Friday, April 16, 2004
New links...
For a while I've thought about adding to the sidebar of my blog. I'd want to add something like the "list of blogs I read on a regular basis," sort of like Jill has on her sidebar. As it is right now, I do have a sidebar, but it's pretty pathetic.
I've added two fairly important blogs. One belongs to my dear friend, Emily. The other belongs to my dear brother, Brett. Check them out. You'll find decidedly more on Emily's blog than on Brett's. We boys are still pretty new at this. But, in typical Brett style, it's obvious from the get-go he has a focus: "This is an exploration into the life of seminary student and his journey with J.C." That's more than you can say for his brother.
You never know, though, a focus here may be emerging. Soon I'll post about Jack Chick's website.
Random page, random line
From Caterina.net:
1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 23.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.
I have many books, but which one is the nearest?
The nearest thing resembling a book is the manual for Baldur's Gate II, a game so massive I wonder if I'll ever complete it:
"Formation movement is accomplished by R-clicking and holding (for rotation of the formation), or L-clicking, both only when a group is selected."
The closest non-manual book must be A Canticle for Liebowitz, by Walter M. Miller, Jr., setting a record for "the farthest relative distance between my desk and the closest book," at one step away:
"He built his fire on the slop of the rubble pile, where it could brighten the darker crannies of the antechamber."
Be careful, dear Francis.
Thursday, April 15, 2004
You're going to Hell! (It's a hop, skip, and a jump from Verkhoyansk)
Somehow I had Dial-the-Truth Minsitries on my favorites list. I don't ever remember bookmarking it, but I'm glad I did. It's hilarious.
I mean, very, very serious. One of their must-reads just proves that Hell is at the center of Earth. The argument is fantastic:
a+b+c=d
where
a=Jesus said there was a hell; b=The Bible talks about Hell as fiery; c=The core of the earth is fiery; d=Hell is real and inside Earth. See Fig. 1.1
Now, what the Bible says about Hell is all well and good, but we needn't the RealAudio clip of souls in Hell they have on the page as proof that this interpretation is totally wacko. I don't even know what to think about the people who believe it. And I say this with loads of Christian love.
The news story on that webpage is utterly classic. To stay true to my source, they say this story ran in the "well respected Finland newspaper" Ammenusastia. Shame the only internet presence this "well respected Finland newspaper" has relates directly to this article on Hell. At least one of these tract pages has the decency to admit that the "article cannot be verified" and "is only included for literary value."
Literary value? The MLA might think that's the wrong choice of words.
Wednesday, April 14, 2004
bp
BP is another of the applications of the "New Look, Same Great Taste" rule.
I had this on the brain tonight as I drove past the local BP filling station, where a banner proclaimed they still had Amoco gas at that gas station. Now this is an application of the "New Look, Same Great Taste" rule I fully understand--BP owns Amoco, and has been phasing out the Amoco name. They want to retain loyal Amoco customers, so they should let them know their favorite gas station hasn't been eaten by some mysterious acronymed entity.
A couple asides about BP: 1. Nevermind the aforementionted mysterious acronymed entity, British Petroleum, has owned Amoco since 1998; 2. Also nevermind how the corporate slogan, "beyond petroleum," cleverly hides the company's "British" identity from the eyes of the average American consumer. That's a smart move on their part, because I think even today there are plenty of Americans who may even avoid a company that was blatantly foreign.
(You can also check out a rather lengthy and rather opinionated thesis about the BP-Amoco corporate acquisition and the new marketing pitch).
New look, same great taste
I'm not sure what sparked the conversation, but the other day I was talking with Susanne about how strange I think it is, sometimes, that products go to such drastic lengths to ease us away from our panic that their fresh, contemporary packaging may have somehow freaked us into thinking they've gone and changed the whole product. Case in point: they changed the design of the tube for your standard, everyday Crest original flavor paste. I don't think they've changed the box, just the tube. When you're looking at the product on the shelf, and it's in the same box it always has been, you're not going to know they've changed the tube. It's a little too late to ease the fears I don't have that they've changed the taste when I get home, open the box, and put it in the medicine cabinet. This is where the "New Look, Same Great Taste" thing seems like more of a marketing rule, like the warnings on the booze that caution one against operating things like a forklift after a drinking binge. You gotta put it on the label, and it's for the same people.
Nowadays the "New Look, Same Great Taste" rule always makes me think of what must be the most extended re-imaging campaign currently underway in the American marketplace--the transformation of the Brawny Paper Towel guy. Now, their product is touted as actually being better, so maybe it's not specifically the Same Great Taste, but I think you'll agree the idea is the same. They have a whole set of commercials you can view that focus specifically on showing towels with the old Brawny guy and towels with the new Brawny guy.
Admittedly, the old Brawny guy is a little due for an update. He does look a little Village People-ish, with that hair and that giant moustache. The new Brawny guy is supposedly more soft and sensitive, while still quite manly--it sounds like they basically sent the guy on "Queer Eye" for a little next-century re-programming.
I just gotta draw the line at the "Make Over My Brawny Man" contest you can currently enter your guy in. As the ad shows, men of all races can apply, so long as they are massive and wear those lovely t-shirts some call wife beaters. Brawny will take these dopey, unkempt monsters and transform them into models for romance novel covers who lack the opposable digits and concentration to fully button their shirts.
Tuesday, April 13, 2004
Choose your own disaster
Space.com ran a story about a new Impact Effects Generator that the Lunar and Planetary Laboratory at the University of Arizona-Tucson has posted on their website. The site is supposed to be an aid to scientists who wish to throw some thought at what might happen if such-and-such an asteroid hit the earth.
It's just one of those scholarly endeavors that is both serious and entertaining. Serious: because you're staring directly at the very real effects of a Hollywood-style natural disaster, the kind that has happened (and likely will again). Entertaining: because you made that disaster yourself.
So I wondered, personally, what would happen if a...rather large asteroid (one about 4.35 miles in diameter, which is actually only about half the size of the bugger they theorize killed off those dinosaurs) smacked into lovely little Sioux City, IA, about 100 miles north of here. I picked Sioux City, really, because I wanted to be far enough away not to at least see what happened. The calculator churned out very detailed information about my tailor-made cataclysm.
Turns out I wasn't far enough away.
In Omaha we'd see a fireball with a 57.8 mile radius. 4.76 seconds after impact, we'd be hit with a blast of air that would last over two minutes and would give us third degree burns--not to mention set our clothes on fire. As well as newspaper. And the grass. And the trees.
Next we'd feel the earthquake. The earthquake would rank 9.6 on the Richter scale, so my house would fall in on itself, and then fall in the huge gaping rend in the earth.
After a couple more minutes, all the dirt that had been in Sioux City would fall on us. We'd be covered in about 76 feet of it, which is good, because being buried by all that dirt would save me the extra step of having to stop, drop, and roll since I and all my clothes would be on fire. Finally, just when I'm starting to catch my breath, the air blast would hit, loud as heavy traffic and fast as a stock car. It would, naturally, mow down a third of my neighborhood's trees, and probably snuff out the rest, the tops of which would be peeking above the 76 feet of dirt and still burning like matchsticks.
Man, you put it like that, and it's pretty darned serious.
Come on, make your own natural disaster. You know you wanna. It's fun.
Monday, April 12, 2004
The Via Dolorosa
So now, I guess, you can visit Matera, Italy, where The Passion of the Christ was filmed. In fact, this small, isolated Italian town makes no bones about it--that's probably the biggest reason these days why people would think of going so far out of the way from the typical Italian sightseeing tour to see this historic village.
Sure, it looks like Jerusalem, which is why it makes sense they'd shoot the film there. I think there are going to be plenty of people who are going to cash in on this crossbreed of the holy pilgrimage and the Hollywood star map. But what a great way to tie my faith together with my love for film! I mean, now I can take the tour in Italy and "walk along the same paths as the actors of the movies did." For the bargain price of only 583 Euros I can even sleep in a Bed and Breakfast "where Cast and Crew were lodged".
And to think I had nearly signed up for that 10-day Israel tour they keep postponing with Dr. Benny Hinn! I mean, granted, on that tour I would at least be able to walk the same path Jesus walked. But who's Benny Hinn compared to Mel Gibson? I mean, come on! Can Benny Hinn tell you What Women Want?
