The Boiled Egg of Infinity

I’m going to say this right at the start, just to stake out my position on this one as clearly as possible: I’m Scottish, but I want England to do well in the world cup and maybe, just maybe, bring home a win. I know that this position probably puts me at odds with about 99% of my fellow Scots but to be honest, I think that’s something I can come to live with. Why do I feel this way? Well…

— I think that hoping a team loses just because of their nationality shows a degree of pettiness and simpleminded nastiness that I’d hope the Scottish people to be incapable of. Okay so I agree that the sports media are still harping on about England’s 1966 world cup win and it’s probably about time to let it go, but the current team are just out there to play football, do their best and try to bring home a trophy. Nothing wrong with that, it’s what footballers are meant to do.

— They’re English. We’re Scottish. Newsflash: we’re all British. We’re connected geographically, historically, economically, culturally, just about every -ally you can think of. We’re neighbours. The least we can do is try to be good ones and try to be decent sports about the whole thing. Can you imagine the cries of outrage that would be heard around the world if Scotland were in the world cup and the response of the average English fan was “So what, in fact I hope you lose?”

— Jack McConnell, our illustrious first minister, should at least have the good graces to wish the English team well. You’re supposed to be head of a devolved government Jack old son, let’s see a little more of that statesmanlike quality and a little less of the attention-seeking mean spirited offers to support any team that isn’t England.

The worst of it is I’m not even a football fan. Seriously, I think I might be the one man living in the west of Scotland who has watched about eight minutes of football his entire life. I’m just tired of hearing from people that their only wish for the tournament is to see England get hammered and crash out of the tournament – for no other reason than it’s the England team. It’s petty, vindictive and should be beneath us. If you don’t want to support them then that’s fine, don’t support them. Just don’t cross that line and start actively wishing that they lose. Let’s try to show the world that we’re willing to wish a neighbouring country all the best, support a local team and act like mature adults watching a sports tournament and not angry babies throwing their rattles out the pram. Please.

Update: Now people who wear England shirts are being attacked and beaten? Bloody hell, this is shameful. It might not have been a Scottish fan who attacked the man but if it was, and if he was attacked just because he was wearing an England shirt, then this is a new low. We’re supposed to be better than this.

Interesting piece over at Kottke.org about a new blogging service that includes a “question of the day” service for its users. Log in, answer the question and boom, that’s a blog post right there. It sounds like a good idea (and one we’ll probably see sneaking into other blogging services here and there, same way every new computer seemed to feature coloured translucent plastic after the first iMacs landed on the scene) and one I wouldn’t mind trying out just to see what it’s like, but I wonder if it would somehow change the experience of blogging for me. When I sit down to write something here I usually have something in mind: an idea, half-formed and ready to be typed up and put out there. Would a “question of the day” service remove that need to come to the table with an idea, as one would be provided when you log in?

I don’t think it would limit creativity at all, I just can’t help but wonder if it would shift the emphasis of a blog from “here is something I want to talk about” to “here is the answer to the question I’ve just been asked”. Some of the stuff I’m most pleased with here has been the result of entirely random thoughts, and sometimes bears little or no relation to what I sat down to write in the first place. If I had been faced with a question when I logged in, would those posts exist at all?

And yes, I know this is blogging about blogging, and I don’t care. In fact if someone links to this post and writes about it, they will score the hat trick of blogging about me blogging about blogging. Then I could write about them. My god, this could be huge!

…and it all goes downhill from there. I just watched “The Aristocrats“, a documentary film about a joke called, as luck would have it, the aristocrats. The joke goes right back to the days of vaudeville and is considered to be the “inside joke” that comedians tell other comedians. Now, depending on your sense of humour and any set of beliefs that you might hold, you might find the subject matter the joke addresses to be either hilarious, incredibly offensive or somewhere in between (personally, I tend towards the “that’s hilarious” end of the spectrum, but that’s just me). I won’t go into the joke itself here (I leave it up to you to do your own research on this one, so don’t say I haven’t given you fair warning!) but I would like to take a moment to talk about what the film got me thinking about.

The documentary was interesting in a lot of ways, but to me the fascination was in the structure of the joke itself and seeing so many different comedians (all with their own styles) adapt the joke and tell it in their own way. It was all in the performance: the joke only really required the performer to open with some variation on “A man walks into a talent agent’s office…” and end with “The Aristocrats!” and everything else was subject to the comedian’s own tastes.

Penn Jillette, talking at one point about his take on the gag, said that the joy of telling the aristocrats was in “…the singer and not the song”. As I watched the film and heard version after version of the joke, I began to see what he meant. Sometimes I would laugh at one version, but not at another. Sometimes the slightest thing could change how the punchline worked, or didn’t – the raise of an eyebrow, a sentence that was just a half syllable too long or a pause that lasted just the right amount of time and no more – I came to see that so much of the telling of the joke had nothing to do with the words used at all. An accent could swing it one way or another. The rhythm of the speech employed (Gilbert Gottfried’s version was a good example of one that worked for me, while Emo Philips just left me flat). The physical gestures (like Drew Carey’s click of the fingers at the end of his version). The pauses. The delivery. The point of view the comedian adopted while telling the joke, and the perspective that placed on the audience (Sarah Silverman was a good example of this, making her version of the joke autobiographical and placing herself in the story). It made me realise that a joke – like all human communication – is actually a very complex operation and that sometimes the slightest thing can mean the difference between a laugh at the punchline and a quiet audience, the difference between successfully getting your message across and failing utterly. The interesting part for me wasn’t in how shocking the joke could be (though that held an great deal of interest, and amusement, all of its own as I watched it) but the whole structure of the delivery and the part the language played in holding the audience in the palm of the artist’s hand right until the punchline.

It’s often said that the world is formed by the words we use. The pen is mightier than the sword, and all that. What the film got me thinking about is just how much delivery of what is said, and also what is not said, play a part in that process. That made the documentary go from just interesting and amusing to genuinely intriguing. I might just be small fry in the blogging world, and I’m fine with being that one single voice in a million strong chorus, but it enthrals me that the chorus has so many different ways to sing.

On Sunday night at about 11.30pm I was driving home with my (soon to be) missus after going out to the cinema to see X-Men 3 (quick review – good, but not as good as the previous film). It was a quiet, still night, very mild, and I was driving along with the window down to try to get some air moving in the car. We didn’t have much else for the night planned: we were both pretty bushed, and I think about the only thing we had in mind was some time in front of the TV. Chilling out, maybe grabbing a late snack, that sort of thing. Not the Monte Carlo lifestyle I admit, but good enough for me. I pulled up at a junction and waited my turn to move onto the road. That was when time slowed down and I noticed the car screaming towards the back of my car at high speed.

I always thought it was a load of bunkum when I read that in stories about accidents or emergencies: people saying that time, or at least their perception of it, slowed down dramatically. Imagine my surprise to find that it’s actually quite true. In slow motion I heard the car’s tyres screech and I saw him vainly try to turn. Not a hope in hell at that speed. With sickening inevitability and an oddly muted crunch, he slammed right into the back of my car. I don’t remember much about the few seconds we had before the hit, but my better half tells me I shouted out a warning to her and then braced myself. I’ll need to take her word for it – I remember noticing the car, I remember things slowing down as my brain crunched the rough numbers, and then I remember the car coming to a halt after being shunted forward about 10-15 feet. The middle bit, all I can remember is the sound and the feeling of my car seat suddenly trying to touch the dashboard via my spinal column.

I was shocked at what had happened, but relieved beyond words to see that my other half was ok. I heard the other guy’s engine start up and thought he must be moving his car out of the way of the traffic so we could exchange details. I turned in my seat, just in time to watch him speed up, turn his dented car and drive off at high speed up the wrong side of the road.

Now the crash itself I can handle. The fact that we were both ok is what’s important to me – cars can be beaten back into shape or replaced outright, people can’t. What I’m finding a little difficult to process is the fact that as far as the other guy was concerned we could have been alive, dead, injured, screaming for help, trapped in a car with a ruptured fuel tank, anything. He didn’t care – he got the hell out of dodge and that was it. And while I’m happy that we both got out of the car with nothing more serious than a few sore joints and muscles, and am sure my car will be back on the road pretty soon, my mind keeps going back to the image of that other car speeding away.

Like I said, it’s a difficult thing to process.

Yesterday I was off to a conference on e-learning and the development of future models of teaching. It was an interesting day but it had the usual frustration that I encounter at these events: lots of people willing to talk a good game, and precious damn few actually stepping up to show practical examples of how they’re going to do something. It’s all well and good to say “the world is changing: we have to change our methods of education to be more relevant in the 21st century” but it’s another to show that you’re doing something. However, despite this there was one thing in particular that caught my attention and got me to thinking.

As the keynote speaker took the podium a picture of a little boy appeared on the big screen behind the stage. The little boy, the speaker explained, was his son, born in the year 2000. He pointed out that with advances in medical technology, longer life expectancies, some good luck and a bit of looking after himself, that boy might well expect to be born in the last year of the 20th century, live through all of the 21st and die in the early years of the 22nd. As his dad was giving the speech the little boy was at school. His dad pointed out that at that very moment, as he stood there speaking to us, his son’s teacher was helping to lay the foundations of an education that could last someone into the 22nd century. That person was, in a way, touching the next century.

There were other interesting points made that day, but that one in particular caught my imagination and made me think. Okay, so it doesn’t really apply to me as my work is mainly involved with adults returning to education after some time in the workforce, but it’s a fascinating perspective to put on the job of educating the young. After all, the world is made up of the people in it – and if you have the job of forming the people, doesn’t that mean you help to form the world?

Lesbian Vampire Killers movie! (don’t worry, the link is safe!)

Questions abound about this one, and not just the ones on good taste. Does the film tell the story of two lesbians who just happen to be vampire killers? Or, does it depict the tale of lesbian vampires being killed? There are potentially two films right there, and in the interests of the viewing public and the money they will be putting down for tickets, I think the boiled egg of infinity would be remiss not to explore it.

Would people rather see lesbians killing vampires, or people killing lesbian vampires? If the first then surely “Lesbians kill Vampires!” would reflect this with greater clarity. If the second then “Kill the Lesbian Vampires” would un-muddy the waters. Both titles seem to work – they have the lesbianism (check), the vampiric angle (check) and the general killingness (check) so I can’t imagine there would be a problem adopting either one. My god, I should be in the movies. Except that I’m not a lesbian or a vampire, so probably not this one.

I expect more staples of the horror movie genre to take this excellent example to (staked) heart and become more inclusive in the 21st century. Think of the next generation of horror movies to reach out to the gay market. The Mummy Meets The Mummy. Confused Teenage Werewolf. The Homoerotic Adventures of Van Helsing. You may sneer now but in years to come they’ll be looking down at you from HD-DVD collections everywhere.

Final question is, if I keep typing “lesbian” and “vampire” enough, will my blog’s hit count increase at all?

I’ve been working on a document for a while now and I think I might have been looking at it for a bit too long. The word “scenario” has lost all meaning to me and now whenever I look at it I think “That’s not a word, just a meaningless jumble of letters” so either I’m suffering from work-induced dyslexia (I got my fake MD from the University of Made Up Diseases!) or I’ve just been looking at the same thing for too long.

Does this happen to everyone? If you stare at something long enough, does it actually start to lose meaning? Or am I just leaking synapses somewhere? Answers on a postcard.

This is the best toy ever. I know it might look like something you would find stocked in your friendly neighbourhood sex shop under the D section, but it is in fact the sonic screwdriver, used by time lords the universe over to combat evil, fight the good fight and put up any shelves that need fixing. My friend Donny bought me one for my birthday (December 29th, for those of you out there with good memories and generous spending habits) and it’s just turned out to be the best toy ever.

It doesn’t do much – press a button and it makes a high pitched whirring sound as the end lights up. Press it again and it makes a slightly different whirring sound. What it does do, however, and does very well indeed, is appeal to every geeky instinct currently known to man. You pick it up, you wave it over something, it goes “WoooOOOooOOOoo” and suddenly you could be the Doctor. You’re almost there. Aside from not having two hearts, the ability to regenerate and a time travel machine of course. Minor details though. You have the thing that goes “WoooOOOoOOooo” so what more do you need?

What amused me most of all was that after Donny had given me my present we found that you needed…guess what…a screwdriver to get the batteries into the sonic screwdriver. Someone out there in the BBC toy design department is a genius.

It’s also a top notch toy for tormenting and playing with cats. I don’t know if it’s the sound or the blue light, but they try to beat the crap out of it when you touch their paws with it. Great stuff.

Why is it that when I’m at work, busy, with barely enough time to catch my breath much less anything else, do I feel that I could sit and write something? And why, when I’m at home with all the time in the world, do I sit down to write something only to feel about as creative as the average tree stump?

Ever had trouble recognising a face? You might be suffering from prosopagnosia. This is an interesting story, even more so when you think about the sheer number of alternative methods this guy must have developed to help him identify people. “If he has brown hair, is tall, speaks with a slight lisp and tends to wave his arms about, it must be Dave.” – the only thing is, what if Dave has changed his hair colour?

It might be unlucky to type about this, but Friday 13th has a fascinating history. Not too sure if I buy the bit about people being more unlucky or stressed on the day though: is the day making them stressed and more likely to have an accident, or are they just stressed because it happens to be Friday 13th? Mind you whenever I don’t want to tempt fate I tend to say “touch wood” (settle down at the back there, this isn’t that kind of story!) so I don’t suppose I can be too quick with the comments on this one.

Good acting skills can help when you’re playing poker. This I can buy, because so much of the game is either hiding your reaction to what’s in front of you, or building up an impression of your hand in other people’s minds so as to make it easier to nudge them in the direction you want to go. Since I’ve started to get into poker I’m enjoying reading about it more and more, and I find Wil Wheaton’s style of writing about the game both accessible and enjoyable. I wouldn’t want to be sitting across a table from him though – I like to keep my shirt when I play.

Fantastic weather in central Scotland the other night, it really was…thunder, lightning and the heaviest rain I’ve seen for a long time. I was out walking with my better half when it started, and ended up walking up Buchanan street soaked to the skin, laughing like a loon. When it’s raining that heavily there’s no point running to the car or the nearest cover – if you do that you’ll just end up soaked to the skin and out of breath. Might as well walk normally and just enjoy the feeling of the rain hammering into you. Turns out some people also got excellent pictures of the weather.

The worrying thing is, I think I would buy some of these products. Sideways books for reading in bed? KISS fragrance? Doggie thongs? iPod vibrators? Edible garden spray? Penis stretchers? Well okay maybe all of them, but it’s great to see that there are such inventive minds out there. I’m still intrigued as to the thought process for the doggie thong though – I don’t know about you but I would loved to have seen the eureka moment for that one. “People like thongs, people like dogs…hang on, I think I might have something here!”

Earn virtual money in an online game, and then turn it into money you can use in the real world. Does this mean that the line is becoming blurred between one’s virtual life and real life? It’s becoming more and more common now for people to have online identities quite distinct from their “real life” selves, but what happens when that online identity becomes a source of income? Might it be possible to become more online persona and less real life person? Is there a difference, if both allow for communication, interaction, earning and work?

Democracy sometimes works in odd ways, but seldom odder than what happened here (and in case you don’t believe me, here’s another take on the matter). I eagerly await the day when the U.S. Presidential debates are replaced with rock-paper-scissors tournaments, or a winner takes all game of Tetris. Of course that would just be for you uncultured Americans, over here we would try to be a little more restrained and just have our Prime Ministerial candidates wrestle in jelly.

We had a ring? Really? Blimey those cold war scientists were a clever bunch. If only we could take all that ingenuity and channel it to more useful ends than screwing the other guy.

There is a scene in an episode of Family Guy where Chris, the son, is exposed to some mathematics and ends up lying on the floor sucking his thumb in terror. While I’m not quite so math-phobic as the Griffin boy, I did find some of this one hard going. Interesting stuff, and another example of where you can end up when you click a few links and get distracted on the web.

Every time I see a story like this one I feel just like that dorky kid in “Galaxy Quest”. Rounds off with a final space story and a cool picture of a spaceship – what more can you ask for really?