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Wednesday, April 18, 2007


Lyric of the week
Current mood: sad
Category: Music

Some may argue this is a poem (by Noyes), but when Loreena McKennitt sings it, it brings tears to my eyes every time.

The Highwayman

The wind was a torrent of darkness upon the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight looping the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding--
Riding--riding--
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn door.

He'd a French cocked hat on his forehead, and a bunch of lace at his chin;
He'd a coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of fine doe-skin.
They fitted with never a wrinkle; his boots were up to his thigh!
And he rode with a jeweled twinkle--
His rapier hilt a-twinkle--
His pistol butts a-twinkle, under the jeweled sky.

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
He tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred,
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter--
Bess, the landlord's daughter--
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

Dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim, the ostler listened--his face was white and peaked--
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord's daughter--
The landlord's black-eyed daughter;
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say:

"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart; I'm after a prize tonight,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light.
Yet if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."

He stood upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair in the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the sweet black waves of perfume came tumbling o'er his breast,
Then he kissed its waves in the moonlight
(O sweet black waves in the moonlight!),
And he tugged at his reins in the moonlight, and galloped away to the west.

He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon.
And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise of the moon,
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon over the purple moor,
The redcoat troops came marching--
Marching--marching--
King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door.

They said no word to the landlord; they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed.
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets by their side;
There was Death at every window,
And Hell at one dark window,
For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.

They had bound her up at attention, with many a sniggering jest!
They had tied a rifle beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
"Now keep good watch!" and they kissed her. She heard the dead man say,
"Look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though Hell should bar the way."

She twisted her hands behind her, but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness,
and the hours crawled by like years,
Till, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!

The tip of one finger touched it, she strove no more for the rest;
Up, she stood up at attention, with the barrel beneath her breast.
She would not risk their hearing, she would not strive again,
For the road lay bare in the moonlight,
Blank and bare in the moonlight,
And the blood in her veins, in the moonlight, throbbed to her love's refrain.

Tlot tlot, tlot tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hooves, ringing clear;
Tlot tlot, tlot tlot, in the distance! Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding--
Riding--riding--
The redcoats looked to their priming! She stood up straight and still.

Tlot tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment, she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight--
Her musket shattered the moonlight--
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him--with her death.

He turned, he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the casement, drenched in her own red blood!
Not till the dawn did he hear it, and his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs in the golden noon, wine-red was his velvet coat
When they shot him down in the highway,
Down like a dog in the highway,
And he lay in his blood in the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.

And still on a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a gypsy's ribbon looping the purple moor,
The highwayman comes riding--
Riding--riding--
The highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.

Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard,
He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred,
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter--
Bess, the landlord's daughter--
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

-- Alfred Noyes


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Neologism of the ....
Current mood: impressed
Category: Writing and Poetry

See, now That Gurl has made me shy away from committing to a timeframe!

Anyway, I really like the aunt of The Defective Yeti, who came up with

e-social: A subset of asocial, where someone is so distracted by electronic devices that he ignores the people around him.

Inspired by watching a high-end SUV pass us one night with both flip down DVD players on for the back seat. I felt sorry for the kids, who will grow up never knowing how to fight with a siblings in the back seat.

This, by the way, applies perfectly to That Gurl, who is often caught madly clicking away on her cellphone, when she could have been listening to me lecture.

Other attempted neologisms you can get by following the links (sorry, if you are a fan of Bush, there is a marked anti-administration bias there) are:

White crayon ('hwIt 'krA-"än), n: A useless person or thing you are nonetheless required to have for the sake of completeness or tradition.

and (somewhat risque)
objerctify v: (clean version) to utilize a person in fantasy
and the excellent:
pathetiquette: really, really, like unfortunately bad manners

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Wednesday, April 18, 2007


The best war ever!
Current mood: amused
Category: Travel and Places

This might very well be the Three Hundred and Thirty Five Years War, as listed in the Wikipedia:
The Three Hundred and Thirty Five Years' War (1651-1986) was a war between the Netherlands and the Isles of Scilly (located off the southwest coast of the United Kingdom). It is said to have been extended by the lack of a peace treaty for 335 years without a single shot being fired, which would make it one of the world's longest wars and the war with the fewest casualties. Despite the uncertain validity of the declaration of war, peace was finally declared in 1986.
I probably would never have heard of it if I hadn't looked this week on the date of anniversary of the peace declaration!

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Tuesday, April 17, 2007


(Runnerup) Quote of the week
Current mood: contemplative
Category: Writing and Poetry

Here, after all, is the chiefest joke of the gods: that man must remain alone and lonely in this world, even with crowds surging about him. Does he crave approbation, with a sort of furious, instinctive lust? Then it is only to discover, when it comes, that it is somehow disconcerting - that its springs and motives offer an affront to his integrity.

- H.L.Mencken (writing about Rudolph Valentino, who found little joy in his success)

Currently reading :
Impossible H. L. Mencken, The
By Marion Elizabeth Rodgers
Release date: By 01 October, 1991

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Tuesday, April 17, 2007


Cellphone tracking - cute
Current mood: amused
Category: Web, HTML, Tech

Hat tip for this site goes to Snopes, a good spot for checking out dubious rumors.

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Tuesday, April 17, 2007


Quote of the week
Current mood: contemplative
Category: Writing and Poetry

Wisdom seems to come largely from curing childish qualities, and intelligence largely from cultivating them.
- Paul Graham

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Girls gone not-so-wild
Current mood: bouncy
Category: Life

Last night I was dancing at the Bug Jar to 80's music (Manic Mondays), which is my typical Monday night exercise. Typically it is solo-dancing, since I don't ask strangers to dance (I don't want them to think I am trying to pick them up), but occasionally I get asked. I wouldn't turn down a dance for the world.

Yesterday, I actually got asked twice - once not really ASKED verbally (a girl just put herself in position in front of me). The second time, there was a group of girls on a birthday party on stage, and one of them came down to me and asked "Will you come up on stage and dance with us" (the timing was not so good, since there was somebody else just coming to the floor I would have preferred, but she didn't ask). I jumped up on the stage and danced a song with them, thanked her for asking, and went back to the floor.

I think there is something about my style that makes me noticeable, probably its goofyness. As English Matt complimented me once, "You always look so retarded dancing by yourself, but with a partner you're actually quite good!"

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Monday, April 16, 2007


Shades of Tangy Butt Wars!
Current mood: surprised
Category: MySpace

My little sister, i am 68545783465% mountain dew's butthole!!!! (formerly Claudia), just had her page farmered (somebody other than herself making alterations to it). She no longer has a picture, her "About me" says:
This is my mother.She is oldest woman,of all Kazakastan.She is 43!i love her. She is #6 prostitute in all of Kazakastan. Image and video hosting by TinyPic

The perpetrator was none other than her own daughter.

When she found out, did she go ballistic?

No.

"...actually it's kinda funny,so i decided 2 leave it for awhile...."

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Interracial Dating
Current mood: contemplative
Category: Romance and Relationships

Ilya Somin of the Volokh Conspiracy showcases this study of online dating:

For equal success with an African-American woman [relative to an African-American man], a Hispanic man needs to earn an extra $184,000 [in annual income]; a white man needs to earn an additional $220,000.

For equal success with a white woman [relative to a white man], an African-American needs to earn an additional $154,000; a Hispanic man needs $77,000; an Asian needs $247,000.

For equal success with a Hispanic woman [relative to a Hispanic man], an African-American man needs to earn an additional $30,000; a white man needs to earn an additional $59,000.

For equal success with an Asian woman [relative to an Asian man], an African-American needs no additional income; a white man needs $24,000 less than average; a Hispanic man needs $28,000 more than average.

As you can see, trying to figure out dating success in terms of salary works out a bit strangely. They get similar results with height ("For example, consider a man who is 5' 2'' tall. In order to be as desirable to a woman as a man who is 5' 11.5'' tall and who earns $62,500 per year, he needs to have an additional income of $269,000 (i.e., he needs to make $331,500 per year)" Something tells me that only few can buy height with money!.). They were only able to get results for men, because for a woman income just doesn't much help to get a man. Corresponding results for women's success with men just listed "not feasible". Keep in mind that, as the study points out,

(Whether i sent email to j depends on ATTRACTIVENESS (hotness of the picture), i-'s pickyness, and various multiplicative and additive effects that they wish to study)
This has nothing to do with race, but I thought the factors considered important might be fun to see:

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Sunday, April 15, 2007


Southern Hospitality
Current mood: bitchy
Category: News and Politics

"The Folly of Southern Hospitality" is the article I am currently reading in Reason Magazine. Unfortunately, it is not yet available on their website, but they will probably put it up there eventually (there are privileges to being a subscriber!).

They describe how states and local governments, especially in the South (although I've heard quite a few horror stories about such attempts right here!), try to bribe companies to start operations in their state, often beyond all reason.

Georgia, for example, offered a $420 million dollars incentive package to build a plant there, roughly $168,000 for each of the jobs at the plant. Because the plant is right near the Alabama border, many of those jobs will probably be going to existing skilled autoworkers in Alabama.

Three countries in North Carolina bid against each other to convince Dell to set up operations in their area. In the end, the incentives were three times the cost of the plant!

Of course, politicians don't want to dole out your tax dollars that generously without getting something in return beyond just good publicity. In 2005, nine Tennessee officials were indicted for bribery in an FBI sting operation that pretended they were one of those companies offering sweets for "incentives".

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