*heh*
King Putz the Petulant: the Very Model of a Modern
Lost File
Hmmm, I seem to have lost the rest of this little ditty, written years ago by Peter Tauber, IIRC. . .
“I think that I shall never see
A poem filed as C:\ deltree. . . “
“On a scale of 1-10. . . “
In Long Ago Days of Yore. . .
Getting a piece of fiction written and published once took a bit of work. First, there was that literacy thing–you know, being literate enough to at least have a fair idea when you’d just put something down on paper that proved you didn’t have the first clue what you were taking about, for one thing. *sigh* Developing that kind of literacy takes a LOT of reading and perhaps quite a bit of RW experience as well, in many cases.
Then, if one were literate enough to at least have a clue about the deficiencies in one’s storehouse of knowledge and experience, the ability to correct, or at least seriously address, those deficiencies used to come in handy.
And that’s not the whole skill and knowledge set that was once very, very beneficial.
Just having a pedestrian imagination and a verbal vocabulary defined by the lowest common denominator of popular media is all it seems to take to get a novel published nowadays. And the stupider the plots and dumber the characters, the better. *sigh* Evidence: Dan Brown.
One of the worst things I see writers do mimics typical Hollyweird/BoobTube writing. When people who barely manage to inch into the first standard deviation above the norm try to write characters who are more than just average, they tend to write themselves and their acquaintances. Trying to write dialog for a very literate and “brilliant” scientist with a nominal IQ of something north of 150 using a semi-literate (or often even subliterate) mind capable of handling abstract thought at about IQ 115 results in characters that appear to be literate and brilliant only to persons to whom a Zabriskan Fontema appears to be a genius.1
To anyone with more than two active synapses between their ears, such characters seem to be dumber than a bag of hammers.
*meh* I do find such writing marginally interesting, though, as a window into the dull minds of the authors. Of course, when I ask myself, “What WAS this author THINKING?!?” the answer is usually, “Oh, right. Nothing at all. . . ”
1Visiting with a bright, thoughtful and literate person in the upper reaches of the first standard deviation above the norm (according to this person’s estimation; my experience of their abilities leads me to believe their one known experience with IQ measurement fell victim to test anxiety) has spurred me to expand this a bit.
Yes, “merely” bright people can write characters who are “brilliant” and do it competently, creating believable characters, BUT (and this is one HUGE badonka-donk “but”;-)) such persons MUST do their homework! Their research should include a LOT of reading of truly brilliant thinkers (and “conversation” with those thoughts read), face-to-face conversations with such persons–both casual and on-topic in those persons’ areas of expertise–and review of their characterizations and dialog by a literate person whose intellect is of a comparable level to that of the character written.
Better, of course, would be for an author to simply be of the class of persons he is characterizing, to have among his peer group more than a few persons of similar intellect, etc. But, alas! that is NOT the case with Hollyweird/BoobTube-influenced “bright enough for success in a dumbed-down high school setting” subliterates who seem to write most of the “genius” characters in contemporary fiction. *sigh*
BTW, while I enjoy the show in small doses, “The Big Bang Theory” is a very nearly perfect example of this problem in writing. Yes, it has at least one really bright consultant helping to get most of the science references at least within the ballpark of contemporary “consensus science,” but the characters are more laughable caricatures of nerds than perhaps the writers intend. . . or at least in ways the writers could hardly intend. It seems obvious from the writing (and directing and acting) that, aside from minimal input to keep “science-y” comments mostly on track, the folks involved in producing the show fit pretty well into the “semi-literate, nearly bright, clueless about genius” category of content creators I deplore here.
*shrugs* The show’s still entertaining in other ways, and if I view the “brilliant” characters as simply sophomoric poseurs with delusions of brilliance, it occasionally ends up being pretty enjoyable fluff.
But a steady diet would gag a maggot.
How to Waste Your Time
A fact based, reasoned argument presented to a contemporary faux liberal (progressive, leftist, etc.) is like attempting to teach a pig to sing. All it does is waste your time and annoy the pig.
Ditto with the porker.
Gimme an “Accomplishment” Badge er Sumthin’
*heh*
Finally got around to replacing the master bath sink and faucet today. Not such a much; getting A Round To-it was the hardest part, really. Bummed me a wee tad that I couldn’t see my way to having the time all in one chunk to also rip up the counter and put some tile down that I have set aside for that space, but the new fixtures are still a major improvement over the 35-year-old fixtures that were original to the house. *meh* Finally got around to also installing shut-off valves for that sink’s faucet. Yeh, not a single plumbing fixture had shut-off valves as originally installed. . . and as it was when we purchased the place This is the next-to-last. I’ll pencil in some time to do the toilet in that bathroom in the next few days, and that’ll be the last.
Easy gig. Anyone not dumber than a bag of hammers can do it. (That leaves out most high school and college grads nowadays, of course. *sigh*)
Little by little I’m bringing this house not just up to current code but a wee tad beyond. Feels good. Wonder if I’ll live long enough to finish the work? *heh*
Benefits of being an Olde Pharte with juuuust a wee touch of swagger? While I was in the plumbing hardware section at Lowe’s, no one asked me if I needed any help. Good. Because I didn’t. π
N.B. Edited out a coupla typos. Left the ones I wanted. *heh*
Cats: Every Single One Is a “WTF?” NOT Waiting to Happen
Cats as pets are. . . strange. Interestingly strange, but strange nonetheless.
Sure, they all seem to want to do some of the same things–play Mighty Hunter and bring their catches in, just to brag ya know? Let you find or make the most comfortable seat in the house. . . so they can steal it. Just lil normal things all of ’em seem to do. But each has its own eccentricity.
One of ours would ALWAYS seek out a way to lay across my shoulders, no matter where. Seriously. Bath tub, walking around, wherever. That was HER place to be. She spent almost a year at my parents’ place because *cough*someone*cough* couldn’t take the competition for space in our bed during our first year of marriage. Not pointing fingers. . . π
Another one–loved the crust from One Particular Pizza Place soooo much that she was easily trained to come to a whistle.
Another: sought out very tight, closed-in spaces and would on rare occasion simply go wild, seem to become a housebound feral cat. Strange, but when being civilized was a great warm lap-fur massager (LOUD purr).
Another: would invade the bathroom and jump on my shoulders during Throne Room Meditations, but ONLY then.
Current guy: Nice enough fella, but when he wants to play fetch, he’s really, REALLY insistent. And LOUD. Really likes sitting or sleeping on the back of my Wonder Woman’s fav chair (which is OK by her as long as he stays out of her hair *heh*) but will only lay BESIDE me (except when he’s getting in my face DEMANDING ATTENTION–NOW!).
Oh, all of ’em have/have had other quirks and eccentricities, but the one constant is that they’re all different and all. . . cats.
BTW, you know why some folks appreciate dogs but hate cats? Often it’s just because they are manipulative, coercive control freaks. Dogs don’t mind that when done without physical abuse, and even with such abuse they usually forgive and accommodate. Not so cats. Cats are more like normal people in their response to abuse and coercion, only more so. Coercing or manipulating a cat into doing something they do not want to do. . . well, there’s a reason for the expression “herding cats” as an expression describing futility.
Show me someone who likes dogs and hates cats and I’ll start looking for other evidence of sociopathy. Show me someone who hates dogs and likes cats and I’ll look for other signs that they are mentally and emotionally deficient. Show me someone who likes both (and who is liked by both) and I’ll look for further evidence that they might possibly be trusted with the keys to my house.
Well, About Time!
I needed several days in a row of sub-90 degree weather to get some more painting done on the exterior of the house and. . . finally, weather cooperated and a good chunk is done (with much more to do, yet *sigh*). The thing is, i’s been 35 years since I managed a paint brush as high off the ground as this has to be, and I’m not as well-balanced, *cough* graceful *cough* and sure-footed as I was then.
I also don’t have my former youthful sense of invulnerability. *heh*
Plus. . . this time, I have a wall that I can only approach with a ladder from a sloping yard below. So, digging footings every time I move the ladder, wearing a safety harness and using a safety lanyard/rope attached to one of the safety anchors I left on the roof when I re-roofed last summer.
Cumbersome. Slow going. Especially since the paint I’m using has a STRONG warning to NOT THIN, so I MUST use a 3″ paint brush on the siding instead of spraying as I had wanted to do. Oh, well.
Must remember before next bout to take the ibuprofen BEFORE ascending the ladder. *heh* Hands’ll probably work a bit better.
Annnnnd, after this lil chore is finished, it’ll be back to downing and cutting up a few trees that have to go. Firewood, anyone? (It took me a couple of months last year to get someone who needed firewood to haul off a goodly-sized tree I had cut up into ~18″ chunks that still needed to be split. I’m sure if I’d split the wood for ’em it would’ve gone sooner. *heh*)
*sig* I seem to remember being much, much younger last year. . . π
Of course, since it’s going to rain for the next two or three days, I’ll have some time off from yard work and work on the outside of the house. Love it when a plan comes together. . .
Thank You, Mr. Putin
Want to send an email to Vladimir Putin to thank him for his efforts to keep the US out of an unnecessary, immoral war? Unfortunately, I didn’t see a place to CC King Putz. *heh*
Give That Writer a Dope Slap
. . . and an enrollment in a remedial English class.
Yeh, yeh, I know it’s six of one and all that, but, in my experience, writers who write the rather awkward, “had woken me up” instead of “had awakened me” also tend to write such abortions as “backseat” (adj) to refer to a “back [SPACE] seat” –a seat (n.) in the back of something–or “backyard” (again, adj.) to refer to a yard (n.) in the back or “back [SPACE] yard”. These aren’t horrendous bobbles, but they are annoying in that they indicate a sloppiness of craft.
The worse annoyance is that by degrading the language–using adjectives in forms readily recognized as adjectives as nouns, replacing an adjective [SPACE] noun they contribute to the destruction of useful distinctions in words. What? Would a writer of “backseat” (used to refer to a back seat) write driverseat or passengerseat? Maybe so. . . *shudder* “Backyard” used as a noun writers: will you also be consistent enough to use “frontyard” and “sideyard” as nouns? Hmm? Yeh, when one puts it in those colors, such usages look as stupid as they are.
Oh, other abortions often flow like Exlax-induced sharts from the hands of such writers, things like first-person narratives recounting past events in a breathless present tense to, I imagine, induce a sense of urgency in thoughtless readers in much the same way newsreaders attempt to convey a freshness and urgency to their banal lies with the same device. *sigh* Of course, given the temporal deficiencies of readers (or watchers) of such drivel, the device may well work, for values of “work” that include giving an idiot a spoon to use in scooping out more of their own prefrontal cortex.
And indeed, it seems to work pretty much that way. But it does get worse. Really. I recently read about 1/4 of the way through a book wherein the author used just about every dumb device, awkward phrase, and misused word he could cram into the thing in his attempt to. . . write a typical “Dan Brown” pseudo-thriller.
Oh, *gagamaggot*
(That said, the writer was failing to be quite as bad as Dan Brown when I bailed, even with his violent assaults on the English language. But that says more about how execrably bad Dan Brown’s writing is than anything else. . . )
But seriously, “had woken him up” for “had awakened him”? How hard is it to write (and think) just a wee tad less awkwardly?
(OK, OK, apparently pretty darned hard if my own writing’s any example, but take note: I’ve not asked you to PAY to read my scribbles, have I? Hmm?)
Yeh, yeh, I know that BECAUSE of illiterate uses by dumbass writers “backyard,” “backseat” and other such words used as nouns is becoming more acceptable to those who just DGARA about useful distinctions in words, the ability of the written word to inculcate rational thought or any number of other positive values. I despise such rotten, destructive persons and their destructive effects on society anyway. So there. *heh*