“Everything was beautiful, and nothing hurt.”

When Herman Melville created the tattooed character of Queequeg in his 1851 novel Moby-Dick, he helped introduce skin art to American literature. I was reminded of this at an author's reading at a local bookstore. But forget the presentation; I was busy trying to read the back of the woman’s neck in front of me.

There was a sentence tattooed there, but I couldn’t quite make it out. The words “yes” and “will” were visible, but her hair blocked the rest, and she left before I understood what statement her neck was making.

I was left pondering how one-in-four U.S. adults has a tattoo, including nearly 40% of people between the ages of 25 and 29. Once linked with risky behavior patterns, tattoos are now common even among mild-mannered literary types. (No doubt a librarian somewhere is getting the phrase “Live to Read, Read to Live” inked on his or her arm at this very moment.)

With its legions of readers, Portland is a place where words frequently leap from pen to needle and from paper to skin. But since a human is a difficult manuscript to edit, due care must go into choosing a literary tattoo. What words get under a person’s skin to the point where they have to be on top of it as well? And what authors are particular favorites?

Wordy authors are disqualified as tattoo sources. It would take your entire back to do justice to someone like Virginia Woolf or Umberto Eco. A website devoted to readers who get inked, Contrariwise, reveals that a particular tattoo favorite is the Kurt Vonnegut quote heading this blog entry (it’s from Slaughterhouse 5). Also notable is the preponderance of selections in Tolkein’s Elvish, and quotes from Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s Le Petit Prince, and my own The Pocket Guide to Mischief.

Herman Melville described Queequeg’s tattoos as “mysteries not even himself could read, though his own live heart beat against them.” That’s why a poet’s brief, vivid lines provide such excellent material; there’s more to the words than meets the eye.

I did eventually discover the source of the neck tattoo I spied at that book reading. It’s from the end of James Joyce’s Ulysses, and it relates the character Molly Bloom’s train of thought. The quote reads “yes I said yes I will Yes [sic].” (If you’re wondering what Molly was so positive about, leaf through Ulysses yourself; don’t worry, It’s a quick read.)

But for genuine self-expression, why use the words of another? Why not self-publish? For one thing, the writer gets to know his or her readers quite well. And there is another particularly satisfying bonus to self-publishing on your own skin: You probably won’t go out of print anytime soon.
As for me, I’m holding off until I find the perfect quote to extract from this year’s best book.

Other links of interest: A recent Oregonian piece, and a less-recent Telegraph article. (The latter will give the literary sources employed in the above photos.)
My sources are here.
Photo credits (from the top): Colleen AF Venable, smallestbones, mass romantic, Jun Cruz Na Ligas, poetnicole, unknown.

We Just Got Served

An A.P. report today tells of the mischievous Horace Engdahl, the Swedish Academy’s Permanent Secretary for the Nobel Prize (the most prestigious award in literature!). Selections follow:

Speaking generally about American literature, [Engdahl] said U.S. writers are ''too sensitive to trends in their own mass culture,'' dragging down the quality of their work.

''The U.S. is too isolated, too insular. They don't translate enough and don't really participate in the big dialogue of literature,'' Engdahl said. ''That ignorance is restraining.''

The most recent American to win the award was Toni Morrison in 1993.

Each Nobel Prize includes a $1.3 million purse, a gold medal and a diploma.

The Wheels on the Bike Go Round and Round

The United States was once a nation of bicycle riders. Americans loved bikes so much, in 1895, they owned 10 million of them. But these bikes started rusting into oblivion with that first sniff of the intoxicating aroma of car exhaust. Yep, a love affair with cars almost killed the bike. Almost.

Total U.S. Cars
1898: 30 cars
1900: 8,000 cars
1920: 8.1 million cars
1950: 40.3 million cars
1970: 89.2 million cars
1990: 133.7 million cars
2005: 136.6 million cars

But the wheels on the bike go round and round. According to a recent story in The Economist, worldwide bike sales and manufacturing are upshifting big-time. (Lame, I know.)

The article states, “Europeans mainly use bikes for commuting, but have the odd habit of ignoring [commuter bikes] in favour of sleeker, faster models which are then expensively modified. Americans prefer off-road BMX trail bikes."

Given this good news, I hate to be critical of American bike-buying habits. But here goes: Are off-road bikers the lowest form of life in the biking world?

After all, two of the primary reasons people buy bikes are a wish to save money by not buying gas and a desire to save the planet by not burning gas. But bikers who drive to a trail defeat both of those purposes.

Why not hearken back to the mindset of those original, high-wheeling bicyclists? If they wanted to ride a bike, they rode it.

Texas Ranger Poetry

"Our founders knew nothing of our processed foods. They again could never have even imagined a Twinkie or a shelf life."

From Black Belt Patriotism: How to Reawaken America by Chuck Norris

Shuffleboard Posses

Angela Pusateri is a Florida rapper with a new CD: "Who's Your Granny?" It's an appropriate title since Pusateri is 79 years old. And when Pusateri rocks the mic, she does so with lyrics like, “I am older and wiser, I ain't a disguiser/I am condo commando in a high-riser/Who's your granny?" SHE’S your granny.

Okay, actually she’s not. But to thirteen-year old Jenna Pusateri, having the world’s coolest grandmother is a source of slight embarrassment. Not that this is a difficult accomplishment; one can embarrass teen-aged relatives simply by exhaling carbon dioxide... or rapping, "Move over, Trick-Daddy, 'cause this is my town/I gotta shuffleboard posse and we're known to get down."

In the South Florida Sun-Sentinel, reporter Ihosvani Rodriguez wrote on Granny with some hip-hop hyperbole: “Granny Rapper is a septuagenarian hip-hopper who knocks out the rhymes with the energy of L’il Kim and the wisdom of Grandma Moses.”

This clip from Retirement Living TV shows off Granny's skills, but ignore the strangely lame producer at the start.

Advertising Helps Me Decide!

How can a country retain its unique culture in the face of American imports? Is the best course to stop imports from reaching the marketplace, or to make homegrown products that can act as replacements?

Dunno. But I do know that Islam for Today is touting Dara and Sara dolls as “Iran’s Islamic alternative to Ken and Barbie.” The site quotes toy seller Masoumeh Rahimi, who sees the danger of girls playing with Barbie and eventually rejecting Iranian values. She said:

"I think every Barbie doll is more harmful than an American missile."

I guess that makes the Bratz some sort of Doomsday Devices.

Dara and Sara were developed by an government agency known as the Institute for the Intellectual Development of Children and Young Adults. Since the agency is also in charge of marketing the dolls, it might consider using the ad strategy known as Organic Product Integration (OPI).

No more painfully obvious "product placement." With OPI, instead of just SHOWING a product in a TV show or movie, the product instead becomes an integral and “natural” part OF the show. (I’m all for integration! And organic things are so... natural.)

So now, products aren’t just products anymore. As Nela Ulabi’s NPR story makes clear, now the product is almost a character. Thus, the sponsors of a reality show make sure that contestants will be use their cars/drinks/phones while competing. And those products being discussed by the ad execs on Mad Men? They're not there by accident.

So now ads are always lurking in the background. You can't TiVo them out of the program... they ARE the program! How can American culture survive this onslaught of marketing? Robert Weissman of the group Commercial Alert suggests TV shows be required to warn viewers when OPI is occurring.

But I’ve got a simpler idea: Import more Dara and Tara dolls into the US. The rest will take care of itself.

Politics and Hot Dogs

Hot dogs continue to sneak into the news. First, President Bush addressed the United Nations about the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.

Sixty years ago, the architect of that document was noted hot dog lover Eleanor Roosevelt. But did Bush mention Mrs. Roosevelt during his talk? No. (Nor did the President do so last year, when he spoke on the same subject at the UN.)

Why not? According to William Heuvel, founder of the Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt Institute, Barbara Bush has said that Eleanor Roosevelt's name was not allowed to be spoken in the Bush home.

It must have something to do with hot dogs.

This brings to mind the infamous (in Oregon, anyway) campaign ad showing senatorial candidate Jeff Merkley eating a hot dog while being quizzed on the day of Russia’s invasion of Georgia. It shows just how damaging the combination of a stalker with a video camera and a man in need of a beverage can be. (Posted here by Merkley’s opponents at the NRSC):

In a more genial mode, the Oregonian ran a story titled “Weenies on the Water” about an aquatic hot dog vendor named Jeff Dood. The story kicks off with Dood taking orders from his boat:

…a candy-apple red wakeboard boat swishes to a stop alongside.

"Gimme a Screaming Weenie and a Diet Coke," the driver calls across the choppy Willamette River.

"I want a Panini Weenie," a passenger adds.

"'Weenies on the Water’?" another passenger says, reading the menu on the side of Dood's boat. "That is so tight, dude! I want a weenie, too. Do you take Visa?"

Dood doesn’t. (Though sad, this probably isn't a violation of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.)

Rating Poetry

Nights in Rodanthe is rated PG-13. The official explanation is "some sensuality"— as if!

From Manohla Margis's review of Nights in Rodanthe. (She didn't like it so much. "There’s no joy and not even much cruel laughter to be had from the spectacle of... some of the most pitiful, platitudinous, risible dialogue in recent memory."

With This Burger, I Thee Wed

The Mirror reported on the marriage of Brits Tom and Kerry Watts and their wedding burger. It was big. Tom's quote:

“I got to marry the woman of my dreams and then I got to have the burger of my dreams the same day.”

There's something both endearing and off-putting about huge hamburgers and the people who love them. So cute, so very wrong... Hey, does the same sentiment hold true for hot dogs?

The Philly Phanatic recently gave us a case-study when it duct-taped a number of jumbo Hatfield Hot Dogs in order to fire them from a hot dog cannon. (It was for a commercial.)

The hot dogs were left behind as litter, and eventually, for members of the Philadelphia police bomb squad to deal with, as they responded to a report of suspicious packages outside of the Phillies stadium.

An A.P. report stated that after evacuating stadium employees, the bomb squad blew up the sausages. A Phillies senior VP said, "We could have gone over and picked it up and thrown it in the trash... But if we had been wrong, somebody might have lost an arm."

I guess. But what hot dog deserves to be fired from a cannon and blown to smithereens by a bomb squad on the same day? As for the Phillie Phanatic, no conclusions are drawn. It seems as endearing and repellent as it always has!

*Phillie Phanatic photo by Erglantz.

Campaign Blast from the Past: Those @!&%! Voters!

American political candidates regularly pay carefully-phrased compliments to the American public. They know the most basic rule of politics: NEVER insult your voters.

It sounds obvious, but even veteran politicians sometimes forget. Senator Jim Watson (right, 1862-1948) was in office for six terms. But when he said, “You can vote for me or go to hell," Watson lost the next election.

Hearing of Watson's gaffe, Calvin Coolidge quipped, “He gave them a difficult alternative.” (Capping irony: If you visit Watson's official Senate page, it has the heading: James E. Watson: "Impossible Not to Like.")

Frontiersman Davy Crockett (1786–1836) had better timing than Watson, but worse results. Starting in 1827, Crockett served three terms in Congress. But after losing his seat in 1835, Davy told voters to "go to hell."

Crockett left town and went to the Alamo. In less than a year, he was dead.

The most legendary line along these lines came courtesy of Dick Tuck. After losing his bid for California state Senate seat in the 1960s, Tuck joked, "The people have spoken— the bastards."

Representative Morris Udall (left, with JFK) used the same line after losing the Democratic presidential primary to Jimmy Carter. Like Tuck, Udall also had a sense of humor... and he needed it, since that was the fifth time he'd lost a presidential primary!

As for McCain and Obama, they'll probably navigate the next weeks of campaigning without incident. (We'll see about Biden and Palin.) Nonetheless, two of these candidates will soon want to what Abraham Lincoln said about losing an election. The great American president said that it made him feel like a boy who’s stubbed his toe: he’s too old to cry, but it hurts too much to laugh.

*My sources are here.

The Last Song You'll Ever Hear?

This poster is part of a safety campaign in Australia:
"Watch for cars when wearing headphones."

Of Stupid Larvae and Abolished Apostrophes

Knowing that Professor John Wells is president of the Spelling Society might lead you to believe that he is a fusty phonetics perfectionist.

Not so; Professor Wells actually advocates a revolutionary "freeing up" of spelling in English: "Let's allow people greater freedom to spell logically. Text messaging, e-mail and internet chat rooms are showing us the way forward for English."

Free spelling? Chat rooms showing us the way forward? Wow. Wells also believes that teaching spelling to students is a waste of time. In The Times, he maintains that English words contain so many irregular and illogical spellings, "modernizing" our vocabulary only makes sense.

Though hearing a prominent academic talk this talk is novel, my guess is that U.S. citizens would consider these changes somehow un-American. Competitive spelling bees are beloved here, even though they're unheard of in most countries. For instance, there are no spelling bees in Italy; nobody would ever get eliminated, because words are spelled pretty much the way they should be.

But taking into consideration the emotional damage wrought by spelling bees, I'm starting to like this free spelling idea. I still get choked up remembering how I was ousted from a 4th-grade spelling bee by the word “caterpillar." Stupid larvae!

But Professor Wells lost me when he called the apostrophe a "waste of time." He asks, "Have we really nothing better to do with our lives than fret about the apostrophe?" Thus, he proposes abolishing the apostrophe.

You can have my apostrophes when you pry them from my cold, dead fingers! (On the other hand, apostrophes do suffer regular abuse...)
Some of Prof. Wells' Other Recommendations:
—Double consonants: Allow double consonants when the preceding vowel sound is short: River becomes rivver; model becomes moddel.
—Danger, Anger, Hanger: Replace the soft g with a j: Danger becomes danjer.
Use a double g after the n if the sound is hard: Anger becomes angger.
Use a single g if the sound is elided: Hanger remains hanger.
—Their, there and they’re: They all sound the same and the meaning is unlikely to be lost if we just use “there” in each case.

Department of Dubiousness

"The plot is plodding, the characters are interchangeable, and as an actor [Justin] Bruening makes David Hasselhoff seem like Derek Jacobi."
From Alessandra Stanley's review of the new version of Knight Rider.

Campaign Blast from the Past: The County Election

In 1852, Missouri-native George C. Bingham completed "The County Election" (detail, right). The painting portrayed free liquor being poured, inebriated voters propped up at the polling place, bought votes, and a glad-handing politican (in top-hat).
You might think (like I did) that Bingham had a jaundiced view of the questionable Whig tradition of providing voters with free liquor. Not so; Bingham was a Whig!

So where we see ethics violations, this was actually Bingham's way of paying tribute to the will of the people. He wasn't necessarily condoning the hubbub, but there is a spirit of celebration surrounding the democratic spectacle. (Or so say Bingham's biographers.)

George Bingham had political aspirations of his own, serving as State Treasurer of Ohio from 1862-6 and running unsuccessfully for Congress.

And while his Whig affiliation dates him, Bingham was ahead of his time in one respect; he anticipated the rise of heavy metal with this detail from "The Jolly Flatboatmen" (1846).

* My sources are here.

The 2008 US City Rankings Are Here!

"Ranked according to what?" you ask.

Why, sustainability, of course. And according to SustainLane.com, the most sustainable American city is Portland, Oregon. (The next four cities this year were San Francisco, Seattle, Chicago, and New York.) Portland's top spot isn't a big surprise since the city has topped this list since it was invented in 2005.

Sustainability can be a slippery word to define, so SustainLane's methodology is here. And a lively debate over how relevant and accurate these rankings are can be found here. But you won't find many Portlanders engaging in petty bickering about our exalted status. We're too busy pedaling past xeriscaped front yards on our way to the community garden.

Attack of the Cheap Lederhosen

Munich’s Oktoberfest is already underway, but folk culture purists fear their beloved tradition is under attack by substandard Lederhosen.

Bavarian farmers have worn leather outfit made from pig, goat, or deerskin since time immemorial. These "Lederhosen" were adopted in the 1800s by local aristocrats. (That's the way it always is: Bavarian aristocrats co-opting the cool culture from farmers and American teenagers.)

Der Spiegel reports that Lederhosen-wearers were out in force this weekend in their Bavarian shorts. Ah, but WERE those shorts authentic? Or were they cheap imports from un-Bavarian locales like Poland, India, and… China?

[These] are “yuppie outfits” that have nothing to do with original Bavarian dress, says Otto Dufter, chairman of the Bavarian Federation of Folk Costume Societies. “…we don’t use any pseudo-costumes made abroad.”

Dang, pseudo-costumes are way un-gemütlich. Folk costume society member Hans Lehrer had the quote of the day: “A good Lederhose is like a second skin and it will last you your whole life if you don’t get too fat.”

Now, since Lederhosen have H-shaped suspenders, and “H” is the first letter of “Heim” (the German word for “home”), the path seems clear. Germans honoring the traditions of their homeland should wear domestic Lederhosen.

Oops, price check: Embroidered deer-leather Bavarian Lederhosen cost €600? That’s almost $830!

Chinese Lederhosen it is, then.

BONUS! In the course of "researching" this, I was offered this authentic German joke.
Knock, knock.
Who's there?
The police. I'm afraid there's been an accident. Your husband is in hospital.

Don't Make Her Laugh: She'll Go Into Cataplectic Shock

Sadly, I've gone through life not knowing this word:

cataplexy |ˈkatəˌpleksē|
a medical condition in which strong emotion or laughter causes a person to suffer sudden physical collapse though remaining conscious.*

While we've all experienced intermittent cataplectic shock, Kay Underwood lives with it every day. The 20-year old lives in Barrow upon Soar, England, where she tries to avoid the sorts of amusing situations that the rest of us look forward to.

According to a Daily Telegraph article, Underwood momentarily collapses every time she laughs. And it's not just laughter that can do it to her: "Exhilaration, anger, fear, surprise, awe and even embarrassment can also cause sufferers to suddenly collapse on the spot."

A certain Dr. Andrew Hall said, "I had one patient [the attacks] happened to whenever he had an overwhelming feeling of smugness."
As for Underwood, in another interview, she reported that sometimes her friends "good-naturedly" tried to make her laugh. Good-naturedly?! If MY friends tried to make me laugh, I'd try not to laugh. Just to spite 'em!

Failing that, I'd suffer sudden physical collapse though remaining conscious. (And while incapacitated, I'd contemplate the best medicine for laughter.)

*ORIGIN late 19th cent.: from Greek kataplēxis ‘stupefaction,’ from kataplessein, from kata- ‘down’ + plēssein ‘strike.’

An Introduction to Moose Hunting

From An Introduction to Moose Hunting, a site run by the Alaska Department of Fish and Game:

Floating – Floating silently down rivers and creeks in a raft or a canoe is a most pleasant way to hunt moose. The object is to float around a bend and see a bull eating willows on a gravel bar, drinking, or walking on a riverside trail.... Moose...are not particularly hard to kill with a well-placed, well-constructed bullet.
Shot Placement – I always recommend a lung shot.... a moose hit through both lungs will bleed out all of the muscles through the damaged lung tissue as the moose dies.... Often times [sic] a lung shot moose hit only once will calmly go back to eating and will sag to the ground after a minute or two.ADDENDUM: A blog reader has asked why anyone would want to kill a moose. Please! Moose might be the biggest troublemakers of the animal kingdom. Their name alone is confusing. One moose, two moose? Mooses? Meese? Forget about it! Also, moose have been known to lie in wait to trample unsuspecting people like you.

According to moose safety experts, if a moose charges you, it is okay to run. So do it! You also might want to hide behind something and then peek out to see if the moose is still after you. If the moose is, don’t try to argue with it. Instead, place this blog gently on its antlers. This will make it happy and the moose will leave.

You can leave also. Arm yourself, and then float silently down a nearby river in a raft or a canoe. This is a most pleasant way to get revenge on a moose.

Toughening Up for West Point

At the age of ten, my interest in playing RISK ("the board-game of world domination") led me to become a military man. I wore t-shirts in cold weather, and ran (not walked!) everywhere as part of my campaign to toughen up for West Point.

Applying for membership with the Military Book Club seemed like a good way to beef up my résumé. For weeks, I anxiously waited to see if I'd be accepted into that select group. (And I was! Those were giddy times.)

Reading about tank battles in the USSR, island-hopping in the Pacific, and air wars over England was good stuff, but the biggest thrill was probably just getting packages in the mail.

I also found the the graphic elements of war and propaganda posters particularly appealing. (I've cadged a few more of them here.)

My readings taught me that Hitler had never played RISK; anyone who has can tell you can’t hang on to Europe if you attack Russia. As for West Point, I would ultimately choose a more reputable place for scholarship: San Diego State University. (Sure, it has a 17% graduation rate, but I love having the odds stacked against me.)

Why Is This Girl Crying?

Hoopsters and hipsters are probably already familiar with the much-forwarded list of the "50 Greatest Charles Barkley Quotes." (The quotes are unsourced.)

Quote #25 came in 2006, when a frustrated Kevin Garnett threw a basketball into the crowd. Cameras showed a man who was hit by the ball being taken away in a stretcher. His daughter was in tears.

Insisting that players take passes to the face all the time, Barkley said, "You know why that little girl's crying? It's because she's thinking, 'My daddy's a wussy.'" (The unidentified man was okay.)

Ouch. Three other quotes of note:
38. Ernie Johnson: "Did you graduate from Auburn?"
Barkley: "No, but I have a couple people working for me who did."

23. "It's kind of great to see the Celtics doing well again cuz that was so much fun in my day to go to the Boston Garden and they spit at you and throw things at you and talk about your mom. It sounds like dinner at Kenny Smith's house."

2. In 1998, Barkley went to court for throwing a guy through a 1st floor window in a fight. (The man had thrown a glass of ice at him.)
Judge: "Your sanctions are community service and a fine. Do you have any regrets?"
Charles: "Yeah I regret we weren't on a higher floor."

Campaign Blast from the Past: Trapped by the Whigs

As previously noted, America’s Whig Party made liberal use of libations at election time. This strategy did not always go down smoothly; this anti-Whig woodcut from Louisiana mocks the Whigs’ predilection for “entrapping” voters with free alcohol. (The log cabin was a Whig symbol.)
What an innocent age! Of course, today's voters are WAY too sophisticated to fall for traps of this primitive nature. (Although if one were to substitute a free cell phone for the cider...) The text below accompanied the anti-Whig woodcut:
"Tip. and Ty." were William Henry Harrison (aka, Tippecanoe) and John Tyler (Ty), the Whig candidates of 1840. They won, and both men got to be President of the United States. Score one for free hard cider.
Images from the Library of Congress, Rare Book and Special Collections Division

Local Vernaculars

Jean-Marc Speziale is a French vintner who grew weary of hearing how the wine from his Languedoc-Roussillon region tasted like... not very good wine. To tweak the snobs (and do some marketing), Jean-Marc has come up with Le vin de merde. Loosely translated, that would be “poop wine” (or “wine of the poop”?).

Either way, you can understand why there’s a large fly at the top right-hand corner of its label. But perhaps you’d like some cheese with that wine? I recommend an Italian cheese spotted in the Veneto region. Its colorful name stems from the fact that the cheese is not made to any “legitimate” recipe. It's more of a local vernacular.

"The beard made me look like a tomato with hair."

In 2006, Metallica fan Mick Cassidy swore not to shave until the band's next album was released.

The album's out and The Sun has a keen slideshow of Cassidy's hair growth, from starting point (right) up to just before its final shave.

"It was a relief," Cassidy said. "The beard made me look like a tomato with hair."

Dunno what James Hetfield thought of it, but he's the one who shaved the beast off. Metallica already has a song called "Pulling Teeth," so maybe it's time to add "Cutting Beards" to the canon.

Oh, that's droll.

Or how about "Seek and Destroy (These Whiskers)"? "Enter Barber"? "Wherever My Clipper Roams"? "Master of Razors"?

Okay, I'll stop.

You're Not Reading This

Jakob Nielsen researches on-line reading habits. And his studies show that we don’t read Web pages.

That is, after reading a couple of words at the top of a page, our gaze quickly plummets downwards, and our eyes dive down.

We'll glance at a graphic here or a table but there won't be any left-to-right eye motion. Odds are that we won’t stop at the bottom right-hand corner of a Web page, as we would in a book or magazine. We’ll never make it that far!

Is that a lot of skipping around? It's ALL skipping around! And Nielsen finds that while teenagers skip material even faster than adults, they do so with less efficiency.

Writing in The Chronicle of Higher Education, Professor Mark Bauerlein says that teens and college students “race across the surface, dicing language and ideas into bullets and graphics, seeking what they already want and shunning the rest.”

Bauerlein goes on to argue that this ain’t the kind of reading that fosters concentration, thoughtfulness, or flexible minds. And it saps initiative. Saps it, I say! (Well, he says.) Bauerlein maintains that “screen scanning” hardly qualifies as reading at all, and it’s a potentially counter-productive in that it reduces the mind’s ability to engage in critical, academic reading.

Of course, Bauerlein may be grinding his ax so hard because he has a horse in this race. (Ooh, I mixed a metaphor!) That is, he has a book: Our Dumbest Generation. Guess what that’s about?

Now leave me alone. I gots to do some on-line social nitwitting. (Oh, but I have to Twitter an update first.)
Quote/photo mash-up by Dean Shareski

The House Dog’s Grave

We were saddened that our friends lost their boxer, Brooke, yesterday. This reminded us of the hounds we've housed, especially our last dog, Dizzy.

It also brought to mind this poem that Robinson Jeffers wrote for his bulldog, Haig.

The House Dog’s Grave
I’ve changed my ways a little; I cannot now
Run with you in the evenings along the shore,
Except in a kind of dream; and you,
If you dream a moment,
You see me there.

So leave awhile the paw-marks on the front door
Where I used to scratch to go out or in,
And you’d soon open; leave on the kitchen floor
The marks of my drinking-pan.

I cannot lie by your fire as I used to do
On the warm stone,
Nor at the foot of your bed; no,
All the nights through I lie alone.

But your kind thought has laid me less than six feet
Outside your window where firelight so often plays,
And where you sit to read‚
And I fear often grieving for me‚
Every night your lamplight lies on my place.

You, man and woman, live so long, it is hard
To think of you ever dying.
A little dog would get tired, living so long.
I hope that when you are lying
Under the ground like me your lives will appear
As good and joyful as mine.

No, dears, that’s too much hope:
You are not so well cared for as I have been.
And never have known the passionate undivided
Fidelities that I knew.
Your minds are perhaps too active, too many-sided...
But to me you were true.

You were never masters, but friends. I was your friend.
I loved you well, and was loved. Deep love endures
To the end and far past the end. If this is my end,
I am not lonely. I am not afraid. I am still yours.













Above: Haig
Top: One of Brooke's owners with her first dog.
Thank you to Tom Booth of OSU Press for sharing this.

I.Q. Test: Spot the Pattern

The Russian/Soviet leaders below are arranged chronologically from the start of the 20th century to the present. See if you can spot the pattern!

Got it? No doubt it's painfully obvious; hairy leaders give way to bald ones. And bald leaders are replaced by hirsute ones. It's a male-pattern baldness pattern!*

Steve Jones of University College, London is credited with making this insight public with NPR's science guy, Robert Krulwich. Jones started with Lenin, so this blog scores one for beginning with Czar Nicholas II. Oh, and remember Boris Yeltsin? He had a partially-amputated finger on his left hand. At a White House dinner, Yeltsin once dipped his stump into a mustard pot and then used it to smear the mustard onto his bread.

* In order: Czar Nicholas II, Vladimir Lenin, Joseph Stalin, Nikita Khrushchev, Leonid Brezhnev, Yuri Andropov, Konstantin Chernenko, Mikhail Gorbachev, Boris Yeltsin, Vladimir Putin, and Dmitry Medvedev.

"Awesome, babe, awesome!"

Spanish hoopster Rudy Fernandez is joining the Portland Trail Blazers this season. Don't get me wrong; just because I live here doesn’t mean I’m some myopic, hometown fan.

Actually, it does. And my myopia has really kicked in since seeing Fernandez slam on Dwight Howard at the Olympics.

Gotta love how the Spanish-speaking commentator switches to English for his, "Awesome, babe, awesome!" replay analysis.

Scrapin’ By

East Oakland’s scraper bikes were the subject of a recent report by . For the uninitiated (that’s me!), scraper bikes are colorfully customized bicycles. "Scraper" was a term originally used for custom cars that had such beefy rims, they almost scraped the wheel well.

Making a scraper bike is low-tech. One way to scraper-ize is to insert food wrappers into a bike’s spokes. Then, spray-paint the frame a retina-scorching color. Done? Good. Now take your scraper bike and go scraping on the scraper bike. That means riding in such an uncool way, it becomes cool again. Don’t get it? Maybe this way-popular scraper video will help. (I’d rate it PG.)

Scraper biking is an offshoot of the Bay Area’s “hyphy” (HIGH-fee) movement, which (according to encourages irrational, amusingly eccentric, and goofy behavior. (Sound familiar? If not, read this blog more.)

MORE BIKE NEWS! California came in 7th in a ranking of all 50 states in the
Top 5
1. Washington
2. Wisconsin (!)
3. Arizona
4. Oregon (Portland had the highest ranking of any city)
5. Minnesota
Above: photo of Portland-style scraper bike.

Scraping the bottom
46. North Dakota
47. Mississippi
48. Alabama
49. Georgia
50. West Virginia

Campaign Blast from the Past: Whigging Out

Members of the late American political party known as the Whigs (1824-1854) were notorious for “treating” voters to a drink at election time. Party organizers would even hand out little whiskey jugs with the Whig candidate’s name on it so that foggy voters recalled who had gotten them drunk.

The spirit of spirits ran through many Whig campaigns, most famously with their 1840 presidential candidate, William Harrison (you know, the guy who died after a month in office?). Nicknamed “Old Tip-ler,” his opponents came up with an election ditty for him:

Hush-a-bye baby; Daddy’s a Whig
Before he comes home, Hard cider he’ll swig;
Then he’ll be tipsy and over he’ll fall;
Down will come Daddy, Tip, Tyler, and all.

I’ve been trying to think about what kind of political giveaways one could get away with in the 21st century. (Whiskey is out of the question, right?)

I believe there is only one pair of foodstuffs so virtuous, not even the most principled opponent could object: A free “marmalade and toast” event! Think of the songs they’d write for that.

*My sources are here.

"911? Mickey Mouse Must Die."

In the U.S., there are enough silly calls to 911 to fill a book (What’s the Number for 911?) and then some. My favorite is the woman living in Los Alamitos who called 911 to complain that a person was making “bird-type noises” outside of her house.

The police came and found the source of the emergency: A bird in a tree.

Unsurprisingly, boneheaded misuse of emergency numbers is also an international phenomenon. The Telegraph’s Scottish correspondent, Auslan Cramb, recently reported that Central Scotland Police have released details of some of their worst emergency calls (it’s 999 there, BTW).

Callers included a person who demanded police action after being soaked by a car that drove through a puddle. Oh, and a man complaining of getting too many onions in his Chinese takeout meal.

And then there’s the woman who called 999 because her newly-purchased rabbit’s ears were not floppy. (They had been described as such in its newspaper ad.)

Speaking of infamous rodent ears, The Telegraph had a story headlined “Mickey Mouse Must Die.” It told of Sheikh Muhammad Munajid (a former diplomat at the Saudi embassy in Washington, DC), who said that ALL mice (including cartoon ones!) must be killed.

In a presentation broadcast on the Arab network al-Majd TV, the Sheikh slammed Mickey Mouse and his ilk for making mice seem cute. Big mistake! “According to Islamic law, the mouse is a repulsive, corrupting creature…. Mickey Mouse should be killed in all cases.”

How does one kill a cartoon mouse? A quick call to 911 will clear that up.

ADDENDUM: On 9/20/08, the Oregonian reported that Portland police had received 911 calls about Gennifer Moss (aka, Earth Friend Gen) who was in-line skating without much in the way of clothing. Police responded when a group of construction workers called to complain.

Adelson’s Checker-Shadow Illusion Claims Another Victim

MIT professor Edward H. Adelson came up with this optical illusion in 1995. It’s a “shadow illusion”; that is, areas A and B are the same shade of gray. Weird, innit?

Courtesy of the good folks at COLOURlover.com.

Advertising Helps Me Decide!

McDonalds has custom coffee now, because nothing makes a hamburger go down easier than a cappuccino. This ad for McCafe shows two hipster guys reading books and hanging out.

First Guy: Did you hear McDonald's has cappuccinos now?
Other Guy: That's awesome. I can shave this thing [his goatee] off my face!

The hipsters enthusiastically divest themselves of glasses, sweaters, and elitist attitudes.


While books are obviously part of their renounced cultural baggage (football rules!), at least these two aren't shown throwing their tomes in the trash. So thanks, McDonalds!

David Foster Wallace: 1962-2008

It's possible that no contemporary writer had to meet higher expectations than David Foster Wallace (1963-2008). He was a genius. Ask anyone. Ask Michiko Katutani, who wrote, "An ardent magpie, Mr. Wallace tossed together the literary and the colloquial with hyperventilated glee, using an encyclopedia of styles and techniques to try to capture the cacophony of contemporary America."

Ordinarily, that sort of overheated description would just be silly. In Wallace's case, it was not. For example, in his essay collection Consider the Lobster (2005), Wallace was hitting on all of his many cylinders. On a flight to Phoenix, I was laughing so hard at this book's first piece (good taste restrains my sharing the topic), I almost felt compelled to explain to my fellow passenger the source of my mirth.

I didn't. (I'm not insane.) But it was that good.

Wallace's gimlet-eyed view ranged over a bewildering array of topics in that book, and aside from an enervating and lengthy examination of A Dictionary Of Modern Usage, he lived up to his "genius" billing. I did grimace when I saw that a piece devoted to one of Wallace's pet topics, (tennis, anyone?), but even that essay transcended its subject and was eminently worthwhile.

Dude wrote the beefiest footnotes around. Sidenotes, too. Check it:
I'd argue that Wallace's superpowers worked against him early in his career. As someone who survived his essay collection A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again (1997), I found phrases like "existeniovoyeuristic conundra notwithstanding" logjammed his lucidity. Admittedly, part of the problem with this book is that Wallace's early-to-mid 1990's musings on television and pro tennis are now simply out-of-date.

When Wallace's obfuscatory style undermined his material, a funny line about how tennis pro Michael Chang has "as unhappy a face as I've ever seen outside a Graduate Writing Program" got outnumbered by bits like "I was disabled because I was unable to accommodate the absence of disabilities to accommodate."

But even at his least interesting, Wallace's word play and tangential trains of thought could be amusing and even delightful. I never met Wallace, but he made a connection with me, and I am saddened at news of his death. I suppose that's as good as it gets for any writer. Anyway, I've never read Wallace's fiction, so now's probably a good time to hunt down his (reputedly) finest novel: Infinite Jest.
ADDENDUM: Verlyn Klinkenborg wrote a short, lovely appreciation of DFW on 9/16/08.

Campaign Blast from the Past: JFK & LBJ

During the 1960 presidential campaign, John F. Kennedy and Lyndon B. Johnson made an airport stop in Amarillo, Texas. And it was there that LBJ stepped up to a podium and delivered a speech nobody heard.That's because nearby pilots gunned their engines and Johnson's words were lost in the roar. (One assumes that the pilots were either mischief makers or Richard Nixon supporters... or both!) LBJ was not happy about that. Not one bit.

Here's a shot of LBJ during happier times, as a college student during the 1920s. Weird, huh? Like you, I'm so used to seeing the statesmen of yesteryear as older adults, this goofy young man takes some getting used to.

*My sources are here.

Ring Wraiths of the Subprime Mortgage Crisis

All paths seem drowned deep in shadow as the U.S. housing slump affects hobbits and humans alike. One of the more interesting housing developments in trouble is the Shire, a Tolkein-esque village in Bend, Oregon.

The homes and townhouses feature dragon-shaped support beams, Middle Earth-ish stonework, and fake thatched roofs. A number of waterways and trails in the community lead to a place called the “Ring Bearer's Court.”

The Bend Bulletin reports that there’s only one resident of the ailing development at the moment. But while the Ring Wraiths of the Subprime Mortgage Crisis are to be feared, I'm still finding the idea of owning my own “hobbit hole” tool shed to be very ar ilyë tier undulávë lumbulë.

Public Figure Poetry

“[There is a gap between] the elite media who seem to crave scripted, blow-dried drones out of central casting instead of regular folks who want to see some honesty and candor.”

David Wade, a “minder” currently helping Joe Biden reduce his misspeakings.

Hop on Pop

When I moved to Oregon and heard a Portlander refer to “pop” (as in "soft drink"), I wasn’t sure if she was being quaint or ironic.

Wrong on both counts; "pop” is the term of choice for soft drinks in the whole Pacific Northwest. And now, via Strange Maps, comes some coolio cartography by Matthew Campbell and Greg Plumb showing the regional variations in terminology used for… soft drinks.

Other, lesser-used terms include ‘dope’ [!] in the Carolinas and ‘tonic’ in and around Boston…. outside the US [there's] ‘pop’ (Canada), [and] ‘mineral’ (Ireland)…

pop: …The world “pop” was introduced by Robert Southey, the British Poet Laureate (1774-1843).... In 1812, he wrote: “[This is] a nectar, between soda-water and ginger-beer, and called pop, because ‘pop goes the cork’ when it is drawn.” Even though it was introduced by a Poet Laureate, the term “pop” is considered unsophisticated by some, because it is onomatopaeic.

Yeah, totally unsophisticated. (I do kind of like that "nectar" usage though.)

And data is still being gathered! At the Great Pop vs. Soda Controversy website, enter your preferred usage and zip code to hop in the pop data-pool. (Oh, snap and crackle, too!) Its site manager, Alan McConchie, does seem to have already jumped to one conclusion:

“People who say 'Pop' are much, much cooler.”

Democracy: Our Wonderful Freak!

“Democracy is the art... of running the circus from the monkey cage.” H. L. Mencken

Democracy rules! (Okay, actually it governs, but that doesn’t excite anyone.)

But the way democracy works is completely unnatural. Sure, it seems like a perfectly normal system, but you probably grew up with it. Like me, you may have also grown up thinking fake brick linoleum was a good flooring choice, or that a Humvee with bulletproof windows was a sensible vehicle to drive. (Admittedly, I got a lot of death threats in elementary school.)

Voting can only take place when a nation reaches a advanced form of civilization. And it’s only within our advanced civilization that we can control our “natural” inclinations. As a wise person said, “Human nature... is what we are put on this earth to rise above.” It's natural to want to drop a glockenspiel on someone who did you wrong. But that doesn't make it right; you should go with a small woodwind instrument instead.

To illustrate what a freak democracy is, here is an absolutely true and apocryphal story from the 1840s:

One winter’s day in South Carolina, a woman named Abigail was arguing with three plantation owners about slavery. No matter what she said, Abigail could not get the three men to agree that slavery was morally wrong.

“But surely you agree that all people have souls?” Abigail finally asked.

“We do,” said the first plantation owner, “but slaves are not people.”

Driven to desperation by this stupidity, Abigail cried out, “Lord, please give us a sign to prove that I am right!” And to her amazement, there was a distant rumble of thunder.

“Thunder on a winter’s day can hardly decide this argument,” maintained the second of the men.

“Oh Lord,” cried Abigail, “can you provide a further sign that slavery is wrong?”

A fork of lightning snaked down, flashing in the darkening sky and hitting a tree.

“These are actions of nature, not signs from God,” said the third man.

Abigail looked pleadingly upward and raised her arms to the sky. And to the awe of all, a deep voice boomed from the heavens. “She is right. Slavery is deeply wrong.”

Astounded, Abigail turned her triumphant gaze to her cowed adversaries. “What do you have to say to that?” she demanded.

Recovering his wits, one of the men said, “Okay, now it’s three votes to two.” And so democracy carried the day.

That sad tale makes it easy to understand why John Adams said “majorities are as tyrannical and cruel as unlimited despots.” So the next time you are frustrated by someone who doesn’t see things your way, try to be tolerant. You’re stuck with every single Stone Age muttonhead (like me!) in the nation.

The founders of the United States knew this would be a pain in the neck. John Adams again: “America is a great unwieldy body... It is like a large fleet sailing under convoy. The fleetest sailors must wait for the dullest and slowest... that all may keep an even pace.”

To illustrate the point, Adlai Stevenson ran against Dwight Eisenhower twice in the 1950s. At one point, a supporter told Stevenson that “every thinking person” would vote for him.

“Madam, that’s not enough,” he answered. “I need a majority.”

SIDELIGHT: As you can see above, the sole of Adlai Stevenson's shoe was once photographed, and the fact that it had a hole in it set off a mild uproar. Stevenson's campaign sagely turned this to their advantage; their candidate was truly frugal! The symbol of a holey shoe even became a Stevenson campaign pin (left).

Last thing: Any sources I've used that aren't directly referenced above can be found here.
Lastest thing: If you think I'm giving myself a pep talk in case the presidential election doesn't go the way I hope it does, you're right.

Stinky Book

In Fast Food Nation, author Eric Schlosser described how chemicals are used to artificially create the ordinary smells (and tastes) of... everything.

Robert Blackson has taken this idea a step further: Why not engineer the smells of things that couldn't ever ordinarily be smelled? His new book is If There Ever Was: A Book of Extinct and Impossible Smells. It has scratch 'n' sniff pages that re-create the odors of Russian gym socks on the Mir space station, extinct plants, the afterglow of a nuclear explosion, and the surface of the sun.

So did this nasal-blazer of conceptual scent art just invent the scents? Nope. Blackson worked with pros: A NASA scientist, chemists, perfumers, botanists, etc. Regardless, Blackson has joined the group of authors whose books unquestionably stink. (I'm a charter member!)

The book is also a companion volume for the current exhibit at the Reg Vardy Gallery. Tell them you read about it here, and get free admission!

Royal Mistakes

This video shows President George Bush welcoming Queen Elizabeth II on her White House visit in 2007.

The President says, “You helped our nation celebrate its Bicentennial in 17—”

Realizing his mistake, Bush corrects himself and continues, “—in 1976.” What you can't see is Queen Elizabeth glancing over at him and muttering something. To his credit, Bush accepts the moment in good humor, adding, “She gave me a look that only a mother could give a child.”

Annoying the Queen is a bipartisan endeavor. When Jimmy Carter was president, he kissed the queen on the lips! She was properly outraged. Sadly, there's no good video of that moment, though.

So He'll Come Next Year, Right?

In 1989, legendary science-fiction writer Isaac Asimov declined an invitation from Portland Arts & Lectures (letter below).

Actually, Asimov didn't "decline" it. He blew the invitation out of the water.

"There is absolutely no chance that I will ever be in Oregon under any circumstances."

This and other literary ephemera is currently on display at Portland’s Central Library.

Eine Schnelle Skateboarder

This video shows a skateboarder hitting about 60 mph (or 100 kilometers per hour) on an autobahn near Stuttgart, Germany. (Gary Hardwick holds the speed record at 63 mph.) The helmet-cam records a funny low-speed wipeout at the end.

ADDENDUM (9/18/09): Der Spiegel identified the skatebaorder as "Sebastion H.", a 31-year old Stuttgart native known in the skating scene as "Bassi." He will almost certainly not be prosecuted for any crime.

Just Say, "Shush!" to Censorship

As longtime readers know, Unexpectedly Bart! can be drawn into the political arena only with the greatest reluctance. Even so, when it came to our attention that an American vice-presidential candidate repeatedly showed interest in censoring books at her city's library, we had to look into it.

As reported by Rindi White of the Anchorage Daily News:

Back in 1996, when she first became mayor, Sarah Palin asked the city librarian [Mary Ellen Emmons] if she would be all right with censoring library books....

...the librarian said she would definitely not be all right with it. [All italics mine.] A few months later, [Emmons] got a letter from Palin telling her she was going to be fired….

Emmons had been city librarian for seven years and was well liked. After a wave of public support for her, Palin relented and let Emmons keep her job.

….[Emmons said] that Palin three times asked her — starting before she was sworn in [as mayor] — about possibly removing objectionable books from the library if the need arose…. When the matter came up for the second time…during a City Council meeting, Anne Kilkenny…was there.

"Sarah said to Mary Ellen, 'What would your response be if I asked you to remove some books from the collection?" Kilkenny said.

"I was shocked. Mary Ellen sat up straight and said.. 'I would absolutely resist all efforts to ban books.'"

Shortly thereafter, Emmons received a letter asking for her resignation. After retracting the request, Sarah Palin told reporters the letter was just “a test of loyalty.” And the test would be given again.

Anne Kilkenny's now famous account of Sarah Palin's mayoral tenure has been vetted and posted at Snopes.com.

As for me, I hope my defense of our nation’s libraries means that my local branch will waive the $1.25 in overdue charges I seem to have accrued. (Man, I just couldn’t finish Jonathan Livingston Seagull in two weeks!)
ADDENDUM (9/22/08): The New York Times recently reported that one of the library books Palin evinced an interest in was Daddy's Roommate by Michael Willhoite.

Rating Poetry

"Ping Pong Playa is rated PG for ersatz gangsta speak."

From the print version of Nathan Lee's New York Times review.

Credit Rating: CUTE

Real? Yes. (I have a $10,000 limit on mine.)

Ensnared by Controversy!

While partisan politics rage, Unexpectedly Bart! has maintained the impartiality it's come to be known for during its weeks of existence.

But recent events force us to take a stand.

Tesco, the largest British groceries chain, has bowed to the forces of grammatical virtue and stopped making checkout signs reading “Ten items or less.”

Our apologies! Like us, no doubt your blood simmers at this wanton abuse of the King’s tongue. “Less” means “not as much.” Thus, supermarket signs should read “Ten items or fewer.” (If you can count the objects in question, use "fewer," otherwise, use "less." For example: "I eat less food by consuming fewer mangoes.") It's a common mistake, as the ad at the top of this entry charmingly displays.

But Tesco took the coward’s way out. First, the mighty retailer considered “Baskets only” signs. Ha! Do Tesco's managers have egg white in their veins? Ultimately, the chain decided on signs reading “Up to 10 items.”

The Plain English Campaign approved of Tesco's change: “Saying 'up to ten items' is easy to understand and avoids any debate.” But we disagree! “Up to ten items” could be interpreted as “nine items or fewer” or even “ten items and no more.” (Wait, is that right?... Yes, it is!)

Fiery rhetoric on this matter will soon burn up the blogosphere, and protest songs will be sung. Just remember, Unexpectedly Bart! joined the fray early on, with a blog entry of 270 words or less.

Fewer.

Whatever.

Spaghetti Cat

The Spaghetti Cat still has me chuckling. This clip is from The Morning Show with Mike and Juliet via Talk Soup and the formidable Joel McHale.

Swimming the Campaign Trail

Nixon's recent appearance reminded me of a 1973 ad for Hunter S. Thompson's Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail '72.

For kicks, substitute a harmless, modern American into the ad's lead quote:

It is Michael Phelps himself who represents that dark, venal and incurably violent side of the American character almost every other country has learned to fear and despise.

"Gotcha!" Hall of Fame: Scott Ableman

Washington, D.C. native Scott Ableman noted that his colleague, Walt, always parked his car in a remote location. What was the big deal about a little scratch or a wee ding? Oh, it’s a Jaguar.

As you can see below, Scott and his co-workers gleefully plastered Walt's distant Jaguar with a variety of colored Post-It notes. Excellent! The resulting Post-It Note Jaguar was both surprisingly appealing and a good reminder for me as to why I don't own a luxury auto: They just attract too much attention.

To Know Me Is to Trust Me

According to an excellent Boston Globe article by Drake Bennett, your face dictates your perceived trustworthiness. Princeton psychologists have found that even when a person’s features are expressionless, certain people seem more trustworthy than others. Social psychologist Susan Fiske says, "Trustworthiness is the very first thing that we decide about a person, and once we've decided, we do all kinds of elaborate gymnastics to believe in people." Or to disbelieve in them.

It’s not just the face, either. Work by scientists at Duke and Stanford shows that if a person imitates your body language while talking to you, they seem more honest.

Considering my favorite pose, it's no wonder I always loved this guy!

2008 Dishonor Roll

Radar magazine has released its ranking of the worst colleges in the U.S. Among other things, this allows readers to feel smug about their college choices. I mean, what are the odds that one’s alma mater will be singled out for humiliation?

Oops, San Diego State University —MY alma mater— apparently has the “Most Degenerate Student Body." And SDSU’s graduation rate is only 17%? I’m going to be ill. An Aztec graduate comments: “SDSU is just a place to spend those magical seven years that fall between high school and your first job at the warehouse.”

Humph. Sure, it took me seven years to graduate. But it would have been EIGHT, except I took 35 units my last semester. And after getting my very useful English degree, I worked at a FACTORY, not a warehouse. So there!
(That's SDSU's beloved mascot, Monty Montezuma, pictured above, BTW.)

Radar did take into account statistics, but also ominously added criteria like “rock-bottom admissions standards, unbridled alcohol and drug consumption, rampant criminal activity, and dubious alumni.” The latter led to Portland’s Reed College getting an Honorable Mention as Most Insufferable:

Known for its “French-café-know-it-all” culture, Reed churns out...smug, self-righteous bombasts.... Notes one..., “Everyone I've ever met that goes or went to Reed is either full of themselves or full of [baloney.]”

Other dishonorable awards include Ugliest Campus (Drexel, left), Most Intolerant (University of Mississippi), and, of course, the Worst College in America: The University of Bridgeport. It not only boasts a toxic beachfront, UB is also surrounded by the kind of high crime neighborhoods that make USC’s environs look like Mayberry. (USC was deemed Most Superficial.)

But I get no joy from this news. My heart is poisoned. A 17% graduation rate!? My advice to potential Aztec undergrads: Humboldt State University is as far away from San Diego as you can get and still be in California. Road trip!

—ADDENDUM: On Sept. 16th, SDSU sent news that the university is world class and cutting edge. Though it's unquantifiable, the press release includes among its "recent accolades":

• Our world class faculty continue to take on some of our nation's most pressing challenges including climate change and improving urban education.

Tombstone Antics: Time Expired

Her name was Barbara Manire. She lived in Okemah, Oklahoma.

"Her humor lives on."