The theme this year is pirates. I just realized I am on no pirate-related programming. So I will throw this out there: a few years ago I was saying that pirates are the new zombies are the new vampires. Steampunk is the new pirates. I don’t know if there’s a new steampunk.
Supernatural Horror and the Influence of Lovecraft – Fri, Oct 4; 11 PM – 12 AM (midnight)
Others Among Us – Sat, Oct 5; 10 AM – 11 AM
Much Ado About Whedon – Sun, Oct 6; 1 PM – 2 PM
Trapped by the Taliban (or: Who are you to tell me where to be on my own planet?) – Sun, Oct 6, 3 PM – 4 PM
Dear Facebook, you are broken and you ruined my birthday and I hate you
Dear Facebook, you are broken. You have frustrated me so much that you have made what is supposed to be a PLEASANT SOCIAL EXPERIENCE (ie people wishing me a happy birthday) into a nightmarish exercise in dysfunctional computer interfaces and annoyance that ELICITED AN ACTUAL PRIMAL SCREAM OF FRUSTRATION. Seriously. My throat hurts now. Facebook, if you were a thing, I would throw you across the room. (I was able to resist the temptation to throw the computer across the room)
On my timeline it tells me that 27 people have wished me a happy birthday. Then it shows me the five or six most recent wishes. Then it says there are “23 more” in a clickable link — which, when I click on that link, shows me only ONE name of somebody else who wrote on my timeline.
I started poking around to try to find out what the bleedin’ ‘ell was going on, and this BLEEPITY BLEEP popup inviting me to “Explore Graph Search” won’t get out of my everlovin’ way. No, Facebook, I do not want to explore graph search. But there is no “get the hell out of my way you stupid popup” button. There is only a “Take Tour” and “remind me later” button.
DO NOT REMIND ME LATER. DO NOT MAKE ME TAKE A TOUR. TELL ME WHY YOU ARE BROKEN AND HOW TO FIX YOU, STUPID STUPID FACEBOOK.
Anyway, the upshot is: I love you guys, and I hate Facebook. So if I fail to acknowledge your birthday greetings, it is because Facebook is broken, and now I’m all stressed out, and possibly the neighbors are calling the cops because they heard the scream and thinks somebody is being axe-murdered. And when the cops show up, I can say: no axe murder, just Facebook. And they will nod in understanding.
If you would like to talk to me on something less broken than Facebook, here are some other places that aren’t Facebook, which is broken.
if I isolate a beneficial chemical compound from some natural source [..] that molecule is identical to a copy of it I make in my lab. There is no essence, no vital spirit. A compound is what it is
Another assumption that seems common to this mindset is that when something is poisonous at some concentration, it is therefore poisonous at all concentrations. It has some poisonous character to it that cannot be expunged nor diluted. [but] the dose makes the poison.
”—This is from an epic chemical dismantling of a Buzzfeed article about AIEE!!!! TOXIC FOODSTUFFS!!!! But I wanted to pull out these quotes in particular because I think it’s highly relevant to why people think this way — on some level many of us, maybe all of us, are magical essentialist thinkers. It’s how our brains work. We know not to say an “unclean” food is inhabited by evil spirits or whatever, because in the current culture that makes us sound nutty. But we’ll use concepts like “chemicals” or “radiation” in the same way that we would use concepts like curses or evil spirits.
On that previous note, I’d always bought into one of the standard critical lines about Hammer’s Dracula: that it was a puritanical series which depicted Dracula as a scary sexual liberator who made ladies into tramps, while Van Helsing and his ilk had to put them back into their place. Rewatching…
My go-to metaphor regarding vampires is that they are a symbol of ambivalence — the thing you want but you don’t want — and so any interpretation that is too pat or reductionist is going to seem off to me. It’s more complicated than that, and it’s always more complicated than that, because more complicated than that is the point.
This is why my least favorite vampire fictions tend to be the ones where the vampires are treated as simply a bad thing, a monster who is going to eat you, or where they are treated simply as heroes, without sufficient element of danger or anti-hero about them.
Buffy gets older! And… things get farther away? And just for good measure… Bonus question! The gang is kinda sorta dressed up here — Buffy with her little off the shoulder top, Willow in a foofy top, Tara in lace. Who wins?
Otherwise known as the “Tara gets to be super awesome” episode.
reimagination said: from my pov, it’s a lose lose situation. If the women’s cup is smaller, it’s not fair because they aren’t equal. If the women’s cup is bigger, it’s not nice because I’m saying women need more coffee. Of course, they could have used a S shape.
I’m laughing really…
Allow me to be the first. I am a woman. I need more coffee. Thank you.
It might seem weird that my favorite BBQ place is Memphis Blues in Vancouver, BC, but remember — I live in Seattle. It is literally the best BBQ I can get without hopping on a plane. A couple of years ago I bought their cookbook. During the summer we lived mostly apart, Paul had been getting into grilling and I thought maybe getting him into the Manly Art of Lighting Food on Fire would help us achieve cooking parity — because usually, I do all of it.
Perhaps not surprisingly, the only person so far to use recipes from the book has been me. But I can’t regret it. Twice, I have followed (more or less) their recipe for dry-rub BBQ chicken, and twice, it has been in the running for most delicious thing in the history of things.
Seriously, I can’t believe how good it was. Both times, so I know it wasn’t a fluke.
And it’s so simple! Hence I must share it. A dry rub is really just a bunch of dry spices — mine was roughly equal parts onion powder (Paul isn’t allergic to onions in powdered form) garlic powder, mustard powder, paprika, black pepper, and celery salt, with about half part cayenne pepper. The idea is that you completely cake the chicken carcass with the rub. Then you toss the chicken on the grill (275-300 F) for two hours. The dry rub flavors the meat and keeps it from drying out.
It’s like a magic spell for perfect chicken. Moist, delicious, falling off the bone — all the things you want from a dead chicken.
Also, both times I also used organic chicken from the co-op, and I used lump charcoal instead of briquettes. Not to be a grill nerd — except, okay, I confess, anything I bother to do, I’ll probably be a nerd about it — but the lump charcoal tastes SOOOOO much better than the briquettes. Also, the irregular lumpiness makes the whole affair seem more primal.
Because nothing makes you feel more like the Ur-human than taking a dead animal, covering it with smelly leaves, lighting it on fire, then eating it.
“She has her caucus more in lockstep with the White House than Boehner does with himself… In the House, there’s no way around it. Unless fiscal conservatives say, ‘All right, I see the greater strategy here,’ there is no way to do this without votes from Pelosi’s caucus.”—Republican strateguist Ford O’Connell, acknowledging that Nancy Pelosi appears to wield more power at present than John Boehner, the least-liked congressional leader according to numerous polls. (via npi)