So Long, Anal Place

For the past 8 years or so, every time I've left my office this sign has greeted me from across the street:

It's a pretty clear example of why you shouldn't choose "canal" as the first word of something, then make all the letters the same case, and plant shrubbery where it will obscure the first letter.¹

Anyway, today's the last day I'll see this sign for a while, since I'm being moved downtown. And sadly, there's no anal place across the street from the downtown office.²

Not even if you use the rear entrance.<sup>3


1</sup> Or, depending on your sense of humor, it's a pretty clear example of why you should.
² Or, if there is, it's marked much more discreetly.
³ Yeah, I went there. To the rear entrance, that is. There isn't any sign.

No More Rhymes Now, I Mean It (or, Averse to Tuesday Mornings)

I thought I would give you a poem today
On this lackluster Tuesday morn,
In hopes I might make your whole outlook less gray,
Or even feel like you're reborn.
Unfortunately, my descriptions are weak,
As is my grasp of metaphor.
Oh, you'll be left wanting if fine verse you seek;
My skills in this realm are quite poor.

But if all you care for is rhythm and rhyme,
Perhaps things will turn out alright.
For instance, it's easy to rhyme "rhyme" with "time."
Oh, who am I kidding? That's trite.
It's boring! It's horrible! Are we agreed?
This venture was doomed from the start.
I've nothing to say; you've no reason to read.
This isn't a poem. It's art.


If you were actually hoping for poetry, my sincere apologies.<sup>1


1</sup> There once was a footnote named Shorty
Whose syllables numbered near forty.
It didn't make sense,
And without recompense,
It ended. Would you like some more tea?

Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Baked Beans, Spam, Spam, Spam, and Spam

Yep, that's pretty much what I've been getting for blog comments lately. Only without the baked beans.

I last posted three weeks ago, though if you've been anywhere near as busy lazy as I have, you may not have noticed my absence. The anonymous spambot peppering my comment section sure hasn't. In the past week, I've deleted 24 spamments, including 8 today.

This spamming is getting out of spamtrol, and I tell you I won't stand for it.¹

When the spam first started spamming in, I replied to the spammers, which was kind of fun. Then I tried spamming the spammers on their own blogs, which was even more fun.²

But as I've stated many times in recent months, I no longer have time to do things such as... things. So instead, I'm stuck despamming random spamlinks to U-haul and some Tulsa Dog Training Academy and information about Dred Scott.

I'd turn off anonymous comments, except I do have a few friends who still make them on occasion, and I'd rather inconvenience me than them. I'm just too spamming nice. And that's how the spamming spammers win.

Wait, did I say that's how they win? Because I meant that's how they incur my wrath. Because I'm not about to take this sitting down.³

Let this be a warning to all you spammers out there in spamville. This is not a spamocracy. You won't find your spamtopia here. The next spammer who spams my spamming site will spamming live to regret it. I will hunt you down. And I will do... something.

Possibly involving baked beans.


¹ That's why I'm sitting.
² As an added bonus, it looks like that same spammer spammed its own blog post from a year ago. When did that happen? Today. It's not a coincidence, people. This is fate.
³ Now I'm on the floor.

I'm Stepping Out

Each of the past two years, I spent the month of April doing a little thing called the Blogging from A to Z April Challenge. (For those interested, sign-ups opened yesterday.) This basically entailed writing 26 letter-themed posts and visiting scads of other like-minded bloggers, all whilst doing my best to ignore the pleas of my family, my stomach, and my tired eyes. But this year I'm going to handle things a little differently.

This year, I'm also ignoring the Challenge.

And, I say, it's about time. Literally. They say time is on your side, but it's not.¹ I never have enough time to do everything I want to do. And I'd rather spend April with The Professor, working on my novel, taking photos, and doing improv. So that's what I'm going to do. Don't worry, I'll still be visiting your blogs; I just won't be visiting a metric ton of them like the rest of the AtoZers. And I may only write a handful of posts myself.

"But Nate," you might say, "how will we survive without a daily dose of your trademark wit™ and patented footnote-heavy style (patent-pending)?" Easy. For one thing, I'll have you know every single one of my jokes is recycled. In fact, I already used the trademark thing here and the patent thing here. You see, dear readers, it's all a sham.² So if you find yourself overcome by Natelessness in April, simply peruse the archives.³

Until then, I wish any Alphabeteers out there the best of luck. Better you than me.


¹ They also say you don't always get what you want. Which, considering what I want is more time, is very true. They are very wise (and of course, by wise I mean wizened).
² I used the sham thing here.
³ I was going to call them the Natechives, but that looks too much like I've created my own brand of seasonings. And no one's supposed to know about those until they launch in the fall.

The Land of Abandoned Books

I've been feeling rather listless of late, so I thought I'd make a list.

Prior to my 20s, only once had I chosen to read a book and cast it aside before finishing it. But the older I get, the more I realize how little free time I have and how many things I still want to read. If the book doesn't grab me, I stop grabbing it.

Along with the increasing number of eBooks and book sale purchases I'm now putting aside as I really embrace this philosophy, here are my most notable abandonments, in chronological order. Some might surprise you.

1. The Fellowship of the Ring, J.R.R. Tolkein
   I was 14 or 15. I'd just finished The Hobbit. And then, calling my geekdom completely into question, I gave up on this tome about 40 pages in.
    
2. Crime & Punishment, Fyodor Dostoyevsky
   'Twas May of my senior year of high school, and I didn't have to write a paper on it. Nevertheless, I stuck it out for 4/5 of the book, more than most of the class.
    
3. Star Maker, Olaf Stephenson
   The first assigned reading in my freshman-year sci-fi class. Again, no paper was required. Found it so dull I forgot the title. This might not even be the right book.
    
4. Quicksilver, Neal Stephenson
   I loved his three previous works. Cryptonomicon was just as dense, and longer, yet fantastic. But I couldn't get into this. Made it 30 pages in 6 weeks. And done.
    
5. Wish I Could Be There: Notes from a Phobic Life, Allen Shawn
   I had high hopes. Written by the brother of Wallace Shawn, and son of NY Times editor William Shawn. Surely he'd share some amazing stories, right? Wrong.
    
6. The Phantom Tollbooth, Norton Juster & Jules Feiffer
   Loved it as a kid. Tried re-reading as an adult and the magic was gone. Just like with M.C. Hammer and The Neverending Story (the film). You can't go back.
    
7. The Drawing of the Three, Stephen King
   Book two of the Dark Tower series. Barely made it through book one. Yet I've truly enjoyed the other half-dozen King works I've read. Go figure.
    
8. Watchman, Ian Rankin
   Not to be confused with the Alan Moore graphic novel. All of Rankin's other mysteries have hooked me, but this was his first, re-issued. Just not the same.
    
9. Anathem, Neal Stephenson
   Furthest I've ever read before giving up (350 pages). Really liked some scenes, but had no interest in anything going on. Another 600 pages to go? Screw that.
    
10. The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, Junot Diaz
    Yep, the Pulitzer prize winner. At times very witty and interesting. More often, Dominican slang and phrases hurled without context. Latter overrules former.

Of course, it goes the other way as well. I've finished some books I really shouldn't have. The Chronicles of Narnia sucked the life out of me, and I should have quit after two. I stuck through all seven out of sheer stubbornness.

I nearly lost it reading Dan Brown's The Lost Symbol (my scathing review), strained to get through The Strain by Guillermo del Toro & Chuck Hogan (scathing review #2), and was blind as to why Jose Saramago's Blindness won the Nobel Prize. Yet I finished each one. And let me tell you, I was lucky to survive. Because whenever I came across something done poorly — and oh, there was plenty — I mentioned it to my wife. Each time, after two or three such remarks, Denise was ready to kill me. I must say she showed phenomenal restraint.

So if you ever find me bludgeoned to death with a book of dubious quality lying nearby, you know what happened. I didn't shut the book, and I didn't shut my mouth.

How about you? What's the most surprising (or acclaimed) book you've ever cast aside?

The Professor's Alphabet

The Professor turned 18 months old last week, and somehow he just keeps getting cuter.¹

One of his favorite things² is animal sounds. He knows all the standards, and then some.³ What I find interesting, however, is he identifies some animals by either name or sound (e.g. puppy, kitty, piggy, ducky, bear, owl, frog) but others only by their sound (e.g. moo, baa, neigh). He'll roar when asked about lions, tigers, and bears, but he makes a different sound for dinosaur every time I ask.⁴

Likewise, he's not consistent with his numbers. When he first started repeating them after us, he would say "two" after 1 and 3, but repeat the rest of the numbers as expected. He's since consolidated to solely "two" (for 1-3), "bive" (4-5), and "nine" (6-9). Unless he's subtly trying to get me to invest for his future in a 529 plan, I'm not sure what this means.

And then there's the alphabet. For this, I shall use a chart:

A	B	C	D	E	F	G	H	I	J	K
A	B	Ar! Ar!5	D	F	(silence)6	G	nine7	I	J	Meow!

After K/itty, he's completely unoriginal, although he sometimes points at himself for U and gives up entirely at W.

But enough talk. You came here for pictures. And I shall not disappoint.

¹ I might be biased, but I know it's true because I've gotten independent verification from multiple external sources. For I am a scientist. By which I mean I once watched Nova.
² Apart from shrieking so the cats flee, and eating fruit and cheese and crackers and tomatoes (which are technically fruit but you shut up) and bread and peas and holy hell we're out of food again. Son of a—
³ Including crow, donkey, monkey, and moose ("Hey Rocky, watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat!")
⁴ Which, I suppose, isn't wrong, since I never specify which dinosaur, and we're rather short on eye witnesses from the Triassic period.
⁵ This is what I get for branching off to non-standard animals. Even though he's fully aware C is for Cookie — that the only song he's wanted to hear the past two weeks — for him the alphabet starts A-B-Seal.
⁶ He's already said F, so why should he say it again? F that.
⁷ He sometimes does say H, but H times out of 9 he doesn't.

The Velocirapture Is Upon Us!

The world ends today. That's what people say. Yet no one's told us how it's going to end. Until now, that is.

Get indoors while you still can, and hold your loved ones close. It's the velocirapture!

But it's not the one you think. You probably assume I'm talking about ravenous dinosaurs tearing the world's population to pieces. Uhhhh, nope. There's no way that could happen in one day. Think about it: If there were enough cretaceous creatures to do that, don't you think some of them would have made the news by now?

No, the velocirapture isn't about raptors. It's about velocity.

You probably haven't noticed any difference yet, but the Earth has already started to rotate a little faster on its axis. Throughout the day, its speed will increase exponentially until life on the planet has been all but eradicated.

You'll soon notice the winds start to pick up, all from the east. Gale-strength winds, followed by hurricane-strength, and building from there. The sun will appear to slide across the sky. It'll set very early, then rise and set again in quicker and quicker succession.

And at first it'll be just that: people and things being blown around and knocked over by strong winds. The oceans will begin to flood islands and east coast towns. But eventually the centrifugal force will overcome the force of gravity, and believers and non-believers alike will be cast into the heavens. Those lucky souls who are inside will be cast into ceilings instead, but their survival will be short-lived. As the Earth's velocity increases, the buildings themselves will be ripped from the ground and hurled into the deep recesses of space. The oceans and much of the ground will soon follow. By the morning of December 22, there will be little left of Earth but a spinning molten core.

What Have I Done to Prepare for My Survival?
Nothing. I'm just as screwed as the rest of you. The only six people to survive will be the ones already in space, unless they are inadvertently hit by hurtling apocalyptic debris. And unless one of them learns to grow ovaries, we as a race are doomed.

But look at the bright side. At least it's Friday.



This post was written for the Choose Your Own Apocalypse Blogfest, hosted by Chuck at Apocalypse Now and Shannon of The Warrior Muse. Go now — and I mean now, because the world is ending, people! — and check out all the other apocalypses.