Rejected Mortal Kombat fatalities

Ahh, I don’t know why, but I found these pretty funny: rejected Mortal Kombat fatalities. Here’s the first one:

Also, see the 2nd one and the 3rd one.

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Super Mario Bros. Frustration

This is a hilarious video of some guy playing a Super Mario Bros. game that was created with a level-designing program by some really sadistic son of a bitch. The hellishly difficult game play is entertaining enough, but the player’s commentary is absolute comedy gold. He sounds like he was born in Eastern Europe but grew up in New York. Incidentally, he seems extremely skilled at playing Super Mario Bros., but no one is a match for this game.

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The Golden Age of Video by Ricardo Autobahn

John’s new favorite video of the month (possibly of the year, after some more contemplation) is this mashup of clips from dozens of TV shows and movies edited into a catchy electro-pop music video.

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Fucking Yankees

I’m disappointed in the World Series result last night, with the Yankees winning their 27th World Series, but not as disappointed as I would have been if my team had been the one to lose to them. Not nearly as much as in 1996.

On SportsCenter this morning, their daily internet poll was “How do you feel about the Yankees, Love ’em, Hate ’em, or Indifferent?” and the result was funny. See for yourself (this is several hours later, after I submitted my “Hate” answer and screen-grabbed this image for blagging purposes…so the time and sample size are both large):

ESPN SportsCenter poll results: Everyone outside of New York hates the Yankees

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Watching the World Series at Bar Louie

When I heard that Pedro Martinez would start game 2 of the World Series for the Phillies at Yankee Stadium, I was excited to watch it, preferably with my other baseball-following friends. You can read a nice summary of Pedro’s relationship with the Yankees here and see the famous September 2004 press conference sound bite where he called the Yankees his daddies here:

After that press conference, the Red Sox ended up facing the Yankees in the 2004 American League Championship Series. That series is one of the most famous postseason baseball series because the Red Sox came back from a deficit of 3 games to none to win the series, 4-3. That’s the only time in MLB history that a team has won a series after being down 3-0. I never thought I’d see it happen. (It happened twice in the NHL and still hasn’t happened in the NBA). It was also famous for the two appearances Pedro made in Yankee Stadium, in which the Yankees’ organ player and 50,000 fans combined to rouse Pedro with their famous “Who’s Your Daddy?” chant. It started in game 2 when Pedro started and lost, and it continued in game 7, also at Yankee Stadium, when Pedro came in for two innings of relief with his Red Sox up 8-1. He didn’t pitch very well in that outing, either, giving up two runs before settling down and keeping his team up by a comfortable margin.

I tried as hard as I could to find a video of one of those two outings so you could hear the chant resonating through Yankee Stadium, but thanks to the idiots at Fox, it is surely unavailable to the human race forever. But if you’re not familiar with it, imagine what a chant of “Let’s go, Yankees!” would sound like, with the organ going, “Dun dun da-da-dun,” in between the chants, going up an octave each time, but the fans were shouting, “Who’s your daddy!” instead. It sounds just like the “OVER-RATED” chant.

I did manage to find a fan’s video of the “Who’s your daddy!” chant at Yankee Stadium this past Thursday when Pedro pitched for the Phillies in game 2 of the 2009 World Series. I’m sure this video doesn’t do it justice. It must have been louder than that, coming from every corner of the stadium. I couldn’t hear an organ, either, which gave it a nice, old-fashioned baseball touch in 2004.

I didn’t hear the chant on TV myself because I went downtown to watch the game at Bar Louie with five of my friends. It was a lot of fun watching it with them and all of us cheering for the Phillies. Pedro pitched well in Yankee Stadium for the first time since at least 2004, but he still lost because A.J. Burnett pitched better.

I wore my new red Detroit Red Wings hat because I wanted to wear a reddish hat that was close to the dark red of the Phillies to show my support for them that night. That sounds kind of lame because they aren’t even close to the same team, and Philadelphia fans, in fact, hate the Red Wings, but it’s the gesture that counts. (My red Georgia hat feels too tall and awkward on me, so I don’t wear it anymore, and it’s a brighter red than the flimsy, pre-faded, worn-out-looking Red Wings hat that I bought anyway.) However, my Red Wings hat came in handy in a very unexpected way. Near the end of our night there, after we had finished our meals and most people had finished their drinks, the waitress came over and said the bartender wanted to give us a free round of shots because I was wearing a Red Wings hat! Ha! We obviously laughed in disbelief about that. But not in front of the waitress. I’m not even a good Red Wings fan. I’ve never been to a game, I only watch them occasionally, and I only know their famous players. I jumped on their bandwagon and bought a hat so I could wear it to softball next year and because I couldn’t find a new copy of my flimsy, worn-out-looking Braves hat (which is smelly and dirty from wearing during softball). The shots were the bartender’s own creation, the first time he’d ever made it. I forgot what he called it, but I think it had triple sec and some kind of blueberry syrup in the bottom. We all agreed it was good.

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Best technological-impairment stories

These are some of my favorite examples of technological impairment from the Parents Just Don’t Understand articles at CollegeHumor.com. The best ones are the ones you could never, ever make up.

My mom asked to see my pictures on Facebook. I thought about all the drinking pictures that are on it and then I thought about my mom’s computer skills. So I said, if you can find them by yourself, sure. I came back 5 minutes later and she had an empty Microsoft word document up. I think I’m safe.

Instead of using the kitchen timer option on the microwave to time whatever she’s baking, my Mom turns on the microwave and lets it run for the hour or so she’s baking something.

My girlfriend’s dad typed a huge letter out on the computer. After he was done, he printed it and decided the font was too small, so he erased the whole thing, changed the font size, and retyped it.

My mother claimed she could not read my latest email because her printer was broken.

My dad uses the word “video” every time he searches for something on Youtube.

My dad works from home, and often needs to receive updated blueprints. His office has now given him 2 different computers which I set up, and he refuses to turn on. Instead of including him on emails, they have to print their emails and fax them to him. In an odd twist the younger interns in the office had to spend 8 hours on a training day to learn to use a fax machine.

I sent my father a long Google link to a photo, and he proceeded to print out the actual web address. He thought the printer would “decode the link” and turn it into a photo.

I work in a small computer shop in my town. One day a woman walks in, and tells me she has a problem with her computer, that it has broken. I then ask her the problem and she shows it to me and describes her situation. She told me that she had been online, ordering something off the net, when she had put her card in and it hadn’t done anything, just got stuck. Naturally assuming it was something to do with the machine i start booting it up and examine things, this is when she asks me “can you get the card out first please,” curious i asked what she meant. It had turned out that with her limited computer knowledge that she had managed to go online, start ordering items, get to the checkout and wanting to pay with a credit card, she had push her card into the floppy drive. She never came back to the store, but did have to order a new floppy drive.

My cousin, who is my age, recently found a bunch of pictures of us when we were really little and she told my mom. My mom then called me and said “Leanne found some pictures of you two from a long time ago and is going to tag you on facebook, whatever that means. I guess you’re it.”

I bought my mom a new laptop for her birthday. As I’m showing it to her I explained that she needed a power outlet converter because the cord has the ground plug while none of her outlets have the ground inlet. At this point she stops and looks really confused. When I asked what was wrong she said, “Why do I have to plug it in. I thought it was wireless.” I explained that the wireless part is for the internet, but she needs to plug it in for power and to charge her battery. Her response: “So, what’s the difference between the internet and power?”

While my grandpa went online to manage his bank account, there was a box that read “sign here.” He either scrolled down the screen a few times or there was more than one box…his name and initials were written about three different times on the monitor. In ink.

My mom thought that an iPod worked like a cassette player. When I heard her complain that she had to listen to songs she really didn’t like on her playlist to get to the ones she wanted to hear, I suggested she just take those songs off her playlist. She replied with, “Well then I’ll just have to listen to 3 minutes of silence until the next song comes on.”

You know the little image with the wavy letters that sites use to make sure you’re not a robot? It can also be used to make sure you’re not my mom. I have to fill them out for her.

My dad doesn’t know how to send me e-mails. Instead, he just uses the customization feature on stuff like e-cards. I recently got an e-card of a cute kitten with the message “I transferred $100 into your account”.

Our printer ran out of ink, so my Mom bought a new printer.

My grandma kept complaining about how she couldn’t get her new alarm clock to stop displaying 12:00. I went up to her room and took the sticker off of the display screen.

My high school Spanish teacher, on multiple occasions, has been known to photocopy blank pieces of paper in order to get more blank pieces of paper. She’s completely oblivious to the fact that you can open the copier to take out the paper.

My mom thinks Google’s “Suggestions” are the only options available. If she’s trying to find something and it doesn’t come up in the suggestions, she’ll say, “Sorry, it’s not on the internet.”

My dad called me to ask about removing a virus from his computer. Somewhere in the middle of the instructions, he interrupted me to ask, “Are computer viruses man-made, or are they like real viruses?”

My mom was once using my desktop to check her email while I was away at school. I got a frantic phone call that afternoon because the mouse was at the edge of the mousepad but the “thingy” wasn’t at the edge of the screen.

I had fairly bad eyesight for most of my life, so I ended up getting Lasik eye surgery as soon as I was old enough and had enough money. My mom apparently never heard of this procedure, so she was amazed when I told her about it, and is now always asking me how many fingers she is holding up while she is right in front of me, and if I can see the license plate of cars that are up to a mile away. She also tells all of her friends about my amazing “super laser vision”.

I was watching “Jurassic Park” with my grandmother a few months ago. During one particularly scary moment she leans over to me and, with a very worried tone in her voice, asks, “The Dinosaurs…they’re only for the movie, right, they didn’t breed any extras?”

I was in a very dimly lit restaurant with my parents and I asked my mom what time it was. She took out her brand new iPhone (which has the time displayed in huge digits on the screen) and used it like a flashlight to read the time on her watch.

When my parents got the internet, I spent hours explaining how to type in a web address, but my dad still doesn’t understand that it has to be a real website to work. When I look at the previous addresses they read, “www.golfcoursesnearmyrtlebeach.com” or “www.insurancepoliciesforseniors.com”.

My dad got a cell phone a few months ago, but he never turns it on. He thinks that you get charged for every minute the phone is on.

I told my parents I wanted the new MacBook for school. Two weeks later I received “Macs for Dummies” in the mail.

My parents don’t have a debit card. Anytime they need cash, they make out a check to cash and go into the bank.

My mother has never sent, nor attempted to send me a text message ever before. Earlier today, I inexplicably found this waiting for me on my phone: “We r on ca nif eigh six mail gmom”. Anyone want to take a crack at what she meant to say?

My friend just got a text message from her mom that said: “What day do you come home question mark”

A friend of mine found a cell phone. She called the owner of the phone’s parents to see if they could get the phone back to their daughter. Five minutes after she got off the phone, a text message came through from the girls dad saying “Lizzy, some girl found your phone…call her at ***-***-**** to get your phone back”

I’ve worked at an internet company for about a year. One day, a lady called and told me her computer wouldn’t turn on no matter what she did. I said “Ok, can you look at the back of the computer and make sure the power cable is plugged in.” She responded, “Just give me a second, I have to find a flashlight because the power is out here at my house.”

My 75-year-old grandfather just bought a laptop so he could learn to use the Internet. I got an empty email from him yesterday, and the subject heading was, “Andrew what does it mean when it asks ‘are you sure you want to send an empty message’ when i click on the send button??? —-love grandad”

Every time my dad wants to check his email, he goes to Google, types in www.hotmail.com, hits search, and clicks on Hotmail. He recently told me he discovered a shortcut—he can just hit “I’m Feeling Lucky.”

My grandma always reminds me to turn my GPS off a few blocks before I get home “so that the man giving me directions doesn’t know where I live.”

Whenever my mom doesn’t feel like answering the phone and lets the machine get it, she makes everyone be really really quiet because she thinks that the person calling can hear us while they’re leaving a message.

My boss thinks that Google is slang for find. Just this week, I’ve heard him tell our interns to google old documents in our file cabinets, google meeting minutes saved on our server, and google some sugar packets for the coffee bar.

Mom’s Text Message: “Can u go 2 niketown to buy a Pacquia shirt 4 dad size lrg? B careful swine flu.”

My mother got my father a GPS for Christmas. He told me the reason why it wasn’t working in the house was because it couldn’t see the stars.

My dad thinks that he can only check an e-mail account on the computer he made it on. Therefore, he checks his work e-mail in his office and his personal e-mail on our house computer. It wouldn’t be that bad, but he works at home and those two computers are about 20 feet apart….

My mom has a contact in her cellphone named “?.akj.e0”

I showed my dad the BustedTee with Mao Tse Tung on it that reads, “LMAO” and he didn’t get it because he doesn’t know what LMAO means. I showed it to my mom, and she didn’t get it because she doesn’t know who Mao Tse Tung is. Which is worse?

My mom just got a Facebook account a few weeks ago and on Valentine’s Day she posted on my wall:”I HOPE YOU ENJOY YOUR VD!!!”

My grandma cannot grasp the functional purpose of a thermostat. She cranks it up when its cold, then proceeds to regulate the heat by opening and closing the windows.

I made the mistake of trying to explain Wikipedia to my grandmother. She’s now convinced that anybody can modify any website at will, and she won’t use Weather.com anymore because she’s worried that vandals will change the temperature on her.

I caught my father on google the other day typing in “show me snow machines”. I later found out that he starts any and all searches with the words “show me”, or “I want to see”.

My mom needed to transfer pictures from her digital camera onto her computer. After a few minutes, she was hopeless and asked me for help. I took out the memory card and put it in the computer. Nothing was on it. I hooked up the camera to the computer, but still, there were no pictures. Finally, I had to ask my mom what she had tried before she asked me for help. She put the camera’s batteries in the mouse.

My professor has tried to show different DVD’s in class for the past 4 weeks. She couldn’t get any of them to work so tonight she decided she was just going to show a VHS tape because “it’s simple and I know how to work it.” It took her 20 minutes to get it to show on the projector. Now she’s trying to turn the volume on. Class ends in 10 minutes.

While my mother was looking over my shoulder at an AIM conversation:
Mom: “What does LMAO mean?”
Me: “It’s an abbreviation”
Mom: “Let’s Make An Omelette”?

A few years ago my mom tried to call my brother and reached his voice mail. She left a 2-minute message calling out for him to pick up the phone, as if it was being played through his speaker phone.

The other day I was at work and an older lady came in and wanted to buy Firefox. I explained to her that Firefox was a free download. I then told her to find it by going to Google and searching for it. She told me, “I don’t have Google; I only have Yahoo.”

I was showing my mom how to get pictures from her camera to her computer. I told her to click on the desktop icon which she clicked once. I told her you have to double-click and she said, “Is that where you click something twice?”

My dad makes the subject for all of his emails “Hi, It’s Mitch.”

My mom sent me an email with the subject as my cell phone number. The email said “Is this a text?”

My mom deleted friends off Facebook in an attempt to free up her hard drive space.

I just saw an old guy working out with a discman inside a fanny pack.

My mom just got a new cell phone. She was setting up her voicemail on it and wanted to see if she did it correctly so she asked me to call her. I called her phone and she picked up so I told her to just let it go to voicemail. She said OK. I called back and she picked up again. This happened two more times until I took the phone away from her.

One time I opened a Firefox window, minimized it to look at something else, and then brought it back up again. My mom freaked out and yelled, “You just wasted twenty dollars!” “Huh?” I eloquently replied. “It costs twenty dollars every time you open up The Internet,” she continued. “Our plan costs twenty dollars.” I assured her that this was a monthly charge, but she remained unconvinced. She demanded that I repay her $20 for “wasting The Internet,” and then reminded me to “turn it off as soon as you’re done with it, we don’t want to use more than we absolutely need.”

I tried to teach my grandmother basic computer skills, but I wasn’t able to get anywhere with her because she kept rotating the mouse on the mouse-pad. She thought you had to steer it like a car when you wanted the pointer to go someplace.

My grandfather literally used the screen as a mousepad because he thought the cursor was controlled by the mouse being on the screen.

My dad has a Zune.

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Sad songs: “Will You Love Me Tomorrow?”

The Shirelles were, along with the Supremes, probably one of the two best girl groups of all time. Their song “Will You Love Me Tomorrow?” is beautiful, sad, forlorn, and longing all at the same time. It seems to me that for the girl to even ask that question of her lover implies that she already suspects the answer is “no”, but she clings to the love they shared that night and hopes that he feels the same way.

The Shirelles’ version is by far the best and will always be considered the definitive version. Somehow, I wasn’t surprised to find the song was co-written by Carole King, who wrote or co-wrote “Locomotion”, “You Make Me Feel Like a Natural Woman”, “One Fine Day”, “You’ve Got a Friend”, and “Jazzman”.

Tonight, you’re mine completely.
You give your love so sweetly.
Tonight the light
of love is in your eyes,
but will you love me tomorrow?

Is this a lasting treasure?
Or just a moment’s pleasure?
Can I believe
the magic of your sighs?
Will you still love me tomorrow?

Tonight with words unspoken
you said that I’m the only one.
But will my heart be broken
when the night
meets the morning sun?

I’d like to know that your love
is a love I can be sure of.
So tell me now
and I won’t ask again:
Will you still love me tomorrow?

So tell me now
and I won’t ask again:
Will you still love me tomorrow?
Will you still love me tomorrow?…

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“The Silence of the Lambs” in limerick form

From Randall Munroe’s Wikipedia entry I learned he founded the Limerick Database to collect all the funny classics and new limericks that people could submit. It changed my life. I highly recommend reading the 150 top-rated limericks. However, since the website now seems to be defunct, I won’t try to submit my brilliant creations to it.

Instead, for now, I’ll publish them on my LifeBlag, and I’ll start with a limerick about the book and movie that have been on my mind for the last couple weeks: The Silence of the Lambs. I realized I was remiss in never having seen the movie, but after I discovered it was based on a novel I committed myself to reading the novel first. I added both the novel by Thomas Harris and the movie on Blu-ray to my Amazon wish list. Luckily, the novel was very cheap, about $5.50, so I bought it in the summer and read it this month. I don’t own a Blu-ray player yet, nor do I plan on buying Blu-ray discs or players for a couple years, but Kathy insisted that after I finished the novel, we had to watch the movie; we rented it and watched it last week.

To save you and myself from an overly detailed comparison, I’ll say the movie was about as close in content and in quality to the book as any movie/book combination I’m familiar with. Even though Anthony Hopkins won the Best Actor (not Best Supporting Actor) Oscar for his portrayal of Dr. Hannibal Lecter with less than 17 minutes of screen time and the English-speaking public is almost unanimous in regarding Hannibal the Cannibal as the greatest movie villain of all time, an additional few exchanges or perhaps an entire scene between him and Clarice would have made the movie and his performance more powerful. The deleted scenes included some bits of their conversations that were almost verbatim from the book, that would have given Hopkins even more chance to shine, and that would have given viewers more insight into Clarice’s psyche.

Anyway, here’s the long version of The Silence of the Lambs in limerick form. It takes some things that were exclusive to the book and at least one that was exclusive to the movie, but it’s all basically the same story:

In Behavioral Science they sought
murderers who victims caught
one after the other
to rape, skin, or smother
and regarded their humanity not.

Young Starling was but a mere student
whom, Crawford thought, ‘twould be prudent
to send on an errand—
she’s young and she’s fair and
she might reach the madman we couldn’t.

Alone in a sunlight-less cell,
Lecter burned in his well-deserved hell
To get in his head,
to avert one more dead,
to glean clues he won’t straightforward tell:

Young Starling was charged with this task.
Jack needn’t a second time ask;
she was eager to prove
she could easily move
up from her roots, which were white trash.

Down behind plexiglass screen,
he dropped clues for Starling to glean:
A head in a jar
in an old victim’s car
told more than it would, at first, seem.

Another young body emerged,
a girl of considerable girth.
Clarice helped to print her
and noticed that in her
mouth a cocoon was insert’d.

By feigning impairment he caught her,
the tough junior senator’s daughter.
About a fourteen?—
his judgment’s quite keen
for a fiend who takes women to slaughter.

Back to his lair they sped.
Mere scraps and lefto’ers she was fed.
Trapped in a well
in his dark, homemade hell,
her heart filled with mis’ry and dread.

Her pleas and her promises failed
to sway the man who had her jailed.
Put lotion on skin,
send it back up again,
in exchange for her excrement pail.

He doesn’t just capture and kill,
nor does he rape for the thrill.
He covets, Clarice,
to transform, find peace:
the motive of Buffalo Bill.

Clarice divulged long-hidden pains—
quid pro quo was the name of their game—
of horses and sheep
that haunted her sleep,
but Hannibal gave her no name.

In his new high-security cage,
Lecter showed neither malice nor rage
until, with a key,
he broke himself free
and escaped with a cop’s borrowed face.

The first body wasn’t the first;
’twas the third, weighted down to divert.
Why try to hide it
so no one would find it
till after the second or third?

The rationale didn’t quite register
till Clarice grokked the clues Dr. Lecter
had fed her in pieces,
and then said, “Oh, Jesus!
He must have resided in Belvedere!”

To Fredrica’s hometown she went
to interrogate family and friends.
But what gave her a start
were the girl’s sewing darts
like the ones in the last victim’s skin.

Their former employer to seek,
hot on the trail was Clarice.
A sewing professional,
rejected transsexual,
he’s skinning himself a boutique!

“Yes, we know, from Johns Hopkins, a name
with a typo: not Jamie, but Jame.
An address near Chicago
where he shipped pre-imago
caterpillars that later became

the moths and the grand butterflies
with which Jame Gumb identifies.”
Far away’s where the game is!
She was feeling quite anxious
but was closer than she realized.

He acted aloof but complied.
Nothing he said seemed contrived.
A moth in the air.
Mr. Gumb met her stare.
The moment of truth had arrived.

Chasing him down underground.
He was hiding and couldn’t be found.
The girl screamed in fright,
and then out went the lights
and Clarice was left feeling around.

Silently watching her search,
with his night-vision goggles he lurked.
His pistol he cocked,
she turned and she shot,
and he toppled there…dying…inert.

Now Hannibal Lecter’s in hiding,
but doubtless his time he is biding.
On Doc Chilton’s trail,
but he still didn’t fail
to send Clarice Starling his tidings.

Our heroine has proven supreme
and ended the psychopath’s scheme.
And now the lambs’ cries,
as Lecter surmised,
will no longer torment her dreams.

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10/19/09: Never forget

The only worthwhile thing that Fark.com has given me in a long time is this discussion thread about this completely pointless, worthless, empty news article. This thread is comedy gold. The comments posted below the article itself were hilarious until the newspaper’s mods deleted all of them. If you read the Fark thread, you can find some of the funnier comments that they copied and pasted from the article’s comments section (most of which were undoubtedly written by Farkers).

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The stomachion, the world’s earliest known puzzle

In my searches related to the aforementioned 3D puzzles, I came across some puzzle vendor and enthusiast sites, one of which contained the text of this New York Times article about the stomachion, a children’s game that seemed to be the subject of a manuscript Archimedes wrote 2200 years ago. From what I can tell, this is almost universally believed to be the oldest known example of a puzzle. This website points out that the stomachion is the same type of puzzle as the more familiar tangrams, which most of us did at some point in our youths.

The fascinating thing about Archimedes’ investigations of the stomachion was not that he wrote a treatise on how to play a children’s game, but rather that he founded the discipline of combinatorics by trying to figure out how many different ways the strips of paper in the stomachion could be arranged to form a square. As Gina Kolata wrote in her New York Times article, which focuses on the efforts at restoring and interpreting the manuscript as much as on its contents:

…a historian of mathematics at Stanford, sifting through ancient parchment overwritten by monks and nearly ruined by mold, appears to have solved the mystery of what the treatise was about. In the process, he has opened a surprising new window on the work of the genius best remembered (perhaps apocryphally) for his cry of “Eureka!”…

The Stomachion, concludes the historian, Dr. Reviel Netz, was far ahead of its time: a treatise on combinatorics, a field that did not come into its own until the rise of computer science.

The goal of combinatorics is to determine how many ways a given problem can be solved. And finding the number of ways that the problem posed in the Stomachion (pronounced sto-MOCK-yon) can be solved is so difficult that when Dr. Netz asked a team of four combinatorics experts to do it, it took them six weeks.
[...]
The diagram involved 14 pieces, and the word “multitude” seemed to be associated with it. Mr. Heiberg and those who followed him thought this meant that you could get many figures [of animals, plants, household objects, etc.] by rearranging the pieces.

“This is part of the reason people didn’t see what it was about,” Dr. Netz said. …[T]he old interpretation seemed trivial, hardly worth Archimedes’ time.

As he examined the manuscript pages, piecing together their text, he realized that what Archimedes was really asking seemed to be, “How many ways can you put the pieces together to make a square?” That question, Dr. Netz said, “has mathematical meaning.”

Archimedes was truly an amazing person. I use that word with the fullest extent of its meaning. It is difficult to understand, much less appreciate, how extraordinary and seemingly superhuman his mind was. I put him in a class with Da Vinci and Einstein and no one else who ever lived (that we know of). His founding of the field of combinatorics only adds to my already reverential and awestruck feelings towards him.

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Ego bruising

While I was watching college football at a friend’s apartment, she brought out a few wooden 3D puzzles that her grandfather makes as a hobby, so we could fiddle around with them during halftime and when there wasn’t anything going on in the game and after the game was over. I don’t recall ever seeing any puzzles like this, but a Google search of woodworking 3d puzzles reveals that it must be a pretty widespread hobby.

They were really hard, to me. There were four such puzzles that we passed around, and I tried my hand at two of them over the course of a few hours. The other five guests, who had never seen them before, each solved two or more of them, eventually, and I didn’t solve a single one. One of them is demonstrated in this video, where the guy makes it look a million time easier than it really is: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IsXBLyiPzQo

The other one was even easier. It kind of resembled this, but wasn’t the same:
Wooden puzzle
It consisted of six wooden rectangular planks each with a peg sticking out perpendicularly, either from the middle or near one end, and each wooden rectangle had two or three holes for other pegs to go into, and you had to put them together into a cube-like block with no pegs sticking out or visible anywhere. I tried that damn thing forever and came close so many times, but could never change my strategy enough to solve it.

I have never solved a Rubik’s Cube, either. I never owned one myself, so that could have helped, but I doubt I would have had the patience or the ability to figure it out. It would have taken years of diligent attempts, probably. I did own a similar puzzle called Square One, which is like a super Rubik’s Cube because its pieces are not all cubes; as you can see from the Wikipedia image, it contained mostly irregular-shaped pieces. Obviously I never came close to solving it, either.

I’m not sure if my problem is that I don’t have a good enough imagination or don’t have good enough spatial reasoning skills, but it’s probably both. Remember those standardized test questions, or IQ test questions, where you were supposed to imagine folding a piece of paper up a certain way and cutting it with scissors in a certain way, and then discern what the paper would look like after it was unfolded? Yeah, I was always kind of bad at those. I’m sure I could figure most of them out eventually, but they didn’t come easily. These 3D puzzles that I could hold in my own hands and fiddle with in any way I wanted and look at in real life and try and try again proved impossible for me. Everyone else had a pretty hard time with them, but like I said, they all eventually got a couple of them.

It just really depressed me. That is all.

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Miscellaneous

Where did the name Windows 7 come from? I thought maybe it was just a working title until they could come up with something clever to market it as, and then when I kept hearing about it I figured people like the number 7 so they left it as Windows 7. But I count eight previous versions of the Windows operating system that have been pretty successful and widely used: Windows 3.1, 95, 98, NT, 2000, Me, XP, and Vista. Obviously there was a version 1 and a version 2, so with them added I really don’t understand where the 7 comes from. Microsoft General Manager Mike Nash said in a blag post that it was the seventh release of Windows, so therefore “Windows 7” just makes sense. Maybe NT, 2000, and Me all counted as one?

Speaking of Windows, this is one of the funniest things I’ve read in a while.

The entry for Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country was the featured article on the Wikipedia home page on October 6. Freakin’ sweet. I LOVE that movie. Probably my favorite Star Trek movie and definitely in my top 10 or 20 favorite movies of all time. Please don’t read any of the plot summary if you aren’t familiar with it. You should get ahold of the DVD’s of Star Trek 2, 3, 4, and 6, and watch them in close succession. You will discover a strong appreciation for the Star Trek universe.

I am not as good of a speller as I was when I was a child. This kind of disturbs me because I feel it is indicative of reduced perspicacity and failure to pay attention to detail as well as I used to. Maybe my mind is lazier or doesn’t retain information as solidly as it used to. That shouldn’t start happening until I’m really old, like, my parents’ age. I never had a photographic memory or anything, but I used to be able to look at a word once and pretty reliably spell it for years and years after that. (This certainly wasn’t 100% true, and it didn’t help me win any spelling bees, as I missed simple words that I had read numerous times before. In 4th grade, I won my class’s spelling bee but lost in the school-wide competition by spelling apology “apolagy”, and in 5th grade I expected to win my class’s competition again so I must not have studied very much, and I misspelled balcony as “balcany” on my first word of the day! Identical errors, two years in a row, but I didn’t actually think balcony was spelled that way; it was more like a typo than an error of thought or memory. It was a speak-o. “A” rushed out of my mouth when I knew “O” belonged there.) Now I forget all kinds of things I used to know and should have retained. I don’t expect to spell everything right, but words like “broccoli”, “accommodate”, and “preferable” have really enraged me in recent months. I haven’t misspelled “privilege” in a long while. That’s good.

(Btw, the one and only reason I would ever use the word perspicacity in speech or writing is because Lisa Simpson uses it to great humorous effect in the episode “Lisa the Simpson”: “Oh, my god! I’m losing my perspicacity!”)

One of the five or so country songs that I like is “Alcohol” by Brad Paisley. Only recently did I understand all the lyrics of the chorus, because of a Jack Daniels commercial I saw. The chorus begins, “Ever since I left Milwaukee, Lynchburg, Bordeaux, France/I’ve been making the bars lots of big money/And helping white people dance….” I didn’t understand the word Lynchburg. I thought it could have been Pittsburgh, but that didn’t make any sense and it didn’t sound like a P at the beginning, so I was pretty much clueless. And then I saw a Jack Daniels commercial that showed a close-up of the bottle, and the label said, “Lynchburg, Tennessee.” So I knew he was referring to Jack Daniels whiskey at that part. I don’t quite think beer originated in Milwaukee or wine in France any more than whiskey originated in Tennessee, so…I’m not too sure about that chorus.

Speaking of alcohol, there’s a professor here at the medical school who must be kind of a lush (then again, lots of them are) because he is a regular at one of my favorite bars, and somehow he is well-known for ordering a hazelnut daiquiri at happy hour every week before he gets into his beer drinking. It’s like his schtick. I saw him there last Friday, and I don’t know him personally, so I didn’t say anything, but he sat close to where I was at the bar. Somehow I felt privileged to witness him first-hand saying, “I’ll have the regular, [I forget bartender's name], my hazelnut daiquiri.” The bartender said, “Sorry to disappoint, but we were clean out of hazelnuts. Try this instead, on the house.” The doctor looked kind of annoyed and silently drank it. He said, emotionless, “Hmm. Pecans?” The bartender responded, “Nope. It’s a hickory daiquiri, doc!” Rimshot!

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Buying DVDs and Blu-ray discs

Some people, including myself, kind of make fun of me for buying so many DVDs without ever having seen them. I heard they were good, I think I would like them, they were on sale in a weekly ad, and I don’t feel a particular need for high-definition copies of them, so I buy them. But did you ever think about this—how many books have you read before you buy those? The upper threshold of price I’m willing to pay for most movies on standard DVD ($5 or $8) is less than or equal to the price of most paperback books, so really there’s a higher chance of waste in paying $8 or more for a book when you don’t know that you’ll like it. It takes a lot longer to finish and occupies more space on your shelf.

Oh, and lest you think I’m a DVD-buying maniac like Mike, I have about 120-130 movies on DVD plus a couple dozen seasons of various shows on DVD, but my Amazon wish list contains more movies than I already own. The vast majority of them are Blu-rays. I am waiting extremely, excrutiatingly patiently for Blu-ray movies to break the $10 threshold and for good, reliable Blu-ray players to break the $100 threshold. (If I get a good job and a cheap-ish apartment somewhere, I’ll settle for $150. Then again, I’ll probably make my first Blu-ray player a PlayStation 3, so that negates the price considerations.)

I have read a lot about high-definition technology online, mainly Blu-ray movies, Blu-ray players, and TV’s. Most people who pay attention to these things know that downloading movies to a hard drive and streaming movies on-demand is the way of the future. On-demand streaming from Netflix, Amazon, and other companies is already available via your ethernet-connected television, Blu-ray player, or X-Box. Considering how often we experience buffering delays with simple embedded flash videos on the internet, especially with a wireless ethernet connection, I am surprised the streaming services are so reliably smooth and fast with those huge video files.

But I suffer from a bit of Picard’s Syndrome even with movies, so that I want physical copies of movies on my shelf. I like owning them and seeing them all on my shelf, just like all my books. I don’t think I would be satisfied with an on-demand streaming service because I wouldn’t actually own my own copy of the movie or TV show, and what if you don’t have an ethernet connection or that video becomes unavailable for some reason?

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Parents just don’t understand

Link of the day: The Parents Just Don’t Understand series from CollegeHumor.com. Some of the items therein are truly hilarious.

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Link of the day: Gigagalaxy Zoom

Gigagalaxy Zoom

Because the universe is awesome and beautiful. (HT: Dark Roasted Blend.)

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Narrative songs: “Taxi” by Harry Chapin

Harry Chapin was a great storyteller, as he wrote many narrative-type songs, the most famous of which is “Cat’s In the Cradle.” Maybe I’ll do that one next time.

It was raining hard in ‘Frisco.
I needed one more fare to make my night.
A lady up ahead waved to flag me down.
She got in at the light.

“Oh, where you going to, my lady blue?
It’s a shame you ruined your gown in the rain.”
She just looked out the window,
she said, “16 Parkside Lane.”

Something about her was familiar.
I could swear I’d seen her face before.
But she said, “I’m sure you’re mistaken,”
and she didn’t say anything more.

It took a while, but she looked in the mirror,
and she glanced at the license for my name.
A smile seemed to come to her slowly—
it was a sad smile, just the same.

And she said, “How are you, Harry?”
I said, “How are you, Sue?
Through the too many miles and the too little smiles
I still remember you.”

It was somewhere in a fairy tale,
I used to take her home in my car.
We learned about love in the back of a Dodge.
The lesson hadn’t gone too far.

You see, she was gonna be an actress
and I was gonna learn to fly.
She took off to find the footlights
and I took off to find the sky.

Oh, I’ve got something inside me
to drive a princess blind
There’s a wild man, wizard,
he’s hiding in me, illuminating my mind.

Oh, I’ve got something inside me,
but it’s not what my life’s about
’cause I’ve been letting my outside tide me
over ’till my time, runs out.

Baby’s so high that she’s skying.
Yes, she’s flying, afraid to fall.
I’ll tell you why baby’s crying:
’cause she’s dying—aren’t we all?

There was not much more for us to talk about.
Whatever we had once was gone.
So I turned my cab into the driveway
past the gate and the fine-trimmed lawns.

And she said we must get together,
but I knew it’d never be arranged.
And she handed me twenty dollars for a $2.50 fare.
She said, “Harry, keep the change.”

Well, another man might have been angry
and another man might have been hurt.
But another man never would have let her go.
I stashed the bill in my shirt.

And she walked away in silence.
It’s strange how you never know.
But we’d both gotten what we’d asked for
such a long, long time ago

You see, she was gonna be an actress
and I was gonna learn to fly.
She took off to find the footlights
and I took off for the sky.

And here, she’s acting happy
inside her handsome home
And me, I’m flying in my taxi,
taking tips and getting stoned

I go flying so high, when I’m stoned…

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Okay, Scribblenauts looks pretty cool

Last night I saw a preview of the Nintendo DS game Scribblenauts on X-Play, and at first I wasn’t sure if I was watching footage of an actual game, or some demo at a convention or in the studio where the speaker was typing in words on the screen, or what. What an original, unique game concept! If I had a DS, I would get this immediately! Since I don’t have a DS, this is one more game that kind of makes me want one. It might move the DSi ahead of PS3 into second place on the list of game consoles I plan on buying.

Here are Morgan and Adam previewing and interviewing the creative director of the game.

Here is another G4 guy reviewing Scribblenauts.

Randall Munroe must be on the same brainwaves as I am recently, because today he published yet another comic with very coincidental timing related to my recent experiences.

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Great mystery movie: “A Perfect Getaway”

Kathy and I saw the mystery movie A Perfect Getaway starring Steve Zahn and Milla Jovovich in the dollar theater today. I wouldn’t call it a “thriller” because it isn’t very action-packed until the end, nothing like the Bourne movies or Taken or anything like that, but it is very tense and stressful from beginning to end, so maybe I should use the term “thriller” more broadly. It is a good mystery story that’s worth more than a dollar to see in the theater. I’m putting it on my Blu-ray wish list now. I hadn’t heard of it, but Kathy was keen on seeing it, and I’m really glad we did, so I’m recommending it to you so you might catch it in the dollar theater before it goes away.

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Reflections on The X-Files

I recently finished the last of my DVD’s of The X-Files and, sadly, won’t be buying the next set, season 8, any time soon. Maybe for Christmas or birthday, but the last two seasons kind of suck and I vaguely remember what happens anyway (not much), so it probably isn’t worth it. What an amazing show, though. Even though I became a fan in 9th grade (season 4) and watched religiously 30 minutes after The Simpsons every Sunday for 5 1/2 seasons, I didn’t fully appreciate how great that show was, how creative and dramatic and imaginative, until I started watching my DVDs about a year ago and went through seven seasons relatively quickly.

Mulder is awesome. He’s one of my favorite protagonist/heroes from TV and movies. Either because I hopped on in the middle of the ride or because I was young and not attentive enough to underlying themes and character development in fiction, I didn’t appreciate how much of Mulder’s heart and soul was in the X-files and how much the X-files made up Mulder’s heart and soul. I did understand that his lifelong quest was fueled by his desire to learn what happened to his sister, and I understood his seemingly futile struggles in the alien/government conspiracy storylines. But I didn’t appreciate how much of a crusade, a struggle, a mission, and a life purpose the X-files were for him every day. I did realize it, just not as fully as I should have. What I think I really didn’t appreciate at all until starting at the beginning of the series was the fact that in nearly every episode and certainly in the ongoing story arc, it was Mulder against the world—Mulder against his skeptics, his detractors, his enemies, and even his truest friend, Scully. It was always “Mulder’s wrong—oh, wait, he’s right!” He constantly had to prove himself, to justify himself and his theories, to Scully, his superiors, and the various people he encountered each week. That, as much as his quest to find his sister and his crusade against the government conspiracies, was why the X-files were Mulder’s heart and soul. He was defined by the constant skepticism he received and his continual vindication in the end.

My main complaint about the characters is that Scully scarcely grew as a person, or at least as an FBI agent, in the entire first seven seasons. I know she grew closer to Mulder, she exhibited a lot of angst and frustration and soul-searching about her choices and her position in life, and she suffered a lot and this helped make her a little more committed to Mulder’s various causes. But after being in a fucking spaceship and seeing it fly out of the antarctic ice into outer space, she was still the same old skeptical, “scientific” Scully, week after week. After seeing and even touching solid, bona fide proof of numerous supernatural or paranormal phenomena, and being proven wrong by Mulder time after time after time, she was still just as skeptical the next time as she was in the beginning. She always concocted some inane, convoluted rationale for why that week’s mystery could easily be explained by “science,” and it was always more far-fetched than Mulder’s paranormal or “unscientific” explanation. I could list so many examples from the first seven seasons that it would make this post long and boring. I’m not saying Mulder grew any more, but as a special agent investigating X-files, he needed to grow a lot less than Scully did.

My main complaint about the show is directly related to why I won’t spend $20 soon on seasons 8 or 9: hardly anything was ever concluded or explained fully. Every question was answered with three more questions. The show had no closure, no climax, no resolution. Plenty of matters were resolved with some finality along the way, but, again, they either seemed to raise new questions or not really resolve anything major about alien visitors or the government conspiracy to cover them up. Maybe a third movie will, but I’m not holding my breath for that.

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The Ender quartet

I just finished reading the Ender quartet by Orson Scott Card. It is so awesome. It is kind of weird that I finished it now because I started it in my third year of college when I read Kelly’s copy of Ender’s Game. A few years later, after I moved to Michigan, I bought Speaker for the Dead but never got around to reading it, until sometime in mid-August when I started it on a whim. I had decided to start reading some of the numerous unread novels that I had accumulated over the years, and I started with Don’t Stop the Carnival by Herman Wouk. I began with that one because it had a good reputation for being a funny novel, and it was an intriguing enough portrait of life in the Caribbean that Jimmy Buffett made an off-Broadway musical about it, and the senior scientist at my NIH lab highly recommended it, so I had thought about reading it for a while.

However, it turned out not to be that funny and not really fascinating, either. I suppose it was well-written and the characters were somewhat interesting, and I got a little bit of a flavor of what life was like on this fictitious Caribbean island. But all the trials and tribulations that the main character suffers through in the purchase and management of his new hotel/restaurant/bar were more frustrating and stressful than funny.

Next was an Agatha Christie novel, which was very clever, as usual. I have a lot of those still to read, and they’re short, so I felt both interested and obligated to read one of those.

After that, though, I knew I wanted a clever and thought-provoking science-fiction novel. Over the last few months, glancing at my bookshelf, some of the novels I considered reading were Bruce Sterling’s saga about the future technology and space colonization of the human race, Schismatrix; Dan Simmons’s beloved, epic, Hugo-winning novel Hyperion; Ursula K. LeGuin’s story of an anarchist utopia of sorts, The Dispossessed; and Connie Willis’s Hugo- and Nebula-winning novel about time-travel, Doomsday Book. I have also long wanted to dive into two large books I own, a collection of Harlan Ellison‘s short stories and Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, which also came highly recommended by the aforementioned NIH labmate.

However, somehow that afternoon I was drawn to Speaker for the Dead and grabbed it first. I am really glad I did because it is awesome in every way. It picks up a considerable time after Ender’s Game, and I had forgotten a lot of the details of Ender’s Game, apparently. I remembered a lot of stuff about Battle School, and his siblings publishing essays under the pseudonyms Locke and Demosthenes, and the little holographic instant messages the students used to send each other, and of course the most important plot points. But a lot of things Ender does after Battle School that Orson Scott Card mentions in the other novels were news to me. Maybe they weren’t actually included in Ender’s Game and we’re supposed to learn this history as we go. Like the good and bad aspects of the Hegemon, who the Hegemon even is, and Ender’s exile from planet Earth for the rest of his life (which is the subject of a new and enticing novel). Some things that must have been featured prominently in Ender’s Game that I had completely forgotten, however, were the ansible, Ender’s killing of two Battle School mates partially in self-defense, and the significance of those dreams Ender kept having about that giant.

Maybe since I had forgotten so much about Ender’s Game, I’m not in a position to make quality judgments about the novel, but nevertheless I would say Speaker for the Dead is an equally good novel. I just loved it. The plot was fascinating, the science-fictional aspects that Card invented like the pequeninos and the descolada were clever, and Ender’s ability to deal with people and understand and love and heal them is just perfect.

Within a day of finishing that, I went to Barnes & Noble and bought the second half of the quartet of novels, Xenocide and Children of the Mind. I loved those almost as much and agreed with the blurb on the back of the latter that described the Ender novels as “a saga of the ethical evolution of humanity”. The main point of each novel, it seems, was to use science-fiction to explore ethical dilemmas that humans and even other species might face.

When I read Ender’s Game I credited Card with inventing or at least successfully predicting the future nature of instant messaging and blags/discussion forums. I don’t know what other authors might have made similar or different predictions that influenced him, though.

I found it very coincidental that today’s xkcd comic was about Ender’s Game and its blag-like ansible forums.

So if you haven’t read any of the Ender books or you were stuck on one for a long time like I was, get out and buy Speaker for the Dead today!

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