Yes we were most amused at the old mimicry recommended by dirty beloved at American variety stage audio sampler, (and especially the five dogs in an argument - although it shows up my efforts of mimicking only 3 dogs. I may have to add two more to the routine now)
Another routine of note was the Laughing Record (Henry's Music Lesson)
This comic sketch was so popular nearly every early record company sold a recording of it. This is the Edison Company's version
It made me wonder how universal is the sound of human laughter?
If it subtly changes over the century along with the joke?
On a tangent, I was vaguely googling (which sounds like gruesome giggling) and found this old report
A control group was set up to measure exactly what happens to muscles when a person laughs. Electrodes were attached to the volunteers' legs at the H-reflex, a neurological pathway that causes muscle contractions. The volunteers were then made to giggle using slides, and the occasional Belgian joke
(source)
Comments: sound laughter
Wat maakt een "Belgische Grap" zo grappig? or
What makes a "Belgian joke" this way funny?
Posted by Nora at July 18, 2004 11:12 AM
I wonder how many Belgian jokes it takes to induce a sufficient sample.
How this compares to Hungarian jokes, say.
Posted by boynton at July 18, 2004 06:43 PM
A French friend looking over my shoulder at this post grunted somewhat unkindly, 'A Belgian joke - surely a contradiction in terms'.
Posted by Dick Jones at July 19, 2004 07:34 AM
Sunday, July 18, 2004
Friday, July 16, 2004
seurat munch
What Seurat left out of 'La Grande Jatte'
Sometimes familiarity is a bit numbing. You think you know the picture, but there's a plot to discover," says Douglas Druick, cocurator of the exhibit. "We tried to construct a process whereby visitors would come to the realization and appreciation of a picture we're told is great, and we know is great, but in a way that turns the head back into heart."
(via exclamation mark)
( I thought he left out the Yarra, but I digress)
Echoes of the Scream - one of the Online Exhibitions at the Munch Museum
(via fishbucket)
(See also From Stage to Canvas Ibsen's plays reflected in Munch's work)
Sometimes familiarity is a bit numbing. You think you know the picture, but there's a plot to discover," says Douglas Druick, cocurator of the exhibit. "We tried to construct a process whereby visitors would come to the realization and appreciation of a picture we're told is great, and we know is great, but in a way that turns the head back into heart."
(via exclamation mark)
( I thought he left out the Yarra, but I digress)
Echoes of the Scream - one of the Online Exhibitions at the Munch Museum
(via fishbucket)
(See also From Stage to Canvas Ibsen's plays reflected in Munch's work)
be a television
Be a Television Repair Man - Instantly via grow a brain
How to be a TV Technician in 1956
you must be prepared to work for it - and perhaps, to wait a little, too
(a frame from Domestic TV Sets in Australia)
I like this prescription too.
Comments: be a television
Please rush me five. I want to understand existentialism in real depth.
Posted by Dick Jones at July 17, 2004 05:21 PM
Me too. And I missed a joke about Munching to understand Angst there too.
Posted by boynton at July 18, 2004 12:30 AM
How to be a TV Technician in 1956
you must be prepared to work for it - and perhaps, to wait a little, too
(a frame from Domestic TV Sets in Australia)
I like this prescription too.
Comments: be a television
Please rush me five. I want to understand existentialism in real depth.
Posted by Dick Jones at July 17, 2004 05:21 PM
Me too. And I missed a joke about Munching to understand Angst there too.
Posted by boynton at July 18, 2004 12:30 AM
back
what better way to ease back into the blancmange with this nice line delivered fresh into the mailbox.
kitchenette doctorate deductible grimace
a whole life story in that one, I suspect.
And on the randomly generated lines, Lost in Translation is a machine that automates the trick advanced by Gummo (using Google), of laundering phrases through Babelfish until you get a decent enough shred to revitalise worn out pop woolies.
(via J walk)
kitchenette doctorate deductible grimace
a whole life story in that one, I suspect.
And on the randomly generated lines, Lost in Translation is a machine that automates the trick advanced by Gummo (using Google), of laundering phrases through Babelfish until you get a decent enough shred to revitalise worn out pop woolies.
(via J walk)
Wednesday, July 14, 2004
yelling cursive
6. The space between words
is the width of the small letter o.
9. Lines of writing are far enough apart
for ascenders and descenders not to touch
From 12 Rules For Good Cursive Handwriting via things
(cursive never looked so desperate)
Comments: yelling cursive
I want me a pen that takes animated ink refills, so my handwriting can look that good too.
Posted by Gummo Trotsky at July 15, 2004 03:04 PM
PS - good to see that you're flued out again, or at least flued out enough to blog.
Posted by Gummo Trotsky at July 15, 2004 03:05 PM
ogodogodogodogodogodogdododgodoekdoopgoeeeeeek
such foul memberies that brings back.
skool ink dip pen blotch gungeglob on end of nib now its crossed flick it upright now its hanging from the ceiling above Teacher who hasn't noticed it swinging gently back and forth..
Posted by David Tiley at July 15, 2004 09:38 PM
Takes me back to the horrors of early primary school.
A natural born backhand molly-dooker I was expected to follow the five past one sloping parallel lined template peering through the page of my exercise book with a steel nibbed pen freshly dipped in the porcelain ink well.
Was rescued from a scrawl worse than death by the next teacher who in these days would have said "WTF!", and despatched the template to the rubbish bin.
Then onto my high school salad days of faux tortoise shell Platignum fountain pens (complete with left handed nibs!) and bottles of Swan Ink ... and the most exaggerated backhand this side of Gussie Moran.
In later life I went straight.
(Whilst previewing this I noted Mr T. has snuck in with his more James Joyce Ulyssean nostalgia. Bloody gazumper!)
Posted by Sedgwick at July 15, 2004 10:13 PM
porcelain inkwells brings back repressed memories of inkblots. Even now I mistrust people with neat handwriting.
Posted by Andy F at July 15, 2004 10:48 PM
Who isn't yearning for a good kerning?
Or up for a discursive discourse.
*quink*
Posted by Nabakov at July 16, 2004 02:51 AM
I remember one year (grade 4) of trying very hard to do the cursive bit - but while I was doing rote curves I could never lose the sense of the loop as a shape - to draw, rather than just robotically imprint. I was drawing handwriting rather than rote-rendering it.
I have once disclosed my terrible handwriting here before, (it was a task of the Kaleidoscope game) and there is more discursive discourse here.
http://boynton.ubersportingpundit.com/archives/002288.html
Posted by boynton at July 16, 2004 01:01 PM
The thumbnail dipped in tar having writ moves on to a far far better place than I have ever writ before Gunga Din. A place where the deers and the antelopes play with a surrey with a fringe on top of Old Smokey all covered in circled waggons.
http://tinypic.com/seb7
Posted by Sedgwick at July 16, 2004 02:08 PM
Oops. Spot the wryto.
Posted by Sedgwick at July 16, 2004 02:11 PM
wrytos never look as bad.
I see the evidence of sound training in your handwriting Sedge - eg the assurance of the esses.
(And yours is a far far better scan than mine.
Think I need to seriously dust my scanner)
Posted by boynton at July 16, 2004 02:21 PM
I obviously crafted my esses in a mad woman's kitchen.
Oh, ♥Clarissa♥ let me count the ways.
Posted by Sedgwick at July 16, 2004 02:49 PM
I have blocked out all memories of learning to write. Too too traumatic.
In year 12 -- just before HSC exams, my English teacher handed back my (late) essays unmarked & claimed they were illegible. Said that they looked like a cockroach (dipped in tar?) had crawled across the pages.
Posted by wen at July 17, 2004 02:22 PM
Always look on the bright side, wen. After the nuclear holocaust, your essays will be the only body of literature to survive.
Posted by Sedgwick at July 17, 2004 03:51 PM
is the width of the small letter o.
9. Lines of writing are far enough apart
for ascenders and descenders not to touch
From 12 Rules For Good Cursive Handwriting via things
(cursive never looked so desperate)
Comments: yelling cursive
I want me a pen that takes animated ink refills, so my handwriting can look that good too.
Posted by Gummo Trotsky at July 15, 2004 03:04 PM
PS - good to see that you're flued out again, or at least flued out enough to blog.
Posted by Gummo Trotsky at July 15, 2004 03:05 PM
ogodogodogodogodogodogdododgodoekdoopgoeeeeeek
such foul memberies that brings back.
skool ink dip pen blotch gungeglob on end of nib now its crossed flick it upright now its hanging from the ceiling above Teacher who hasn't noticed it swinging gently back and forth..
Posted by David Tiley at July 15, 2004 09:38 PM
Takes me back to the horrors of early primary school.
A natural born backhand molly-dooker I was expected to follow the five past one sloping parallel lined template peering through the page of my exercise book with a steel nibbed pen freshly dipped in the porcelain ink well.
Was rescued from a scrawl worse than death by the next teacher who in these days would have said "WTF!", and despatched the template to the rubbish bin.
Then onto my high school salad days of faux tortoise shell Platignum fountain pens (complete with left handed nibs!) and bottles of Swan Ink ... and the most exaggerated backhand this side of Gussie Moran.
In later life I went straight.
(Whilst previewing this I noted Mr T. has snuck in with his more James Joyce Ulyssean nostalgia. Bloody gazumper!)
Posted by Sedgwick at July 15, 2004 10:13 PM
porcelain inkwells brings back repressed memories of inkblots. Even now I mistrust people with neat handwriting.
Posted by Andy F at July 15, 2004 10:48 PM
Who isn't yearning for a good kerning?
Or up for a discursive discourse.
*quink*
Posted by Nabakov at July 16, 2004 02:51 AM
I remember one year (grade 4) of trying very hard to do the cursive bit - but while I was doing rote curves I could never lose the sense of the loop as a shape - to draw, rather than just robotically imprint. I was drawing handwriting rather than rote-rendering it.
I have once disclosed my terrible handwriting here before, (it was a task of the Kaleidoscope game) and there is more discursive discourse here.
http://boynton.ubersportingpundit.com/archives/002288.html
Posted by boynton at July 16, 2004 01:01 PM
The thumbnail dipped in tar having writ moves on to a far far better place than I have ever writ before Gunga Din. A place where the deers and the antelopes play with a surrey with a fringe on top of Old Smokey all covered in circled waggons.
http://tinypic.com/seb7
Posted by Sedgwick at July 16, 2004 02:08 PM
Oops. Spot the wryto.
Posted by Sedgwick at July 16, 2004 02:11 PM
wrytos never look as bad.
I see the evidence of sound training in your handwriting Sedge - eg the assurance of the esses.
(And yours is a far far better scan than mine.
Think I need to seriously dust my scanner)
Posted by boynton at July 16, 2004 02:21 PM
I obviously crafted my esses in a mad woman's kitchen.
Oh, ♥Clarissa♥ let me count the ways.
Posted by Sedgwick at July 16, 2004 02:49 PM
I have blocked out all memories of learning to write. Too too traumatic.
In year 12 -- just before HSC exams, my English teacher handed back my (late) essays unmarked & claimed they were illegible. Said that they looked like a cockroach (dipped in tar?) had crawled across the pages.
Posted by wen at July 17, 2004 02:22 PM
Always look on the bright side, wen. After the nuclear holocaust, your essays will be the only body of literature to survive.
Posted by Sedgwick at July 17, 2004 03:51 PM
Monday, July 12, 2004
flown
this bird has flu
Comments: flown
The Flu Hat Cure.
Mix up a litre of hot toddy - usually brandy, whiskey/hy or rum, one quarter cut with fishpiss (water) and bring to fingerhurting but not boiling heat.
Then add a cinnimon stick the size of Donald Trump's real dick, half a dozen cocktail-sized lemon slices and some drunkenly hammered cloves (enough to spill over Clara Bow's lips without flaking.)
Simmer, ponder and prowl for the length of four good 60s pop songs.
Now add a big swingeing tablespoon of unsalted butter from happy cows, another equally butch helping of brown sugar, and an extra shot of brandy into the mix for emergencies.
Simmer and stir for a few minutes. And the same fer yer hot toddy too.
Then put a hat on yer foot and starting drinking. When you can't focus on the titfer no more, that's when the flu cure is kicking in.
Posted by Nabakov at July 14, 2004 12:18 AM
Wot Nabakov said. He may be a rum cove but he is a delight.
I am sorry to hear you are sick, gracious Boynton. Get Nora onto the cures.
Posted by David Tiley at July 14, 2004 03:14 AM
1 part Boddington's Irish Moss.
10 parts single malt.
Glacé cherry.
Umbrella.
Light blue touch paper and retire.
And before you drop off into the arms of Morpheus and Lethe wards do sink, brighten your day with the musings of this very odd chap. http://www.manzillworld.co.uk/
(Suspect he lives not too far from Royston Vasey.)
Posted by Sedgwick at July 14, 2004 10:48 AM
Ah merci mes amis malt.
I've have partaken of the brandy bit of the suggested cures anyway - and will shortly go out scouting for an umbrella to match.
There's an enormous garden type hiding dormant in the cellar here that may be proportionate to the dosage of brandy I prescribe for myself.
And the sixties swingin' song I'd choose to "Simmer, ponder and prowl"?
The Julie London number here (#3) - whose lyrics are very easy to remember even after a few HT's...
http://www.bestbuy.com/site/olspage.jsp?j=1&id=137487&type=product&ref=03&loc=01
Apologies for not being able to get around the traps folks. Gosh - a day or two is a long time in the b'spherical loop.
(I'll check out that link properly sooooon, Sedge.)
Posted by boynton at July 14, 2004 08:25 PM
Ooh...
the Julie London link seems to have broken?
Try #22 here:
http://shopping.yahoo.com/p:Julie%20Is%20Her%20Name,%20Vols.%201-2%20(Remastered):1921939424
Posted by boynton at July 14, 2004 09:02 PM
Watch a few
Marx Brothers
movies,
Quai Brothers
movies,
or any funny
movies.
Roll your eyes.
Then
close your eyes
Sleep.
Posted by Nick Piombino at July 15, 2004 12:08 PM
I think Manzillworld man may be onto something. Since visiting his site, I've cleaned my bathroom twice and thrown out that eavesdropping prick of a cactus.
Also Sedgie, I can't be fcuked hiking over to yer site now so I'll say here, great tip about The Convent in Daylesford. The Penthouse looks like just the spot for a transcendentally carnal weekend.
Posted by Nabakov at July 16, 2004 03:04 AM
Well, I've just had a dentally carnal Thursday, having spent all of Wednesday at 'Madame Lash's House of Oral Pain'. The screams could be heard from the moon.
"Root carnal, crown to come. That will be half your house and your first born child. Here's a complimentary tooth pick. Thank you sir. Have a nice day."
Posted by Sedgwick at July 16, 2004 10:41 AM
thanks Nick, sound advice
a quick roll of the eyes
has been my standard morning warm up for years.
rolling the eyes may help with flu
not sure how effective it is with dental stress
Posted by boynton at July 16, 2004 12:49 PM
Comments: flown
The Flu Hat Cure.
Mix up a litre of hot toddy - usually brandy, whiskey/hy or rum, one quarter cut with fishpiss (water) and bring to fingerhurting but not boiling heat.
Then add a cinnimon stick the size of Donald Trump's real dick, half a dozen cocktail-sized lemon slices and some drunkenly hammered cloves (enough to spill over Clara Bow's lips without flaking.)
Simmer, ponder and prowl for the length of four good 60s pop songs.
Now add a big swingeing tablespoon of unsalted butter from happy cows, another equally butch helping of brown sugar, and an extra shot of brandy into the mix for emergencies.
Simmer and stir for a few minutes. And the same fer yer hot toddy too.
Then put a hat on yer foot and starting drinking. When you can't focus on the titfer no more, that's when the flu cure is kicking in.
Posted by Nabakov at July 14, 2004 12:18 AM
Wot Nabakov said. He may be a rum cove but he is a delight.
I am sorry to hear you are sick, gracious Boynton. Get Nora onto the cures.
Posted by David Tiley at July 14, 2004 03:14 AM
1 part Boddington's Irish Moss.
10 parts single malt.
Glacé cherry.
Umbrella.
Light blue touch paper and retire.
And before you drop off into the arms of Morpheus and Lethe wards do sink, brighten your day with the musings of this very odd chap. http://www.manzillworld.co.uk/
(Suspect he lives not too far from Royston Vasey.)
Posted by Sedgwick at July 14, 2004 10:48 AM
Ah merci mes amis malt.
I've have partaken of the brandy bit of the suggested cures anyway - and will shortly go out scouting for an umbrella to match.
There's an enormous garden type hiding dormant in the cellar here that may be proportionate to the dosage of brandy I prescribe for myself.
And the sixties swingin' song I'd choose to "Simmer, ponder and prowl"?
The Julie London number here (#3) - whose lyrics are very easy to remember even after a few HT's...
http://www.bestbuy.com/site/olspage.jsp?j=1&id=137487&type=product&ref=03&loc=01
Apologies for not being able to get around the traps folks. Gosh - a day or two is a long time in the b'spherical loop.
(I'll check out that link properly sooooon, Sedge.)
Posted by boynton at July 14, 2004 08:25 PM
Ooh...
the Julie London link seems to have broken?
Try #22 here:
http://shopping.yahoo.com/p:Julie%20Is%20Her%20Name,%20Vols.%201-2%20(Remastered):1921939424
Posted by boynton at July 14, 2004 09:02 PM
Watch a few
Marx Brothers
movies,
Quai Brothers
movies,
or any funny
movies.
Roll your eyes.
Then
close your eyes
Sleep.
Posted by Nick Piombino at July 15, 2004 12:08 PM
I think Manzillworld man may be onto something. Since visiting his site, I've cleaned my bathroom twice and thrown out that eavesdropping prick of a cactus.
Also Sedgie, I can't be fcuked hiking over to yer site now so I'll say here, great tip about The Convent in Daylesford. The Penthouse looks like just the spot for a transcendentally carnal weekend.
Posted by Nabakov at July 16, 2004 03:04 AM
Well, I've just had a dentally carnal Thursday, having spent all of Wednesday at 'Madame Lash's House of Oral Pain'. The screams could be heard from the moon.
"Root carnal, crown to come. That will be half your house and your first born child. Here's a complimentary tooth pick. Thank you sir. Have a nice day."
Posted by Sedgwick at July 16, 2004 10:41 AM
thanks Nick, sound advice
a quick roll of the eyes
has been my standard morning warm up for years.
rolling the eyes may help with flu
not sure how effective it is with dental stress
Posted by boynton at July 16, 2004 12:49 PM
Friday, July 09, 2004
pundit
Memo to Scott and the ubers...
Things Online That I am sick of
Blogs with the suffix -pundit in the title. These must all immediately be changed to –wankerinbasement
(via grow a brain)
boynton.ubersportingwankerinbasement has a nice sound to it, actually.
Comments: pundit
Wanker-in-a-basket.
hauptstufeubersportingwankerinabasket.com
Posted by Lance Boyle at July 10, 2004 08:42 AM
ubersportingbubblebubbletoilandtroubleinabasket.com
Posted by boynton at July 10, 2004 11:46 AM
ubersportingamusingyourself.com
Posted by Andy F at July 11, 2004 09:00 AM
Wots the German for wanker?
Posted by Scott Wickstein at July 11, 2004 08:17 PM
Wot's the wanker for German?
URLs are green and hyperlinks are gray.
Posted by Nabakov at July 13, 2004 11:52 PM
an edifying search through the vastly popular lands of swearing in foreign languages suggests:
wicsher?
hence
ubersportingwicsherindiekeller.com
please excuse my french.
Posted by boynton at July 14, 2004 08:42 PM
Scott asked:
Wots the German for wanker?
Selbstspieler, perhaps? (Actually I've no idea, so I'm just coining a word that sounds vaguely plausible, if a bit literal-minded...)
Posted by James Russell at July 15, 2004 04:01 PM
Things Online That I am sick of
Blogs with the suffix -pundit in the title. These must all immediately be changed to –wankerinbasement
(via grow a brain)
boynton.ubersportingwankerinbasement has a nice sound to it, actually.
Comments: pundit
Wanker-in-a-basket.
hauptstufeubersportingwankerinabasket.com
Posted by Lance Boyle at July 10, 2004 08:42 AM
ubersportingbubblebubbletoilandtroubleinabasket.com
Posted by boynton at July 10, 2004 11:46 AM
ubersportingamusingyourself.com
Posted by Andy F at July 11, 2004 09:00 AM
Wots the German for wanker?
Posted by Scott Wickstein at July 11, 2004 08:17 PM
Wot's the wanker for German?
URLs are green and hyperlinks are gray.
Posted by Nabakov at July 13, 2004 11:52 PM
an edifying search through the vastly popular lands of swearing in foreign languages suggests:
wicsher?
hence
ubersportingwicsherindiekeller.com
please excuse my french.
Posted by boynton at July 14, 2004 08:42 PM
Scott asked:
Wots the German for wanker?
Selbstspieler, perhaps? (Actually I've no idea, so I'm just coining a word that sounds vaguely plausible, if a bit literal-minded...)
Posted by James Russell at July 15, 2004 04:01 PM
trolley hunter
In a shallow grassy valley they lie, like animal skeletons scattered across a suburban savanna. Down in the creek, there are more. Tossed against rocks, their frames are bent and riddled with reeds, gently smothering once shiny steel ribs. In Broadmeadows Creek, the life of an abandoned supermarket trolley continually proves to be "nasty, brutish and short
The Australian Retailers Association says that about 60,000 trolleys... go missing from Victorian stores every year. The Age
Fainting Goats
Fainting goats are a slightly smaller version of the standard goat, who, believe it or not, thanks to a genetic condition called myotonia congenita, actually seem to faint when they are startled.
As strange as this may sound, these little critters have actually served an historical purpose. Shepherds often kept the goats in with their flocks as insurance in case of predator attack...
(via exclamation mark)
Comments: trolley hunter
Thanks. The Fainting Goat entry explains a couple of people I work with.
Posted by Nabakov at July 9, 2004 07:57 PM
maybe they just have inertia...
http://neurodiversity.com/inertia.html
I think I can rela..
Posted by at July 9, 2004 11:02 PM
Good news for Fainters and/or Martyrs.
As an occasional fainter I'm pleased that it could, in certain circs, serve the community.
Inertia?...
Hmmm....
Not something I can relate to ;)
Posted by boynton at July 9, 2004 11:28 PM
Do fainters have support groups, y'know like Fainters Anonymous?
I can see someone opening a door into a meeting room, looking at all the prostate bodies inside and then gratefully swooning themselves.
Posted by Nabakov at July 10, 2004 01:29 PM
That's it. I always knew I was the product of a clandestine breeding experiment by British fascists. Now I know what it was.
Thud.
Posted by David Tiley at July 14, 2004 03:12 AM
Every day in every way it's getting Fainter...
Posted by boynton at July 14, 2004 08:26 PM
The Australian Retailers Association says that about 60,000 trolleys... go missing from Victorian stores every year. The Age
Fainting Goats
Fainting goats are a slightly smaller version of the standard goat, who, believe it or not, thanks to a genetic condition called myotonia congenita, actually seem to faint when they are startled.
As strange as this may sound, these little critters have actually served an historical purpose. Shepherds often kept the goats in with their flocks as insurance in case of predator attack...
(via exclamation mark)
Comments: trolley hunter
Thanks. The Fainting Goat entry explains a couple of people I work with.
Posted by Nabakov at July 9, 2004 07:57 PM
maybe they just have inertia...
http://neurodiversity.com/inertia.html
I think I can rela..
Posted by at July 9, 2004 11:02 PM
Good news for Fainters and/or Martyrs.
As an occasional fainter I'm pleased that it could, in certain circs, serve the community.
Inertia?...
Hmmm....
Not something I can relate to ;)
Posted by boynton at July 9, 2004 11:28 PM
Do fainters have support groups, y'know like Fainters Anonymous?
I can see someone opening a door into a meeting room, looking at all the prostate bodies inside and then gratefully swooning themselves.
Posted by Nabakov at July 10, 2004 01:29 PM
That's it. I always knew I was the product of a clandestine breeding experiment by British fascists. Now I know what it was.
Thud.
Posted by David Tiley at July 14, 2004 03:12 AM
Every day in every way it's getting Fainter...
Posted by boynton at July 14, 2004 08:26 PM
Thursday, July 08, 2004
the walker
"The Walker" - Articles from the 50th Anniversary Special Edition of "The Catholic Walker"
Mustering as much dignity as our shabby appearance permitted and with as much ceremony as the lurching van allowed, each recipient of an icypole at Myrniong stepped forward and rewarded Bushy in kind
Ice Ceam Bix March 1964
Sun: Walked into Mass at Pheasant Creek about 4 miles. We left our packs along the road and came back and collected them. From there we went through fairly heavy bush to Mason’s Falls where we had lunch. .
Kinglake National Park September 8 - 9th 1951, Author unknown
Mustering as much dignity as our shabby appearance permitted and with as much ceremony as the lurching van allowed, each recipient of an icypole at Myrniong stepped forward and rewarded Bushy in kind
Ice Ceam Bix March 1964
Sun: Walked into Mass at Pheasant Creek about 4 miles. We left our packs along the road and came back and collected them. From there we went through fairly heavy bush to Mason’s Falls where we had lunch. .
Kinglake National Park September 8 - 9th 1951, Author unknown
ped charter
Not so long ago the entire life experience of an individual was limited by the distance he or she could walk. A trip to the next village was a trip to the edge...
from the Australian Pedestrian Charter Pedestrian Council of Australia
A group making its way through a swamp
Date: 1939
Location: Bendigo District
Subject: Walking, Floods, Swamps
Record Number: MM 008965
(Museum of Victoria Biggest Family Album)
Comments: ped charter
I love this: "A trip to the next village was a trip to the edge..." Imagine that kind of mystery being just a walk away. It's like reading our Thoreau in Maine or Cape Cod.
Posted by Greg at July 9, 2004 02:21 AM
brilliant!
Posted by Lance Boyle at July 9, 2004 07:14 AM
Yes - I suspect my local villages are rather thin on edge - but I may work up the nerve to walk up later and have a look around.
Posted by boynton at July 9, 2004 03:48 PM
from the Australian Pedestrian Charter Pedestrian Council of Australia
A group making its way through a swamp
Date: 1939
Location: Bendigo District
Subject: Walking, Floods, Swamps
Record Number: MM 008965
(Museum of Victoria Biggest Family Album)
Comments: ped charter
I love this: "A trip to the next village was a trip to the edge..." Imagine that kind of mystery being just a walk away. It's like reading our Thoreau in Maine or Cape Cod.
Posted by Greg at July 9, 2004 02:21 AM
brilliant!
Posted by Lance Boyle at July 9, 2004 07:14 AM
Yes - I suspect my local villages are rather thin on edge - but I may work up the nerve to walk up later and have a look around.
Posted by boynton at July 9, 2004 03:48 PM
Wednesday, July 07, 2004
bliss
This means My dog is hungry. She can't escape her past
Well - according to the Blissymbolics Phrase Guide.
There is some poetic license involved with the word Hungry, of course.
I mean in its figurative nipping sense of the word.
see also Genesis in Blissymbolics
And on a canine theme, how could I not link to a blog featuring a chocolate labrador.
(Especially one named tag) (via things)
Comments: bliss
Blissymbolics. Now, here is someone with too much time on their hands.
Posted by Dick Jones at July 7, 2004 03:33 PM
Mmm - wonder how that looks?
btw - Just foundthe Poetry Page:
http://www.symbols.net/blissymbolics/blissdex/poetry.html
I like the symbol for "metaphor"
like a vacant stop sign...
Posted by boynton at July 7, 2004 06:27 PM
[] >^V+ T>^l <> 0^2-[].
[]^o+ ! []^o+ !
Posted by Nabakov at July 7, 2004 09:35 PM
0^0
"
~~
Posted by boynton at July 8, 2004 10:56 PM
^ ^
O -
=0=
[] []
[] []
& &
Posted by Nabakov at July 8, 2004 11:38 PM
news
The Daily Sensible A Sensible Newspaper for Nice People (via/by as above)
(archived) World News in Blissymbolics
via A Guide to Alternative Handwriting and Shorthand Systems via Plep
(archived) World News in Blissymbolics
via A Guide to Alternative Handwriting and Shorthand Systems via Plep
Monday, July 05, 2004
jockeying
It was a bit disconcerting to be accosted by jockeys while innocently strolling through Fed Square yesterday. They were begging us to visit the relocated racing museum. It was hard to suddenly talk casually with a jockey impersonator, and to decline without offending the delicate sensibility of a hoop, fake or not.
Comments: jockeying
We were there yesterday. Must have missed you by a short half head.
Parts of the display were a bit off-putting. An iconic steed what ran unplaced only once and won a Melb. Cup reduced to an ashtray hoof.
Posted by Sedgwick at July 5, 2004 04:05 PM
... went there after the 'must see' cartoon exhibition at the State Lybee.
Posted by Sedgwick at July 5, 2004 04:09 PM
Nothing against the museum, Sedge, in fact I wanted to go but time was against us.
Just the running-into-spruiking-jockeys unexpectedly.
Tapped into my old clown-phobia I guess.
Saw that same iconic steed racing iconically on the big screen (is that an icon yet?) as we waited over an hour for lunch.
Wonder whether the eponymous filly will ever make it to the museum?
Posted by boynton at July 5, 2004 04:14 PM
Spooky. That same 'must see' - I 'just saw'
(well I read about it on the SLV site actually)
Posted by boynton at July 5, 2004 04:16 PM
We must stop channelling like this. People will start talking. Even the horses? http://www.straightdope.com/classics/a2_029
Now don't tell me you went to that caf/bistro! If it is we've also experienced dining a la Godot.
Posted by Sedgwick at July 5, 2004 04:28 PM
The eponymous equine? Not sure whether it is on display. Didn't get up to the Vic Market.
Posted by Sedgwick at July 5, 2004 04:29 PM
I loved that "cultural icon" when I was young, Mr. S. (His voice still does it for me, actually) so I read the link with interest and hope it was the peanut-butter-like substance and not the nylon that got him talkin.
Godot is exactly right.
Vladamir and I had to invent all manner of conversational tricks to fend off the worms.
There was even 'a boy' who would appear with a non-commital message from the Kitchen every so often, but alas Lunch did not materialise.
(Sorry - that was a spoiler)
We would have been better off grazing among friends at the Vic Market.
Posted by boynton at July 5, 2004 06:19 PM
I can see I've wandered into the Starters Paddock.
Put a lobster onto whoever's gonna win for me.
*wanders out - champers running low*
Posted by Nabakov at July 6, 2004 12:35 AM
Wouldn't be punting a crushed asian on the eponymous steed wot is currently running (I use the term loosely) like a crippled crab.
Posted by Sedgwick at July 6, 2004 10:28 AM
The jockey pic is great, but I am left with this weird feeling that only the man in the middle is real.
ps - you did it for us all. Gummo has emerged!
Posted by David Tiley at July 7, 2004 02:41 AM
Poor old "Boynton"
(For readers who may not know - there is a local racehorse with this name, whose 'current' form is not so good apparently)
I'd still bet on B - btw.
beware the dark horse, o ye of little faith.
Yes, David. Only the Middle man is real.
The colours look similar to contemporary football jumpers.
I wonder which VFL team would have proudly worn the spots?... err...Spotswood?
Posted by boynton at July 7, 2004 12:46 PM
Comments: jockeying
We were there yesterday. Must have missed you by a short half head.
Parts of the display were a bit off-putting. An iconic steed what ran unplaced only once and won a Melb. Cup reduced to an ashtray hoof.
Posted by Sedgwick at July 5, 2004 04:05 PM
... went there after the 'must see' cartoon exhibition at the State Lybee.
Posted by Sedgwick at July 5, 2004 04:09 PM
Nothing against the museum, Sedge, in fact I wanted to go but time was against us.
Just the running-into-spruiking-jockeys unexpectedly.
Tapped into my old clown-phobia I guess.
Saw that same iconic steed racing iconically on the big screen (is that an icon yet?) as we waited over an hour for lunch.
Wonder whether the eponymous filly will ever make it to the museum?
Posted by boynton at July 5, 2004 04:14 PM
Spooky. That same 'must see' - I 'just saw'
(well I read about it on the SLV site actually)
Posted by boynton at July 5, 2004 04:16 PM
We must stop channelling like this. People will start talking. Even the horses? http://www.straightdope.com/classics/a2_029
Now don't tell me you went to that caf/bistro! If it is we've also experienced dining a la Godot.
Posted by Sedgwick at July 5, 2004 04:28 PM
The eponymous equine? Not sure whether it is on display. Didn't get up to the Vic Market.
Posted by Sedgwick at July 5, 2004 04:29 PM
I loved that "cultural icon" when I was young, Mr. S. (His voice still does it for me, actually) so I read the link with interest and hope it was the peanut-butter-like substance and not the nylon that got him talkin.
Godot is exactly right.
Vladamir and I had to invent all manner of conversational tricks to fend off the worms.
There was even 'a boy' who would appear with a non-commital message from the Kitchen every so often, but alas Lunch did not materialise.
(Sorry - that was a spoiler)
We would have been better off grazing among friends at the Vic Market.
Posted by boynton at July 5, 2004 06:19 PM
I can see I've wandered into the Starters Paddock.
Put a lobster onto whoever's gonna win for me.
*wanders out - champers running low*
Posted by Nabakov at July 6, 2004 12:35 AM
Wouldn't be punting a crushed asian on the eponymous steed wot is currently running (I use the term loosely) like a crippled crab.
Posted by Sedgwick at July 6, 2004 10:28 AM
The jockey pic is great, but I am left with this weird feeling that only the man in the middle is real.
ps - you did it for us all. Gummo has emerged!
Posted by David Tiley at July 7, 2004 02:41 AM
Poor old "Boynton"
(For readers who may not know - there is a local racehorse with this name, whose 'current' form is not so good apparently)
I'd still bet on B - btw.
beware the dark horse, o ye of little faith.
Yes, David. Only the Middle man is real.
The colours look similar to contemporary football jumpers.
I wonder which VFL team would have proudly worn the spots?... err...Spotswood?
Posted by boynton at July 7, 2004 12:46 PM
ilunga
...the most untranslatable word in any language, reckon the translators, is ilunga, a word in the Bantu language of Tshiluba for a person who is ready to forgive any abuse for the first time; to tolerate it a second time; but never a third time. And I suppose we all know that kind of person.
(via DRT news)
In conversation I would have struggled to express this concept concisely, and probably would have tried to hatch something out of a little red hen/ three strikes mix.
(via DRT news)
In conversation I would have struggled to express this concept concisely, and probably would have tried to hatch something out of a little red hen/ three strikes mix.
Sunday, July 04, 2004
stag
Meanwhile at the Pub I read some grafitti instructional about love
but returning to the Lounge wondered whether the decor would agree.
But I do like this list of contemporary aphorisms
Comments: stag
No excuses will be accepted.
Eek!
Posted by David Tiley at July 7, 2004 02:36 AM
Puts us all out of a job, doesn't it.
(Or turns us out on the street, as the case may be.)
No more fraility to explore, let alone plead.
Posted by boynton at July 7, 2004 10:44 AM
but returning to the Lounge wondered whether the decor would agree.
But I do like this list of contemporary aphorisms
Comments: stag
No excuses will be accepted.
Eek!
Posted by David Tiley at July 7, 2004 02:36 AM
Puts us all out of a job, doesn't it.
(Or turns us out on the street, as the case may be.)
No more fraility to explore, let alone plead.
Posted by boynton at July 7, 2004 10:44 AM
Friday, July 02, 2004
d spam
Another nice line from the spammers simply fell from the sky.
dahlia onlookers related to 56
Was it something I said?
Whatever, the line makes me think of this image somehow.
Comments: d spam
diatribes hit my pubic hair like shower cream!
Latinizing Rosella illusions
relevantly prenatal brownies
mocks situate somewhat
sinister drool
bereft sifting attested rooftop
Barnard curry Magdalene
propellers branding Floridian
cutting greedily Vishnu importers
cohesively lockups anding Catholics salivary rapturous
milking postman Fijians taker
Ewing signature Okamoto cobble
Florence southpaw springier
stray starve serpents household
- Anon, early 21st century vers libre spamotry.
Who'd thunk the first true AI-generated posey would be an unexpected byproduct of the ongoing semantic and orthographic battle of wits between semi-autonomous systems attacking and defending our mail boxes.
This is shaping up as the most ontologically-stimulating era yet since the late 1700s/earlier 1800s.
Posted by Nabakov at July 4, 2004 06:56 PM
This just in:
"For example, impresario inside indicates that tomato inside maestro a change of heart about customer defined by sandwich."
Enough ontological-stimulation in that spam sandwich alone to serve a po-mo poesy picnic.
Quite complementary to the "invisible literature"
fare of the previous post?
The skewed wonderland brew.
more on the genre here
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/technology/3247200.stm
Posted by boynton at July 5, 2004 01:23 PM
Spam - the snail on steriods in yer letterbox. Slimy and crunchy yet edible.
Posted by Nabakov at July 6, 2004 12:29 AM
"the future lies with cone snail farming"
http://www.nature.com/nsu/040621/040621-6.html
Posted by boynton at July 7, 2004 06:37 PM
dahlia onlookers related to 56
Was it something I said?
Whatever, the line makes me think of this image somehow.
Comments: d spam
diatribes hit my pubic hair like shower cream!
Latinizing Rosella illusions
relevantly prenatal brownies
mocks situate somewhat
sinister drool
bereft sifting attested rooftop
Barnard curry Magdalene
propellers branding Floridian
cutting greedily Vishnu importers
cohesively lockups anding Catholics salivary rapturous
milking postman Fijians taker
Ewing signature Okamoto cobble
Florence southpaw springier
stray starve serpents household
- Anon, early 21st century vers libre spamotry.
Who'd thunk the first true AI-generated posey would be an unexpected byproduct of the ongoing semantic and orthographic battle of wits between semi-autonomous systems attacking and defending our mail boxes.
This is shaping up as the most ontologically-stimulating era yet since the late 1700s/earlier 1800s.
Posted by Nabakov at July 4, 2004 06:56 PM
This just in:
"For example, impresario inside indicates that tomato inside maestro a change of heart about customer defined by sandwich."
Enough ontological-stimulation in that spam sandwich alone to serve a po-mo poesy picnic.
Quite complementary to the "invisible literature"
fare of the previous post?
The skewed wonderland brew.
more on the genre here
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/technology/3247200.stm
Posted by boynton at July 5, 2004 01:23 PM
Spam - the snail on steriods in yer letterbox. Slimy and crunchy yet edible.
Posted by Nabakov at July 6, 2004 12:29 AM
"the future lies with cone snail farming"
http://www.nature.com/nsu/040621/040621-6.html
Posted by boynton at July 7, 2004 06:37 PM
wd40
Cleans and protects miniature golf gear
Softens and cleans netting on lacrosse sticks
Refurbishes antique fishing lures
Helps remove stuck prosthetic leg
Lubricates adjustment knob on overhead projector
lines from 2000 uses for WD40
(via the ultimate insult)
Comments: wd40
'Adds moisture to and preserves ivory and bone items'. Good news here for poachers & surgeons.
Posted by Dick Jones at July 3, 2004 09:14 AM
A nice piece of what Ballard called "invisible literature" - the language of instruction manuals, ads, catalogues, reports and forms, brochures and news media, which paints a portrait of a society as detailed and nuanced as the best fictional literature.
I'm saving the 2000 uses list as a source of improving suggestions for appropriate occasions.
Posted by Nabakov at July 3, 2004 12:39 PM
I have been using WD40 to lubricate my electic clocks - afterwards I suffered respiriatory problems - I wonder if I am slightly asthmatic? will you investigate as this is quite disturbing?
Posted by victor at July 18, 2004 04:43 AM
Was just about to use it to remove permanent marker off soles of shoes.
Might heed your warning.
There must be a downside to something with 2000 amazing uses.
Posted by boynton at July 18, 2004 06:47 PM
Softens and cleans netting on lacrosse sticks
Refurbishes antique fishing lures
Helps remove stuck prosthetic leg
Lubricates adjustment knob on overhead projector
lines from 2000 uses for WD40
(via the ultimate insult)
Comments: wd40
'Adds moisture to and preserves ivory and bone items'. Good news here for poachers & surgeons.
Posted by Dick Jones at July 3, 2004 09:14 AM
A nice piece of what Ballard called "invisible literature" - the language of instruction manuals, ads, catalogues, reports and forms, brochures and news media, which paints a portrait of a society as detailed and nuanced as the best fictional literature.
I'm saving the 2000 uses list as a source of improving suggestions for appropriate occasions.
Posted by Nabakov at July 3, 2004 12:39 PM
I have been using WD40 to lubricate my electic clocks - afterwards I suffered respiriatory problems - I wonder if I am slightly asthmatic? will you investigate as this is quite disturbing?
Posted by victor at July 18, 2004 04:43 AM
Was just about to use it to remove permanent marker off soles of shoes.
Might heed your warning.
There must be a downside to something with 2000 amazing uses.
Posted by boynton at July 18, 2004 06:47 PM
Thursday, July 01, 2004
where's gummo?
Mr Trotsky sighted last night at something hundred hours.
We semaphored across the room.
We exchanged blogging stories briefly as you do.
On behalf of the ozblogosphere, I wished the Potemkin a safe and speedy return.
We semaphored across the room.
We exchanged blogging stories briefly as you do.
On behalf of the ozblogosphere, I wished the Potemkin a safe and speedy return.
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