The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy says that the Babelfish is simply the most wierd thing in the universe. What do you know, it could be right.
If you're not familiar with the Hichhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (tho original BBC series, not the more recently released film), shame on you. At any rate, to understand the Babelfish one must, right off the bat, know what a fish is. I'll be assuming you all know what a fish is. If, however, you don't know what a fish is... Right, this is plain silly, isn't it? Second, one must know of Babel. The tower of Babel was a great construction of man, made to challenge the heavens themselves and raise mankind to the statute of God. God, however, would sabotage this enterprise by mixing the tongues of man, thus creating the many languages spoken around the world. Thus, a Babelfish is a creature that can understand any language in the universe. In the Hitchhiker's guide to the Galaxy, you stick it in your ear and immediately you'll be able to understand any alien dialect as though it were your own mother tongue.
Of course Babelfish can also mean another thing. Out of waiting for a download to complete-induced boredom, I figured I could have some fun with it. give it a chunk of text, have it translated into another language, than yet another language without going back to the original language and back to the language you typed in. If you gave it a simple sentence, the result should be approximately the same sentence you gave it. An example:
"The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog."
Translate from English to Portuguese, from Portuguese to French, form French to German and from German to English:
"The kastanienbraune fox fast reversal on the lazy dog."
Note: Just so you don't think I ever made any typos, I copy-pasted in between languages.
Fair enough. Small sentence, few mistakes. Now give it a large, complicated piece and add in a few more translations and watch the fish wiggle. Here's a suggestion:
(Form "V for Vendetta")
"Voilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of Fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is it vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished, as the once vital voice of the verisimilitude now venerates what they once vilified. However, this valorous visitation of a by-gone vexation, stands vivified, and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition. The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta, held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous. Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose vis-à-vis an introduction, and so it is my very good honor to meet you and you may call me V."
Give it a try.
Tongue tied farewells.
ArabianShark cannot possibly be tonge tied, because a shark's tongue is quite stiff, seeing as it is cartali... cartile... cartela... it's stiff.
(Incidentally, I meant, of course, cartilaginous)
Hypergraphy
Lately I've been posting far too long updates and comments, and I've heard complaints that my blog entries won't fit some screens, even at high resolution and in full screen mode. Mea culpa. A post to indulge those of you who can't be bothered to read for too long.
And for those who'd whine about there not being any content to it, it's sunny, Daylight Saving Time took night hours from me and I'm disgruntled about it all.
Bye.
ArabianShark is gone.
And for those who'd whine about there not being any content to it, it's sunny, Daylight Saving Time took night hours from me and I'm disgruntled about it all.
Bye.
ArabianShark is gone.
What's a W but a stuttered V?
A very silly title, wasn't it? I suppose that's the best I could come up with, attempting to get W and V in the same sentence tongue-in-cheek. Right, then; onwards.
At any rate, why W and V? W is the initial of the last name of many famous people, such as Andy Wachowsky, Larry Wachowsky and Hugo Weaving, to name a few. Where am I going with this? And how come there's a V in it as well? What is the V for, why should there be a V, why, why?
Why, for Vendetta, of course.
(And that's what it's all about. A whole rant just to introduce yet another movie review. Well, then, here be slight spoilers, none of which about the plot (and most certeinly none about the gunpowder plot), yet some about the other aspects of the movie. Read on.)
First and foremost, Hugo Weaving makes my skin crawl. In a good way, that is. Every single line he delivers my hair stands on end. Picture that, sitting next to a porcupine at the movies.
Before the review, how about an overview? The place is London; the time is in the near future, most likely in the next 20's or about that time. A totalitarian regime has taken over the United Kingdom. Media, politics and police are all about a single goal, that of a single man; a Chancellor set on total domination of the people of England. Enter V, a man behind a Guy Fawkes mask, a man who wont sit and be spoon fed whatever laws, whatever lies "they", whoever they might be, see fit that he abide by. Enter the villain.
Despite being set in the future, this is no Sci-Fic flick.
The shooting and directing is much like those of The Matrix (as one would expect), with great results as well. Unlike The Matrix series, however, great emphasis is put on the little things, or rather lack thereof. Not that there aren't any little things, for they are many, but because the little things are not allowed to be or remain little. (I still have Mr. Weaving's voice in my head. Try to read this paragraph as though Weaving were delivering it.) Every little thud or tap of small objects being dropped, flung or merely knocked over is emphatised and exagerated until it becomes quite simply and delightfully ominous, grown or overgrown to a thunderous boom.
The main character draws from several sources, not quite copycatting any yet merging several elements with all which is only his own to a most exquisite result. First and foremost there is the black cloak and hat from which shines a white mask, à la Phantom of the Opera. Also the cloak and mask, the colour black and the fact the V is more than merely man, but the icon of a concept, a recurring theme of fear and hatred, that he is no more hero than anti-hero, that he is such a charismatic villain, that his voice was probably dubbed in in post producing (I should think that it should be rather hard to accurately record voice from beyond the mask of from within it, for that matter)and even that his name is the letter V spell out Darth Vader. Besides the impecable conception of the character is Weaving's spectacular performance, not just as vocal talent but also as physical talent. Unlike David Prowse's interpretation of Darth Vader, V is hardly the masked character that makes you wonder weather there's actually a person underneath the costume; Weaving's body language convey every last little twitch that his face would, were not for the mask.
Other elements drawn upon are mainly of historical nature, most strikingly, a very deliberate resemblance to Adolph Hitler whenever the Chancellor is seen adressing the public and (skip the remainder of this paragraph, lest you read spoilers) in the scene when thousands of ordinary people don Guy Fawkes masks and black cloaks and hats to join in the revolution, which draws upon Mahatma Ghandi's gathering of 4000 people to collect a bowl of sea water to produce their own salt (which, if you recall your history, was illegal at the time).
Where the movie really shines, however, is in its music. Not just background, taylor-made music for any specific scene (which I have nothing against, on the contrary), but the usage of music an element of a scene, particularly classical music. I won't go in much depth, but, again, mind the little things. The keyword is sync.
The lighting is to be commended as well. Hard contrasts of light and shaddow are cleverly applied to establish moods and even mislead the viewer for some more plot twists. Softer transictions set different moods, some with warm lights to express comfort and intimacy, some eerie shadows to induce a sense of mistery and deceit.
Much powerful imagery was used to great effect. Many short shots of episodes of violence, passion, death and love succeed masterfully at conveying simple concepts in flashbacks and minor subplots.
Right, that's enough. Just go and see the movie. It's well worth it.
Sighing for the streets of London... Farewell.
ArabianShark will now be setting off for a journey towards the North Sea, up the Thames and off to a little vacation in London... In his dreams.
At any rate, why W and V? W is the initial of the last name of many famous people, such as Andy Wachowsky, Larry Wachowsky and Hugo Weaving, to name a few. Where am I going with this? And how come there's a V in it as well? What is the V for, why should there be a V, why, why?
Why, for Vendetta, of course.
(And that's what it's all about. A whole rant just to introduce yet another movie review. Well, then, here be slight spoilers, none of which about the plot (and most certeinly none about the gunpowder plot), yet some about the other aspects of the movie. Read on.)
First and foremost, Hugo Weaving makes my skin crawl. In a good way, that is. Every single line he delivers my hair stands on end. Picture that, sitting next to a porcupine at the movies.
Before the review, how about an overview? The place is London; the time is in the near future, most likely in the next 20's or about that time. A totalitarian regime has taken over the United Kingdom. Media, politics and police are all about a single goal, that of a single man; a Chancellor set on total domination of the people of England. Enter V, a man behind a Guy Fawkes mask, a man who wont sit and be spoon fed whatever laws, whatever lies "they", whoever they might be, see fit that he abide by. Enter the villain.
Despite being set in the future, this is no Sci-Fic flick.
The shooting and directing is much like those of The Matrix (as one would expect), with great results as well. Unlike The Matrix series, however, great emphasis is put on the little things, or rather lack thereof. Not that there aren't any little things, for they are many, but because the little things are not allowed to be or remain little. (I still have Mr. Weaving's voice in my head. Try to read this paragraph as though Weaving were delivering it.) Every little thud or tap of small objects being dropped, flung or merely knocked over is emphatised and exagerated until it becomes quite simply and delightfully ominous, grown or overgrown to a thunderous boom.
The main character draws from several sources, not quite copycatting any yet merging several elements with all which is only his own to a most exquisite result. First and foremost there is the black cloak and hat from which shines a white mask, à la Phantom of the Opera. Also the cloak and mask, the colour black and the fact the V is more than merely man, but the icon of a concept, a recurring theme of fear and hatred, that he is no more hero than anti-hero, that he is such a charismatic villain, that his voice was probably dubbed in in post producing (I should think that it should be rather hard to accurately record voice from beyond the mask of from within it, for that matter)and even that his name is the letter V spell out Darth Vader. Besides the impecable conception of the character is Weaving's spectacular performance, not just as vocal talent but also as physical talent. Unlike David Prowse's interpretation of Darth Vader, V is hardly the masked character that makes you wonder weather there's actually a person underneath the costume; Weaving's body language convey every last little twitch that his face would, were not for the mask.
Other elements drawn upon are mainly of historical nature, most strikingly, a very deliberate resemblance to Adolph Hitler whenever the Chancellor is seen adressing the public and (skip the remainder of this paragraph, lest you read spoilers) in the scene when thousands of ordinary people don Guy Fawkes masks and black cloaks and hats to join in the revolution, which draws upon Mahatma Ghandi's gathering of 4000 people to collect a bowl of sea water to produce their own salt (which, if you recall your history, was illegal at the time).
Where the movie really shines, however, is in its music. Not just background, taylor-made music for any specific scene (which I have nothing against, on the contrary), but the usage of music an element of a scene, particularly classical music. I won't go in much depth, but, again, mind the little things. The keyword is sync.
The lighting is to be commended as well. Hard contrasts of light and shaddow are cleverly applied to establish moods and even mislead the viewer for some more plot twists. Softer transictions set different moods, some with warm lights to express comfort and intimacy, some eerie shadows to induce a sense of mistery and deceit.
Much powerful imagery was used to great effect. Many short shots of episodes of violence, passion, death and love succeed masterfully at conveying simple concepts in flashbacks and minor subplots.
Right, that's enough. Just go and see the movie. It's well worth it.
Sighing for the streets of London... Farewell.
ArabianShark will now be setting off for a journey towards the North Sea, up the Thames and off to a little vacation in London... In his dreams.
Full Moon
Right off the bat, if you're looking for a sane and sensible read, you're all out of luck. Right, then, onwards.
Full moon, at last! Come, O, come, sweet Silver Queen of the Night, come; come and bestow us thy blessing, the healing glare of your light. Let us crude creatures of blood and bone be bathed in thy shiny grace, for yours is the flameless fire and the dark light with which our shadowy paths yearn to be ablaze with. Shine through and spread your beam in the hazy mists of the night you make light and make the inky black heavens lit with the sparkling web of deceit only one as yourself can weave. Come, O, come; come and leave us never.
Right, then, that's that. Oh, by the way, there's a full moon tonight. Beware of werewolves and such, like, you know... bed bugs. They bite!
Wishing you all the sanity I... misplaced.
ArabianShark is hardly a basker shark, yet he'll be surfacing for a bit of basking tonight. I't a pretty night after all, you know.
Full moon, at last! Come, O, come, sweet Silver Queen of the Night, come; come and bestow us thy blessing, the healing glare of your light. Let us crude creatures of blood and bone be bathed in thy shiny grace, for yours is the flameless fire and the dark light with which our shadowy paths yearn to be ablaze with. Shine through and spread your beam in the hazy mists of the night you make light and make the inky black heavens lit with the sparkling web of deceit only one as yourself can weave. Come, O, come; come and leave us never.
Right, then, that's that. Oh, by the way, there's a full moon tonight. Beware of werewolves and such, like, you know... bed bugs. They bite!
Wishing you all the sanity I... misplaced.
ArabianShark is hardly a basker shark, yet he'll be surfacing for a bit of basking tonight. I't a pretty night after all, you know.
Hail to the Empire
Yes, of course, Hail to the Empire, the one political power over the whole galaxy, under the Rule of Emperor Palpatine and the drive of Drk Lord of the Sith Darth Vader.
Hold on... wrong empire... oops.
Right then. See if I get it right this time. Hail to the Brittas Empire... no?
Close enough. Ok, third time is a charm. Hail to the British Empire.
At least I got the right empire this time around, only it's hardly an Empire these days. However, what it became (for the most part, anyway) has its day today. It's Commonwealth Day.
If you're wondering, the Commonwealth a loose confederation of nations, most of which formerly of the British Empire. Another Commonwealth (the Commonwealth of Independent States - CIS, for the many fellow geeks - as opposed to the Commonwealth of Nations, aforementioned as "the Commonwealth") is a similar confederation of former Soviet Republics. For another day, perhaps.
Farewell now, and don't miss the cerimony on BBC, if you read this in time (which I don't suppose you can, since it's waaaay too late).
ArabianShark is now going on tour of the Commonwealth realms. All the lovely vacation spots and more.
Hold on... wrong empire... oops.
Right then. See if I get it right this time. Hail to the Brittas Empire... no?
Close enough. Ok, third time is a charm. Hail to the British Empire.
At least I got the right empire this time around, only it's hardly an Empire these days. However, what it became (for the most part, anyway) has its day today. It's Commonwealth Day.
If you're wondering, the Commonwealth a loose confederation of nations, most of which formerly of the British Empire. Another Commonwealth (the Commonwealth of Independent States - CIS, for the many fellow geeks - as opposed to the Commonwealth of Nations, aforementioned as "the Commonwealth") is a similar confederation of former Soviet Republics. For another day, perhaps.
Farewell now, and don't miss the cerimony on BBC, if you read this in time (which I don't suppose you can, since it's waaaay too late).
ArabianShark is now going on tour of the Commonwealth realms. All the lovely vacation spots and more.
Ladies night
Today is interantional woman's day.
How do you make a blog entry about that? I gues I'll be taking the French kid way out of this.
What is the French kid way out, you ask? It is nothing like the spoon, I promise. It is rather more fun.
A French kid was once to write an essay for school on the subject "the cow". If my memory serves me right, his essay rougly translates into something like this:
"The bird I'm supposed to write about is the owl. By night it can't see and by day it's blind as a bat. I don't know much about the owl, so I'll continue about another animal I'll chose, the cow."
From then on, it's a bundle of laughs as odd approaches to the subject ensue, such as "the cow has six sides: top, bottom, front, back, left and right", "the head is for the horns to come out and because it's mouth had to be somewhere" and "it's legs reach the ground", up until the final lines, "the cow has a very keen sense of smell, and that's why you can smell it from far away."
So there, I had my owl, I found my cow and I applied the French kid way out of swampy grounds. Time for goodbye.
ArabianShark will rest on the bottom for a while, now. Only few species of sharks can actually rest and pump water over their gills without moving, most others must swim constantly so they don't asphixiate. Next time you think you're tired, think again!
How do you make a blog entry about that? I gues I'll be taking the French kid way out of this.
What is the French kid way out, you ask? It is nothing like the spoon, I promise. It is rather more fun.
A French kid was once to write an essay for school on the subject "the cow". If my memory serves me right, his essay rougly translates into something like this:
"The bird I'm supposed to write about is the owl. By night it can't see and by day it's blind as a bat. I don't know much about the owl, so I'll continue about another animal I'll chose, the cow."
From then on, it's a bundle of laughs as odd approaches to the subject ensue, such as "the cow has six sides: top, bottom, front, back, left and right", "the head is for the horns to come out and because it's mouth had to be somewhere" and "it's legs reach the ground", up until the final lines, "the cow has a very keen sense of smell, and that's why you can smell it from far away."
So there, I had my owl, I found my cow and I applied the French kid way out of swampy grounds. Time for goodbye.
ArabianShark will rest on the bottom for a while, now. Only few species of sharks can actually rest and pump water over their gills without moving, most others must swim constantly so they don't asphixiate. Next time you think you're tired, think again!
I don't usually do this...
I've posted links before, but you might remember me saying I wouldn't link to other blogs. That just might be about to change.
I don't mean to make this a habit, but there is one blog especially noteworthy (actually, there are several such blogs... just read on). It's funny and often thought provoking. Furthermore, the fellow bloggers who write it were kind enough to put a link to my blog on their template, and by no means because I asked. They did it out of the kindness in their hearts. Cheers, mates! Gotta love that bunch. The ones I've met, at any rate.
So, ladies and gents, without further ado... The disco-bar!
Now before you all go rushing there and storming the place, I should warn you that it is, more often than not, in Portuguese, so if you don't speak the language, here's a good excuse to learn it.
I'll be adding the link permanently on the side bar too, so you may never forget to drop by whenever you think of ol' Sharky here.
Right, enough said. Live long, and prosper.
ArabianShark has a splitting headache... and a Networking Fundaments II report due soon. Bugger!
I don't mean to make this a habit, but there is one blog especially noteworthy (actually, there are several such blogs... just read on). It's funny and often thought provoking. Furthermore, the fellow bloggers who write it were kind enough to put a link to my blog on their template, and by no means because I asked. They did it out of the kindness in their hearts. Cheers, mates! Gotta love that bunch. The ones I've met, at any rate.
So, ladies and gents, without further ado... The disco-bar!
Now before you all go rushing there and storming the place, I should warn you that it is, more often than not, in Portuguese, so if you don't speak the language, here's a good excuse to learn it.
I'll be adding the link permanently on the side bar too, so you may never forget to drop by whenever you think of ol' Sharky here.
Right, enough said. Live long, and prosper.
ArabianShark has a splitting headache... and a Networking Fundaments II report due soon. Bugger!
Marching up and down the square
The title is only funny if you read it with Jahn Cleese's voice while he's doing an army bit for Monty Python. I suppose you have to be John Cleese to do that properly, so... amused yoet, Mr. Cleese? No? Let's get that sorted, then shall we?
So you're all looking for comedy, eh? Tough luck, today is just not a funny day. Check back tomorrow, perhaps we'll have some funnies then.
Today is Ash Wednesady. That means only forty days (plus Sundays) until Easter. It also means yesterday was Mardi Gras. Enough with the all too abvious factoids, on with my usual style of blogging. I'm stuck with it, for better or worse.
The time to burn away the undesired memories is gone, and March we shall into 2006. Sure, you may think you already have, but really, it's only been 59 days so far, you still have 306 days ahead of you (counting today), so it's still fairly early in the year. That means that if you have not been up to a great start, it can still change. If, on the other hand, everything's been peaches and cream left and right, great, carry on!
March is the third month of the Roman Calendar. What else is new, you ask. Well, pretty damn nearly nothing, really. I just meat to say it is dedicated to Mars, Roman god of war, but, by no means, any more belligerent a month than any. If you believe in the meaning of coincidence, this year the month of Mars (March, duh) begins on the day of Venus (Wednesday, or so I think, if I remember that paper I wrote about the origin of the names of the days of the week all those years ago correctly), his lover, in spite of her arranged marriage with Volcano, in Roman mythology.
For the first time in my life I envy San Franciscans. Why, you ask? Well, then, be more specific. Why is it the first time? Some time would have to be the first, right? Why do I envy San Franciscans? Because Lestat, the musical is due to premier in SF this Spring. If you don't know who or what Lestat is, picture me giving you a very sternly disapointed glare right now. This should be tricky, if you've never seen me and don't know what I look like, but I'm sure you'll manage. Lestat is the main character of Anne Rice's "The Vampire Lestat" (Captain Obvious strikes again), and, IMO, the greatest vampire (literarily speaking, of course) ever. Forget about Dracula and Nosferatu.
My very own little vampires (yes, I breed them in my socks drawer) are growing nicely too, with the second tale nearly completed.
Farewell for now, for I still have much work ahead of me tonight...
ArabianShark smells blood on the water. Must be chum.
So you're all looking for comedy, eh? Tough luck, today is just not a funny day. Check back tomorrow, perhaps we'll have some funnies then.
Today is Ash Wednesady. That means only forty days (plus Sundays) until Easter. It also means yesterday was Mardi Gras. Enough with the all too abvious factoids, on with my usual style of blogging. I'm stuck with it, for better or worse.
The time to burn away the undesired memories is gone, and March we shall into 2006. Sure, you may think you already have, but really, it's only been 59 days so far, you still have 306 days ahead of you (counting today), so it's still fairly early in the year. That means that if you have not been up to a great start, it can still change. If, on the other hand, everything's been peaches and cream left and right, great, carry on!
March is the third month of the Roman Calendar. What else is new, you ask. Well, pretty damn nearly nothing, really. I just meat to say it is dedicated to Mars, Roman god of war, but, by no means, any more belligerent a month than any. If you believe in the meaning of coincidence, this year the month of Mars (March, duh) begins on the day of Venus (Wednesday, or so I think, if I remember that paper I wrote about the origin of the names of the days of the week all those years ago correctly), his lover, in spite of her arranged marriage with Volcano, in Roman mythology.
For the first time in my life I envy San Franciscans. Why, you ask? Well, then, be more specific. Why is it the first time? Some time would have to be the first, right? Why do I envy San Franciscans? Because Lestat, the musical is due to premier in SF this Spring. If you don't know who or what Lestat is, picture me giving you a very sternly disapointed glare right now. This should be tricky, if you've never seen me and don't know what I look like, but I'm sure you'll manage. Lestat is the main character of Anne Rice's "The Vampire Lestat" (Captain Obvious strikes again), and, IMO, the greatest vampire (literarily speaking, of course) ever. Forget about Dracula and Nosferatu.
My very own little vampires (yes, I breed them in my socks drawer) are growing nicely too, with the second tale nearly completed.
Farewell for now, for I still have much work ahead of me tonight...
ArabianShark smells blood on the water. Must be chum.
Vibes... silly?
Ever since I got to bloggigng I regularly check out several blogs. Most of them rather amuse me in a quiet way, but some actually grip me to them. I have this theory that you can infer some (or a lot) about a person from their writing. Certainly a blog is hardly the proper source for accurate and relevant information about a person, since when writing a blog one is prone to make tols of nistakes, seeing as it's a casual thing one does for fun, really, and being overly serious about fun is a bit of an oxymoron. Still, grammar and spelling apart, and even beyond the content of one's writing, perhaps hidden amidst the choice of words, the punctuation, the lenght of the sentences or the odd exclamation of LOL and LOLOLOL and even LMAO, I believe, lies something to be known about the author. What that is... How am I supposed to know, if I'm hardly sure that there is anything at all. perhaps whatever I'm trying to find is the proverbial spoon.
What spoon, you ask? Do you really have to ask? You don't? Then you're welcome to skip this paragraph. If you do, read on. "Do no try to bend the spoon." The little kid with appearent telepathical powers said. "That is impossible. Instead try to realise that there is no spoon and that it is only you that bends." Neo took the mirror-polished spoon and, gazing at his own reflexion in it, cocked his head and, to his own bewilderment, the silver stem bowed to the side, mimicking his gesture. Soon he'd be able to spring the spoon in whatever form he'd wish. What do I mean by quoting "The Matrix"? Simply that I might be all too willing to believe there is something to be read beyond words that I raise my expectations about other bloggers to the statute of educated guesses.
Of course, I could be wrong.
I still wonder, though, what if I'm not? What if there is something to be understood in a blog beyond what the blogger is trying to say? Should this mean that the vibes I geet from some blogs are genuine (and I don't mean accurate, only that I'm not imagining things)? Or am I just being silly? Do you get any vibes from my writing? Should I have taken the red pill?
Vibrant goodbyes to all my vibe getting and non vibe getting readers alike.
ArabianShark's lateral line picks up some very yummy vibes right now. Snack time!
What spoon, you ask? Do you really have to ask? You don't? Then you're welcome to skip this paragraph. If you do, read on. "Do no try to bend the spoon." The little kid with appearent telepathical powers said. "That is impossible. Instead try to realise that there is no spoon and that it is only you that bends." Neo took the mirror-polished spoon and, gazing at his own reflexion in it, cocked his head and, to his own bewilderment, the silver stem bowed to the side, mimicking his gesture. Soon he'd be able to spring the spoon in whatever form he'd wish. What do I mean by quoting "The Matrix"? Simply that I might be all too willing to believe there is something to be read beyond words that I raise my expectations about other bloggers to the statute of educated guesses.
Of course, I could be wrong.
I still wonder, though, what if I'm not? What if there is something to be understood in a blog beyond what the blogger is trying to say? Should this mean that the vibes I geet from some blogs are genuine (and I don't mean accurate, only that I'm not imagining things)? Or am I just being silly? Do you get any vibes from my writing? Should I have taken the red pill?
Vibrant goodbyes to all my vibe getting and non vibe getting readers alike.
ArabianShark's lateral line picks up some very yummy vibes right now. Snack time!
Ow, my eyes hurt.
Is there no rest for the wicked? How about for good ol' me? Do I qualify as a 'wicked', just for the issue? At any rate...
First off, it's not raining any more. It's not even cloudy. That's the first and foremost reason for my eyes to hurt. This time of the year the sun never seems to rise very high over the horizon, so wherever I go it seems I'm stuck with staring into the sun half the time. Call me vampire (and some of you *do*, thank you very much...), but I'd take blizzards and halestorms over this "lightfest" (which is hardly a word, but what the hell) any day.
Second, there's the matter of an investigation paper I have to write. Writing comes easily to me (dare you say otherwise?), for as long as it is either fiction writing or something... light, for want of a better word. You know, like a blog or something. Research papers... I guess it mostly depends on the matter being researched (this is to say I'm doing another unrelated research thing at the same time... which has me thrilled). This one is supposed to be on the Apple iPod player. Now, Apple doesn't pay me a red penny to advertise for them (even though they do have some pretty neat stuff), but I must say I rather like that thing. The problem is I'm supposed to document my paper with pictures of the menus. Now this would hardly be any daunting a task, if I could handle a camera properly. Right off the bat my hands tremble too much to take any clear pictures of minute objects. That's anxiety for you. Then one should consider the fact that I don't know the first thing about photography. Last, but not least, the camera I'd be using won't focus the dispaly propperly, even in the hands of my colleague. So, where does that leave me? Replicating the iPod menu screens as accurately as I can. That means counting the pixels in the tiny LCD screen and reproducing them, dot per dot, on some graphics program. Tools of the trade? A magnifying glass and a sewing needle.
Now, sharks are, in general, severey myopic, which isn't much of a handicap for them, seeing as their sense of smell is pretty much unmatched in the water and they have unique sensorial organs (Ampullae of Lorenzini, if I'm not mistaken) which enable them to sense nerve impulses within their prey, not to mention that sound travels approximately five times faster in water than in air, and they have a custom-made sense of 'hearing' which allows them to sense movement in the water, so they're pretty much well attired for most tasks... except maybe telling a surfer lying on his board with his limbs in the water from a seal or a manatee. That and counting the pixels on an iPod. I can't even see straight out of my good eye anymore.
Wide-eyed (you wouldn't believe how much so!) farewells to all my water- and land dwelling readers alike.
ArabianShark is now putting his eyelids to use. Yes, sharks do have eyelids, but they don't blink, not only because water cleans their eyes all he time but also because they don't want to miss a single detail of their very exciting lives!
First off, it's not raining any more. It's not even cloudy. That's the first and foremost reason for my eyes to hurt. This time of the year the sun never seems to rise very high over the horizon, so wherever I go it seems I'm stuck with staring into the sun half the time. Call me vampire (and some of you *do*, thank you very much...), but I'd take blizzards and halestorms over this "lightfest" (which is hardly a word, but what the hell) any day.
Second, there's the matter of an investigation paper I have to write. Writing comes easily to me (dare you say otherwise?), for as long as it is either fiction writing or something... light, for want of a better word. You know, like a blog or something. Research papers... I guess it mostly depends on the matter being researched (this is to say I'm doing another unrelated research thing at the same time... which has me thrilled). This one is supposed to be on the Apple iPod player. Now, Apple doesn't pay me a red penny to advertise for them (even though they do have some pretty neat stuff), but I must say I rather like that thing. The problem is I'm supposed to document my paper with pictures of the menus. Now this would hardly be any daunting a task, if I could handle a camera properly. Right off the bat my hands tremble too much to take any clear pictures of minute objects. That's anxiety for you. Then one should consider the fact that I don't know the first thing about photography. Last, but not least, the camera I'd be using won't focus the dispaly propperly, even in the hands of my colleague. So, where does that leave me? Replicating the iPod menu screens as accurately as I can. That means counting the pixels in the tiny LCD screen and reproducing them, dot per dot, on some graphics program. Tools of the trade? A magnifying glass and a sewing needle.
Now, sharks are, in general, severey myopic, which isn't much of a handicap for them, seeing as their sense of smell is pretty much unmatched in the water and they have unique sensorial organs (Ampullae of Lorenzini, if I'm not mistaken) which enable them to sense nerve impulses within their prey, not to mention that sound travels approximately five times faster in water than in air, and they have a custom-made sense of 'hearing' which allows them to sense movement in the water, so they're pretty much well attired for most tasks... except maybe telling a surfer lying on his board with his limbs in the water from a seal or a manatee. That and counting the pixels on an iPod. I can't even see straight out of my good eye anymore.
Wide-eyed (you wouldn't believe how much so!) farewells to all my water- and land dwelling readers alike.
ArabianShark is now putting his eyelids to use. Yes, sharks do have eyelids, but they don't blink, not only because water cleans their eyes all he time but also because they don't want to miss a single detail of their very exciting lives!
Woo Hoo!
The Shark is in his element, Ladies and Gents. It's not raining; it's absolutely pouring outside. A true deluge. Also, as you should know, if you're in my area, the wind is a force to be reckoned. This weather is not for the weak of... umbrella. Right, that didn't sound very well, let me rephrase that. This is hardly the weather for weak umbrellas. Bus stops now serve not a dual but a triple purpose: They serve as stopping points for buses (can you believe it?); they serve as shelter from the rain for "unprepared" or "caught off guard" pedestrians and they shelter those of feeble umbrellas from the wind on the outrside. That's right, a commonplace sight around here, groups of people standing in the rain behind bus stops, not in them, with their umbrellas open, waiting for the strong gusts to settle, lest the brittle structures snap. That's hardly an issue for my umbrella, however. It's quite old, the fabric of the canopy is beginning to unweave and some of the seams have had to be re-stitched, but the wiring on the canopy is quite sturdy, as is the main shaft. I fear no wind.
It is raining cats and dogs, yes. Already I've been bitten and clawed by several of those furries. One such cat was surely Erwin Schröedinger's. How do I know, you ask? Well, it was alive.
At any rate, it's a real flood out there. Who's up for skinnydipping?
Soaking wet (and, if you'd like, messy) farewells.
ArabianShark merrily swims away... past the bus station, around the corner of the coffee shop, left at the intersection and off for a stroll. It *is* that flooded outside.
It is raining cats and dogs, yes. Already I've been bitten and clawed by several of those furries. One such cat was surely Erwin Schröedinger's. How do I know, you ask? Well, it was alive.
At any rate, it's a real flood out there. Who's up for skinnydipping?
Soaking wet (and, if you'd like, messy) farewells.
ArabianShark merrily swims away... past the bus station, around the corner of the coffee shop, left at the intersection and off for a stroll. It *is* that flooded outside.
St. Valentine's Day
Ah, Valentines day. The day to re-kindle to flames of your love towards your significant other, add another log to the fire or set the fire in the first place. Of course, if that's your case, you'd be better off during the months of June, July and August, statistically. Unless you're in Oz, in which case even the weather should be in your favour. Go on, mate!
Tis the day for a date, no? A quiet romantic dinner by candle light, a movie perhaps? A few tips you you take this line of thinking:
a) No matter how long you waited for the latest gore/blood/shooting/hack & slash fest, these have "WRONG" printed in great bold red letters all over;
b) Romantic Comedies are the genre of choice of a very large number of people of both genders. This is not, however, one hundred percent guaranteed to be your best pick;
c) Fellow geeks, your lady friend isn't bound to be thrilled about watching all of the Star Wars/Lord of the Rings/Matrix movies back to back.
A Valenine's card may be regarded as a very romantic gesture either to begin or to resume a lovely relationship. It is costumary to write a little poem inside. Again, guys, my pointers:
a) Roses are red, violets are blue. Why do I live? I live to love you. - This never worked for me. Try something else;
b) R0535 r r3d, vi01375 r b1u3... - Leetspeak. Deadly effective, if you're planing a quiet evening all by yourself;
c) Roses are #FF0000, violets are #0000FF... - Geekspeak. Not much better. Perhaps if you're infatuation is a geek as well (yes, there ARE female geeks)... but still not likely;
d) Violets are #0000FF, roses are #FF0000, all my base are belong to you - this is plainly disatrous...
Now is about the time you ask, "Hey, Sharky boy, what are you doing for Valentine's Day?"
Here's a hint...
***I'M WRITTING A BLOG ON ST. VALENTINE'S DAY!!!***
Wishing you all better luck than mine in the tides of love.
ArabianShark has left the building.
Tis the day for a date, no? A quiet romantic dinner by candle light, a movie perhaps? A few tips you you take this line of thinking:
a) No matter how long you waited for the latest gore/blood/shooting/hack & slash fest, these have "WRONG" printed in great bold red letters all over;
b) Romantic Comedies are the genre of choice of a very large number of people of both genders. This is not, however, one hundred percent guaranteed to be your best pick;
c) Fellow geeks, your lady friend isn't bound to be thrilled about watching all of the Star Wars/Lord of the Rings/Matrix movies back to back.
A Valenine's card may be regarded as a very romantic gesture either to begin or to resume a lovely relationship. It is costumary to write a little poem inside. Again, guys, my pointers:
a) Roses are red, violets are blue. Why do I live? I live to love you. - This never worked for me. Try something else;
b) R0535 r r3d, vi01375 r b1u3... - Leetspeak. Deadly effective, if you're planing a quiet evening all by yourself;
c) Roses are #FF0000, violets are #0000FF... - Geekspeak. Not much better. Perhaps if you're infatuation is a geek as well (yes, there ARE female geeks)... but still not likely;
d) Violets are #0000FF, roses are #FF0000, all my base are belong to you - this is plainly disatrous...
Now is about the time you ask, "Hey, Sharky boy, what are you doing for Valentine's Day?"
Here's a hint...
***I'M WRITTING A BLOG ON ST. VALENTINE'S DAY!!!***
Wishing you all better luck than mine in the tides of love.
ArabianShark has left the building.
White faces on the Silver Screen
Everyone's a critic, I'm someone, ergo, I'm a critic. A cinema critic. Not quite, but I needed an opening line.
Today I thought I'd make my review of Memoirs of a Geisha, which I mentioned some time ago. If you remember, I had my hopes up for it. Addressing the sole quesion I raised at that time, I did dislike the shade of blue in Sayuri's eyes. But that's just splitting hairs.
It's hard for me to review this movie as a movie alone, regardless of the novel it's adapted from. Even though I as pretty much had at "Amblin" in the opening credits (really, don't you just love everything that comes from there? With the sole exception of ET, perhaps...), I was put off by some not always minor details that got trampled. Of course I realise that, in order for the movie to have an acceptable run time some of the book has to be cut, and that is an art on itself. Think Bram Stoker's Dracula. Francis Ford Coppola did a superb job there. Nevertheless, and even though I think much of the left out information wouldn't really have made it a better film, I still feel some things should not have been left out. Also, some changes in the adaptation weren't great, such as Nobu having both arms. Others work just as fine or even better than the original, perhaps, such as the confrontation between Sayuri and Hatsumomo in the tea house. That Colonel Derricks should replace the minister doesn't work so good, IMO. That Sayuri should meet the Chairman shortly after breaking her arm rather than at the age of fourteen really has little to no impact on the storyline.
The overall look and feel of the picture is quite nice, with the moving shots following the characters as they run quite well done, unlike some movies that plainly remind you of Blair Witch Project in that area.
John Williams, who, by the way, passed on making the music for the fourth Harry Potter film so he could work on this movie, delivered all that was expected once again. The original score is superb and every single piece of background music is awesome. I particularly rememeber an almost tribalistic drumming as Chiyo first becomes a maiko. Incidentally, during that scene a shot of her at the hairdresser shows her visibly upset as her hair is combed with some liquid. In case you wonder what upsets her so much, and even though this isn't evident, the liquid is molten wax, which I wouldn't like to coat my hair in either. Hair gel, anyone?
Lastly, I'd like to call your attention to the fact that very few elements, if any at all, are out of place or time in this movie, which gave painstaking attention to deatil in scenery, props and historical fact so that, even though the plot is a work of fiction, for all you know, could have happened.
Right, that about does it.
Sayonra. Until tomorrow.
ArabianShark's skelleton, unlike other sharks, is made of bone, not cartilage, yet I bow in farewell.
*CRACK*! Ow! Is there a doctor in the house?
Today I thought I'd make my review of Memoirs of a Geisha, which I mentioned some time ago. If you remember, I had my hopes up for it. Addressing the sole quesion I raised at that time, I did dislike the shade of blue in Sayuri's eyes. But that's just splitting hairs.
It's hard for me to review this movie as a movie alone, regardless of the novel it's adapted from. Even though I as pretty much had at "Amblin" in the opening credits (really, don't you just love everything that comes from there? With the sole exception of ET, perhaps...), I was put off by some not always minor details that got trampled. Of course I realise that, in order for the movie to have an acceptable run time some of the book has to be cut, and that is an art on itself. Think Bram Stoker's Dracula. Francis Ford Coppola did a superb job there. Nevertheless, and even though I think much of the left out information wouldn't really have made it a better film, I still feel some things should not have been left out. Also, some changes in the adaptation weren't great, such as Nobu having both arms. Others work just as fine or even better than the original, perhaps, such as the confrontation between Sayuri and Hatsumomo in the tea house. That Colonel Derricks should replace the minister doesn't work so good, IMO. That Sayuri should meet the Chairman shortly after breaking her arm rather than at the age of fourteen really has little to no impact on the storyline.
The overall look and feel of the picture is quite nice, with the moving shots following the characters as they run quite well done, unlike some movies that plainly remind you of Blair Witch Project in that area.
John Williams, who, by the way, passed on making the music for the fourth Harry Potter film so he could work on this movie, delivered all that was expected once again. The original score is superb and every single piece of background music is awesome. I particularly rememeber an almost tribalistic drumming as Chiyo first becomes a maiko. Incidentally, during that scene a shot of her at the hairdresser shows her visibly upset as her hair is combed with some liquid. In case you wonder what upsets her so much, and even though this isn't evident, the liquid is molten wax, which I wouldn't like to coat my hair in either. Hair gel, anyone?
Lastly, I'd like to call your attention to the fact that very few elements, if any at all, are out of place or time in this movie, which gave painstaking attention to deatil in scenery, props and historical fact so that, even though the plot is a work of fiction, for all you know, could have happened.
Right, that about does it.
Sayonra. Until tomorrow.
ArabianShark's skelleton, unlike other sharks, is made of bone, not cartilage, yet I bow in farewell.
*CRACK*! Ow! Is there a doctor in the house?
Pie!
Yes, Pie! That's the word of the day, pie, and the topic for today's entry.
Pie, for those who don't know, is a dish of pastry containing either custard, cream, fruit or other sweet relish. Alternatively, pie as a main course or snack, rather than a dessert or a sweet snack, may be prepared with meat or cheese (quiche, pronounced kee-she, not quicky). As an expression, pie may be used to denote the whole of a pool, generally of money, e. g., "I want a piece of the pie".
Oh, what's that? Right. Check that, the word is Phi, not Pie. My bad...
Phi, which I asked my readers to clarify upon some weeks ago, is a number. If you remember correctly, my question is how is it defined as an irrational number. Today I'm glad, nay, proud to say I have an answer. Phi is half of the sum of one and the square root of five. That's (sqrt(5)+1)/2, if you'd rather see it in formula. This tidbit of knowledge was courtesy of my Algorithms professor. Kudos to him.
Wishing you well a very pleasent weekend, golden fairwells.
ArabianShark now leaves to pack. Yay, away for the weekend!
Pie, for those who don't know, is a dish of pastry containing either custard, cream, fruit or other sweet relish. Alternatively, pie as a main course or snack, rather than a dessert or a sweet snack, may be prepared with meat or cheese (quiche, pronounced kee-she, not quicky). As an expression, pie may be used to denote the whole of a pool, generally of money, e. g., "I want a piece of the pie".
Oh, what's that? Right. Check that, the word is Phi, not Pie. My bad...
Phi, which I asked my readers to clarify upon some weeks ago, is a number. If you remember correctly, my question is how is it defined as an irrational number. Today I'm glad, nay, proud to say I have an answer. Phi is half of the sum of one and the square root of five. That's (sqrt(5)+1)/2, if you'd rather see it in formula. This tidbit of knowledge was courtesy of my Algorithms professor. Kudos to him.
Wishing you well a very pleasent weekend, golden fairwells.
ArabianShark now leaves to pack. Yay, away for the weekend!
The Big Oh
As it seems, the Big Oh will be a subject of study for one of my courses this semester. I'll be looking at a lot of Big Ohs and having some Big Ohs myself. I'll also have plenty of Big Ohs to spread around, if you'd like some. Now that I might have your attention, to further explain.
The Big Oh in question is, as you no doubt have guessed by now, not pleasurable sensation. It is a method of gauging an algorithm's complexity by counting the number of arithmetic operations (hence the Oh) it performs and merely stating that it is less than some other number (hence the Big). Shame...
The Big Oh in question is, as you no doubt have guessed by now, not pleasurable sensation. It is a method of gauging an algorithm's complexity by counting the number of arithmetic operations (hence the Oh) it performs and merely stating that it is less than some other number (hence the Big). Shame...
Speaking of movies...
It had been quite the while since I had gone to the movies. Today I saw Munich. Even though it's a bit early in 2006 to be saying this, I'd boldly state it's a strong candidate to best movie of the year. I really think it's going to be hard to top it. Something in the imagery, apart from the blood and gore in the more brutal scenes, was quite reminescent of Saving private Ryan, which shuould come as no surprise, seeing as they are both directed by Steven Spielberg and set in similar moods. Eric Bana, with whom I was slightly disappointed after Hulk came back with a vengeance and a stunning performance.
Noteworthy as well was the music of John Williams, who had already proven his outstanding skill in Star Wars. The music for this film, although entirely different, was masterfully composed, especially the track for the final scene, in which shots of lovemaking are alternated withthose of gruesome slaughter.
The violence portrayed could be considered exagerated, but hardly excessive. Make no mistake, killings abound in this film, yet there is hardly any or no gratuitous violence at all. Hardly a movie for the faint of heart, at any rate. I remember being upset by the very horrible scene at Omaha Beach in Saving private Ryan and some scenes resemble that, yet aren't quite as strong.
On the comic side, I have no idea what came over the movie-going people around me today. The "comedy", if you will, started soon enough as a couple thought i was in their rights to take three seats: one for each of them plus one for their bag. Their lap or the floor between their legs couldn't possibly be good enough for an ordinary, plastic, shopping bag. Evidentely enough, that was my seat. Gladly, that was solved easily enough, as a mere "excuse me" beckoned them to free the extra chair. Very shortly after two ladies entered the room and found their seats also occupied... by the same couple. Turned out they weren't sitting anywhere near their designated seats. What was that all about? The seat numbers are printed on the ticket in large print, larger than that of the movie title. Just as they got up to take their seats, half of the people already in the room did the same. I've heard of some unwritten rule according to which, if a seat is empty by the end of the first half of the movie, you're free to take it, but the movie hadn't even started... how odd.
Lastly, I'm greatly expecting Memoirs of a Geisha, which I'm fairly certain has already premiered in several theaters near you, but not near me. I remember reading the book over five years ago and loving every single line of it. With the movie the book has gone to print again with Ziyi Zhang on the cover in full white make-up with bright red lips. ( Image from allposters.com)I'm assuming that's not her real eye colour. At any rate, I wonder how accurate an interpretation of Arthur Golden's words it is. I can think of at least one pair of blue eyes a shade closer to what I suppose Golden meant... and, to the best of my knowledge, they're real (you'd think one would nearly always mean breasts when using this phrase whenever a woman's anatomy is concerned... guess again). Nevertheless, I await it eagrly.
Animated, coloured and CG ridden farewells with plenty of special efects... and a mildly interesting plot.
ArabianShark would very much like to see one of his works of fiction made into a screenplay and a movie sometime. Any volunteers?
Noteworthy as well was the music of John Williams, who had already proven his outstanding skill in Star Wars. The music for this film, although entirely different, was masterfully composed, especially the track for the final scene, in which shots of lovemaking are alternated withthose of gruesome slaughter.
The violence portrayed could be considered exagerated, but hardly excessive. Make no mistake, killings abound in this film, yet there is hardly any or no gratuitous violence at all. Hardly a movie for the faint of heart, at any rate. I remember being upset by the very horrible scene at Omaha Beach in Saving private Ryan and some scenes resemble that, yet aren't quite as strong.
On the comic side, I have no idea what came over the movie-going people around me today. The "comedy", if you will, started soon enough as a couple thought i was in their rights to take three seats: one for each of them plus one for their bag. Their lap or the floor between their legs couldn't possibly be good enough for an ordinary, plastic, shopping bag. Evidentely enough, that was my seat. Gladly, that was solved easily enough, as a mere "excuse me" beckoned them to free the extra chair. Very shortly after two ladies entered the room and found their seats also occupied... by the same couple. Turned out they weren't sitting anywhere near their designated seats. What was that all about? The seat numbers are printed on the ticket in large print, larger than that of the movie title. Just as they got up to take their seats, half of the people already in the room did the same. I've heard of some unwritten rule according to which, if a seat is empty by the end of the first half of the movie, you're free to take it, but the movie hadn't even started... how odd.
Lastly, I'm greatly expecting Memoirs of a Geisha, which I'm fairly certain has already premiered in several theaters near you, but not near me. I remember reading the book over five years ago and loving every single line of it. With the movie the book has gone to print again with Ziyi Zhang on the cover in full white make-up with bright red lips. ( Image from allposters.com)I'm assuming that's not her real eye colour. At any rate, I wonder how accurate an interpretation of Arthur Golden's words it is. I can think of at least one pair of blue eyes a shade closer to what I suppose Golden meant... and, to the best of my knowledge, they're real (you'd think one would nearly always mean breasts when using this phrase whenever a woman's anatomy is concerned... guess again). Nevertheless, I await it eagrly.
Animated, coloured and CG ridden farewells with plenty of special efects... and a mildly interesting plot.
ArabianShark would very much like to see one of his works of fiction made into a screenplay and a movie sometime. Any volunteers?
Cleansing Flames
February, at last. From the Latin word "februare", meaning to burn, this is the time we no longer glance at our past while gazing into the future, but shed and burn all the wrong done unto ourselves (and by ourselves, lets not forget...). 2005 had some good times, which we should only hope to remember always, and some bad times, of which we should all let go now. In four weeks time we should have reburked it all and be truly ready to live out the rest of our lives... ideally. Of course, there's always someone who thought that God-awful embariasing moment we'd rather forget altogeather was the funniest thing since Monty Python (don't like Monty Python? Really!? Well, then... Jerry Sinefeld? Still no? Figure it out yourself then!) and won't ever let us forget. Or, on the serious track again, some scar of wounds never truly closed. Still, this is the time to take heart and believe all will be better from now on. Happy thoughts!
Mellow farewells.
ArabianShark wonders how in blazes he's going to light up a fire to burn his bad memories in underwater. Any thoughts?
Mellow farewells.
ArabianShark wonders how in blazes he's going to light up a fire to burn his bad memories in underwater. Any thoughts?
Bright coloured lights
This isn't completely silly... even though it looks the part, at first. I remember some concepts of light and sound waves behaviour I had studied (briefly) in several Physics related subjects years ago. Only this makes it look pretty. In fact, I wish I had had this to demonstrate those phenomena, rather than those old rotten cardboard plates that never produced the desired effect in high school or that ugly, overly simplistic... thing I was shown in my freshman year in college. Still, I reckon I should be glad I had anything at all. Thus, my gift to you who may be struggling to learn this stuff for the first time. Mind your eyes, though, this will make your sight fuzzy for a while if you stare at it for too long.
Wavy waves of farewell.
Waves carry ArabianShark away... he'll be back by high tide.
Wavy waves of farewell.
Waves carry ArabianShark away... he'll be back by high tide.
Yay! Comments!
At last, I got a comment! I have a reason to blog on.
With respect to the contents of the comment: I have no fixation on Australia, although I understand why one would think that... Let me explain.
I've been called neurotic over this. The thing is, whenever I read, hear or see anything (and I mean naything at all), I usually read (and sometimes misread) too much (and more often than not, too little) into it. Double entendres abound with me. I may fail to see the obvious, but I'll be certain to find out some other undisclosed and often uninteded meaning to any message. On the upside, publicity never ceases to amuse me... except when I find myself making three trips to the mailbox because I can't carry all of it at once. Lately everything seems to boil down (no pun inteded) to Australia. It's the flavour of the month, I guess. Beats vanilla!
Right, then, now that's out of the way... I'll wrap up the post.
ArabianShark will be staying in Northern waters for a while. But you should, by all means, take a trip to the destination of your choice. I suggest Melbourne... er... in Derbyshire, not Victoria, that is!
With respect to the contents of the comment: I have no fixation on Australia, although I understand why one would think that... Let me explain.
I've been called neurotic over this. The thing is, whenever I read, hear or see anything (and I mean naything at all), I usually read (and sometimes misread) too much (and more often than not, too little) into it. Double entendres abound with me. I may fail to see the obvious, but I'll be certain to find out some other undisclosed and often uninteded meaning to any message. On the upside, publicity never ceases to amuse me... except when I find myself making three trips to the mailbox because I can't carry all of it at once. Lately everything seems to boil down (no pun inteded) to Australia. It's the flavour of the month, I guess. Beats vanilla!
Right, then, now that's out of the way... I'll wrap up the post.
ArabianShark will be staying in Northern waters for a while. But you should, by all means, take a trip to the destination of your choice. I suggest Melbourne... er... in Derbyshire, not Victoria, that is!
How's your belly where the pig bit ya?
My Cedco (who doesn't pay me to advertise) Calendar, which, I must say, rocks, says today is Australia Day. So there it is, happy national day for all of my Australian readers... and good day (or should I say "g'day"? I think it should be used strictly as a greting, not the way I meant it... but what do I know?) to all my other readers as well.
Fully sick (and by no means do I mean ill in any manner) goodbyes.
ArabianNoah's Ark invites you to figure out the meaning of this line.
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How's my Strine? Don't call 1-800-something-or-another, Comment!
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Fully sick (and by no means do I mean ill in any manner) goodbyes.
ArabianNoah's Ark invites you to figure out the meaning of this line.
Your Ad Here
How's my Strine? Don't call 1-800-something-or-another, Comment!
This space for rent
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