So, to that end… [Read more…]
So today is, as far as you know, William Shakespeare’s 450th birthday (no one knows for sure, but it’s as good a day as any, and better than most, to pretend that it is). Which is cool. The odds are very much against anyone knowing I ever existed nearly 4 centuries from now (and if you exclude whatever future version of ancestry.com is in use then, the odds are even lower), but Shakespeare will be known for pretty much as long as people are known. If the last copy of any human book that ever exists is a version of one of Shakespeare’s plays, it would not surprise me (yes, assuming that I still exist to be surprised by the heat death of the universe), and if it is something else instead, more’s the pity. [Read more…]
A little bit short
On His credit report?
No, you don’t want to mess with divinity—
Y’see, God is the sort
Who will take you to court
If you say He can’t buy His Infiniti. [Read more…]
My iTunes is set on “shuffle”
I like it much better this way
I’ll listen to one, cos I want to,
But I don’t know the next that will play [Read more…]
Just finished an absolutely wonderful book (about which, more later); in the notes was a mention of Terry Bisson’s wonderful short story “They’re Made out of Meat”. Studio 360 aired a version a while ago–give a listen:
Bisson’s site has the transcript (or rather, the original story), for those who want. I love it.
… but it has been thirty years since the original Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy game was released. I remember playing it.
A 30th anniversary online version of the game is now available over at the BBC:
A word of warning
This game will kill you frequently. It’s a bit mean like that.
But don’t panic; you can “save” before trying something that ends up killing you.
Thirty years! I swear it was sometime last week… Oh, well–time is an illusion. Lunchtime, doubly so.
Good-bye, all my friends—
It’s been good; it’s been fun,
Ah, but everything ends,
And the end has begun.
It’s the last deadline ever
And not to my liking,
But I know I should never
Cross swords with a Viking
Now Fenrir is pacing
And Odin will die
It’s the end we are facing
And no one knows why
We say now, with sorrow,
Goodbye to the gods…
So, see you tomorrow?
I don’t like the odds.
“Ragnarok is the ultimate landmark in Viking mythology, when the gods fall and die, so this really is an event that should not be underestimated,” comments Danielle Daglan director of the JORVIK Viking Festival. “In the last couple of years, we’ve had predictions of the Mayan apocalypse, which passed without incident, and numerous other dates where the end of the world has been pencilled in by seers, fortune tellers and visionaries, but the sound of the horn is possibly the best indicator yet that the Viking version of the end of the world really will happen on 22 February [this] year.”
Looks like a fun evening, full of contests, drinking, and beards. These people do the end of the world right.
I am A) exhausted from a long day, and B) sick as a dog. Or maybe two dogs. I can’t breathe, I can’t think, I can’t … something.
But it’s Darwin Day today, to I get to link to two earlier bits, both of which deserve it. One is a song addressed to Darwin himself, letting him know how things turned out.
Happy Birthday, Charles Darwin, take a look around today—
You might recognize the path we took, cos you showed us the way.
We will celebrate your influence with unabashed delight;
Happy Birthday Charles Darwin, you were right!
The other was my report of a Darwin Day talk (by Daniel Dennett), which turned into the single best comment thread in the history of the interwebs. Seriously. I’d give you a sample, but I’d rather you approach it like the first people to see the Grand Canyon, walking up on foot and finding an astonishing landscape, rather than passing judgment based on a postcard. But yeah, the single greatest comment thread ever.
Happy Birthday, Charles Darwin! (of course, by now, it is the day after his birth in the country of his birth. Oh, well.)
I was delighted, today, to hear from a student from Christ University, in Bangalore. As I have noted before, a bit of my doggerel is included in a textbook used in some English classes in India; these students were tasked with creating a visual interpretation of a poem, and they chose mine.
As I look out my window at snow nearly knee deep, the line “my thermostat’s on ‘chilly'” has a bit of a different meaning than it might in Bangalore–I look at all that beautiful color and (winter person that I am) feel a little longing for the days when I’ll be able to plant my back yard garden again…
With their kind permission, then, “Time To Eat The Dog”: