Monday, April 27, 2009
I'm delighted to be able to report a growing number of things about which I have no opinion whatsoever. I started small. We were talking about meat, and it occurred to me that while a rare steak can be delicious, I have enjoyed them well-done too. Both equally toothsome. No particular preference there. A room can get awfully cool or pretty dang warm before I have any trouble sleeping in it. I'm OK with it either way. But this soothing state of mind could make creating a weekly rant a bit problematic – I'm not sure how I feel about that.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Here's a sentence that sounds naughty but in fact is not. “With some difficulty, the old gentleman pulled himself erect and carefully mounted the rostrum.” Tee-hee. Rostrum is Latin for the prow of a ship, but refers in this case to a platform for public speaking. Because it's out in front there, see. Rostrum also means “beak.” Some fishes, including the humble anchovy, have something in their snouts called the “rostral organ.” Anchovies are the litmus test of pizza. You may not like them, but you'd never order a pizza from a joint that didn't offer them.
Monday, April 13, 2009
There's something to be said for the rough frontier justice of the marketplace. Old names like Packard and Studebaker are remembered fondly because when their time had passed they simply withered and fell. Not like Chevrolet, now under the oxygen tent with needles in its arm and tubes up its nose. Lean in close and you can hear the feeble wheeze: “Let me die.” Worse yet is the unspeakable prospect of an unnatural coupling between Chrysler and Fiat, the offspring no doubt an uncomfortable and clumsy sedan that won't start in the rain, for which no parts are available.
Monday, April 6, 2009
I live close enough to campus to listen to low power college radio. That means I get to hear music that a global hierarchy of broadcast professionals has decided is not worth hearing. Well, even experts can be right sometimes. Like if you listen to an indy rock song and after the first 5 minutes you think to yourself, “Wow. They really really know this chord.” Or maybe you'll hear something that if a musician heard it they'd say it was poetry, but a poet would define it as music. That's human nature. Blame it on the other guy.