Word of the Day: bumbershoot

bumbershoot (n)

An umbrella.

"He stared ruefully at the remains of his bumbershoot, which had blown inside out."
--Analog Science Fiction and Fact, May 2006 issue

This is actually a more common word than I usually post; I already knew what it meant before stumbling across it. I didn't know, though, that there is a music and arts festival by that name that takes place every year in Seattle. It rains a lot in Seattle, you see....

This weekend, it's rained a lot here in New Jersey, too, along with high winds, and my own bumbershoot has "blown inside out" a few times, to the point that I need to get a new one. The umbrella is one of those inventions that has never been quite perfected. Either that, or the manufacturers deliberately make them too fragile to survive both wind and rain. Sometimes I think I'd rather wear one of those rubbery yellow rain ponchos or rain coats with the buckles, like I had as a kid. Uncool but dry...it might be worth it.

Quote of the Day

Posted today on Twitter:

"I will be working in the shop building a lamp from solid stock Douglas Fir. Hope you have a great weekend."
--David Lynch

Want to See My 'Room'?

Midweek has published, in print and online, my essay about vile cinema and "the worst movie ever made" (The Room). You can read it here. There are two things I actually like about that waste of celluloid (or pixels): It made me laugh, at times, and it gave me something juicy to scribble about.

The Complete Idiot's Guide to the Way I Feel

My train was delayed this morning, because of "police activity". Annoying. When it finally got rolling, I could see what the problem was: a car was on one of the parallel tracks -- upside down. I couldn't tell if it was a Toyota.... Feeling amused by an audiobook called 2-minute Film Noir, a series of vignettes voiced by talented actors (with plenty of outer-borough accents). Lots of satirical scams, shoot-outs, and shadowy shenanigans, including some with a Twilight Zoneish twist.... Happy about the nice weather lately. Forty degrees and no precipitation equals "nice" after the snowpocalypse we had not long ago... twice.... Had a David Lynch moment at the drugstore while standing in line for the check-out. A very tall, blonde transvestite (I think) was ahead of me and singing along, loudly, to a Loretta Lynn song on the P.A. system. Then, when she got to the register, she kept asking the cashier (a young, puzzled, Middle Eastern-looking guy) if he thought the make-up she was buying was the right shade for her....

Brain Dump

In the name of the fresco, rheostat, and parallelogram, let me prove that quibble exhaust can inspire a compass vector, dividing any plague or harbinger -- especially for brouhahas. Let us route for receivership with an inchoate method while we export honors celebrating kingdom come. Appendicitis attacks still exhibit hexagonal pangs when distorted, so we humbly beseech you to regurgitate some of your inadvertent grace at any moment. Just please, Lord, don't snap at a spasmodic jogger when blessing his plaintiff along the way. And hush my coprolalial mouth if it is your will to give that birdbath leeway. Amen!

Word of the Day: excerebro

excerebro (v)

To stupify, make senseless, or bash someone's head in.

"Professor Alamand proceeded to excerebro the class with his dull, repetitive lecture."
--Leahcim Setag, Strange Loops

Watching the Academy Awards tends to have this effect on people. I was doing some work on my laptop while watching last night, which may have prevented any loss of brain cells.

Give Peas a Chance... or Not

The infamous outtakes of Orson Welles trying to get through a commercial spot for canned peas are here.

"Crumb crisp coating....This is a lot of shit, you know that!"

Funny. And sad.

Fish Food for Thought

More clip-art philosophy by me (and Anatole France). Click here for the BIG fish.

Bang! Bang!

Watch an animated version of The Beatles' bizarrely jaunty little ditty about a serial killer here.

"Pataphysical"? I always thought it was "metaphysical".

INTP: Incessantly Needing To Ponder

I recently took the Myers-Briggs personality test (the short version here), and discovered that I'm an "INTP". That means I'm an "Introverted, Intuitive, Thinking, Perceiving" type -- though, in my case, I suspect it could also mean "IN Twin Peaks". Here are a few facts about me, according to Myers-Briggs, as profiled here:

I'm one of those "pensive, analytical folks" with an "obsession with logical correctness". Call me "Spock".

I'm "relatively easy-going and amenable to almost anything until [my] principles are violated." Yeah. Sure. Whatever you want. Just don't ask me to bend my rules. I only do that if it's my own idea.

Yikes. "A major concern for INTPs is the haunting sense of impending failure." This is what keeps me going. Fear of failure is my rocket fuel.

Hmm. "Mathematics is a system where many INTPs love to play, similarly languages, computer systems--potentially any complex system." I actually hate math (I don't think it was taught to me correctly), but I like computers and love language. Maybe you've noticed.

As far as intuition goes, "INTPs enjoy games, formal or impromptu, which coax analogies, patterns and theories from the unseen into spontaneous expression in a way that defies their own comprehension." Yeah, "brain dumps" and other randomness -- me like.

I have "a relative absence of environmental awareness". This doesn't mean I don't know about climate change. It means I often tune out what's going on around me because I'm more interested in what's going on inside my 32-track mind. This is not always a good thing.

"When present, the INTP's concern for others is intense, albeit naive." Yes, and this gets me into trouble sometimes, as I tend to be too effusive or to assume someone is hurting more than they actually are. So sue me....

And so, gentle readers, now you know what you're dealing with. INTPs are said to make up about 1 percent of the population. I'm either a freak or very special, depending on how you look at it.

What INTPs do in bars.

The T&T List

Blu-ray
James Earl Ray
The Third Man
Ottoman
metadata
Mohamed Atta
Urban Dictionary
vamp and fade
Santiago
grenadine
Steampunk
pink noise

Random Acts of Poetry

Ticking

On a steeped night
that sticks to the skin,

he peels off seven layers
of wallpaper

as jingles and voices
waft by like smoke.

The poet scribbles and scribbles
about a ticking suitcase,

then shuts
the moon in a drawer,

bored as a caged monkey.
His thoughts rise

in word balloons
that appear to say:

You are a soft, pink dildo,
dishwasher safe.

You are a hard steel chisel.
But useless. No use.

The chakras won't open,
he's blind from the klieg lights.