September 9th, 2006

Wazagan

The joys of monolanguagism

And another thing about Magic Flute, from yesterday. It's sung in English. This a peculiar habit of the British. In reality an ignorance of Italian, German or French is a tremendous asset in one's enjoyment of opera, which is enormously improved when you can't tell how stupid the lyrics are. Why the Brits want to throw away our birthright as unilingual English speakers is beyond me.
-robin_d_laws likes his operas for the beat

Context was eaten by Fafnir: http://robin-d-laws.livejournal.com/163701.html
Greg Land rapes your childhood in ANIMAT
  • kali921

Car Talk: imtehsprightly spanks the quarter mile with science!

Also, to the little riceboy who hit on me last night at the gas station:

You were kind of cute, so I didn't particularly mind when you yelled out "Hey sexy" from the pump next to mine. However, when I proceeded to snort in polite derision and use my patented SarcastovoiceTM to compliment your lime-green riced-out Civic, you should have recognized the fact that I was making fun of you and left it at that.

But no.

Instead, you decided to puff out your chest, lovingly caress the orange racing stripes, and proceed to regale me with stories about the time you beat a Viper off the line and spanked it all the way down the quarter-mile. You see, dumbass, I'm a girl, not an idiot. The fact that I drive an all-stock Hyundai does not mean I know nothing about cars.

You know that look people get when they're trying really hard not to laugh? And maybe those little snorting sounds that are really the beginnings of aborted laughter? I know I was doing that, particularly because it took me three tries to ask you what you had under the hood. I'm nice, you see. I was willing to entertain the idea that maybe you were driving a Viper or a 'vette, or ANYTHING faster disguised as a Civic. Hell, even a freaking Lancer Evo or SOMETHING. Come on. See, lemme tell you a little story, sweetheart, since you apparently know jack shit about cars in general other than green and orange apparently look awesome together. The Civic? 140 hp at 6300 rpm in a 1.8L 4-cylinder engine with 128 ft/lbs of torque at 4300 rpm. On a good day, assuming you're good on that manual. The Viper? 500 hp at 5600 rpm in an 8L (or thereabouts) V10 engine with 525 ft/lbs of torque at 4100 rpm.

If you're claiming to have beaten this guy off the line AND whipped him in a quarter mile, then either you're delusional, or the guy didn't know he was supposed to be actually racing you. Especially when you gave me a confused look when I asked what was under the hood. I rephrased for you (since the pumps were hella slow) by asking if you'd modded it at all. You sealed your own fate when you told me that you'd put on a body kit and had it painted. Yes, that was pure astonishment on my face when you thought that's what I meant. Just to be sure, I asked if you'd made any mechanical improvements.

No? It's a Civic coupe in all it's stock-y glory?

Le sigh.

Context is boring out the cylinder heads and installing Carillo rods here. Public post, QWP.
  • Current Music
    Leftfield - Dub Flash

Megadittoes!

footyfoot points out that the dittoheads learned their military strategy, not from The School of Hard Knocks, but from The School of Harder Heads:

Reading online comments on news items is likely the dumbest thing I do, dumber even than my habit of eating salt out of the shaker or driving too fast. It isn't like there's a lot of pleasure to be gained from the experience. No, what normally happens is that I get enraged at the mindless shit that passes for "reader opinion" and write a futile reply that never gets posted. And my blood pressure goes up, just like with the salt...

Tonight, I had my stupid fix by reading a news item about Iran, and another about Iraq on ABC's site. And of course, it was filled with the usual "Nuke them now" kind of nonsense. I was about to say something nasty on the forum about us being a nation of Armchair Generals - and then it hit me that this bunch couldn’t even make the cut! After all, the term “armchair general” implies somebody who actually owns an armchair and sits down in it to read books. An armchair general was well-read on his subject, but short on actual experience ...

These guys don’t read - well, they don’t read anything besides Tom Clancy and online forums. And they don’t even own armchairs. If they aren’t stuffed into a swivel chair or spread out on a bench at Golden Corral, they are strapped into a King Cab pickup with a phone in one ear and talk radio in the other ... They never read Sun Tzu (but they like his spicy chicken!), preach the lessons of a European history they never read (except for the bits where the French lost), and generally couldn’t tell their flank from their phalanx with both hands.

In short- a gang of mediocre thugs. Trailer Park Generals, Walmart Warriors, Mall Ninjas, all cranked up on the empty words of their idols and rarin’ to have someone else’s kid go win one for the home team while they call in to give Rush mega-dittoes. We can’t even do imperialism right!


Quoted with permission, original source is still trying to find Sun Tzu's take-out menu here.
manuscript angel

(no subject)

The adventures of ltcmdrwhitman, beginning sailboat sailor:

J: *Begins to turn boat*
Main Sheet: *Flies out of J's hands as the boat turns faster than expected*
J: *Stares at his only means of controlling the sail, now about six feet away, hanging out over the water and lookin' at him kinda cross-eyed* Bugger.
J: *Steers the boat off the wind, corrects the kinda-alarming tilt in it, and grabs the sheet once he's slowed down* Okay, so I screwed it up.
Wind: *Picks up some more*
Boat Staff: Red Flag! The wind's probably too strong for beginners to handle!
J: No sh*t, Tinkerbell.
J: *Begins to jibe again, back towards the boathouse*
Main Sheet: *slides out of J's hand again*
J: Not again!
Main Sheet: MINE IS AN EVIL LAUGH!

QWP. And context is for landlubbers.