Truth” in advertising

Last night I saw an ad for Eragon, which ran a bit like this:

The crit­ics are in agree­ment! [praise for Eragon]! [praise for Eragon]! Now playing!”

I could­n’t help but notice that they had all of two quotes prais­ing the film, so I decid­ed I’d do my own research. I went to that clear­ing­house of crit­i­cal opin­ion, rottentomatoes.com. Regard­ing Eragon: The film had a 12% rat­ing. (Hmmm. Overnight it’s climbed to 13%.) This means that 13% of the crit­ics weigh­ing in on the film had a high opin­ion of the movie, and 87%, well, didn’t.

The crit­ics are in agree­ment, but I don’t think that’s the kind of mes­sage that puts but­tocks in the­atre seats.

A long time ago, longer now than it seems…

The Night­mare Before Christ­mas first hit the­atres, and made me a hap­py camper.

Last night, as we watched it, I asked my wife if it was wrong that this–

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZPblZa10_Pk

–made me feel more Christmas‑y than any twen­ty Christ­mas songs you hear on the radio.

She said, “No,” and that’s why I love her.

You may address me as “Your Worship” from here on out…

…since, thanks to Doug, I now know that my Pecu­liar Aris­to­crat­ic Name is Bish­op Lord Patrick the Gluti­nous: of Heffton St Mal­let. Note that’s “Gluti­nous”, like “Pills­bury Dough-boy”, as opposed to “Glut­to­nous”, as in “Hen­ry VIII”. Not sure that it’s real­ly any bet­ter, mind you, just dif­fer­ent.

End com­mu­ni­ca­tion.

Cedric

Con­grat­u­la­tions to Nico­la and Joël, proud par­ents of a third boy. And con­grat­u­la­tions to Julian and Isaac, broth­ers to Cedric, newly-born.

OK, now I think I might be getting into the Christmas mood

Self-portrait in glass ball

As I took this pho­to, my favourite Christ­mas song was play­ing on my CD player:

Ça berg­ers
Ça berg­ers, assemblons-nous
Allons voir le Messie
Cher­chons cet enfant si doux
Dans les bras de Marie
Je l’en­tends, il nous appelle tous
Ô sort digne d’envie

Lais­sons là tout le troupeau
Qu’il erre à l’aventure
Que sans nous sur ce coteau
Il cherche sa pâture
Allons voir dans un petit berceau
L’au­teur de la nature

Dieu naîs­sant, exauce-nous
Dis­sipe nos alarmes
Nous tombons à tes genoux
Nous les baignons d’nos larmes
Hâtes-toi de nous don­ner à tous
La paix et tous ses charmes 

If there’s a great clam­our for a trans­la­tion, I’ll post one.

Appar­ent­ly the song dates from the very ear­ly 18th cen­tu­ry: “Les paroles de ce chant furent com­posées par Simon-Joseph Pel­le­grin (1663−1745) et pub­liées pour la pre­mière fois à Paris en 1701.” (per this page)

Flickrblogging — 9684


IMG_9684
Dis­cov­ered in car­olyn­hack’s Flickr photostream. 

Ladies, Gen­tle­men, I present to you the cov­er art for my newest how-to guide, “Mak­ing a Cyborg on $6 a day”. This one is an illus­tra­tion from the “Opti­cal ‘Enhance­ment’ ” sec­tion. You’ll note the quote marks around the word “Enhance­ment”; my lawyers, God bless their black lit­tle souls, sug­gest­ed that, in the inter­est of avoid­ing law­suits, I use lit­tle so-called “irony quotes” around cer­tain terms.

Please note also that there is a sub­stan­tial adden­dum to the book, and that the major update to the “Opti­cal ‘Enhance­ment’ ” sec­tion points out that, due to the $6 nature of the “Infrared” Eye “Aug­men­ta­tion” “Device”, you can’t actu­al­ly set fires with your new-found “heat” vision. Or per­haps that should be “vision”.

* * *

Ran­dom Flick­r­blog­ging Explained
Tech­no­rati: flick­r­blog­ging

party party party

So yeah. This week­end, three par­ties, two days. This should be a challenge…

Tonight: the judo party.

Tomor­row: the Sun­day School Teach­ers’ par­ty, and then the Kath­leen’s Old Depart­ment At Work party.

Sun­day: Repenting.

Writin’

Tonight it went well. I’m get­ting numb-bum from sit­ting in the office chair, but I got clear of 1200 words in an hour and a bit. I’m work­ing on the sto­ry of a woman try­ing to bro­ker a peace treaty among the far-flung descen­dants of the human race, on an Earth lit by a red giant sun, two and a half bil­lion years in the future.

There was a moment when I feared I might have to scrap the whole sto­ry, but then I was lis­ten­ing to a song by Corb Lund and this line gave me some inspiration:

half heard voic­es from the ghosts, from the graves
grand­fa­thers tell us at the mouths of the caves

Can’t tell you yet how it’ll all end, but here’s a scene that I did tonight:

The black plain had been called Pan­tha­las­sa, and it had been called the Pacif­ic Ocean, and the Broad Sea, and the Grey Swamps, and any num­ber of oth­er names, names record­ed or lost to his­to­ry’s sweep­ing indif­fer­ence. Now it was a desert of black glass, a shift­ing sur­face lay­er of fine dark sand blow­ing across a deep bedrock lay­er that had been baked for a bil­lion years by a swollen, mur­dered sun.

Overnight some­one had plant­ed a gar­den. It had to have been one of the AIs, or one of the robots, and they prob­a­bly had used time shapers, some­thing Lady Schrone was cer­tain she’d marked down as pro­scribed. But it was hard to be angry, because the gar­den was beau­ti­ful: flow­ers, flow­ers of all descrip­tions, radi­at­ing away from a cen­tral point like the spokes of a great wheel, and at the wheel’s cen­ter, a tree reached for the heav­ens. Leaves the size of her body unfurled them­selves at the tree’s top, near­ly twen­ty meters from the ground. They were sharp and green against the blue of the sky.

The gar­den was a per­fumery, a green oasis in the glit­ter­ing black desert, and Lady Schrone was ill inclined to hunt down and pun­ish the mech­a­nism or mech­a­nisms that had giv­en it birth.

I almost don’t want to quit writ­ing, but it’s get­ting toward bed­time, and I have com­pa­ny, and I’ve dis­cov­ered that the best place to quit is right before I write some­thing that I’ve been wait­ing to write for a while. That way, I’m eager to go the next time I sit down to write, and the scene has time to per­co­late and dis­till and it tends to come out even bet­ter that way.

Usu­al­ly, anyways.

So: writ­ten any­thing good lately?

Coaching

Years ago–around 2000, I think–I took a coach­ing course at the urg­ing of my judo sen­sei, Sil­vio. He actu­al­ly team-taught the course with a mem­ber of the Phys Ed fac­ul­ty at the Uni­ver­si­ty. We’ll call her Nancy.

The course I took was Lev­el I The­o­ry, which should have been fol­lowed by Lev­el I Tech­ni­cal and Lev­el I Prac­ti­cal, which would have seen me cer­ti­fied as a Lev­el I coach. But things being what they are, that nev­er hap­pened. We lob­bied a few times to have some­one come out to Bran­don to do the Tech and Prac­ti­cal ses­sions, since there were a num­ber of us that were in the same boat, but some­times it feels like if you live out­side of Win­nipeg, you might as well live on the Moon. It’s a two-hour dri­ve on divid­ed high­way, but for some rea­son it’s hard to get a lot of peo­ple to dri­ve beyond the Perimeter.

Any­ways.

In the inter­im, the The­o­ry com­po­nent was over­hauled, and now Lev­el I and II The­o­ry are named Intro to Com­pe­ti­tion A and B. There was suf­fi­cient change in the cur­ricu­lum to war­rant re-tak­ing A, and so I did that in Octo­ber. I learned a fair amount, and it was a good course. The man­u­al is excel­lent, as well.

A cou­ple week­ends ago I took Intro B, and picked up a great deal more. There are a lot of things that Sil­vio used to do (sad­ly, he’s since passed on) that are sud­den­ly made clear to me. For instance–and this is only one exam­ple of many–when he would teach a new tech­nique, he would always explain it aloud, start to fin­ish, then demon­strate it, and final­ly have each of us try it a few times. (Then he’d hit us with the “Good! Now do it ten thou­sand more times and you’ll have it per­fect!” Which was usu­al­ly pret­ty close to accu­rate; the throws that I’ve done ten thou­sand times come more from reflex than from con­scious thought now.) The rea­son for this, I learned, is that there are, broad­ly speak­ing, three kinds of learn­ers: audi­to­ry learn­ers, who learn best from hav­ing some­thing explained; visu­al learn­ers, who learn from see­ing some­thing demon­strat­ed; and tac­tile learn­ers, who learn from doing some­thing. Every­one’s kind of a com­bi­na­tion of the three, but every­one also has a dom­i­nant style. Appar­ent­ly mine is audi­to­ry. But Sil­vio’s method of teach­ing a new tech­nique catered to all three types, and did so in a nat­ur­al progression.

Some­thing else I learned from Intro B was that if you’re doing a hand­stand, you should­n’t tuck your chin, or it turns into a kind of a flail­ing som­er­sault. Onto con­crete. But I was fine, thanks for asking.