helveticka.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2012/08/01-Swing-Low-Sweet-Chariot.mp3|titles=01 Swing Low, Sweet Chariot]No doubt using a series of insanely complicated algorithms engineered by the finest minds of our generation, this meticulously calibrated diagnostic tool has pronounced my writing “fit & trim.” Unlike the rest of me.
Through diligence, grit, and sheer obduracy, I managed to turn a three-hour client presentation into a five-day road trip last week. Ever wanted to know what’s between Spokane and Greeley, Colorado?
The Absarokas.
Sacajawea’s grave (top center).
Arches National Park.
Admittedly, that last one’s a bit of a stretch. But heck—if you’re in the neighborhood, why not stop in for a visit, right?
Both CK and I were out of town much of this past week, presenting to a potential client in Colorado. He flew; I drove. And a road trip—more on this particular one next week—means it’s Grateful Dead time.
Since the missus and I put more than 2,500 miles on the Subaru over the past five days, it seems appropriate that we listen to “Ship of Fools.” Originally appearing on the 1974 album From the Mars Hotel, this version comes to us courtesy of The Persuasions, featuring Jimmy “The Human Subwoofer” Hayes.
[audio:https://helveticka.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/09-Ship-of-Fools.mp3|titles=09 Ship of Fools]And it’s in section A-1 of today’s Los Angeles Times.
Earlier in my career, the sight of something like this would elicit waves of sweet, sweet schadenfreude. Now I’m just thankful. I mean, if a professional newspaper staff can mess up this badly, it ought to be okay for me to slip from time to time. Right, CK?
CK?
Um…guys? Hello?
Clever mnemonics to help you remember the difference between pore and pour.
A brief history of the failed attempts to create a gender-neutral pronoun.
Bill and Ted’s excellent grammar.
“The innate ability to make poor writing sing can’t be taught. But facts about prepositions and infinitives can be easily looked up.” More here.
In an effort to escape the heat last weekend, my son Jake and I headed for North Idaho’s Harrison Lake via the Myrtle Creek-Pack River Divide. The route was treacherous, the rain steady, and the snow deep. And it was awesome.
The headwaters of the Pack River. Photo by Jake Bragg.
Harrison Lake, looking northwest. Photo by Jake Bragg.
Jake surveys the Pack River drainage and the Selkirk Crest as he ponders the descent.
Since the huckleberries aren’t yet ripe, now’s a good time to go if you like to avoid bears. But the black flies are positively relentless. And don’t forget a map: the trail—boggy in some places, completely underwater in others due to the high runoff—disappears into a boulder field about a quarter of a mile from the lake.