Supposing an emperor was persuaded to wear a new suit of clothes whose material was so fine that, to the common eye, the clothes weren’t there. And suppose a little boy pointed out this fact in a loud, clear voice …
Then you have The Story of the Emperor Who Had No Clothes.
But if you knew a bit more, it would be The Story of the Boy Who Got a Well-Deserved Thrashing from His Dad for Being Rude to Royalty, and Was Locked Up.
Or The Story of the Whole Crowd Who Were Rounded Up by the Guards and Told “This Didn’t Happen, OK? Does Anyone Want To Argue?”
Terry Pratchett, Thief of Time, 2001.
December 24, 2019
QotD: Fairy tales
December 22, 2019
History-Makers: Dante
Overly Sarcastic Productions
Published 20 Dec 2019From the visionary creator who brought you the Self-Insert Fanfic comes… the invention of Worldbuilding and the most revolutionary literature in history? Woah, that was unexpected.
Grab your nearest Virgil, because we’re about to dive into Dante’s complex afterlife and learn how a Florentine poet used an ancient genre of poetry to kickstart what would become the Renaissance.
Further Reading: I would highly recommend Allen Mandelbaum’s translation of the Divine Comedy (Bantam Classics makes it), specifically because it features an opposite-facing translation, so the English appears directly adjacent to the original Italian. Regardless of your familiarity with Italian, Dante’s use of language is beautiful to listen to. It’s also just a good translation in general. Please do yourself a favor and read through some Dante.
Our content is intended for teenage audiences and up.
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Repost – ‘Tis the season to hate the senders of boastful holiday letters
Gregg Easterbrook receives the perfect, perfect holiday letter:
Don’t you hate boastful holidays letters about other people’s fascinating lives and perfect children? Below is one Nan and I received last week.
Dear Friends,
What a lucky break the CEO sent his personal jet to pick me up from Istanbul; there’s plenty of room, since I have the entire aircraft to myself, to take out the laptop and write our annual holiday letter. Just let me ask the attendant for a better vintage of champagne, and I’ll begin.
It’s been another utterly hectic year for Chad and I and our remarkable children, yet nurturing and horizon-expanding. It’s hard to know where the time goes. Well, a lot of it is spent in the car.
Rachel is in her senior year at Pinnacle-Upon-Hilltop Academy, and it seems just yesterday she was being pushed around in the stroller by our British nanny. Rachel placed first this fall in the state operatic arias competition. Chad was skeptical when I proposed hiring a live-in voice tutor on leave from the Lyric Opera, but it sure paid off! Rachel’s girls’ volleyball team lost in the semifinals owing to totally unfair officiating, but as I have told her, she must learn to overcome incredible hardship in life.
Now the Big Decision looms — whether to take the early admission offer from Harvard or spend a year at Julliard. Plus the whole back of her Mercedes is full of dance-company brochures as she tries to decide about the summer.
Nicholas is his same old self, juggling the karate lessons plus basketball, soccer, French horn, debate club, archeology field trips, poetry-writing classes and his volunteer work. He just got the Yondan belt, which usually requires nine years of training after the Shodan belt, but prodigies can do it faster, especially if (not that I really believe this!) they are reincarnated deities.
Modeling for Gap cuts into Nick’s schoolwork, but how could I deprive others of the chance to see him? His summer with Outward Bound in the Andes was a big thrill, especially when all the expert guides became disoriented and he had to lead the party out. But you probably read about that in the newspapers.
What can I say regarding our Emily? She’s just been reclassified as EVVSUG&T — “Extremely Very Very Super Ultra Gifted and Talented.” The preschool retained a full-time teacher solely for her, to keep her challenged. Educational institutions are not allowed to discriminate against the gifted anymore, not like when I was young.
Yesterday Rachel sold her first still-life. It was shown at one of the leading galleries without the age of the artist disclosed. The buyers were thrilled when they learned!
Then there was the arrival of our purebred owczarek nizinny puppy. He’s the little furry guy in the enclosed family holiday portrait by Annie Leibovitz. Because our family mission statement lists cultural diversity as a core value, we named him Mandela.
Chad continues to prosper and blossom. He works a few hours a day and spends the rest of the time supervising restoration of the house — National Trust for Historic Preservation rules are quite strict. Corporate denial consulting is a perfect career niche for Chad. Fortune 500 companies call him all the time. There’s a lot to deny, and Chad is good at it.
Me? Oh, I do this and that. I feel myself growing and flowering as a change agent. I yearn to empower the stakeholders. This year I was promoted to COO and invited to the White House twice, but honestly, beading in the evening means just as much to me. I was sorry I had to let Carmen go on the same day I brought home my $14.6 million bonus, but she had broken a Flora Danica platter and I caught her making a personal call.
Chad and I got away for a week for a celebration of my promotion. We rented this quaint five-star villa on the Corsican coast. Just to ourselves — we bought out all 40 rooms so it would be quiet and contemplative and we could ponder rising above materialism.
Our family looks to the New Year for rejuvenation and enrichment. Chad and I will be taking the children to Steamboat Springs over spring break, then in June I take the girls to Paris, Rome and Seville while Chad and Nicholas accompany Richard Gere to Tibet.
Then the kids are off to camps in Maine, and before we know it, we will be packing two cars to drive Rachel’s things to college. And of course I don’t count Davos or Sundance or all the routine excursions.
I hope your year has been as interesting as ours.
Love,
Jennifer, Chad, Rachel, Nicholas & Emily(The above is inspired by a satirical Christmas letter I did for The New Republic a decade ago. I figure it’s OK to recycle a joke once every 10 years.)
QotD: Impulses and regrets
That thing you kinda want to do someday? Do it now. I mean, literally, pause reading this column, pick up the phone, and book that skydiving session. RIGHT NOW. I’ll wait. Pixels are patient.
Don’t wait until you have the time to really relax and enjoy it. That will be approximately three decades from now, and it’s highly possible you won’t be able to enjoy it. I will never forgive myself for passing up a chance to go to trapeze school in my late 20s. I figured I could always do it later, little suspecting that in my early thirties my lower back would decide to take up amateur dramatics. At least somebody got to perform.
Megan McArdle, “After 45 Birthdays, Here Are ’12 Rules for Life'”, Bloomberg View, 2018-01-30.
December 21, 2019
QotD: Blogging
Blogs exist to fill the important market niche of writing that is so dull that your eyes will burrow out of the back of your head to escape. People do read blogs, usually by accident, sometimes on a dare, but those readers are later mistaken for Mafia victims with what appears to be two holes in the back of their heads. On closer inspection, you might find their eyeballs clinging to the drapes directly behind them. Unless the cat gets them first.
Scott Adams, 2004-11-11.
December 20, 2019
Repost – Happy holiday travels!
H/T to Economicrot. Many many more at the link.
QotD: Ontario pubs
Bread, of course, led to variations like cake — which was good — and the kaiser bun, that tasteless, doughy piece of stodge named as revenge upon the Germans for WWI and served in many pubs to this day to diminish the pleasure of an honest hamburger. (The kaiser bun is mandatory in Ontario bars as a pivotal part of the legislation aimed at curtailing pleasure among the citizenry. Citizens who became accustomed to pleasure might start to see it as their due, which would be inconvenient for the authorities.)
Nicholas Pashley, Notes on a Beermat: Drinking and Why It’s Necessary, 2001.
December 19, 2019
Repost – “An ‘American tradition’ is anything that happened to a baby boomer twice”
Hard to refute xkcd on Christmas music:
December 18, 2019
History Summarized: Pope Fights
Overly Sarcastic Productions
Published 24 Aug 2018The Medieval Catholic Church was … an interesting place, to put it lightly. Sometimes there was more than one Pope at a time, and sometimes they fought each other for power. Ladies and Gentleman, I present to you Pope Fights! The most absurd chapter in all of Catholicism.
Pope Francis’ Rock Album, if you’re still not convinced: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hW3az…
PATREON: https://www.patreon.com/user?u=4664797
Find us on Twitter @OSPYouTube!
QotD: Approaching 60
I’m almost 60. This bothers me a little but not a lot. The 50s seem interstitial, inconclusive, and a bit delusional. It’s the new 40s! No, it’s not. It’s the period in which your vitality may ebb, your opinions may calcify, your joints may stiffen, and your sense of yourself becomes oddly detached from your chronological age. How can I be 60? I like the Beatles!
Well, it’s just a number. I feel engaged with my times, apart from them as well; amused, concerned, optimistic, and not scared: I’ve been on 7 cruises since I bought my last suit and the pants still fit with a 29″ waist. My eyes are crap but my eyes have always been crap. I look older but why shouldn’t I? I have the same energy I had when I was 20, except I know more. I’ve done everything I wanted to do and regret nothing. Hoorah!
James Lileks, The Bleat, 2017-11-29.
December 17, 2019
My Wife vs. Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream Lock
LockPickingLawyer
Published 15 Dec 2018
From the comments:
Hacker Lord
4 months ago
He sounds so calm for someone who’s probably sleeping on the couch tonight lol
December 15, 2019
QotD: Naming military actions
I often note with amusement the significant differences in naming conventions for military operations between the US and the rest of the “Anglosphere”. A typical US Army operation might be “Operation Devastating Earthshatterer”, while a British or Canadian equivalent might be “Operation Broken Teaspoon” or “Operation Goalie Glove”. (I’ll pass up on the urge to attribute something mockery-tinged to French codenames … but only because Babelfish didn’t give me a useful translation for “Operation Wet Knickers” or “Operation Big Girl’s Blouse”).
Not that there’s anything wrong with a dose of belligerent overkill in your naming conventions…
Posted on the old blog (no longer online), 2004-09-09.
December 14, 2019
QotD: Chocolate, Ankh-Morpork style
Ankh-Morpork people, said the Guild, were hearty no-nonsense people who did not want chocolate that was stuffed with cocoa liquor, and were certainly not like effete la-di-dah foreigners who wanted cream in everything. In fact they actually preferred chocolate made mostly from milk, sugar, suet, hooves, lips, miscellaneous squeezings, rat droppings, plaster, flies, tallow, bits of tree, hair, lint, spiders and powdered cocoa husks. This meant that according to the food standards of the great chocolate centres in Borogravia and Quirm, Ankh-Morpork chocolate was formally classed as “cheese” and only escaped, through being the wrong colour, being defined as “tile grout”.
Terry Pratchett, Thief of Time, 2001.
December 13, 2019
Further adventures of the “Basic College Girl”
Severian has another tale of his university teaching career to share:
The Basic College Girl is so dumb, lazy, and entitled, she makes Hillary Clinton look like a criminal mastermind. I caught one recycling a term paper from another class because she’d forgotten to take the other professor’s name off the header. Hell, I caught one copy-pasting straight off Wikipedia because she’d left the hyperlinks embedded in the text.
And these were not Hail Marys. Just copy-pasting something, anything, Cuttlefish-style makes sense if you haven’t done a lick of work and it’s due in five minutes. It’s a one-in-a-million shot, sure, but since it took you all of 45 seconds and you’re going to fail anyway, you might as well try to shoot the moon. No, these were papers turned in with plenty of time to spare (I always had my term papers due at least a week before final exams).
Think about that for a second: Instead of coming to my office hours with a sob story, or trying to talk the registrar into an incomplete, or faking her own death, or doing literally anything else, more than a few BCGs turned in visible-from-space plagiarism and skipped on down to Starbucks for a triple foam half-caff venti soy chai pumpkin spice latte. YOLO!
That’s not the worst part, though. The worst part is the BCG’s reaction when you catch them. When you point out that no, I’m not Professor Jones and this isn’t Spring 2014, the BCG’s universal, invariable reaction is … anger. At YOU.
At the time I was simply too pissed to think about it rationally (I trust you’ll believe me when I say that in the semesters just before I retired, my biggest challenge was keeping a look of utter contempt off my face). Looking back on it after some years, though, it makes sense. BCGs are all grandiose narcissists with Borderline Personality Disorder. Of course they’re just so wonderful that anything they deign to turn in should be given an A+, sight unseen. What other purpose could I, the professor, possibly serve, other than to mark it down for record-keeping? Now she’s forced to take the time to email me, or come down to my office hours, or what have you, just to set my dumb ass straight. It’s a real inconvenience!
December 11, 2019
QotD: Charles I and the Civil War
With the ascension of Charles I to the throne we come at last to the Central Period of English History (not to be confused with the Middle Ages, of course), consisting in the utterly memorable Struggle between the Cavaliers (Wrong but Wromantic) and the Roundheads (Right and Repulsive).
Charles I was a Cavalier King and therefore had a small pointed beard, long flowing curls, a large, flat, flowing hat, and gay attire. The Roundheads, on the other hand, were clean-shaven and wore tall, conical hats, white ties, and sombre garments. Under these circumstances a Civil War was inevitable.
The Roundheads, of course, were so called because Cromwell had all their heads made perfectly round, in order that they should present a uniform appearance when drawn up in line.
Besides this, if any man lost his head in action, it could be used as a cannon-ball by the artillery (which was done at the Siege of Worcester).
For a long time before the Civil War, however, Charles had been quarrelling with the Roundheads about what was right. Charles explained that there was a doctrine called the Divine Right of Kings, which said that:
(a) He was King, and that was right.
(b) Kings were divine, and that was right.
(c) Kings were right, and that was right.
(d) Everything was all right.
But so determined were the Roundheads that all this was all wrong that they drew up a Petition called the Petition of Right to show in more detail which things were wrong. This Petition said:
(a) That it was wrong for anyone to be put to death more than once for the same offence.
(b) Habeas Corpus, which meant that it was wrong if people were put in prison except for some reason, and that people who had been mutilated by the King, such as Prynne, who had often had his ears cut off, should always be allowed to keep their bodies.
(c) That Charles’s memorable methods of getting money, such as Rummage and Scroungeage, were wrong. But the most important cause of the Civil War was Ship Money
Charles I said that any money which was Ship Money belonged to him; but while the Roundheads declared that Ship Money could be found only in the Cinq Ports, Charles maintained that no one but the King could guess right which was Ship Money and which wasn’t. This was, of course, part of his Divine Right. The climax came when a villager called Hampden (memorable for his dauntless breast) advised the King to divine again. This so upset Charles that he went back to Westminster, and after cinquing several ports burst into the House of Commons and asked in a very royal way for some birds which he said were in there. The Parliament, who were mostly Puritans, were so shocked that they began making solemn Leagues and Countenances. Charles therefore became very angry and complaining that the birds had flown raised his standard at Nottingham and declared war against Hampden and the Roundheads.
The War
At first the King was successful owing to Prince Rupert of Hentzau, his famous cavalry leader, who was very dashing in all directions. After this, many indecisive battles were fought at such places as Newbury, Edgehill, Newbury, Chalgrove Field, Newbury, etc., in all of which the Cavaliers were rather victorious.
The Roundheads therefore made a new plan in order to win the war after all. This was called the SelfDenying Ordnance and said that everyone had to deny everything he had done up to that date, and that nobody was allowed to admit who he was: thus the war could be started again from the beginning. When the Roundheads had done this they were called the New Moral Army and were dressed up as Ironclads and put under the command of Oliver Cromwell, whose Christian name was Oliver and who was therefore affectionately known as `Old Nick’. Cromwell was not only moral and completely round in the head but had a large (round) wart on the nose. He was consequently victorious in all the remaining battles such as Newbury, Marston Moor, Edgehill (change for Chalgrove), Naseby, Newbury, etc.
Blood and Ironclads
When Charles I had been defeated he was brought to trial by the Rump Parliament so-called because it had been sitting for such a long time and was found guilty of being defeated in a war against himself, which was, of course, a form of High Treason. He was therefore ordered by Cromwell to go and have his head cut off (it was, the Roundheads pointed out, the wrong shape, anyway). So romantic was Charles, however, that this made little difference to him and it is very memorable that he walked and talked Half an hour after his Head was cut off.
On seeing this, Cromwell was so angry that he picked up the mace (the new and terrible Instrument of Government which he had invented) and, pointing it at the Head, shouted: “Take away that Marble,” and announced that his policy in future would be just Blood and Ironclads.
W.C. Sellar & R.J. Yeatman, 1066 And All That, 1930.