Thursday, January 31, 2008
The Thrice Secret Order of Profound Ignorance
Can there possibly be anything more tedious than an old Freemason, prattling on about ancient secrets of unknown provenance which no one understands? I have wasted so much of my life dealing with these garralous old buffoons; Freemasons, Bonesmen, the whole tin-hatted lot. Don't they know it's the Girl Scouts with the universal ark of alchemical talmudic secrets, and that they practice ungodly ceremonies to their interplanetary God in Area 51? That's where the secret society action is.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Yup.
When I was at Harvard, I used to hang out with the cool students who were all from Stuyvesant High School in New York. But then I suddenly realized they were all assholes, and instead I started hanging out with all the students from France. The French were far cooler. And they had beautiful women and guitars and wine. So, how can you beat that?
But I used to drive them crazy because I said “Yup” all the time. Especially one woman, Angelle Gecco. “Chris, you speak English, you should say ‘Yes’! N’cest pas ‘Yup’! After me, after me, say ‘Yes!’”
But I used to drive them crazy because I said “Yup” all the time. Especially one woman, Angelle Gecco. “Chris, you speak English, you should say ‘Yes’! N’cest pas ‘Yup’! After me, after me, say ‘Yes!’”
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Friday, January 25, 2008
Considering the truth of the book of Genesis
Let's accept, for the sake of argument, that the Bible was written down by Moses.
The Bible is also in some sense the primal answer to the primal question. Or, in other words, we can also imagine that Moses had asked God about the Meaning of Life, and that the Bible is the divine response.
God could have responded, "Well, Moses, in each living thing there are small molecules, which you can call deoxyribonucleic acid, made up of far smaller things, called atoms, and these moleclues regulate the function of the human cell, another very small thing, and they can replicate themselves...
...and that's why you can breed a donkey and a horse and get a mule."
But saying that wouldn't have helped Moses. In fact, that really wouldn't have answered Moses' question. Moses wanted to know what it all meant. And we can only imagine that, if God is moved to answer a question, being God, such an answer would be full and complete and suited to the intent of the questioner.
God's response wouldn't have been a biochemistry seminar.
Instead, God would have said : "In the beginning, I created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And my Spirit moved upon the face of the waters. And I said, 'Let there be light' and there was light. And I saw the light, and said that it was good."
And Moses would have said, "Now I begin to understand."
The Bible is also in some sense the primal answer to the primal question. Or, in other words, we can also imagine that Moses had asked God about the Meaning of Life, and that the Bible is the divine response.
God could have responded, "Well, Moses, in each living thing there are small molecules, which you can call deoxyribonucleic acid, made up of far smaller things, called atoms, and these moleclues regulate the function of the human cell, another very small thing, and they can replicate themselves...
...and that's why you can breed a donkey and a horse and get a mule."
But saying that wouldn't have helped Moses. In fact, that really wouldn't have answered Moses' question. Moses wanted to know what it all meant. And we can only imagine that, if God is moved to answer a question, being God, such an answer would be full and complete and suited to the intent of the questioner.
God's response wouldn't have been a biochemistry seminar.
Instead, God would have said : "In the beginning, I created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And my Spirit moved upon the face of the waters. And I said, 'Let there be light' and there was light. And I saw the light, and said that it was good."
And Moses would have said, "Now I begin to understand."
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Pandora
When I was a kid, we had promiscuous female cat. She kept on getting pregnant so quickly after each birth no one could get her to a vet between pregnancies. My mother swore the cat had something like 80 kittens in a year.
Anyway, from that time, the cat was named Pandora.
My mother had a sense of humor.
Anyway, from that time, the cat was named Pandora.
My mother had a sense of humor.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Clearly, it was just a slip...
I was reading the speech by Martin Luther King on August 28, '63 at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington D.C. One thing caught my eye.
But let me say first that one of the reasons that Martin Luther King was such a good orator that he had a lot of phrases stored up in memory that whenever pressed he could always fall back on. For example, when he says, "I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight...", he's not making that up on the spot, he's quoting from the Bible, and not only is he doing that because it's nice to quote from, but he doesn't have to think about what he's saying. He can get the next idea in line, or be mindful of the delivery and where he's going. Twenty years of sermons allowed him to build up an impressive reserve of phrases like this.
So, when he's sermonizing, he's got his plan, he has his text, he has phrases like this to help him get there, and he can also free associate a little to move the argument along; and do all the things like develop a cadence, build to a climax, and everything else.
And then there is this:
Wait. What was that last one?
But let me say first that one of the reasons that Martin Luther King was such a good orator that he had a lot of phrases stored up in memory that whenever pressed he could always fall back on. For example, when he says, "I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight...", he's not making that up on the spot, he's quoting from the Bible, and not only is he doing that because it's nice to quote from, but he doesn't have to think about what he's saying. He can get the next idea in line, or be mindful of the delivery and where he's going. Twenty years of sermons allowed him to build up an impressive reserve of phrases like this.
So, when he's sermonizing, he's got his plan, he has his text, he has phrases like this to help him get there, and he can also free associate a little to move the argument along; and do all the things like develop a cadence, build to a climax, and everything else.
And then there is this:
And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania. Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado. Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California...
Wait. What was that last one?
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Tantalize Me
I have to admit, I'm becoming an Ocean State Job Lots fan. Even the food. Now, you might think, discounted job lot food? What horrible stuff would there be in an aftermarket food retailer's shelves?
I was in there today, and they had caviar. Caviar. The same brand as at the best supermarkets. And a lot of natural foods, rough organic oatmeals that no one can afford in the health food store, marked down to a buck; likewise for the granolas, nuts, dried cherries and figs.
They also have overstock bread from a local bakery. Fresh bolos levedos, and how can you not like bolos levedos?
Since October, I've been keeping track of where the local stores are in all the neighboring towns. Today I got some buns, some guava puree that was delicious, biscotti, dried mission figs, organic fair-traded sodas, a couple cans of lobster bisque and all for eleven dollars; it would have been twice as much, or more, at a supermarket.
I was in there today, and they had caviar. Caviar. The same brand as at the best supermarkets. And a lot of natural foods, rough organic oatmeals that no one can afford in the health food store, marked down to a buck; likewise for the granolas, nuts, dried cherries and figs.
They also have overstock bread from a local bakery. Fresh bolos levedos, and how can you not like bolos levedos?
Since October, I've been keeping track of where the local stores are in all the neighboring towns. Today I got some buns, some guava puree that was delicious, biscotti, dried mission figs, organic fair-traded sodas, a couple cans of lobster bisque and all for eleven dollars; it would have been twice as much, or more, at a supermarket.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
The Eldritch Land of Massachusetts
Massachusetts is a curious place.
I am convinced it is the only geronto-gynocracy in the annals of human history. Geronto-gynocracy, is, of course, rule by old women. I have never seen a place where septuagenarian women dominate social intercourse as in Massachusetts. And, the gods forgive me, I hope to never see another.
This singular fact may not be immediately evident in the halls of the state capitol, or in the grim streets of the even grimmer Boston, but out among the old small towns still wedged into the nooks and crannies of Massachusetts' hilly countryside, old women hold an iron hand over every community.
How this came to be, I do not know. But be forwarned, gentle reader, if ever among the inhabitants of Fitchburg, Pittsfield, or Foxborough : Give them a wide berth. Open doors and allow them to pass. Allow them to cut in line. Give them room on the highways and intersections. Massachusetts is theirs.
I am convinced it is the only geronto-gynocracy in the annals of human history. Geronto-gynocracy, is, of course, rule by old women. I have never seen a place where septuagenarian women dominate social intercourse as in Massachusetts. And, the gods forgive me, I hope to never see another.
This singular fact may not be immediately evident in the halls of the state capitol, or in the grim streets of the even grimmer Boston, but out among the old small towns still wedged into the nooks and crannies of Massachusetts' hilly countryside, old women hold an iron hand over every community.
How this came to be, I do not know. But be forwarned, gentle reader, if ever among the inhabitants of Fitchburg, Pittsfield, or Foxborough : Give them a wide berth. Open doors and allow them to pass. Allow them to cut in line. Give them room on the highways and intersections. Massachusetts is theirs.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Little persons
I was visiting friends with children last night. Small children. As in two feet tall and standing and wailing like it was the end of the universe, tears streaming down their faces, and just into a full howling shriek,—forever.
Not that it lasted that long.
At one quiet moment though, I was in the kitchen/family room, parents off in different areas of the house. I was sitting and enjoying the quiet, and I realized that one little person was on the kitchen table, foraging for food, another was over by the couch, also foraging for food. One cat was over in another corner, probably doing the same, and cat number two was also picking around, also foraging.
And it suddenly occurred to me that, essentially, this was no different than a forest floor, with raccoons and squirrels, idly picking around for an occasional nut, foraging for food.
Not that it lasted that long.
At one quiet moment though, I was in the kitchen/family room, parents off in different areas of the house. I was sitting and enjoying the quiet, and I realized that one little person was on the kitchen table, foraging for food, another was over by the couch, also foraging for food. One cat was over in another corner, probably doing the same, and cat number two was also picking around, also foraging.
And it suddenly occurred to me that, essentially, this was no different than a forest floor, with raccoons and squirrels, idly picking around for an occasional nut, foraging for food.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
The Golden Compass
I went to The Golden Compass because I had heard that in the movie there was a sophisticated sub text of criticism of the Catholic church. I don't really need to see a sophisticated sub-textual criticism of the Catholic church, (that topic having been thouroughly played out since Paine's day, if not Luther's). But a movie with any sort sophisticated subtext beats one without, so I thought I would see it.
Whatever there is in the novels, nothing made it to the screen. There is the slightest criticism of an entity called the Magisterium. In the movie, the Magisterium is, of course, the Anglican Church, not the Roman, (at least the headquarters of the Magisterium is a modified St Paul's). (It's a sad commentary on the status of affairs that nobody can even tell when the Anglican church is even the target of criticism anymore—the Anglicans have drifted so far out of consequence that even when they're the night's whipping boy, nobody even knows who they are and assume they're Catholics.)
But even with that, all it comes down to is that the Magisterium is bad, no reason is given as to why, really, they're just bad.
The movie also has unusual things happening all the time which made no sense, although they might have in the book. There's a army of flying witches that come storming through at one point for no reason at all. Since it's a fantasy, you accept anything that happens as being a part of the fantasy: "Oh, this is a parallel dimension, here apparently armies of flying witches come and go." As opposed to armies of flying haberdashers from Melbourne.
But why there are flying witches, or who they are, or what they're doing, or why they aren't engaged in haberdashery in Melbourne, I don't know, and the movie does not say.
It's all very pretty, and all very cg fascinating, but nothing substantial. It's a children's fantasy story
An interesting yet minor furor occurred in Blighty over this movie. Philip Pullman, the author of the novels, has spoken out against the movie and its elision of the religious critique. The President of England's National Secular Society has spoken to the press: "It was clear right from the start that the makers of this film intended to take out the anti-religious elements of Pullman's book," said Terry Sanderson, president of the society. "In doing that they are taking the heart out of it, losing the point of it, castrating it. It seems that religion has now completely conquered America's cultural life and it is much the poorer for it. What a shame that we have to endure such censorship here too."
What Sanderson didn't get is that the producers of the movie are hardly clerical grandees who have mangled the beauty of the original work. They are a handful of utterly secular people out in Southern California who took out the religious content because it seemed boring. All that content got in the way of the talking bunnies. They took it out because they didn't understand it. But they did know damn well that anti-clerical polemics don't sell theater tickets. (At least they haven't since, again, Paine's day.)
So I guess Pullman and Sanderson feel so put upon by sneaky clerics out to get them from behind every arras, that they've jumped the gun here and are already on the counter-attack against imagined threats that are not there. Or maybe they just wanted to traduce America by resorting to a stereotype that the country is run by redneck zealots. "Religion has now completely conquered America's cultural life," indeed.
Either way, their defense of secularism has only worsened their position in the lists.
Whatever there is in the novels, nothing made it to the screen. There is the slightest criticism of an entity called the Magisterium. In the movie, the Magisterium is, of course, the Anglican Church, not the Roman, (at least the headquarters of the Magisterium is a modified St Paul's). (It's a sad commentary on the status of affairs that nobody can even tell when the Anglican church is even the target of criticism anymore—the Anglicans have drifted so far out of consequence that even when they're the night's whipping boy, nobody even knows who they are and assume they're Catholics.)
But even with that, all it comes down to is that the Magisterium is bad, no reason is given as to why, really, they're just bad.
The movie also has unusual things happening all the time which made no sense, although they might have in the book. There's a army of flying witches that come storming through at one point for no reason at all. Since it's a fantasy, you accept anything that happens as being a part of the fantasy: "Oh, this is a parallel dimension, here apparently armies of flying witches come and go." As opposed to armies of flying haberdashers from Melbourne.
But why there are flying witches, or who they are, or what they're doing, or why they aren't engaged in haberdashery in Melbourne, I don't know, and the movie does not say.
It's all very pretty, and all very cg fascinating, but nothing substantial. It's a children's fantasy story
An interesting yet minor furor occurred in Blighty over this movie. Philip Pullman, the author of the novels, has spoken out against the movie and its elision of the religious critique. The President of England's National Secular Society has spoken to the press: "It was clear right from the start that the makers of this film intended to take out the anti-religious elements of Pullman's book," said Terry Sanderson, president of the society. "In doing that they are taking the heart out of it, losing the point of it, castrating it. It seems that religion has now completely conquered America's cultural life and it is much the poorer for it. What a shame that we have to endure such censorship here too."
What Sanderson didn't get is that the producers of the movie are hardly clerical grandees who have mangled the beauty of the original work. They are a handful of utterly secular people out in Southern California who took out the religious content because it seemed boring. All that content got in the way of the talking bunnies. They took it out because they didn't understand it. But they did know damn well that anti-clerical polemics don't sell theater tickets. (At least they haven't since, again, Paine's day.)
So I guess Pullman and Sanderson feel so put upon by sneaky clerics out to get them from behind every arras, that they've jumped the gun here and are already on the counter-attack against imagined threats that are not there. Or maybe they just wanted to traduce America by resorting to a stereotype that the country is run by redneck zealots. "Religion has now completely conquered America's cultural life," indeed.
Either way, their defense of secularism has only worsened their position in the lists.
Friday, January 11, 2008
PM P.M. Ravages Downtown Toronto.
Below is a photograph of Canadian Prime Minister Paul Martin on October 14, 2005, wreaking havoc in the streets of Toronto.
In an interview two days later on October 16, Mr. Martin admitted that his outburst "was wrong", and that he was sincerely very sorry. He also suggested that he had only been searching for the Tim Horton's at Portland and King Street West, because he wanted some pecan Tim Tarts. He claimed to have been disoriented and quite hungry.
He was later found to have laid wates to 7.3 hectares of the GTO, causing $23.6 million CDN in damages from this ill-mannered rampage.
Martin was later replaced in office by the election of February 6, 2006. He has not stalked the city since that time.
In an interview two days later on October 16, Mr. Martin admitted that his outburst "was wrong", and that he was sincerely very sorry. He also suggested that he had only been searching for the Tim Horton's at Portland and King Street West, because he wanted some pecan Tim Tarts. He claimed to have been disoriented and quite hungry.
He was later found to have laid wates to 7.3 hectares of the GTO, causing $23.6 million CDN in damages from this ill-mannered rampage.
Martin was later replaced in office by the election of February 6, 2006. He has not stalked the city since that time.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
A Good Posset for a Winter's Night
In his postumously published book, The Closet of the Eminently Learned Kenelm Digby, Knight, (London: 1670 or 71), is a recipe for the favorite posset of Charles Howard, the 1st Earl of Carlisle.
Since a good posset is hard to come by these days, it seems the recipe should be reprinted here.
Pouring the cream in from a height mixed it with the sack, however the two would seperate, (the cream rising to the top, naturally), and create a sort of custard layer above the wine. The foam would also stiffen and become a third grace layer on top. Interesting that the very top gets its flavoring from ambergris and musk. I assume they do mean ambergris from whales.
All of this goes to show that our miserable forbears did have cunning schemes to get themselves through winter in some comfort, and that people did not live as savage barbarians before the invention of fluffernutter sandwiches.
Since a good posset is hard to come by these days, it seems the recipe should be reprinted here.
Take a pottle of Cream, and boil in it a little whole Cinnamon, and three or four flakes of Mace. To this proportion of Cream put in eighteen yolks of eggs, and eight of the whites; a pint of Sack; beat your eggs very well, and then mingle them with your Sack. Put in three quarters of a pound of Sugar into the Wine and Eggs, with a Nutmeg grated, and a little beaten Cinnamon; set the Bason on the fire with the Wine and Eggs, and let it be hot. Then put in the Cream boiling from the fire, pour it on high, but stir it not; cover it with a dish, and when it is settlede, strew on the top a little fine Sugar mingled with three grains of Ambergreece, and one grain of Musk, and serve it up.
Pouring the cream in from a height mixed it with the sack, however the two would seperate, (the cream rising to the top, naturally), and create a sort of custard layer above the wine. The foam would also stiffen and become a third grace layer on top. Interesting that the very top gets its flavoring from ambergris and musk. I assume they do mean ambergris from whales.
All of this goes to show that our miserable forbears did have cunning schemes to get themselves through winter in some comfort, and that people did not live as savage barbarians before the invention of fluffernutter sandwiches.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
The Great American Burrito
Mexican food is very popular in the United States. Except, of course, it isn't really Mexican, just like our Chinese food isn't really Chinese, our Italian food isn't Italian, or anything else. (Our Lithuanian food is exactly Lithuanian, but nobody eats it.)
At any rate, I realized long ago that in American Mexican food, the burrito has surpassed the taco. But what I realized today, shooting across the surface of Haddam, Connecticut, at 75 miles per hour, is why the burrito is king. The burrito can be eaten while driving.
And thus, the key to the success of Taco Bell. If only the poor French could find a way to make a bouillabaisse edible with one hand, then there'd be French food franchises at every interstate exit.
At any rate, I realized long ago that in American Mexican food, the burrito has surpassed the taco. But what I realized today, shooting across the surface of Haddam, Connecticut, at 75 miles per hour, is why the burrito is king. The burrito can be eaten while driving.
And thus, the key to the success of Taco Bell. If only the poor French could find a way to make a bouillabaisse edible with one hand, then there'd be French food franchises at every interstate exit.
Monday, January 7, 2008
Imitation is the sincerest form of
admitting you've got nothing
It always seemed obvious to me that Ms. Ciccone/Madonna was only ever a cheap Sony knock-off of Debbie Harry.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Hussunash & kommuks
These are Kommuks.
I don't know what they are, but I have named them.
Let's start from the beginning. Everyone knows that there are no pre-Columbian ruins in New England. There are ruins in Ohio and west, (The Mound Builders). But this side of the Alleghenies, somehow the Algonquin just couldn't figure out how to make piles of rocks;--it must have been some sort of constitutional infirmity, they just couldn't manage to put one rock on top of another.
At least, that's what we're told.
Therefore, every single rock-on-rock combination you can ever find in New England cannot be Algonquin. It's perfect pre-emptive reasoning.
Every rock-on-rock combination must therefore be of English colonist creation. For an example, in the picture above, we are told that we are to believe that an English colonist farmer was simply trying to clear his fields of stone. Just like all those farmer's stone walls around the perimeter of every New England field was built up by farmers dragging stones to the edge of the field; this is the same thing, only he made these piles in the middle of the field.
Except that's just insane. Look at those rockpiles. Look at them. Why are they so neat? Why the hell would a farmer make piles like that? (They're actually fustra, or bottom ends of cones.) Why did our farmer here make neatly organized fustra out of his rocks? Or are we looking at something else? Something that isn't supposed to exist. Pre-Columbian ruins in New England. Our universities, our archaeologists, tell us that there are no such things.
So, the Kommuks you're looking at don't exist.
They're not there.
They're shadows of nothingness.
Why Kommuk? The word is derived from the Algonquin, kommuk meaning a building or tower. In general, all rock-on-rock combinations of the clearly-its-not-farmer-yet-it-exists-anyway variety are hussunash, from the Algonquin, hussunash meaning stones. We use these words to talk about them because people were making up a lot of weird words for them out of European archaeology and elsewhere which were wholly inappropriate.
Since May of 2006, I have been cataloging these things across New England. So far I am up to about 30 kommuk, about 600 hussunash of all kinds, and about 300 other associated oddities and anomalies. It's fun. I'll have a LOT more to say about hussunash some day, (hopefully soon), but more than will neatly go into this blog.
Yes, I did say 600. That's a lot, isn't it? These things are all over the place---if you know where and how to look. I've gotten to the point where I can spot them from a moving car at 60, because I know where to look. I know my people now, the hussunash people; I don't know who they were, but I do know how they think.
Here's another kommuk. It's about 12 feet tall. Of course, it was made by farmers stacking up stones on the perimeter of their field. Although, if you look where it is, that isn't in a field, the nearest flat land is a couple hundred yards off, but just because the official word makes absolutely no sense, that doesn't mean it isn't absolutely true.
Another kommuk. And it, too, doesn't exist.
You don't believe me? Don't. Don't believe me. These things do not exist. Just pretend you didn't read this post. It's all fiction. Nevermind. These are not the piles of rock you're looking for.
Saturday, January 5, 2008
Friday, January 4, 2008
I just wrote a poem...
...clickety-clickety-clickety (pause) clickety-clickety-clickety-clickety-clickety (pause) c-l-i-c-k (pause) click-clickety-clickety-clickety...
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Britain's Greatest Invention : Gravity
Gravity?
Yes, gravity.
Before the British invented gravity in 1687, the world depended on the previous source of mass attraction, invented in 1486 by Antoine Grandpied Marche Fortement, Duc de Groscul, and named L'attraction personnelle profonde, or APP, which was an early gravity precursor.
APP was a simple system that worked through energy waves powered by oral garlic aroma. Or 'le souffle malheureuse'.
APP was very effective for short distances, but frequently subject to breakdowns, causing people to float off at oddly oblique angles and become tangled in tree branches.
L'attraction personnelle profonde was finally replaced by gravity after an angry Frenchman, caught in the branches of Sir Isaac's apple tree, lobbed a weighty bulb of garlic at the English philosopher's head, which knocked Newton unconscious and thereby produced the Enlightenment.
Yes, gravity.
Before the British invented gravity in 1687, the world depended on the previous source of mass attraction, invented in 1486 by Antoine Grandpied Marche Fortement, Duc de Groscul, and named L'attraction personnelle profonde, or APP, which was an early gravity precursor.
APP was a simple system that worked through energy waves powered by oral garlic aroma. Or 'le souffle malheureuse'.
APP was very effective for short distances, but frequently subject to breakdowns, causing people to float off at oddly oblique angles and become tangled in tree branches.
L'attraction personnelle profonde was finally replaced by gravity after an angry Frenchman, caught in the branches of Sir Isaac's apple tree, lobbed a weighty bulb of garlic at the English philosopher's head, which knocked Newton unconscious and thereby produced the Enlightenment.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Latest literary efforts...
I am working on a murder mystery. It's about a young crofter girl murdered on the Devon moor. It's called Tess of the Baskervilles.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
Wikipedia is not truth
I've been engaged in an ongoing battle in Wikipedia. I know, I know, I shouldn't. Arguing on the internet is like competing in the Special Olympics and all that... But I do allow myself a little unproductive time, and although it probably says that something is corrupt in my soul that the best recreation I can find for myself is proving a fellow human to be an idiot, nevertheless, what's done is done.
One of the articles I spar over is the article on Wesleyan, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wesleyan_University There are apparently a wide range of interlopers that come through and post this and that, and there are two who are more distinctly obsessive, 69.121.22.66 and Anthropologique. Anthropologique appears to obsess over the sciences and the endowment, 69.121.22.66 has a deep jones for CSS.
But a lot of the posters seem to have the same problem, which is that they yearn to show that Wesleyan is, dammit, simply the best at everything. So, in the article, absolutely everything is described as "elite," "prestigious," "prominent," and "nationally-ranked". These adjectives, (and their cousins), repeat so often that the article reads like crap. And it raises the obvious question, if the place is so good, why do they have to brag about it?
Obviously, the true rule is if you describe it well, people will supply their own adjectives, or to put it another way, show, don't tell. Don't say it's elite, say 1 out of 3,000 applicants gets in, (or whatever the number is). That says more than a bunch of bull adjectives ever can.
I, by the way, wrote mostly all the 'History' section, (so I do do productive things in Wikipedia). And I think that section does have some balance, although it is a warm history, it is true. But it compares well with the rest of the piece, and certainly is better than the seperate 'prominent alumni' section. Among the prominent alumni, someone has listed some schmuck whose achievement is being 'Isaac Azimov's nephew'. Isn't that precious?
The overall effect is to make the Wesleyan article just a little more sanguine than the college catalog. The article is almost an embarassment.
So, I do fight the good fight, trying to tone things down a bit, and after months of ongoing nonsense, I did snap... just a wee little bit. See if you can spot, in the following, which paragraph I added today:
One of the articles I spar over is the article on Wesleyan, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wesleyan_University There are apparently a wide range of interlopers that come through and post this and that, and there are two who are more distinctly obsessive, 69.121.22.66 and Anthropologique. Anthropologique appears to obsess over the sciences and the endowment, 69.121.22.66 has a deep jones for CSS.
But a lot of the posters seem to have the same problem, which is that they yearn to show that Wesleyan is, dammit, simply the best at everything. So, in the article, absolutely everything is described as "elite," "prestigious," "prominent," and "nationally-ranked". These adjectives, (and their cousins), repeat so often that the article reads like crap. And it raises the obvious question, if the place is so good, why do they have to brag about it?
Obviously, the true rule is if you describe it well, people will supply their own adjectives, or to put it another way, show, don't tell. Don't say it's elite, say 1 out of 3,000 applicants gets in, (or whatever the number is). That says more than a bunch of bull adjectives ever can.
I, by the way, wrote mostly all the 'History' section, (so I do do productive things in Wikipedia). And I think that section does have some balance, although it is a warm history, it is true. But it compares well with the rest of the piece, and certainly is better than the seperate 'prominent alumni' section. Among the prominent alumni, someone has listed some schmuck whose achievement is being 'Isaac Azimov's nephew'. Isn't that precious?
The overall effect is to make the Wesleyan article just a little more sanguine than the college catalog. The article is almost an embarassment.
So, I do fight the good fight, trying to tone things down a bit, and after months of ongoing nonsense, I did snap... just a wee little bit. See if you can spot, in the following, which paragraph I added today:
Wesleyan occupies a 360-acre campus, with over 340 buildings including: the five building College Row; the Samuel Wadsworth Russell House, a National Historic Landmark; Alsop House; Olin Memorial Library (having more than one million volumes, with separate specialized Art, Science, and Music libraries plus Special Collections, Archives, and U.S. Government Documents); Harriman Hall (which houses the John E. Andrus Public Affairs center and the College of Social Studies); the Exley Science Center; Shanklin and Hall-Atwater Laboratories; the Van Vleck Observatory; Fayerweather (housing theatrical and dance rehearsal spaces and Beckham Hall--for large lectures), the Foss Hill dormitories; the Butterfield dormitories; the Fauver Field dormitories; and 11-building Center for the Arts complex.
Recent building initiatives include the Freeman Athletic Center (which includes a 50-meter swimming pool, the Spurrier-Snyder Rink for skating, the 1,200-seat Silloway Gymnasium, the 7,500-square-foot Andersen Fitness Center, and the Rosenbaum Squash Center with eight courts), the Center for Film Studies, and a multi-building renovation project creating a 'Humanities District' on the east side of High Street between Fisk Hall and Russell House, which includes facilities for the departments of English, Romance Languages, the College of Letters, Classical Studies, Philosophy, Art & Art History, and Women's Studies.
The Silloway Gymnasium has 156 elite and high-ranking men's urinals, floor-mounted units of the finest Italian porcelain, which are prominent for their nationally competitive flushability, which the U.S. News and World Report rated 3rd overall, stating "These urinals appear finer than Amherst's".
The new Usdan University Center, opened in September 2007 at the center of the campus, has consolidated dining facilities for students and for faculty, and houses seminar and meeting spaces, the Wesleyan Student Association, Student Activities and Leadership Development offices, the post office, and retail space.
Further detail about Wesleyan's campus can be found at the interactive Virtual Wesleyan website.
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