[SOURCE.]
NOTE: The Swiss apparently think that "decorating" trees in this way creates a Christmas atmosphere (see source).
Starting captions:
1) Christmas in Grinchland.
2) Thought Crime: Thought Police Arrest and Jail Neurons
3) Genetic Engineering Gone Wild: Scientists Cross Zebras With Trees
4) Monk Decides To TP His Neighbor’s Yard
5) Barcodes: Now You Can Purchase Everything!
In fact, it’s the solemnity of the Immaculate Conception.
So make your plans to go to Mass.
In fact, it’s the solemnity of the Immaculate Conception.
So make your plans to go to Mass.
So . . .
HERE’S A STORY ABOUT NEW INTERNET TERMS
(Specifically, "monkeyfishing," "jump the shark," and "pajamahadeen.")
It correctly explains the origin and meaning of the term "monkeyfishing" (which, as an item of Internet jargon, refers to a form of excessive credulity, particularly in the media; offline it refers to using electricity or explosives to go fishing.)
He also gets the origin and meaning of "pajamahadeen" right (i.e., a term originating in the Dan Rather forged documents scandal meaning, more or less, "bloggers who aggressively fact check things").
But when it comes to "jump the shark" the author get it dramatically wrong!
He claims (correctly) that it has its reputed origin in a Happy Days epsidoe in which Fonzie goes water skiing and literally jumps a shark but he goes on to (incorrectly) explain its meaning as follows:
"Jumping the shark" thus came to mean any wildly
excessive activity designed to attract attention to a person or group
in a popularity tailspin. As, for example, "Aging poptart Britney
Spears finally jumped the shark by marrying a high school friend for
two days in Las Vegas."
Wrong.
Engaging in excessive activity to attract attention is something one can do in the act of jumping the shark, but that’s not what the term means.
Jumping the shark is the point at which a TV series (or something else) passes its peak of quality and begins to markedly decline in quality. This is, in fact, explained on the premier site devoted to jumping the shark, namely, JumpTheShark.Com:
It’s a moment. A defining moment when you know that your favorite television program has reached its peak. That instant that you know from now on . . . it’s all downhill. Some call it the climax. We call it jumping the shark.
And it’s not just those folks who say this. For example, check out Wikipedia’s discussion of the term.
In fact, if you check the dictionaries Onelook lists as having the term, they all agree on the "past its peak" definition.
So, what happend? Did the author of the column just not cross-check the story he’d got on the meaning of "jump the shark"?
Sounds like monkeyfishing to me.
I hope this paper hasn’t jumped the shark.
Call in the pajamahadeen!
Okay.
So I’m reading on WorldWideWords.Org and they have this section on (allegedly) "weird words."
On the page for hornswoggle, they state that it is "often assumed to be one of those highfalutin words like absquatulate and rambunctious that frontier Americans were so fond of creating."
WHAT???
I’ll gladly admit (in fact, I’ll proudly insist) that 19th century Americans had a real word-factory going, but by what set of criteria is rambunctious a "highfalutin" word???
That’s a real sockdolager! Those scalawags are trying to hornswoggle us on this one! I’ve a mind to absquatulate their web site and skedaddle! What a bunch of consarned snollygosters!
[SOURCE.]
Starting captions:
1) Yes, Thai food is sometimes too hot.
2) Godzilla cult takes to the street.
3) Celebrating bad breath.
4) How the Great Chicago Fire started.
That’s the equation Timothy Garton Ash is hoping for.
Francis Fukuyama explains Ash’s thesis:
In actuality, he writes, Europeans are themselves
divided into Euro-Atlanticists and Euro-Gaullists; the former want
political ties with the U.S. and worry about the statist tendencies of
the European Union, while the latter see the EU as a competitive
counterweight to the U.S. and champion the Brussels version of the
welfare state. (“Janus Britain” is schizophrenically suspended
somewhere between the two.)Americans, for their part, are divided between what have come to be
called red and blue voters. The Left (or blue) side of the American
political spectrum corresponds to the Right, or Atlanticist, side in
Europe, while such quintessentially American characteristics as
anti-statism, gun ownership, and pugnacious hostility to international
institutions are typically to be found only on the red side, the side
that tends to vote Republican.The resulting political Venn diagram thus half-overlaps. Although
Europe is largely devoid of anyone resembling a Republican, and America
has no socialists, both Europe and America have the equivalent of
American Democrats. It is in that intersecting space that Ash sees the
“surprising future” he proclaims in the subtitle of this book—the space
where John Kerry’s America makes common cause with Euro-Atlanticists.
These two forces can, he believes, nudge the U.S. toward greater
multilateralism and Europe toward closer trans-Atlantic cooperation.
But Fukuyama thinks that Ash’s equation won’t work.
A few months ago I was on a train and I saw a guy get on board who was toting a banjo and dressed and styled in a vaguely 19th century way.
(As usual) I was dressed and styled in a 19th century way, too, and as the guy had the compartment across the hall from me, we struck up a conversation to pass the time.
Turned out his name was Mark Gardner, and he was a banjo player (big surprise) and also a historian of the 19th century. Combining his interests, he plays period music and gives lectures on the time. He was returning home from such a gig.
We talked for a while about folk music and banjos. I had my laptop with me, so I played him a copy of This Land that I had downloaded and also a song by the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band that uses a banjo player’s trick to make banjos sound like Caribbean steel drums.
Before he got off the train, he mentioned his web address to me–SongOfTheWest.Com–and afterward I went there and looked up his recordings.
Turns out that they’re distributed by something called CD Baby, which I had never heard of but which is apparently a distribution service for independent recording artists (and from which they make a lot more money than Amazon).
CD Baby stresses the personal touch. It points out that all of its recommendations are done by real people who have listened to the works that they are recommending (i.e., they’re not just calculated by machine from the buying patterns of purchasers), it points out that a real person will e-mail you to tell you when your product ships, etc.
It’s trying a "We’re the little guy, so we’ll give you better, more personal service" angle.
I like that.
If there’s anything that annoys me, it’s big, faceless bureaucracies.
I also liked that they take PayPal; that’s definitely a sales-increasing move. (I don‘t like giving my financial info to small groups I don’t know.)
So I ordered one of Mark’s CDs (which I’ll review soon).
I was stunned, though, when I got my first (and automated) e-mail confirmation (before the personal one that was sent when my order shipped.)
The e-mail address the order came from was orders@cdbaby.com, but the name field associated with this address read: "CD Baby Loves Jimmy."
That’s a personal touch I didn’t expect!
The software generating the e-mail apparently lifted my first name from my order and plopped it into the name field of the e-mail.
I guess, no matter how young CD Baby may be at the moment, he already has developed a sense of humor and playfulness that is advanced for his age.
