Enthusiastically Ambiverted Hopepunk
Finally, six months after coming up with the idea, I finally got around to getting my own “I’m just here to get laid.” t-shirt and bookbag.
And yes, I am crazy enough to carry the bag around town, or wear the t-shirt in public (though, as t-shirts are outside of the dress code at work, I’m out of luck there).
iTunes: “Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered (from Pal Joey)” by Segal, Vivienne from the album Broadway: The Great Original Cast Recordings (1950, 3:11).
The last car I owned had three bumper stickers on it, all dead-center on the rear end, one above the other.
DIE MTV DIE
KILL YOUR TV
TELEVISION IS DRUGS
It appears that my sentiments now have the backing of scientific research showing that television causes ‘attention problems’ in young children.
Early television exposure in children ages 1-3 is associated with attention problems at age 7, according to a study from Children’s Hospital and Regional Medical Center in Seattle published in the April issue of PEDIATRICS. The study revealed that each hour of television watched per day at ages 1-3 increases the risk of attention problems, such as ADHD, by almost 10 percent at age 7. The study controls for other attributes of the home environment including cognitive stimulation and emotional support.
… The AAP recommends parents avoid letting their children under the age of 2 years watch television and that parents exert caution — such as setting limits on TV viewing, helping children develop media literacy skills to question, analyze and evaluate TV messages, and taking an active role in their children’s TV viewing — in children over the age of 2.
A Seattle P-I editorial mentions that some 3 year olds in the study were watching 12 or more hours of television a day.
Twelve or more?
My lord.
I wish I still had a copy of this, but years ago I saw an editorial cartoon called “The Pacifier” that showed a toddler sitting on the floor with dazed, glazed-over eyes, with a pacifier created from a television crammed into his mouth. I ended up turning that cartoon into a t-shirt (which I still have — the cartoon is by Jim Morin of the Miami Herald, unfortunately I can’t find a date on the cartoon to see if a copy might be available online anywhere). People who treat their children like this — and I’ve known more than a few — have always disturbed me, and while I’m sure I whined about it when I was younger, I’m very glad parents kept stricter controls over the viewing habits of my brother and I when we were growing up.
iTunes: “Light (Fat Back)” by K.M.F.D.M. from the album Light (1994, 7:29).
You are a GRAMMAR GOD!
If your mission in life is not already to preserve the English tongue, it should be.
Congratulations and thank you!
How grammatically sound are you?
Brought to you by Quizilla
In all honesty, I was a bit surprised — while I’m generally fairly sure of my ability to use the English language, some of the quiz questions actually had me debating and choosing whichever one “felt right”. Apparently my instincts haven’t gotten too terribly sloppy yet after all!
(via Shelley)
iTunes: “Habanera from Carmen” by Bizet, Georges from the album Trainspotting #2 (1994, 2:08).
This is more than a little tempting: This year’s Rocky Horror Picture Show convention, Rockypalooza, will be here in Seattle next month.
Rockypalooza II: Forbidden Palooza draws Rocky Horror fans from all over this end of the continent. It’s an excuse to share our fabulous obsession through shows, preshows and, ahem, post shows. It gives us an opportunity to get to know other people that perform in the area and to share a larger, more elaborate experience with theatergoers. We can find and share Rocky memorabilia. Also, we can settle that whole being-turned-to-a-pillar-of-salt/ getting run out of town by a pitchfork n’ torch mob thing once and for all.
(via LJ Seattle)
This is progress, I think — references to my adventures with Microsoft are now little more than a throw away paragraph in the midst of another article.
I really debated posting this, but I am trying to keep track of these things…feel free to just skip on by this one.
(via Sean)
While I’m still bummed that the TRON 2.0 project ended up being a game instead of a new feature film, at least the game is being released for OS X next month. I just might look into buying another computer game (I’m not much of a gamer — the last one I purchased was Star Wars Pod Racer, and I think the one before that was Oni, neither of which I ever devoted a ton of time to).
Today’s mom’s birthday!
Happy birthday, mom, and many more to come. :)
I saw a guy walking down the street outside of the club this weekend wearing a Utilikilt “baggy style.”
With the beltline around his hips, and boxers sticking up over the waistband.
That’s just so, so wrong.
iTunes: “Trumpets of Dawn” by Discordia from the album Essential Chillout (1999, 3:41).
“Uncle Bud”, my great-uncle, passed away last week.
Byron E. Wilson, 84, Martinsville [Indiana], died at 1:35 a.m. on Sunday, March 28, 2004, at his residence.
Born Nov. 2, 1919, in Morgan County, he was the son of Earl O. and Bessie Maree (Hamilton) Wilson. He married Margaret E. (Reynolds) Wilson Nov. 29, 1941. She survives.
Wilson was a mail carrier in Martinsville for 37 years, retiring in 1980.
He was a member of First Christian Church in Martinsville, American Legion Post 230, Veteran of Foreign Wars Post 1257, volunteer firefighter and treasurer for the Green Township Fire Department. He was a 1937 Martinsville High School graduate.
He drove School of Hope children through the Red Cross and was a veteran of the Army Air Force during World War II.
He enjoyed playing music and was an avid gardener.
Other survivors include a son, James Earl Wilson, Gosport; daughters, Judy Arend, Madison, Wis., Donna Dickison, Martinsville, Kathy Davenport, Flemingsburg, Ky., Patti Wiggins, Martinsville and Karen Parks, Monrovia and 10 grandchildren, Michelle Bailey, Shaun and Michael Arend, Amber Wilson, Matthew, Daniel, Joseph and Benjamin Wiggins and Rebecca and Sara Davenport.
A sister, Mary Flora Hanscom, and a great-grandchild preceded him in death.
As I grew up in Alaska, my memories of Uncle Bud are limited to the times we went down to Indiana to visit dad’s side of the family. My grandmother’s home was just next door to Uncle Bud and Aunt Peg (if I’m remembering correctly, her house was actually on his property), only a few minutes walk across a field from one door to the other.
All the memories I have of him, though, are pleasant ones — a friendly, smiling, older man, watching all the various kids and grandkids of his family run around during our visits. I believe at one point he let me drive his riding lawnmower around the field, resulting in little actual mowing, and culminating in the unfortunate wounding of an innocent tree when I failed to turn quite when I should.
Bye, Uncle Bud. You’ll be missed.
