The weather is turning to spring and all the girls are out looking for the spring fashions, wandering down the avenue, stopping at cafes for a coffee and a pastry, maybe a new book, or some antiques on Atlantic Avenue.
Dunno about that. It was a whopping 23 degrees this morning and we're shooting for a high of 41
Dahlink, love is clearly in the air... time for that Spring Fling in the City, maybe some Bear Stearns broker, who clearly needs solace, or at least to be in the vortex...besides we need some spice here, beyond the Dalton Girls...
As far as early spring goes, which this is, for me it's more about the amount and brightness of the light and sky and the length of the "day" than the temperature ... so long as it's at least in the 40s with an occasional spike into the '50s, AND there's no snow.
Today is OK, here where I live, but I have to say that yesterday was one of the ugliest, aesthetically displeasing--speaking strictly in terms of the weather--Easter Days that I can recall in quite awhile.
It may seem dumb, and it certainly is trivial, but that really bothered me.
Try a stint in Tokyo or Mexico City. It'll make you love Madison all the more deeply. My own fault-finding eye goes straight toward the trash bag. And the nose cannot be placated.
Irrelevant comment: What is it with the t-word around here? Ugh, I hate that word, and I especially hate the insouciance with which it's used around here, and pretty much invariably by men. Not that it matters what I think, or that it should, or that I'm saying people ought not use it. It doesn't and needn't, and I'm not. It's a free country and a free comment section and I'm in charge of neither.
Actually, I should go dig out the copy of "The Book of Poisonous Quotes" that one of sisters-in-law gave me for Christmas 2005, about which I blogged at the time.
As I wrote then about the book, which I heartily recommend: Handily enough--I do like my guilty pleasures to be well-organized!--the book is divided into sections and subsections, so that if one is particularly peeved at a specific category of people, one can quickly locate pertinent fodder for venomous contemplation.
The streets And the memory of the streets And the longing for the streets Even as we walk the streets Even as we climb the stairs Pulling us back Down to the streets Ever back Ever back Down stairs we come Pulled down Pulled back To the streets the streets the streets Neverending vortex of intoxication In which we drown.
Hey! I see that that post more than two comments! Jan. 19, 2006, must have been at least a pink-letter day. OK, red-letter day, since both Amba and Bill (of So Quoted) are among them, and Pastor Jeff recommended another wicked book of quotes, which I forgot to order but which I will put into my Amazon shopping cart forthwith.
Ancient insult program. It is reported to impress secretaries.
$ insult 20 You grim-visaged traveling bag of lousy phalarope residue You baneful reticule of neuralgic agama guano You nasty clothesbasket of insanitary catfish turd You onerous stewpan of plagued camelopard ordure You sore silique of adulterous Shropshire expulsion You galling dustpan of ulcerated dragon fish feculence You sorrowful budget [dial] of paralytic terrier urine You vexing kilderkin of unhealthful cardinal expectoration You unhandsome picnic basket of venenous Targhee coprolith You defaced eggcup of nephritic bird of paradise detritus You crushing vase of chlorotic raccoon slag You beautiless handbag of infected wasp excretes You distressing salver of scrofulous weakfish scraps You harassing frail of malarial macaque flatus You dolorous sugar spoon of pestilential English setter flops You odious bushel of indecent harvest mouse excrement You heartsickening corbeil [archit] of unclean Charolais ejectamenta You cacophonous filing box of toxical merl odds and ends You grisly cruet of soiled squash bug parings You bitter billfold of rachitic Devon ptyalism
Here are some examples, in categories, that I used back then (Althouse is on a plane, right? That means this thread can be turned into a coffeehouse, right?):
Music
"Song is the licensed medium for bawling in public things too silly or sacred to be uttered in ordinary speech."--Oliver Herford
"Too many pieces finish too long after the end."--Igor Stravinsky
"Musical people are so absurdly unreasonable. They always want one to be perfectly dumb at the very moment when one is longing to be absolutely deaf."--Oscar Wilde
Musicals
"I could eat alphabet soup and shit better lyrics!"--Johnny Mercer
Oh! Calcutta
"The trouble with nude dancing is that not everything stops when the music stops."--Robert Helpman
These don't include some of the really deliciously mean ones in the book. I guess I was in milder mode back then.
I don't, but I'm sure my husband does. Unfortunately, he's up in air somewhere between Philly and Minneapolis, no doubt discussing headless chickens [reference to comment in Althouse's "first movie" thread]. I'll bet he'll be in no mood to indulge my foolishness by the time they get home--if they get home--tonight.
***
By the way, was "It is reported to impress secretaries" supposed to be another of your swipes at women? Just curious.
Whoa, don't drag me into this. Though, regarding "The trouble with nude dancing" quote, obviously some will have more of an issue than others controlling momentum.
"If I may offer my favorite restaurant review***. For a single quote, I'd pull this one: 'Truffle oil is the ketchup of the modern foodie. I didn't make that up, but I fervently agree with it. Plus it tastes like ass.' "
(***Referring to one by Poppy Z.)
"What Demi Moore does is not acting." -- Helen Mirren, The Montreal Gazette Thursday 27 May 1999
So, offline, Bill points out to me that in a post at his blog this morning--about dancing!--(before all this), he actually linked to a nude photo of Rudolf Nureyev, by Richard Avedon.
OK, now I'm creeped out. By the coincidence, not by the picture of Nureyev, in which, by the way, he is standing, not dancing around.
rhhardin said... You can use ``derivative of entropy with respect to internal energy'' instead of the t-word.
Not to be too pedantic, but it's the other way round: temperature is the derivative of internal energy with respect to entropy, at constant volume. Things can get messy if you're, say, cooking up some meth and get that wrong.
When I have a question about physics, I always reference MC Hawking. Entropy:
Defining entropy as disorder's not complete, 'cause disorder as a definition doesn't cover heat. So my first definition I would now like to withdraw, and offer one that fits thermodynamics second law. First we need to understand that entropy is energy, energy that can't be used to state it more specifically. In a closed system entropy always goes up, that's the second law, now you know what's up.
Not to be too pedantic, but it's the other way round: temperature is the derivative of internal energy with respect to entropy,
Oops, right. I remembered it was the opposite of what you'd expect and so reversed what seemed natural in my head.
What I remember it from, when writing it down, is that it's actually a tautology, the only assumption being that two systems in thermal contact come to some equilibrium. The result, after the most remarkably mundane applicaton of freshman calculus, is temperature and entropy.
Did I ever tell the story of how, the year they broke their series losing streak, the neighbors took my son during the final games because my hootin' and hollerin' was scaring him/keeping him awake?
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57 comments:
Back to the hustle and bustle of the cornfields.
Love the middle photo. That's very striking.
The weather is turning to spring and all the girls are out looking for the spring fashions, wandering down the avenue, stopping at cafes for a coffee and a pastry, maybe a new book, or some antiques on Atlantic Avenue.
Dunno about that. It was a whopping 23 degrees this morning and we're shooting for a high of 41
I'm desperately waiting on global warming.
Dahlink, love is clearly in the air... time for that Spring Fling in the City, maybe some Bear Stearns broker, who clearly needs solace, or at least to be in the vortex...besides we need some spice here, beyond the Dalton Girls...
It's 42° in Brooklyn right now. It's going to be in the 40s all week. Not too springlike, I don't think.
Gone to tilted green
by a crooked shadow-path
Or the straight sidewalk
My horesback riding comment disappeared.
I demand an apology.
As far as early spring goes, which this is, for me it's more about the amount and brightness of the light and sky and the length of the "day" than the temperature ... so long as it's at least in the 40s with an occasional spike into the '50s, AND there's no snow.
Today is OK, here where I live, but I have to say that yesterday was one of the ugliest, aesthetically displeasing--speaking strictly in terms of the weather--Easter Days that I can recall in quite awhile.
It may seem dumb, and it certainly is trivial, but that really bothered me.
Try a stint in Tokyo or Mexico City. It'll make you love Madison all the more deeply. My own fault-finding eye goes straight toward the trash bag. And the nose cannot be placated.
Irrelevant comment: What is it with the t-word around here? Ugh, I hate that word, and I especially hate the insouciance with which it's used around here, and pretty much invariably by men. Not that it matters what I think, or that it should, or that I'm saying people ought not use it. It doesn't and needn't, and I'm not. It's a free country and a free comment section and I'm in charge of neither.
But--ugh.
Go shit in your hand and slap yourself in the face.
That's better, Trooper. Thank you.
Now, where did I put that quotations book with the chapter on creative insults?
Actually, I should go dig out the copy of "The Book of Poisonous Quotes" that one of sisters-in-law gave me for Christmas 2005, about which I blogged at the time.
As I wrote then about the book, which I heartily recommend:
Handily enough--I do like my guilty pleasures to be well-organized!--the book is divided into sections and subsections, so that if one is particularly peeved at a specific category of people, one can quickly locate pertinent fodder for venomous contemplation.
The streets
And the memory of the streets
And the longing for the streets
Even as we walk the streets
Even as we climb the stairs
Pulling us back
Down to the streets
Ever back
Ever back
Down stairs we come
Pulled down
Pulled back
To the streets the streets the streets
Neverending vortex of intoxication
In which we drown.
You can use ``derivative of entropy with respect to internal energy'' instead of the t-word.
But it will be warmer soon.
Then the h-word will come up.
Hey! I see that that post more than two comments! Jan. 19, 2006, must have been at least a pink-letter day. OK, red-letter day, since both Amba and Bill (of So Quoted) are among them, and Pastor Jeff recommended another wicked book of quotes, which I forgot to order but which I will put into my Amazon shopping cart forthwith.
LOL.
Ancient insult program. It is reported to impress secretaries.
$ insult 20
You grim-visaged traveling bag of lousy phalarope residue
You baneful reticule of neuralgic agama guano
You nasty clothesbasket of insanitary catfish turd
You onerous stewpan of plagued camelopard ordure
You sore silique of adulterous Shropshire expulsion
You galling dustpan of ulcerated dragon fish feculence
You sorrowful budget [dial] of paralytic terrier urine
You vexing kilderkin of unhealthful cardinal expectoration
You unhandsome picnic basket of venenous Targhee coprolith
You defaced eggcup of nephritic bird of paradise detritus
You crushing vase of chlorotic raccoon slag
You beautiless handbag of infected wasp excretes
You distressing salver of scrofulous weakfish scraps
You harassing frail of malarial macaque flatus
You dolorous sugar spoon of pestilential English setter flops
You odious bushel of indecent harvest mouse excrement
You heartsickening corbeil [archit] of unclean Charolais ejectamenta
You cacophonous filing box of toxical merl odds and ends
You grisly cruet of soiled squash bug parings
You bitter billfold of rachitic Devon ptyalism
Different every time! It's up somewhere... hmm..
here , a unix archive, if you have a C compiler.
The Book of Poisonous Quotes, that is, and I really do recommend it.
Here are some examples, in categories, that I used back then (Althouse is on a plane, right? That means this thread can be turned into a coffeehouse, right?):
Music
"Song is the licensed medium for bawling in public things too silly or sacred to be uttered in ordinary speech."--Oliver Herford
"Too many pieces finish too long after the end."--Igor Stravinsky
"Musical people are so absurdly unreasonable. They always want one to be perfectly dumb at the very moment when one is longing to be absolutely deaf."--Oscar Wilde
Musicals
"I could eat alphabet soup and shit better lyrics!"--Johnny Mercer
Oh! Calcutta
"The trouble with nude dancing is that not everything stops when the music stops."--Robert Helpman
These don't include some of the really deliciously mean ones in the book. I guess I was in milder mode back then.
if you have a C compiler
I don't, but I'm sure my husband does. Unfortunately, he's up in air somewhere between Philly and Minneapolis, no doubt discussing headless chickens [reference to comment in Althouse's "first movie" thread]. I'll bet he'll be in no mood to indulge my foolishness by the time they get home--if they get home--tonight.
***
By the way, was "It is reported to impress secretaries" supposed to be another of your swipes at women? Just curious.
...Bill (of So Quoted) are among them
Whoa, don't drag me into this. Though, regarding "The trouble with nude dancing" quote, obviously some will have more of an issue than others controlling momentum.
(Sorry, hit post too soon.)
Among Bill's contributions to that 1/2006 thread:
"If I may offer my favorite restaurant review***. For a single quote, I'd pull this one: 'Truffle oil is the ketchup of the modern foodie. I didn't make that up, but I fervently agree with it. Plus it tastes like ass.' "
(***Referring to one by Poppy Z.)
"What Demi Moore does is not acting." -- Helen Mirren,
The Montreal Gazette
Thursday 27 May 1999
(My tongue's sticking out at YOU, dear Bill.)
Geh cocken offen yom.
Go shit in the ocean.
Quadreplegic isn't bad enough? Overkill.
It's only March. Doesn't the school year end in June?
Then again, how could yesterday be Easter when we still have over a week left of March ??
Everything seems to be speeded up nowadays.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
So, offline, Bill points out to me that in a post at his blog this morning--about dancing!--(before all this), he actually linked to a nude photo of Rudolf Nureyev, by Richard Avedon.
OK, now I'm creeped out. By the coincidence, not by the picture of Nureyev, in which, by the way, he is standing, not dancing around.
Speaking of which, where is Titus, by the way? We might need a professional, or at least experienced, opinion.
rhhardin said...
You can use ``derivative of entropy with respect to internal energy'' instead of the t-word.
Not to be too pedantic, but it's the other way round: temperature is the derivative of internal energy with respect to entropy, at constant volume. Things can get messy if you're, say, cooking up some meth and get that wrong.
Correct me if I'm wrong. But, it seems there were a lot of things you didn't do in the city.
A horse-carriage ride through Central Park. Times Square, Penn Station. Statten Island. The Ferry Boat etc. The East River.
Maybe those things are too tourist-y.
When I have a question about physics, I always reference MC Hawking. Entropy:
Defining entropy as disorder's not complete,
'cause disorder as a definition doesn't cover heat.
So my first definition I would now like to withdraw,
and offer one that fits thermodynamics second law.
First we need to understand that entropy is energy,
energy that can't be used to state it more specifically.
In a closed system entropy always goes up,
that's the second law, now you know what's up.
Simon said...
Love the middle photo. That's very striking.
It is the shadow of the Ents.
Not to be too pedantic, but it's the other way round: temperature is the derivative of internal energy with respect to entropy,
Oops, right. I remembered it was the opposite of what you'd expect and so reversed what seemed natural in my head.
What I remember it from, when writing it down, is that it's actually a tautology, the only assumption being that two systems in thermal contact come to some equilibrium. The result, after the most remarkably mundane applicaton of freshman calculus, is temperature and entropy.
Trooper, I haven't yet received my iTunes or Amazon credits in exchange for providing you with a new meme.
Damn it, man, do you think I work for free?!
Sponger.
Frankly, I think you owe me extra, on account of the Red Sox thing.
Did I ever tell the story of how, the year they broke their series losing streak, the neighbors took my son during the final games because my hootin' and hollerin' was scaring him/keeping him awake?
It's a true one.
I am a Sox fan Trooper and I think we can have a healthy baseball debate without all of the Red Sox bashing.
Jacob Ellsbury is hot too and I would love to do Manny up the butt while pulling his hair.
Titus,
You could also switch the Cubs. Wrigley borders a gay Mecca, Boys Town, in Chicago.
Red Sox and White Sox suck. All Sox suck.
These days you don't need a compiler: Someone has compiled it for you and put it on the web, you frantic swamp of offensive pig mucous.
You should switch to the Mets, they are very gay friendly.
Imus discusses the gay met story. May 25 2002
Last full day in Manhattan, heading back to Pennsylvania tomorrow. Tristan was sublime; Ernani was so bad we walked out after the first act.
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