You know, I try not to point out every time I see a headline that makes me facepalm. Really, I do. But seeing that the good people at the University of Michigan have now confirmed the long-held theory that fat kids get bullied more often that non-fatties just blew me away. As a recovered fat kid (eventually, I wasn't a kid anymore), I actually read this three or four times just to make sure there wasn't something more to the findings, because this doesn't seem like something that would require science.
Honestly, how can anyone find this surprising? Fat people are the nation's last, best hope for being mocked. You can't make racial jokes anymore because they're, you know, offensive. Go ahead and try to make a joke about a woman's proper place and let me know what it's like to get bitch-slapped by the Secretary of State (although it's gotta hurt going for the management job and ending up a secretary, but I digress). Thanks to all the efforts of the hard-lined conservatives to strip basic rights away from gays, those of us who know better can no longer of good conscience even tread those waters (with the continued exception of Maxwell, who I assume gay people make fun of as well on the basis of...well, look at him).
What we have left is fat people and monkeys (and deep down, we all know the monkeys are going to rise up against us someday). See, when we make fun of fat people, we do so with a certain impunity. It's not like other minority groups where there was no choice. Most fat people are fat because of their own actions. Yes, there are exceptions for medical conditions, but typically, if someone is really obese, you can safely bet that there was a Twinkie involved somewhere along the way. Not even Buddha was born really, really fat. At some point, he let himself go.
Am I saying that it's okay for these kids to get bullied? Of course not. It's despicable. We need to protect these kids. Instead, their parents should be required to spend a certain amount of time in the school, hanging out on the playground, sitting in the lunchroom, so they can be bullied in the place of their children, since they're the ones to damned lazy to swat that cookie out of junior's hand when such actions are required. Hell, let junior join in.
I would imagine pounding mom and dad with a dodge ball would burn more than a few calories, no?
Showing posts with label monkeys. Show all posts
Showing posts with label monkeys. Show all posts
Monday, May 3, 2010
Friday, March 5, 2010
Those Days...They Were Golden
Okay, there's a piece on Kotaku right now on considering the ramifications on gamers of the fact that the iPad and the DSi XL are being released around the same time. This...this is wrong. As a gamer, I feel like I should say something about this, especially since I have access to the existing, miniature versions of both systems, the iPhone and the DS Lite.
Here's the thing: Nintendo owns the portable gaming world. I say this as someone who, if forced into choosing between my beloved PSP and my left foot, would prompty run out and pick out a nice peg. I've played a handful of DS games, and they are what one would expect - they are Nintendo games. They are Mario and Link and everything that I loved about playing video games as a kid, made pocket size. When I heard about the DSi XL, a DS for people with man-sized hands, I will happily confess that the plotting began that will make one of them mine. (Insert appropriate maniacal laughter here.)
My iPhone, on the other hand, is a very different thing. I love my iPhone. It's hard to think about getting by without it. It has become a second brain for me - keeping appointments, looking up facts, checking my email. It's a wonderful tool that has made me more productive by leaps and bounds.
And almost every game on it sucks.
Okay, that's a little unfair. There are some cute puzzle games, and of course Monkey Island and Wolfenstein 3-d worked amazingly well, but that's about it. Everything else falls into one of two categories: it's either something I've already played online in Flash, or it's a game that might be fun if I wasn't required to cover 20% of the screen with my %#$@ing thumbs to play it. Maybe other people don't mind this. People with tiny hands. Me being neither a midget or a carny, I ain't one of them.
My point is that I don't look at the iPad and think "gaming device". I think they look like fun and something that would be useful, an ideal kitchen device (I'm a geek - having a machine with wireless capabilities in the kitchen is no less reasonable than, say, a toaster). I would jump at the chance to get one if I had several hundred dollars burning a hole in my pocket. As a gamer though, it's not even on my radar.
So yeah, I'm not sure where you're coming from on this one, Kotaku. These are two completely different markets. I'm guessing you just really wanted to talk about the iPad, and as a gaming magazine this is the only excuse you had.
I'm the same way with monkeys, zombies, and my illicit affair with Bea Arthur, so I totally feel you.
Here's the thing: Nintendo owns the portable gaming world. I say this as someone who, if forced into choosing between my beloved PSP and my left foot, would prompty run out and pick out a nice peg. I've played a handful of DS games, and they are what one would expect - they are Nintendo games. They are Mario and Link and everything that I loved about playing video games as a kid, made pocket size. When I heard about the DSi XL, a DS for people with man-sized hands, I will happily confess that the plotting began that will make one of them mine. (Insert appropriate maniacal laughter here.)
My iPhone, on the other hand, is a very different thing. I love my iPhone. It's hard to think about getting by without it. It has become a second brain for me - keeping appointments, looking up facts, checking my email. It's a wonderful tool that has made me more productive by leaps and bounds.
And almost every game on it sucks.
Okay, that's a little unfair. There are some cute puzzle games, and of course Monkey Island and Wolfenstein 3-d worked amazingly well, but that's about it. Everything else falls into one of two categories: it's either something I've already played online in Flash, or it's a game that might be fun if I wasn't required to cover 20% of the screen with my %#$@ing thumbs to play it. Maybe other people don't mind this. People with tiny hands. Me being neither a midget or a carny, I ain't one of them.
My point is that I don't look at the iPad and think "gaming device". I think they look like fun and something that would be useful, an ideal kitchen device (I'm a geek - having a machine with wireless capabilities in the kitchen is no less reasonable than, say, a toaster). I would jump at the chance to get one if I had several hundred dollars burning a hole in my pocket. As a gamer though, it's not even on my radar.
So yeah, I'm not sure where you're coming from on this one, Kotaku. These are two completely different markets. I'm guessing you just really wanted to talk about the iPad, and as a gaming magazine this is the only excuse you had.
I'm the same way with monkeys, zombies, and my illicit affair with Bea Arthur, so I totally feel you.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Oh, I'm Sensitive Alright. I'm Sensitive Like a Broad.
Warning: the following post is about potentially offensive slurs, and will thus contain language that some might object to. Nothing really bad like %#@$ or "adjustable rate mortgage", but still, you've been warned.
Driving the kids into school, I made some offhand comment that somehow involved midgets, which unfortunately led to my daughter asking me all sorts of midget-based questions. I did my best to answer them, but had to eventually press home the point that I wasn't sure if the term "midget" is considered offensive to...well, midgets. I recommended shying away from it until I could do more research (presumably involving finding one, calling them a midget, and seeing if they proceed to kick my shins).
I'm uncomfortable with situations like this. I'm rarely the most politically correct person in the room, but I try to be somewhat sensitive to the feelings of others. I almost never say things like "Great googly moogly, what's wrong with your face?" anymore. Still, there are cases where I feel that people go out of their way to be offended by something.
I'll give you an example. I'm a programmer. I like monkeys. Also, I like Fritos and Mountain Dew. Guess what the proper term for an individual such as myself is.
Obviously, "code monkey".
I've been told that I should shy away from this term at my workplace though because someone from another country is offended by it. Apparently, wherever they come from, referring to a person as a monkey is incredibly offensive. Well...okay, but we're not there right now and I'm not using it that way, so I'm thinking maybe it's time to let that one go. Frankly, I don't think much of any place that villainizes monkeys, so I get why they left in the first place.
Insensitive of me? Perhaps, but really, if we gather all of the things everyone ever got offended by and decided not to use those words anymore, we'd be left with a language composed of "the" and "rutabaga". Maybe "noodle", but I wouldn't count on it.
Still, I see the other side of it. I've actually had conversations with people online that are completely convinced that it's not considered offensive to call someone "faggot" so long as it's in the context of an online video game. They told me that the word had been adopted by gamers, who had changed the meaning to "not a good player", so there was no reason for gays to be offended by it.
In my head all I could hear were the words of my son: "Yeah, but no". The word was adopted by gamers for the very reason that one would assume, and any supposed change in meaning is rendered moot by the fact that the word is still constantly used, within our society, as an offensive slur. So long as the that douchebag Rev. Phelps and his ilk are on this planet (and remain closeted - wink wink, nudge nudge), the argument is simply unacceptable.
So what do I take from all of this? I guess that offensiveness of a word is a strangely subjective thing, based on current culture as well as context. Also, people are far more likely to consider a word no longer offensive if they were never part of the offended group to begin with. Still, it doesn't do much for the whole "midget" conundrum, so I should probably use a substitute expression for now.
I guess "Shorty McTinybritches" will do for now.
Driving the kids into school, I made some offhand comment that somehow involved midgets, which unfortunately led to my daughter asking me all sorts of midget-based questions. I did my best to answer them, but had to eventually press home the point that I wasn't sure if the term "midget" is considered offensive to...well, midgets. I recommended shying away from it until I could do more research (presumably involving finding one, calling them a midget, and seeing if they proceed to kick my shins).
I'm uncomfortable with situations like this. I'm rarely the most politically correct person in the room, but I try to be somewhat sensitive to the feelings of others. I almost never say things like "Great googly moogly, what's wrong with your face?" anymore. Still, there are cases where I feel that people go out of their way to be offended by something.
I'll give you an example. I'm a programmer. I like monkeys. Also, I like Fritos and Mountain Dew. Guess what the proper term for an individual such as myself is.
Obviously, "code monkey".
I've been told that I should shy away from this term at my workplace though because someone from another country is offended by it. Apparently, wherever they come from, referring to a person as a monkey is incredibly offensive. Well...okay, but we're not there right now and I'm not using it that way, so I'm thinking maybe it's time to let that one go. Frankly, I don't think much of any place that villainizes monkeys, so I get why they left in the first place.
Insensitive of me? Perhaps, but really, if we gather all of the things everyone ever got offended by and decided not to use those words anymore, we'd be left with a language composed of "the" and "rutabaga". Maybe "noodle", but I wouldn't count on it.
Still, I see the other side of it. I've actually had conversations with people online that are completely convinced that it's not considered offensive to call someone "faggot" so long as it's in the context of an online video game. They told me that the word had been adopted by gamers, who had changed the meaning to "not a good player", so there was no reason for gays to be offended by it.
In my head all I could hear were the words of my son: "Yeah, but no". The word was adopted by gamers for the very reason that one would assume, and any supposed change in meaning is rendered moot by the fact that the word is still constantly used, within our society, as an offensive slur. So long as the that douchebag Rev. Phelps and his ilk are on this planet (and remain closeted - wink wink, nudge nudge), the argument is simply unacceptable.
So what do I take from all of this? I guess that offensiveness of a word is a strangely subjective thing, based on current culture as well as context. Also, people are far more likely to consider a word no longer offensive if they were never part of the offended group to begin with. Still, it doesn't do much for the whole "midget" conundrum, so I should probably use a substitute expression for now.
I guess "Shorty McTinybritches" will do for now.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
All Covering Their Circuitry With Little Fez Hats, Awaiting My Command
After a long and welcome delay, the Michigan Winter has formally settled in around these parts. For the kids, this means excited fantasies about snowmen and sledding. For me, it means the act of filling my car with gas becomes an exercise in bitterness and frustration that leads me to wonder just how far advanced we are as a species if we haven't yet converted anything with more than a half inch of annual snowfall into a massive penal colony.
Okay, maybe that's a bit of an overstatement, but really, I do not approve of Winter in the least. This region is great for Spring, Summer and particularly Fall. However, besides proximity to family and obvious tactical advantage during a zombie apocalypse, spending Winter here has nothing to offer someone like me.
Now I know there are those of you out there who would argue that I would enjoy Winter more if I partook in some of the more popular Winter sports. To these people I would point out that in high school, the guy who was supposed to teach me skiing broke his leg skiing the weekend before my scheduled lessons. If that's not a sign, I don't know what is. (On the bright side, I got to call him 'Hopalong' for weeks, and he couldn't move fast enough on his little crutches to stop me. Ah, good times.)
Apply a little logic to the Winter sports, actually, and you'll see that this is actually an argument for my point of view. Skiing, snowboarding and sledding all have two things in common: speed and travel. Even snowshoeing is based on the same common thread. Basically, all Winter sports are built on the premise of getting the hell away from wherever you are, i.e. the snow. Heck, even the Olympic biathlon, where athletes test their prowess at both skiing and rifle shooting, was born of an angry Norwegian who was so desperate to get to warmer climes that he declared he'd shoot anyone who got into his way.
Of course, I should look at the bright side, like all of the things Winter encourages. Watching movies on television for example. Or playing video games. Reading books works as well. Basically, anything that allows me to close the shades and pretend that if I were to open them again I would be presented with a lovely Summer afternoon full of lush, green life and sunshine.
Or an army of cyborg monkeys waiting to do my bidding. That would be pretty cool too.
Okay, maybe that's a bit of an overstatement, but really, I do not approve of Winter in the least. This region is great for Spring, Summer and particularly Fall. However, besides proximity to family and obvious tactical advantage during a zombie apocalypse, spending Winter here has nothing to offer someone like me.
Now I know there are those of you out there who would argue that I would enjoy Winter more if I partook in some of the more popular Winter sports. To these people I would point out that in high school, the guy who was supposed to teach me skiing broke his leg skiing the weekend before my scheduled lessons. If that's not a sign, I don't know what is. (On the bright side, I got to call him 'Hopalong' for weeks, and he couldn't move fast enough on his little crutches to stop me. Ah, good times.)
Apply a little logic to the Winter sports, actually, and you'll see that this is actually an argument for my point of view. Skiing, snowboarding and sledding all have two things in common: speed and travel. Even snowshoeing is based on the same common thread. Basically, all Winter sports are built on the premise of getting the hell away from wherever you are, i.e. the snow. Heck, even the Olympic biathlon, where athletes test their prowess at both skiing and rifle shooting, was born of an angry Norwegian who was so desperate to get to warmer climes that he declared he'd shoot anyone who got into his way.
Of course, I should look at the bright side, like all of the things Winter encourages. Watching movies on television for example. Or playing video games. Reading books works as well. Basically, anything that allows me to close the shades and pretend that if I were to open them again I would be presented with a lovely Summer afternoon full of lush, green life and sunshine.
Or an army of cyborg monkeys waiting to do my bidding. That would be pretty cool too.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
The Of Course Leads To My Other Great Idea: Fez Book
As near the end of the aughts, as I shall heretofore refer to the previous decade, I fear we have failed at producing a single meaningful contribution to the fashion industry. Actually, scratch that - the youth of our nation has failed to produce a single meaningful contribution to the fashion industry. As an older individual, I can look back on the decade before this, and take pride in our inclusion of both hip hop fashion and the whole grunge thing (or as I like to call it, 'layering'). Pity the high top fade fell out of favor, but what can you do?
Anyway, as I am wont to do, I will pick up the slack for those around me who lack the inspiration to put forth brave new ideas and give you a helpful suggestion: the fez. For too long the fez has been pushed to the back of the American fashion scene, relegated to foreign restaurant waitstaff, grown men driving tiny cars in parades, and of course, monkeys. Well, it's time to correct that. We need someone who is more artistically creative than myself to reinvent the fez, and you don't have a lot of time. Thanks to MTV, you can still start a trend in less than two weeks, so if you're quick you can make it. Maybe a goth fez or something - I don't know. You work out the details.
Of course we'll never pull of the look as well as the monkeys, but it will be something.
Anyway, as I am wont to do, I will pick up the slack for those around me who lack the inspiration to put forth brave new ideas and give you a helpful suggestion: the fez. For too long the fez has been pushed to the back of the American fashion scene, relegated to foreign restaurant waitstaff, grown men driving tiny cars in parades, and of course, monkeys. Well, it's time to correct that. We need someone who is more artistically creative than myself to reinvent the fez, and you don't have a lot of time. Thanks to MTV, you can still start a trend in less than two weeks, so if you're quick you can make it. Maybe a goth fez or something - I don't know. You work out the details.
Of course we'll never pull of the look as well as the monkeys, but it will be something.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Oh, And The Memories.
Tomorrow, I will be enjoying an obscene amount of food with my family, and I think it's only fitting to take a moment here to list some of the things I am thankful for this Thanksgiving:
I'm sure there's lots more, but I've got food to fantasize about. Happy Thanksgiving, folks!
- Enjoying an obscene amount of food with my family
- No zombie apocalypse - yet (stay on guard, people)
- I still haven't had a disease named after me
- My entire family remains both healthy and stunningly attractive
- Three kind of pie on one table, or as I like to call it, the pie-fecta
- A promising new Star Trek franchise, which recently came out on Blu-Ray which I'm sure someone will get me for Christmas (subtle, no?)
- Facebook allowing me to keep track of old friends
- Fart jokes (and by association, Wondermark)
- I have a job and it doesn't involve wearing a tie, getting shot at, or handling anyone's bodily fluids
- The weirdness that is Halforums, and our fearless leader Dave
- I've never been the subject of a conversation that started with "Jesus, what's that smell?"
- Sweet, delicious, life-giving coffee remains the universally free beverage
- Tofurkey - no, two Tofurkeys
- Portable electronics that allow me to play video games while I'm waiting to vote
- Monkeys
- An amazing wife who is beautiful, smart, funny, and completely disinterested in the Twilight franchise (And yet can appreciate Buffy the Vampire Slayer - truly, I am blessed)
I'm sure there's lots more, but I've got food to fantasize about. Happy Thanksgiving, folks!
Friday, May 29, 2009
It's One Of The Reasons I'm Afraid To Watch King Kong, Actually
Yesterday, as promised, I served as an escort for a field trip to the Toledo Zoo for the day. I am, as usual, glad I did so for a couple of reasons. For one thing, I really don't trust other people, particularly when it comes to taking care of my kids. The bigger reason, though, is that I freaking love going to the zoo.
The first thing I observed is that, like most trips to the zoo, it largely involved watching animals sleeping. Take the lions for example. Everyone always get's excited to see the lions, and when you finally get to them, what you see is a small pile of lions taking a nap on a rock. If you're lucky, one of them might roll over. When looking for entertainment, one should never count on a cat unless you have a way to taunt it. Just one I want to go in there with a little remote controlled car made to look like a rabbit.
Nevertheless, the whole zoo scene never fails to fascinate me. I love to look at the animals that are actually conscious and try to figure out what they're thinking about. As someone who thinks almost entirely in words, it boggles my mind to try and even consider what's going through a monkey's brain as it sits there looking at us. Does it wonder about us? Does it care? Or is it simply sitting there processing it's current systems? (Do I have to go to the bathroom? Nope. Do I feel like eating? Nope. Should I pick this up and fling it at someone? Maybe later.)
Of course there is always the temptation to think of them as deeper than they probably are, particularly the monkeys. I stood there with my little girl, and this monkey sat on his rock looking back, and as it watched us, I wondered what his impression of me and my daughter might be. Then he turned around, dropped a duece, and proceeded to start walking away from it, only to see his little doody out of the corner of his eye and, looking vaguely surprised, turn to inspect it. Three times.
God I love me some monkeys.
Overall the trip was a rousing success. The hippos played and pulled leaves from the trees. The seals did tricks in the water for us. The wolves chased each other around. The lions and tigers...well, they slept, but one of tigers rolled over, which is kind of a win. The kids had a good time. In fact, there was only one thing that really bothered me about the whole trip.
I don't mind that the gorillas insist on touching themselves, but why to they have to look me right in the eye when they're doing it?
The first thing I observed is that, like most trips to the zoo, it largely involved watching animals sleeping. Take the lions for example. Everyone always get's excited to see the lions, and when you finally get to them, what you see is a small pile of lions taking a nap on a rock. If you're lucky, one of them might roll over. When looking for entertainment, one should never count on a cat unless you have a way to taunt it. Just one I want to go in there with a little remote controlled car made to look like a rabbit.
Nevertheless, the whole zoo scene never fails to fascinate me. I love to look at the animals that are actually conscious and try to figure out what they're thinking about. As someone who thinks almost entirely in words, it boggles my mind to try and even consider what's going through a monkey's brain as it sits there looking at us. Does it wonder about us? Does it care? Or is it simply sitting there processing it's current systems? (Do I have to go to the bathroom? Nope. Do I feel like eating? Nope. Should I pick this up and fling it at someone? Maybe later.)
Of course there is always the temptation to think of them as deeper than they probably are, particularly the monkeys. I stood there with my little girl, and this monkey sat on his rock looking back, and as it watched us, I wondered what his impression of me and my daughter might be. Then he turned around, dropped a duece, and proceeded to start walking away from it, only to see his little doody out of the corner of his eye and, looking vaguely surprised, turn to inspect it. Three times.
God I love me some monkeys.
Overall the trip was a rousing success. The hippos played and pulled leaves from the trees. The seals did tricks in the water for us. The wolves chased each other around. The lions and tigers...well, they slept, but one of tigers rolled over, which is kind of a win. The kids had a good time. In fact, there was only one thing that really bothered me about the whole trip.
I don't mind that the gorillas insist on touching themselves, but why to they have to look me right in the eye when they're doing it?
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
I'm Waiting For the Monkey Flu, Which Will Most Likely Be Adorable
It seems to me that when I take a new scary antibiotic, the natural turn of events would be me feeling better. For some reason, however, I always seem to get a few days in and get sicker. Today, I just want to curl up into a ball on a couch. Of course, as a programmer, it requires approximately the same physical effort to code as it does to sit on a couch and get my butt kicked at Metal Gear Solid Portable Ops on my PSP, so here I am a-coding. What's funny is that today I feel guilty about that because the powers that be have told us in no uncertain terms that if we are sick, we need to stay home. The reason?
Somebody caught the flu from a pig.
Yes, the whole world is up in arms over yet another flu named after an animal. First we all freaked out over the avian flu, and now we're all freaked out over the swine flu. I don't know who it is who's spending quality time with these animals and then not washing their mitts afterwards, but if I'm understanding the reports correctly, it seems like a lot of these potential pandemics would be lessened by some Lava and running water. Maybe just not getting all up in the livestock's grille would help.
I should take care not to make too light of the situation, however. I've read The Stand. A pandemic, as I understand it, would probably suck. I'm just not sure that some of the silliness I've now heard about (people being scared to eat pork, for example) is really warranted at this point. It's the flu. Yes, it kills a few people every year. Yes, it's a new flavor that we haven't seen before. But really, it's the flu. Hell, I have asthma and should by all right be terrified of this thing, but so far, it just looks like a nasty bug I can probably avoid by lots of hand washing.
Still, I suppose I should have stayed home. After all, who knows how far this thing could go? I mean, if it really is a serious virus that spreads like wildfire throughout the land, I should be at home stocking my shelves with water bottles and canned goods, right? Making sure I have enough supplies to get my family and I through a good month or so. Maybe I should even pick up a couple of axes and some boards for the windows and doors.
After all, we never really know when the big one is going to strike, and if this turns out the be the bug that brings forth the zombies, I should probably be prepared.
Somebody caught the flu from a pig.
Yes, the whole world is up in arms over yet another flu named after an animal. First we all freaked out over the avian flu, and now we're all freaked out over the swine flu. I don't know who it is who's spending quality time with these animals and then not washing their mitts afterwards, but if I'm understanding the reports correctly, it seems like a lot of these potential pandemics would be lessened by some Lava and running water. Maybe just not getting all up in the livestock's grille would help.
I should take care not to make too light of the situation, however. I've read The Stand. A pandemic, as I understand it, would probably suck. I'm just not sure that some of the silliness I've now heard about (people being scared to eat pork, for example) is really warranted at this point. It's the flu. Yes, it kills a few people every year. Yes, it's a new flavor that we haven't seen before. But really, it's the flu. Hell, I have asthma and should by all right be terrified of this thing, but so far, it just looks like a nasty bug I can probably avoid by lots of hand washing.
Still, I suppose I should have stayed home. After all, who knows how far this thing could go? I mean, if it really is a serious virus that spreads like wildfire throughout the land, I should be at home stocking my shelves with water bottles and canned goods, right? Making sure I have enough supplies to get my family and I through a good month or so. Maybe I should even pick up a couple of axes and some boards for the windows and doors.
After all, we never really know when the big one is going to strike, and if this turns out the be the bug that brings forth the zombies, I should probably be prepared.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
It Seems...I Don't Know. Upside Down Perhaps.
This morning, having dealt with an extremely uncooperative toddler and busted my hand in a ridiculous fall, I was at wit's end and used the television to distract the Moose so I could get him dressed and brush his teeth in the seven minutes we had before we had to leave. I flipped on PBS Kids, where the Moose happily (and more important, quietly) watched Curious George. This was great, except I'm again really tired, and despite promising myself that I would stop over thinking children's television, thus avoiding the dark places it tend to lead me, I just couldn't help it today.
So, here's the thing - like half the episodes of Curious George deal with...I don't know, Curious George stuff. You know, he finds out about working in a kitchen (because apparently the New York health inspectors are cool with primates hanging around while you're making lasagna) or gardening or frogs or something. Normal stuff like you would expect from reading the books.
Then we have episodes like today's. The man in the yellow hat (who despite taking care of George has never earned the right to an actual name) is going to space to repair a satellite. I'm never sure what his actual job is, but whatever. Well, it turns out that the spaceship designers forgot to make the door open from the outside, so now they have to send George so he can open the door after the man's spacewalk. Umm...okay. Not sure I would want my life put in hands that were most likely flinging poo an hour ago, but whatever.
Okay, so now George and the man are out in space, and the time comes to leave the ship and do the repair. The man attempts to tether himself to the ship, and lo and behold, the thing that holds the tether to his suit breaks. Having now established that the people driving the space program are hacks, the decision comes through that always gets to me: Let the monkey do it.
They do this all the time. They find some situation where things go awry, and they need someone tiny to step up and fix it (apparently because someone washed all the spacesuits/aqua gear/portals in hot water). We lost a computer full of critical data at the bottom of the ocean? Send the monkey. We need someone to break into Langley and get the NOC list? Send the monkey. Someone has discovered a bomb in the President's colon, and we only have fifteen minutes to diffuse it? Send the monkey, and give him a pair of wire cutters.
You get the idea.
I guess my concern is that, even with my profound respect for monkeys, every episode I watch seems to hit a point where I'm talking to the television. "Dude, you're going to send a monkey?" If it was an emergency banana retrieval I would understand, but it seems to me in most of these cases they would be able to find someone a little more qualified. I suppose that once again, this is the reason you don't see me writing for Hollywood.
Not many kids would tune in to watch Curious George Watches a Midget Take Care Of Stuff.
So, here's the thing - like half the episodes of Curious George deal with...I don't know, Curious George stuff. You know, he finds out about working in a kitchen (because apparently the New York health inspectors are cool with primates hanging around while you're making lasagna) or gardening or frogs or something. Normal stuff like you would expect from reading the books.
Then we have episodes like today's. The man in the yellow hat (who despite taking care of George has never earned the right to an actual name) is going to space to repair a satellite. I'm never sure what his actual job is, but whatever. Well, it turns out that the spaceship designers forgot to make the door open from the outside, so now they have to send George so he can open the door after the man's spacewalk. Umm...okay. Not sure I would want my life put in hands that were most likely flinging poo an hour ago, but whatever.
Okay, so now George and the man are out in space, and the time comes to leave the ship and do the repair. The man attempts to tether himself to the ship, and lo and behold, the thing that holds the tether to his suit breaks. Having now established that the people driving the space program are hacks, the decision comes through that always gets to me: Let the monkey do it.
They do this all the time. They find some situation where things go awry, and they need someone tiny to step up and fix it (apparently because someone washed all the spacesuits/aqua gear/portals in hot water). We lost a computer full of critical data at the bottom of the ocean? Send the monkey. We need someone to break into Langley and get the NOC list? Send the monkey. Someone has discovered a bomb in the President's colon, and we only have fifteen minutes to diffuse it? Send the monkey, and give him a pair of wire cutters.
You get the idea.
I guess my concern is that, even with my profound respect for monkeys, every episode I watch seems to hit a point where I'm talking to the television. "Dude, you're going to send a monkey?" If it was an emergency banana retrieval I would understand, but it seems to me in most of these cases they would be able to find someone a little more qualified. I suppose that once again, this is the reason you don't see me writing for Hollywood.
Not many kids would tune in to watch Curious George Watches a Midget Take Care Of Stuff.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
I Shudder to Think of the Potential Flinging Abilities
I'm crazy busy, so for today, read this and stop to consider how best to serve our new cyborg monkey overlords.
Monkeys Think, Moving Artificial Arm as Own
Monkeys Think, Moving Artificial Arm as Own
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Plus, They're the Only Ones Who Look Good in a Fez
As promised, I present here a simple treatise on why, of all the fascinating species of animal on this here planet, the monkey is easily the second coolest.
1. Monkeys were the first astronauts.
That's right people, way back on June 11, 1948, the good old US of A sent one Albert, a rhesus monkey, into space. Of course, Albert most likely did not volunteer for this job, but still, he got to go into space first. How cool is that?
2. Monkeys look like little, hairy people.
They're like Greek midgets, but cuter.
3. Jonathon Coulton has written not one, but TWO monkey songs.
Yep, the Contributing Troubadour at Popular Science and overall amazing talent Jonathan Coulton, during his Thing A Week campaign in which he released one new song each week for a full year, produced both My Monkey and the sublime Code Monkey, the latter of which speaks to my people like few other songs.
4. Monkeys will fling their poo at you.
I know what you're saying. "Roger, how can a monkey flinging poo at people possible be a good thing?" Well, as far as I can tell they do it defensively, which means they're throwing their poo at people who most likely have it coming. Poo getting thrown at people who have it coming is inherently funny. Besides, if people starting doing something similar to express their displeasure, I bet the long lines and harsh return policies at most big box stores would disappear in a fortnight. Two fortnights tops.
Finally, you may be asking yourself "Well, given the phenomenal evidence presented here, how is it that monkeys are only the second coolest animals on the planet?". That's easy.
Monkey's can't play video games.
Until a monkey can pwn me at Unreal Tournament or Halo, they remain firmly in second place. Sorry. Them's the rules.
***ADDENDUM***
If didn't catch it the first time, you can hover over the images for additional commentary, or right-click and select properties if the hover text isn't long enough. I would imagine this is a habit I'll probably get into. Fair warning.
1. Monkeys were the first astronauts.
That's right people, way back on June 11, 1948, the good old US of A sent one Albert, a rhesus monkey, into space. Of course, Albert most likely did not volunteer for this job, but still, he got to go into space first. How cool is that?
2. Monkeys look like little, hairy people.
They're like Greek midgets, but cuter.
3. Jonathon Coulton has written not one, but TWO monkey songs.
Yep, the Contributing Troubadour at Popular Science and overall amazing talent Jonathan Coulton, during his Thing A Week campaign in which he released one new song each week for a full year, produced both My Monkey and the sublime Code Monkey, the latter of which speaks to my people like few other songs.
4. Monkeys will fling their poo at you.
I know what you're saying. "Roger, how can a monkey flinging poo at people possible be a good thing?" Well, as far as I can tell they do it defensively, which means they're throwing their poo at people who most likely have it coming. Poo getting thrown at people who have it coming is inherently funny. Besides, if people starting doing something similar to express their displeasure, I bet the long lines and harsh return policies at most big box stores would disappear in a fortnight. Two fortnights tops.
Finally, you may be asking yourself "Well, given the phenomenal evidence presented here, how is it that monkeys are only the second coolest animals on the planet?". That's easy.
Monkey's can't play video games.
Until a monkey can pwn me at Unreal Tournament or Halo, they remain firmly in second place. Sorry. Them's the rules.
***ADDENDUM***
If didn't catch it the first time, you can hover over the images for additional commentary, or right-click and select properties if the hover text isn't long enough. I would imagine this is a habit I'll probably get into. Fair warning.
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