Thanks to Google, pretty much everyone knows it’s Charles Dickens’s 200th birthday today. To celebrate, consider purchasing a copy of Hard Times—on a single sheet of paper.
Thanks to Google, pretty much everyone knows it’s Charles Dickens’s 200th birthday today. To celebrate, consider purchasing a copy of Hard Times—on a single sheet of paper.
Sure, the U.S. National Library of Medicine says that this is a 1926 chromolithograph of the human digestive and respiratory systems as visualized by Fritz Kahn. Looks to me, however, like a blueprint for the Cylon race.
See it in greater detail here.
Of all the diversions you face today, I guarantee none will be more worthy of your time than reading this letter from a former slave to his “old master.”
Simply beautiful.
According to Bleacher Report, former GU standout Adam Morrison is the second-worst NBA draft pick of the last decade.
In a town where the 11th commandment is “Thou shalt not speak ill of your Zag brethren,” it’s probably best we keep this mum.
Take a gander at a short film made by Charles and Ray Eames of their home—Case Study House No. 8—in Pacific Palisades. Bonus: the accompanying music was written and performed by Elmer Bernstein, the composer responsible for some of the most memorable film scores of the 20th century.
Courtesy of NASA, here’s a link to an 8000 x 8000 HD image of Earth, shot January 4. Enjoy.
The comma has a way of bedeviling even the most careful of writers, particularly when grammarians can’t come to an agreement on even its most basic function—that of separating elements in a series.
But I digress. Let’s talk about when not to use a comma. More specifically, let’s talk about what’s wrong with the following sentence:
My home was designed by architect, Steve Clark.
I see this a lot, and I’m not sure why. Architect is a nounal adjective modifying Steve Clark. In that sense, it’s no different from any other adjective. Like brown, or enormous, or droopy. Yet you wouldn’t normally see something like this:
Just beyond the brown, house was an enormous, willow tree with droopy, branches.
See? Doesn’t work. Let’s look at another example:
Noted composer, John Cage, would have celebrated his 100th birthday this year.
Noted is an adjective; composer is a noun. Together, they form an adjectival phrase that modifies John Cage. In principle, that phrase is no different from a single-word adjective that likewise serves as a modifier—like, say, controversial or minimalist, neither of which would require a comma in the above example. So let’s fix it:
Noted composer John Cage would have celebrated his 100th birthday this year.
Much better, don’t you think?
It pains me to admit it, but words aren’t always necessary to deliver a compelling message.
If the entries in our Stupidest Song Ever contest are any indicator, the last word has precisely three readers. The good news is, that’s two more than CK figured.
So who won?
If you’ll recall, the challenge was to come up with a stupider song than “We Built this City,” a steaming pile of earnest, self-aware lyrics compounded by the cheesiest of mid-1980s instrumentation and a horrifyingly bad video.
Susanna came up with Shakira’s “Whenever, Wherever”—a promising suggestion. She also put to bed my denunciation of “ask” as a noun. But then she went too far: trying to curry favor with a compliment. the last word can’t be bought, Susanna.
Spimbi tried the shotgun approach: “I’m too Sexy” by Drop Dead Fred, “Hearbeat” by Don Johnson, “She’s Like the Wind” by Patrick Swayze, and Eddie Murphy’s stomach-churning “Party All the Time.” She then administered the coup de grace: Kris Kardashian’s “I Love My Friends.” (Really, folks, you have to see it to believe it.) These are all stupid songs, to be sure. But are they stupider than “We Built this City”?
No, that honor would have to go to “I’m a Gummy Bear (The Gummy Bear Song)” by Gummibär. In fact, it’s not even close.
That makes mcw3 our winner! Come on by AMD corporate headquarters (we’re on the 81st floor) and claim your prize!
Scientists from Skynet Case Western Reserve University have created an army of cyborg cockroaches.
The somewhat less-than-overwhelming response to yesterday’s post can only mean that
The third possibility is too depressing to believe; the second is simply not worth considering. We’re therefore assuming the first.
But just in case, we’re going to throw a little red meat to our audience to see if anyone’s out there. Ready?
Resolved: “We Built This City” is the stupidest song ever written.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nsdj9NRzqC4&feature=related
To either affirm or negate the resolution, comment below. Whoever identifies a song stupider than “We Built This City” will receive a free bag of Designer Blend coffee—our proprietary brew from Cravens Coffee Company.
Contest closes Thursday, January 19 at 5 p.m. PST. The winner, determined by entirely subjective criteria, will be identified in Friday’s blog post.
Let the insanity begin.
I’m being serious here, folks. At what point in our history did someone say to himself, “Hey, you know what the English language really needs? Another synonym for request.”
Anyone?
BONUS: All kinds of AMD-branded swag for the first person to, in the comments section below, make a compelling case for this loathsome practice.
One of my favorite reads in 2011 was Onward by Starbucks CEO Howard Schultz. Its subtitle sums up the author’s story pretty well: How Starbucks Fought for Its Life without Losing Its Soul. These words accurately capture how Schultz regained control of the company in early January of 2008. (He had stepped aside to become chairman of the board in 2000.) It’s full of astonishing details of his laser-like focus and commitment to reinvigorating the Starbucks brand. Every CEO should be reading this book. So should every business major. And so should anyone else involved in the pursuit of building a charismatic brand.
Personally, I’ve always loved the Starbucks brand. What’s not to like? A great product, designed to be delivered in an atmosphere surrounded by quality and consistency. Not to mention full benefits to each and every one of the company’s part- and full-time partners (they don’t refer to them as employees).
Here’s an excerpt from early in the book:
There are moments in our lives when we summon the courage to make choices that go against reason, against common sense and the wise counsel of people we trust. But we lean forward nonetheless because, despite all risks and rational argument, we believe that the path we are choosing is the right and best thing to do. We refuse to be bystanders, even if we do not know exactly where our actions will lead.
This is the kind of passionate conviction that sparks romances, wins battles, and drives people to pursue dreams others wouldn’t dare. Belief in ourselves and in what is right catapults us over hurdles, and our lives unfold.
For any person looking for evidence that Howard Schultz is indeed a visionary, I’ll remind you that after he took control of Starbucks on January 7, 2008, the company’s stock price bottomed out at $7.17. Last Friday it closed at $47.36. And for good measure, Schultz was recently named Fortune magazine’s 2011 Business Person of the Year.
Now, every time I buy my mocha it puts a smile on my face.
It’s one thing for gullible college students (but I repeat myself) to go around wearing Che Guevara T-shirts; it’s quite another for a luxury auto maker to hitch its brand to the odious little psychopath.
Hey Mercedes: You sure you want to be associated with the guy who said that “to send men to the firing squad, judicial proof is unnecessary”—and then followed that up by murdering hundreds of innocent people? You sure you want to cross-brand with the guy who partnered with the KGB and the East German Stasi to create the Cuban secret police? You sure you want to honor a man who jailed poets, musicians, and artists (when he wasn’t shooting them), and whose legacy has made librarians enemies of the state?
You’d think that a company who received arms contracts and tax breaks from the Nazis in exchange for its support would be a little more careful in 2012.
Philosopher Stan Persky says that the “social purpose of reading books is to become a more effective participant in creating a better world.” A bit much, perhaps, but he’s surely correct in suggesting that certain books “can provide a sufficiently sustained reading experience that makes possible informed engagement with the political, cultural, and moral issues of our time.”
The problem? Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, and Angry Birds. More about the impending idiocracy.