Might I Constult With You, Sheepishly?

In addition to being a typo, constult is a real word. It means to act stupidly together, to know nothing. It implies that two people with incorrect information actually know less than a single person who’s wrong.

For example, let’s say I think cotton comes from sheep. (Sheep look like Q-tips.) Now, let’s imagine my friend Einstein and I (and me?) agree, and are discussing this, loudly and at length, in a public cafe, calculating how much cotton ear swab base material you get per sheep (per shoop?). We narrow it down to the vicinity of one million Q-tips per animal, depending on the sheep’s average fur length and when it was last shorn. (The BAA/Q=X equation.) Satisfied, we smartly part ways. Meanwhile, how many innocent bystanders overhearing our talk are now confused? (Raise your ankles.) How many people have we infected with bad information, who now hold a smidgeon of belief, or a total belief, that cotton comes from sheep? (Boy, we pulled the wool over their eyes.)

How can two wrong people be worse than one? If only I believe cotton comes from sheep, Einstein, who knows cotton comes from the cotton plant, will probably point out my error. (Sheepishly.) Even if I don’t give in (and I won’t), the factual check brings doubt into the mix, and listeners are more likely to question the data they’re overhearing.

The moral of the word constult? Don’t eavesdrop.

More info: Ammon Shea’s interview on WBUR’s On Point (19 August 2008)

Finally, A Goat And Sheep Separator

Why do goats and sheep look the same? I mean why? They both have horns, they both give milk, they both poop those little gumball poops. To save you the embarassment I’ve suffered (oh, how I’ve suffered), I’m going to give you The Secret. The Secret involves visualizing what you really want in life (how to tell goats from sheep) in order to create your own life (a life in which you know the diff between a goat and a sheep).

The Secret: It’s the tails. A goat carries her tail up and a sheep, if it hasn’t been removed, hangs it down.

Finally, My Artwork Hangs In Public Institution

In a hole-in-the-wall taco joint in Michigan, amidst cactus music and a stampede of hot sauce, you may hear the call of one proud birdie. There is no price tag upon this one-of-a-kind artwork, for if you have to ask the price of napkin art you cannot afford it.



It is rumored that in mid-summer of 2008 a satiated patron snatched a napkin thumbtacked to the wall to clean up after the Exploding Jalapeño Poppers. His art of choice? None other than “T is for Tios”. So proud am I!

The grapevine also reports that sections of “T is for Tios” are currently exhibiting in a pack of recycled LaserJet paper and a paper grocery bag in East L.A.

Home Is Where The Vulgar Swear Is

Oh, to possess a high-brow address with built-in cachet and conversation startment. People who live in the following honest-to-goodness gosh darned real places must have a wonderful... sense of humor?

• Shitagoo Lake - Quebec, Canada


• Hell - Michigan and Texas, USA


• Dildo - Newfoundland, Canada


• Chorlton Cum Hardy - Lancs, UK


• Titz - Germany


• Elephant Butte - New Mexico, USA


• Dikshit - India


• Assawoman - Virginia, USA


• Crotch Crescent - Oxford, UK


• Phuket - Thailand


• Humptulips - Washington, USA


• East Breast - Scotland


• French Lick - Indiana, USA


• Slutshole Lane - Norfolk, UK


• Seymen - Turkey


• Bald Knob - Arkansas, USA and NSW, Australia


• Intercourse - Pennsylvania, USA


• Assloss - Ayrshire, Scotland


• Crapstone - England


• Butt Hole Road - South Yorkshire, UK


• Sandyballs - New Forest, UK

I’m proud to see the United States so well represented. Grab an extended list of laughs at Phil Brodie Band’s Fun Page or the related article on the New York Times: No Snickering: That Road Sign Means Something Else.

I Invite You To Join The Cloud Appreciation Society

Because they have a manifesto and pretty cloud pictures: Cloud Appreciation Society.

Separated At Birth? Mr. Potter And Dick Cheney

   

It’s the smile that gives it away. That and the bowler hat.

Say, do you think Potter from “It’s a Wonderful Life” looks more like former Vice President Cheney, or vice versa?

   

Chickens Go Feral Quick

Hens that are fed in the out-of-doors as mine are attract turkeys. If left unguarded and free to do as they please, a tom turkey will ask your free-range flock of hens out on a date, and the probable consequence of this is you’ll never see them again. All you’ll have to remember the gals by is a “cluck-cluck bok-bok” brought to you on far-off winds, and the occasional discovery of an egg tucked into the crotch of a pine tree. Where true love is involved, chickens go feral quick.

Which Christmas Color Are You?

Does your skin tend to be green or is it red? It turns out you that it’s one or the other. Why? It’s science, my dear Watson. If you possess a greenish complexion, you’re not sick, but simply female; if the latter, well, you are not tinted red due to anger or sunburn, rather it is on account of your being of the male persuasion. Also, as long as your nose is in the middle of your face, we’re good.

Read the full story on this at Boston.com: Have we met? As facial recognition technology advances, new research sheds light on how we ‘read’ faces.

My Current Favorite MLK Quote

It’s a longy but a goodie.

“You get up in the morning and go to the bathroom and reach over for the sponge, and that’s handed to you by a Pacific islander. You reach for a bar of soap, and that’s given to you at the hands of a Frenchman. And then you go into the kitchen to drink your coffee for the morning, and that’s poured into your cup by a South American. And maybe you want tea: that’s poured into your cup by a Chinese. Or maybe you’re desirous of having cocoa for breakfast, and that’s poured into your cup by a West African. And then you reach over for your toast, and that’s given to you at the hands of an English-speaking farmer, not to mention the baker. And before you finish eating breakfast in the morning, you’ve depended on more than half the world. This is the way our universe is structured, this is its interrelated quality.”

—Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., 1967

Why yes, I am desirous of that piping hot cup of cocoa. Thanks to the Global Goodness Blog for the full quotation.

Phlebotomists Never Get Enough Of My Inner Elbow

“Nice vein,” she leers, phlebotomy-green eyes coordinating with determined Winnie the Pooh scrubs, from behind the plastic tray of shiny silver poking sticks.

I look down at my left arm, at the blue squiggle written beneath pasty white skin. She holds my inner elbow tenderly, but firmly, as if it’s our third date.

“Easy stickin’,” she nods, lips smacking. “Easy stickin’.”

No Exit Strategy Whatsoever

I laughed heartedly at this series of photos over at Cute Overload: No Exit Strategy Whatsoever. It’s a do-it-yourself animation in six frames. I recommend you take your time examining each image, absorbing the intermingling of fur, claws, and fangs, before proceeding to the next.

Quickie Falafel

FADE IN:

INTERIOR LOBBY OF YOUR TYPICAL BLAND OVERACHIEVING U.S. COMPANY - DAY

WOMAN meets CO-WORKER in lobby.

                            WOMAN
         Hey. Hi. Want to get falafel for lunch?

                            CO-WORKER
         Falafel?
                            (pause)
         What’s that? Does it taste good?

                            WOMAN
         Yeah. It’s Middle Eastern food. It’s
         made of chickpeas and spices. They
         make them into balls and fry ’em.
         It’s served with a sauce and
         usually pita bread. Want to taste some?

                            CO-WORKER
         I don’t want to taste something
         that’s already awful.

                            WOMAN
         Awful?

                            CO-WORKER
         Didn’t you say it was full-awful?


                            FADE OUT:

                            THE END

A fun read: How to format a screenplay, but the Academy of Motion Pictures

Ah, The Joy Of Humor, And The Quoting Thereof

Just about any topic can be enhanced by the addition of humor. Even stuff that’s already popular. Like sex. Or a critique of a book about sex. Ariel Levy writes in this week’s issue of The New Yorker magazine:

If you were a child of the seventies and were raised on “The Joy of Sex,” you are not likely to have forgotten the illustrations. The woman depicted in these drawings is lovely, and, even nearly forty years later, quite chic. Her gentleman friend, however, looks like a werewolf with a hangover. He is heavily bearded; his hair is long, and, it always seemed, a little greasy. His eyelids are usually at half-mast, adding to his feral appearance. In some of the pictures, you can practically smell him. (The smell is unpleasant.)

Har har har! (Wipe eyes.) She had me at “werewolf with a hangover”! It’s funny because it’s true. If you wanna, the entire article is called “Doing It: A new edition of “The Joy of Sex’” and is found here. (Warning: It talks about what you’d expect.)

More Made-up South Talk

Part two in our exciting series on talkin’ like a Southern person. (Part one’s here.)

   Scarcer than trout feathers.

   Quicker than a cow in a wind twister.

   Straighter than churchfolk.

   Messier than snakes fighting a chainsaw.

   Slower than an oak tree.

   Harder than teaching a housefly to sit

Space, The Final Frontier

FADE IN:

ANYWHERE. MAYBE A MEDITATION CENTER. - DAY

MAN making small talk.

                            MAN
         As a child, I thought for sure
         that by 2005 I would have been
         in space.

                            WOMAN
                            (silence)
         Have you ever been in space?

                            MAN
         What?

                            WOMAN
         Have you ever been in space?

                            MAN
         No.
                            (silence)
         I have been in airplanes.

                            FADE OUT:

                            THE END

A fun read: How to format a screenplay, but the Academy of Motion Pictures

Everything I Learned From My Cat: A Blueprint To A Happy Life

• Purr while awake, while sleeping, and when somebody steps on your tail.
• All clothing is suspect and torture. A nice necklace is okay.
• Lick your own butt.
• You don’t always have to land on your feet.
• Ice cream is worth the wait.
• If you gotta accidently wee wee, do it where somebody slips in it.
• Run away. If that doesn’t work out stick up for yourself.
• Sleep around, sleep with whomever’s available. Do it 18 hours a day.
• Rush to meet friends and strangers. When the opportunity presents itself stick your butt in their face. Leave it like that as long as possible.
• Sometimes it’s okay to eat until you throw up.
• When embarrassed, lick your shoulder.
• Given a choice between any two items, pick the nearest. Even when it’s grasshopper versus chipmunk.
• Follow your sunshine.
• Yeah, so there’s turd between your toes. So what? It’ll come out.
• Avoid the weekly nail appointment.
• The adventure’s not over ’til you’re covered in cobwebs. (Also, spiders are delicious.)
• At least once in life, poop where only an archaeologist will find it.

2008 Diary: My Year On Facebook

2008 was an exciting year. Three biggies happened: 1) Earth’s economy pooped its bloomers, and 2) the United States made history by electing its first not-quite-100%-caucasian man, Barack Obama. In between, my little life happened. Mine. What follows is my diary for the year, as recorded in personal status updates on Facebook. Pretend you found it snooping, hidden under my bed, and I’m coming upstairs any moment.

JANUARY 4, 2008 THROUGH DECEMBER 31, 2008
(I first joined Facebook at January 4th)

1. P.L. is breathing.


2. P.L. is rearranging her molecules.


3. P.L. is bloggin.


4. P.L. just returned from Connecticut.


5. P.L. saw DJ Spooky.


6. P.L. ate an omelet.


7. P.L. contemplates the hobo.


8. P.L. thinks about hobos again.


9. P.L. wakes up UP.


10. P.L. didn’t exercise today.


11. P.L. voted today.


12. P.L. did lots today. Lots.


13. P.L. was given a nice long walk by Zilla dog.


14. P.L. wonders what’s up with the Kenny G cds - Kenny G?! - for sale at Starbucks.


15. P.L. looks out the red-yellow stained glass window.


16. P.L. looks out the red-yellow stained glass window. Burp.


17. P.L. has that teleconference with China at 8pm. Not all of China.


18. P.L. plays Scrabulous while it’s still legal.


19. P.L. ponders miniature cows.


20. P.L. digests.


21. P.L. blogs.


22. P.L. carries the dog with the hurt foot-hand all the way outside to wee wee. Wee.


23. P.L. is tired but not retired.


24. P.L. is recovering from a week of party party party.


25. P.L. thanks the Academy for this award.


26. P.L.’s facial expression is acted upon by grapefruit.


27. P.L. is looking forward to seeing Bill Cosby on Saturday!


28. P.L. breathes deeply the crisp winter air.


29. P.L. enjoys a blue bowl of oatmeal and admires the foggy snow.


30. P.L.’s voice and cursor went to Shanghai while the rest of her stayed home.


31. P.L. sofa cushion computer job writing day.


32. P.L. tried to end this sentence with an exclamation mark.


33. P.L. welcomes the green.


34. P.L. on another China con call.


35. P.L. and the China call are OVER, so over.


36. P.L. gets a make-over.


37. P.L. gets it.


38. P.L., it’s about time.


39. P.L. puts in a new maple floor. Nail-gun City.


40. P.L. is learning to count herring whilst balancing on a fish ladder at the Wapping Dam.


41. P.L. mnopqrstuvwxyz.


42. P.L. tree listener.


43. P.L. lusts after the antique, professionally restored, cherry red Farmall A listed on craigslist for $3500. Tractor porn.


44. P.L. springs to life.


45. P.L. got two new hives set up in their digs. First honeybee sting since I’ve been a beekeeper (4 years), and it didn’t much hurt at all. Yay!


46. P.L. beehives.


47. P.L. gonna be on that Japan call @ 8pm. Tonight, it’s already tomorrow there.


48. P.L. Boston marathon day (and I didn’t get to run this year either).


49. P.L. Cayce night.


50. P.L. oh bee-have


51. P.L. wants a cracker, SQUAWK!


52. P.L. watched a tree fall down, of its own accord, not 5 minutes ago from my home studio office. Crack!


53. P.L. summer sundown ocean lobster blossom.


54. P.L. 7:30am call with Japan. Yawn.


55. P.L. probably shouldn’t have named her little doggie, Godzilla.


56. P.L. red dalmation wing shell tippytap.


57. P.L. will be at the Iris Dement show on Saturday.


58. P.L., wino.


59. P.L. is Butter Belling it.


60. P.L. is in Lexington to see Iris DeMent.


61. P.L. busy. Preparing for 2 days of US-wide meetings.


62. P.L. no drinking during work dinner = smartest person in the room.


63. P.L. US-wide meetings over (yay!) -> 7:30am Friday call with Japan -> Duxbury Beach, dog, me.


64. P.L. strong end to a weekend.


65. P.L. spiral stair install station.


66. P.L. cussin’ and installin’ the brass handrail.


67. P.L. finds more bargains at church fairs.


68. P.L. haircut city.


69. P.L. Virginia Beach week.


70. P.L. swims with dolphins.


71. P.L. is home again, after much synchronicity.


72. P.L. #(@*! poison ivy.


73. P.L. itches less, thank you.


74. P.L. send me to Tokyo and Oyama already, geez.


75. P.L. chicken feed.


76. P.L. tired so tired.


77. P.L. breathe breathe don’t think breathe.


78. P.L. is appreciating the Memogenda: smallandbig.blogspot.com/2008/05/beyond-mba-business-tips-from-memogenda.html.


79. P.L. is installin’ me new printer/scanner/fax/copier/refrigerator/mower/DVD/kitten thing.


80. P.L. China this morning, Malaysia this evening, and only 30 minutes in between when not in a meeting.


81. P.L. appreciating creating an ad for a newspaper in Malaysia.


82. P.L. Poisonivy Lady.


83. P.L. eats my weight in fresh watermelon.


84. P.L. leaves Earth.


85. P.L. Will the real Me please stand up?


86. P.L. Will the real Me please sit down?


87. P.L. watermelonologist.


88. P.L. slices cedar on the chop saw.


89. P.L. heading off to the meditation.


90. P.L. (Penny’s the best!)


91. P.L. sleepy time.


92. P.L. didn’t send out any Solitaire invites. Please ignore ’em.


93. P.L. chocolate chipper.


94. P.L. hopes Manny (Ramirez) gets a doctor’s help out West.


95. P.L. and the kitchen ants.


96. P.L. and the kitchen ants... so cute, yet so many.


97. P.L. : exclamation point.


98. P.L. is enhancing life’s soundtrack.


99. P.L. is going to see Jonathan Richman at Somerville Theatre in Somerville.


100. P.L. bookFace.


101. P.L. grows at the rate of a fingernail.


102. P.L. just lifted 8,710 pounds (not all at once).


103. P.L. quotes from P-town: Save a horse, ride a cowboy.


104. P.L. ain’t walking the dog.


105. P.L. : “What borders Borders? Boarders?”


106. P.L. is feelin’ cheep.


107. P.L. : “Who’s gobbling up the petunias every night?”


108. P.L. had a nice conversation.


109. P.L. says What?


110. P.L. : “YES WE CAN.”


111. P.L. is aaaaacckkkking!


112. P.L. is pretending to climb a pine tree.


113. P.L. Don’t look at the economy, look at the pretty beautyberry.


114. P.L. watches kittycat make goo-goo eyes at the fire. Staring and purring into it.


115. P.L. is installing a window in the new upstairs. Prolly dodging the wasp family.


116. P.L. is yawning.


117. P.L. notices the clock reads 11:11.


118. P.L. heads to the Deep Listening class. What?


119. P.L. : Citizen.


120. P.L. lookin’ for earplugs for tonight’s pre-elderly post-punk Wire show.


121. P.L. came home with a canoe. That’s the last time I go auctioning alone.


122. P.L. is Jonathan Richman.


123. P.L. is gonna c Jonathan Richman @ 8 2nite woohoo.


124. P.L. hopes you’ll keep Godzilla dog off the davenport tonight while I’m out.


125. P.L. is home after Mr. Jonathan Richman, and enjoying a fire and a teethbrushing.


126. P.L. bockbock brrrrrrrk CLUCK buk buk buk brrrrrk.


127. P.L. collects acorns, scampers about.


128. P.L. is in dreamy Obama daze...


129. P.L. : Halloween night! David Byrne! Dancers! Disguises! Spilt seafood bouillabaisse!


130. P.L. has a personal relationship with that hour.


131. P.L. locates the long-lost, missing, stolen, hidden, kidnapped hour... in Father Time’s smoking jacket.


132. P.L. is either frantically mowing the lawn, rototilling, or wishing I had, come springtime.


133. P.L. is enjoying the Lawrence Welk Show. More banjo!


134. P.L. relives the past through SNL. Also, the present and future.


135. P.L. is vote.


136. P.L. “Votey Votevote” Phredrek.


137. P.L. : Whoa, New Hampshire’s going democratic?


138. P.L. with vino and Misters Stewart and Colbert.


139. P.L. goes on weekend retreat in Conecticut... Connenicut... CT.


140. P.L. successfully made a pluff of JiffyPop, without ever having eaten it before or seeing it made! AMAZING! Was it supposed to take 22 minutes? We may never know!


141. P.L. is going on a weekend retreat.


142. P.L. almost can’t believe how fun drumming for 3 hours was!


143. P.L. is fog, glorious fog.


144. P.L. is, and this is a little secret now, despising the word “usage”.


145. P.L. completed Phase 1 of redesigning the website.


146. P.L. is having an unpaid, unplanned week off. One of a myriad benefits to self employment.


147. P.L. is taking a Watercolor Day.


148. P.L. mental note: next time, do dishes first, wine second.


149. P.L. is crankin’ the Shubert and Brahms.


150. P.L. accidently ate a vegan cookie.


151. P.L. is trotting to the Bawston dog show. Woof woof.


152. P.L. is sailing to Attleboro, via Route 44 and a wind storm.


153. P.L. shazam.


154. P.L. : mental ventriloquist.


155. P.L. is listening to soup.


156. P.L. makes Snidely Whiplash plans.


157. P.L. is tellin’ you now that the National Museum of American Illustration in Rhode Island is frickin’ seasonal. Seasonal. Seasonal!


158. P.L. is interested in learning more about those delectable feed pellets you got there.


159. P.L. leaves fiction for fact.


160. P.L. is in holiday fervor.


161. P.L. is manufactured in a plant that also processes nuts, soy, and wheat.


162. P.L. made a snowdude.


163. P.L. made an orange-purple fire. Nice, huh?


164. P.L. thinks blue-white melty snow is beeooooOOOtiful. Dreamy sigh.


165. P.L. ate her weight.


166. P.L. eyes her Yankee Gift Swap winnings: fraternal twin clown marionettes. Is that real human hair?


167. P.L. saw “Slumdog Millionaire” and was ill prepared for its brutality. Where are the Tums?


168. P.L. | Three herbs survived the blizzard: the thyme, sage, winter savory, oregano, and rosemary (yes!)


169. P.L. | Make that FIVE herbs that survived the blizzard: the thyme, sage, winter savory, oregano, and rosemary. Yes!


170. P.L. will finish the day with 12,000+ steps... and one tired, happy little dog.


171. P.L. got back from the par-tay. Won the jokiest (worst) Yankee Swap gift: two lightbulbs.


172. P.L. has a standing appointment at Hair Fanatics.


173. P.L. finds bluebirds in the snow-covered birdhouse. Shouldn’t they be flying south in little winter jackets?


174. P.L. | Me timbers is shivering.


175. P.L. wishes you two Happy New Ears!