Posts from — April 2004

Happy birthday Anthony! Good job making it to your first 29th birthday.

Check out fark.com’s latest Photoshop contest: mix’n'match sci-fi shows. My favorites are “Ape Runner” (Blade Runner + Planet of the Apes) and Agent Gollum (Lord of the Rings + The Matrix).

Sick of whiny lusers, that is. Then again, this is The Register, whose most quotable feature is BOFH (Bastard Operator From Hell), that we’re talking about.

The bit in question is an opinion piece entitled “Clueless user: ditch the victim mentality“, which rebuts an earlier column in the WSJ blaming admins and vendors for the myriad unpatched holes of the world. (Quick summary: We’ve told you about all this and you didn’t listen. Now you’re having problems. Tough knickers.)

It’s very tempting to send this to people. However, they already gripe that I “talk down” to them (their words). [Hey! Users! Maybe if you'd pay some fucking attention the first time, I wouldn't HAVE to describe the computer as "the place where the CDs go, not the big glowy thing in front of you".]

I’ve decided to hop on board the monkey train this month, just because.

Generally, if I cry or get a little misty at a movie, it’s because a favorite character has died. cf. Bambi’s mother, ET, Yoda, Boromir. (You’ll note that Boromir is the only character in that list played by an actual human and not a puppet. He gets tears in the film adaptation because Sean Bean fuckin’ 0wn3d that role. Such subtlety!)

However, I did get bliss-tears at the end of Fantasia 2000’s “Firebird” segment. Hell, I’m getting misty just thinking about it. Stravinsky’s work is moving, and beautifully performed by the Chicago Symphony Orchestra; the animation is elegant in both its concept (3 characters, classic death/rebirth tale) and its implementation (a sweeping Art Nouveau style, complex and subtle shadings, excellent timing).

But it’s the end of that segment that really gets me.

After the Firebird comes down from the volcano and burns the forest to ashes, the Elk finds the Sprite cowering, too weak and depressed to stand or fly or make pretty things come alive. The Elk prods the Sprite into riding with him, and as they survey the damage, a single tear falls from the Sprite’s face onto the lifeless ground.

[music is a sad, diminished-key variation on the original theme, slowly crescendo]

A slender vine appears at the spot watered by her tear.

[first few notes of major-key, from the violins]

Seeing this, the Sprite regains hope, and transforms herself into a raincloud.

[strings pianissimo on an ostinato rain-type arpeggio; horns pianissississimo and crescendo to fortissimo]

The forest comes alive again!

[triumphal, horn-laden variation on main theme]

And it’s BETTER THAN EVER!

Now that I’ve gotten this far, I’m not sure I can do the ending itself any justice with mere words - you must see it for yourself to understand what brings me to tears. (Go. Now. Rent movie. Watch. Understand.)

Stay tuned in mid-May for the next monkey.

When I woke up this morning I had the phrase “bundle of sexy” firmly embedded in my brain.

I have no idea where it came from, what it means, or even what part of speech it is. As far as I can tell, it just sprang into existence this morning as I rolled over to hit the snooze button for the sixth time, and it’s up to me to figure all the rest of that out.

Google has 61 hits for the phrase “bundle of sexy”, but in every one the word “sexy” modifies something else - “bundle of sexy energy”, “bundle of sexy voices”, etc. - so I’m fairly confident that my own internal phrasing is unique. Ha ha.

So. “Bundle of sexy”.

As a noun, it works as a job title, both formally (”Good morning, my name is Jim, and I’ll be your bundle of sexy today. Our breakfast specials are…”) and informally (”She’s leaving? Who’ll be the office bundle of sexy now?”). It can also work as a term for one’s prodigious naughty bits, for a compact or petite sexy person, or for a person whose je ne sais quoi is palpable. Maybe it could even replace “je ne sais quoi”.

As an adjective, it works as a pickup line (”Damn, baby, you are just bundle of sexy! My place or yours?”) or as a compliment on a new hairstyle or article of clothing (”That clingy shirt makes you so bundle of sexy - you should buy it.”).

As part of the verb phrase “to get bundle of sexy”, it works as the process one undergoes to become attractive (”He can’t come to the phone now; he has a hot date tonight and is getting bundle of sexy.”).

There’s bound to be more lurking in that phrase…