Once a legitimate blog. Now just a collection of memes 'n menz.
And I blame the Internets.
"I used to be that person who read two 400-page books a week. Now I carry around a book with me everywhere I go to try and remember what it feels like to feel that connection within the pages because I can't concentrate to read further than a paragraph, or remember it, for that matter. Every time I see someone engrossed in a novel, it's bittersweet, because I miss what it is like to get lost in the written word. I just want to be able to read like that again."
We use these sayings all the time and never think about where they came from because those of us "of a certain age" (basically anyone born before 2000 lived through most of them. But, kids use these phrases without even knowing what they mean. They have no idea what VCRs are or what copies used to look (or smell!) like. Here are a handful of the sayings we use that most kids today will not understand.
1. "Broken Record"
Few kids today will understand the annoying sound a broken record makes, skipping on repeat. But, most kids know the phrase means someone who sounds repetitive.
2. "Roll the Window Down"
Before power-everything, we rolled down the windows of a car with a crank that rolled. Well, ok, so maybe the kids of classic car collectors will understand this one.
3. "Hang Up the Phone"
Back then you actually had to hang up the phone on the receiver in order to end the call. Kids who've only ever used cell phones or cordless phones won't have a clue how we used to talk on the phone.
4. "Rewind"
Ok, due to the resurgence in cassette tapes, some kids may know what this one means. Remember rewinding machines for VHS tapes? Blast from the past!
5. "Close, But No Cigar"
Once upon a time, cigars were among the prizes given out at carnivals. When you inevitably did not win, this phrase was the only consolation prize.
6. "Been Through the Wringer"
Back when washing day was an all-day affair, the clothes would need to be wrung out. Even folks who had a washing machine often did not have a dryer. Most kids today wouldn't even know what a wringer is!
7. "On the Flip Side"
The other side of the record is something kids won't experience (unless they're into vinyl). They still use this term, many without understanding where it comes from.
8. "Blowing Off Steam"
Back when trains were the main form of long-distance transport for people and for cargo, the steam engines had to occasionally release steam in order to stabilize the whole mechanism. It was so much fun to ride the train back then! Kids today are really missing out.
9. "Ditto"
Ditto is a popular term these days, but most kids have no idea that it refers to an early form of copy machine. Used from the 1920s to the 1980s, the small machine produced mimeograph-like copies on the cheap, and those of us who went to school during those years will never forget the smell of a fresh ditto.
10. "Drop a Dime"
Way back when people used public pay phones, you would drop a dime into the coin slot in order to make a call. It's hard to believe sometimes that a call used to be that cheap!
11. "Johnny Law"
The hero of the day, Johnny Law, will fight for justice! The DC comic book character of Johnny Law made such an impression on us that we still use this phrase to mean police officers. In the Golden Age of comics, from the 1930s into the 1950s, Johnny Law was a role model for kids across America.
12. "Clean Slate"
Chalkboards used to be used in every single classroom. Back in the old days, they were made with slate. Thus, a clean slate is the fresh start of a new day, when the mistakes of yesterday have been erased. Kids today are used to dry erase boards and computers.
13. "Ring Up a Purchase"
Oh so many years ago, a cash register was manual and had an actual physical bell inside of it that rang when the lever was pulled for the bill total. Remember hearing that familiar sound?
14. "Stay Tuned"
Back when TV and radio stations had to be tuned to the right frequency to o get good reception and enjoy your program, before a commercial the announcer would tell everyone to "stay tuned" for the rest of the show. How long has it been since you used a tuning dial?!
It's funny how our technology changes, yet our vocabulary still reflects a time long gone. We remember a time when records and train travel were common. Even though kids won't know what these sayings really refer to, they'll still be used years from now!
(This original article was written by Rose Heichelbech and published on Dusty Old Thing)
This doesn't sound so far-fetched!
One day, Donald Trump is going to look a reporter straight in the eyes on national TV and say "I never ran for President."
— matt aukamp (@mattaukamp) July 19, 2016
When I first heard that HBO was remaking the 1970s scifi classic Westworld, I was more than a little apprehensive. While Westworld was not by any means great 20th century cinema in like 2001: A Space Odyssey, it was still good—and after seeing it again only about a year ago, I felt it held up well and in my estimation didn't need to be remade.
Well, I've now seen the first two episodes of HBO's journey into the world based on Michael Crichton's closer-than-we'd-like-to-believe future, and I have to say that any doubts I may have had have been erased and it's become one of my personal "must see" series this year.
Much like the team that took the original Battlestar Galactica and turned it on its head, Jonathan Nolan, J.J. Abrams & company have reimaged the original in such a way that I was immediately drawn in with its believability. We're only two episodes into the story, but it's already raising fundamental questions about the nature of sentience and what constitutes life itself—much like Galactica. There's also a decidedly sinister undercurrent to the whole operation; the park itself is only the outward manifestation of much darker things going on behind the scenes. By who and for what reason is one of the great mysteries already presented to the viewer. If I could binge watch the entire series right now, I would, because I want to know what happens next. It's that good.
From the Collider review:
Westworld seems determined to take a no-holds-barred approach to morality in the face of rapid technological advancement. It's not about humans, it's about humanity. What makes it? Who has it? Does our biology make us human? Or is it something more elusive? And can that essence, whatever it is, be translated into electrical impulse? Can A.I. be human? And what does "human" even mean in a world where technology and reality can blend so easily?
You see what I mean, it's pretty deep stuff. The series is essentially a meditation on consciousness, and all the pros and pratfalls that come with an aware state of mind, both human and artificial.
"It's questioning where does life begin," Nolan said,"and what characterizes the importance of life, whether it is a human who is dictated by biological impulses, and neuron synapsing, and the double helixes of DNA entwined within our bodies, or whether it's an artificial being that's coded with zeros and ones."
What makes a person good or bad? And can that which we create achieve a conscience all its own? Can it decide upon its own sense of right and wrong? These are the questions at the heart of Westworld's compelling narrative set-up.
On top of that, Westworld asks some pretty uncomfortable questions of its viewers — well, at least if you ascribe to conventional morality. "Who are we when we don't think anybody's keeping score?" Nolan asked, and that's really the crux of the human characters in a narrative where we're set to identify first and foremost with the robots. Who would you become in an environment like Westworld? How far would you go? And could you stomach watching a "person" brutally suffer, maybe even die, at your hand with every emotion rendered in explicit detail? If you knew they were naught but circuit boards and wires inside, what would you be capable of? And would that internal circuitry immediately deem them somehow less than the biological circuitry that dictates human life?
I don't think Bruce Willis was ever sexier than he was in The Fifth Element.
"We have had enough of the hatreds [this man Trump] has unleashed and the apologists in the media who have not stood up and have called him what he is: a fascist who wants to end this democracy."
There's nothing patriotic about the lunatic outrage of the angry white male Trump voter. Real Americans have had enough.
IMPURE THOUGHTS!!!
They don't post often, but when they do, they're spot on.
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It's a curious phenomenon. You know how when a new face appears on the porn social media scene that you initially find adorable, a face that gives you impure thoughts whenever you run across one of his photos?
Yeah. We've all been there.
But then as the weeks and months pass and you start seeing more and more of him, you eventually reach the point where one of his photos comes up on your feed/dash and you sigh and say, "Oh her…"?
It's not something new, but I think it's definitely a by-product of the Internet age. I mean, you couldn't easily get to that point with a particular actor/model when your only source of photos were $20 glossy magazines that came in sealed plastic bags (unless you had a lot of disposable income)—and even then it might've been difficult.
Several faces (one famous example of this overexposure phenomenon being Steve Kelso) come to mind as I think back over my years online, but what prompted this screed is one boy in particular who popped up on Instagram a couple years ago and is now quickly approaching maximum online saturation. When I first spotted him, he seemed like just another cool, recently-out-of-college gay guy; a cute, fresh-faced cub with perfect skin, an immaculate beard, fuzzy body, and a wicked gleam in his eye that told you he'd be a lot of fun in the sheets (not that you'd ever get the chance) who was innocently sharing his (occasionally drunken) life through social media like any number of other Millennials.
Because he was so good looking, I knew from the moment he appeared this guy was going to be another "next big thing." Sure enough, while he hasn't signed on with any porn studios yet (that I know of), his Instagram pix are becoming more polished and starting to look like he's at least flirting with (legitimate) modeling. In addition, much more revealing selfies than what he's posted on Instagram are finding their way onto Tumblr with increasing frequency. If he's not "illegitimately" modeling yet, I'm sure it's only a matter of time until he's discovered by some enterprising studio and is offered to go pro. (It's obvious he's comfortable getting naked in front of a camera, and is still young enough that he could—pardon the expression—milk several years worth of work out of it if he was so inclined to pursue a career in adult entertainment.)
But I'm rapidly reaching the point where I'm over it. Part of the attraction was that fresh-faced realness he had a year ago, but now it's almost as if he's starting to realize what a hot commodity he's becoming and has lost some of that authenticity. He still comes off as a nice guy, so this isn't a condemnation of him or whatever path he's pursuing, but simply an observation about how too much of a good thing can still be too much of a good thing. I'm not to the point yet where see one of his photos and think, "Oh her," and obviously I'm still downloading his pix, but it is getting close to that point.
Sigh.
If too many people assume Clinton has the election locked down, and use that assumption as their basis for not voting for her, she could lose. But even if the assumption is right—even if you're a young progressive from California who believes with excellent reason that your vote won't possibly be decisive—the Tribune's line of thinking comes at a hefty price. This year the 'lesser of two evils' rationale isn't just an uninspiring appeal to risk aversion. It's about making a positive and important statement to the world that in America, a racist authoritarian can not get within a hair's breadth of the presidency—and that, if one happens to become a major party nominee, he will be defeated soundly." ~ Brian Buetler
…and think he's the sexiest man alive. Other times I look at him and wonder what all the hoopla is about.
What say you?
I come up with some really weird shit when I'm laying in bed, wide awake at 2 am and can't get back to sleep; shit that sounds amazing at the time but when I actually get around to putting it down for posterity the next day it doesn't seem quite as amazing as I'd thought it would. (This leads me to believe that perhaps I wasn't quite as awake as I thought I was.)
Case in point, this little meme. I don't know if it's really a meme if I'm only one doing it, but the idea came to me last night when my usually fool-proof method of forcing myself back to sleep—counting backward from some arbitrary high number—utterly failed me.
It works like this: starting from the current year, assign a few words, a phrase, or a picture that best describes that year to you and work backwards as far as you want.
Mine goes like this:
2016
Underemployed and overextended. Fear of a Cheeto planet.
2015
Back to Phoenix.
2014
Done with Denver. DISH: a feculent vat of toxic hellstew.
2013
Marriage to Ben, Dad's passing.
2012
Exploring Colorado. Devil's Tower. Mt. Rushmore
2011
Denver! (What have we done?)
2010
Ben's Graduation
2009
Mom's passing. Road trip to Wisconsin. Mac!
2008
Ben
2007
Anderson, Yellowstone
2006
Never leave home without your camera.
2005
Full time employment returns!
2004
Abrazo
2003
Cancer
2002
Return to Phoenix. Living with Dad.
2001
9/11 and the surreal beginning to where we currently find ourselves in this country.
2000
Foggy early morning, walking down Market Street on January 1st to go to work to make sure that our interconnected world hadn't blown up at midnight and thinking, "So this is what the year 2000 looks like. We were lied to."
1999
Realizing I'd become the very thing I swore I never would when I originally arrived in San Francisco in 1986: a jaded old queen living up on the hill.
1998
Back to Phoenix. Turning 40 and living with Mom; later, returning to Oz again.
1997
Redeeming my life at 33 rpm
1996
Return to Oz. Employment hell. Yosemite and Mono Lake. Dragon Lady Productions
1995
Leaving San Francisco. Tucson and the Emmett Higgen affair.
1994
Jezebel, the car from Hell.
1993
Hell on Fell.
1992
The Rory Hansen Affair.
1991
Dennis's passing.
1990
14th & Church
1989
The Earth shook.
1988
The Michael Rose Affair
1987
My first apartment in San Francisco. Kenny, Dave, Kevin.
1986
Aliens (the movie). Breaking up with Bernie and moving into my own place. The black behemoth. Yamaha, finally! Ben Walzer. Arrival in Oz. "The City will chew you up and spit you out!"
1985
Bernie, Kekku and the trip to San Francisco.
As I wrote about a few weeks ago, I've been trying to track down a particular house I saw in a magazine when I was a kid. Since the Google had been of no help in locating it, I realized I would have to spend a few hours down at the Phoenix Public Library going through the magazine archives issue by issue—hoping I could at least find it that way.
I had some time today, so after lunch I headed downtown and plopped my ass down in the magazine archive section of the Burton Barr Library.
Mom subscribed to four magazines that I readily remember: House and Garden, House Beautiful, Architectural Digest and Interior Design.
Searching through 10 years of House and Garden came up with nothing, although I knew I was at least pointed in the right direction. And I did run across several houses I remember seeing at the time that obviously subconsciously influenced some of my own subsequent architectural designs.
Thumbing through these magazines also brought into very sharp focus how truly horrid most interior design was during the 70s. Still reeling from the pop influence of the late 60s, garish color was everywhere and so many fabric patterns were happening in single rooms it looked like Moiré vomit. It's no wonder I was drawn to the stark, clean aesthetic that was also inexplicably wedged in this sea of Colonial gingham and neon floral prints.
What I found equally interesting while perusing the pages of these musty magazines were the plethora of small black & white ads that occupied the last quarter of each issue. Obviously they were companies operating on shoestring budgets, but many of them definitely knew a certain percentage of the magazines' intended clientele weren't just bored housewives looking for tips on how to accessorize their family rooms:
"Against the pristine background of the Caribbean, the author-photographer recreates a living image of the first days of Man." Uh huh.
But I digress…
Anyhow, I knew from what I'd seen so far I was close to finding my prey. Time to move on to House Beautiful.
I actually hit pay dirt with the second volume of HB issues I pulled from the shelves. The homeless guy in the adjacent aisle who'd been carrying on multiple profanity-laced conversations with the voices in his head finally got very quiet when I blurted out, "Found it!"
There it was in the March 1973 issue in all its glory:
Okay, while this wasn't the particular article about this house I had lodged in memory, I do remember seeing this one, and more importantly I now had a fixed date in time and space and the architect's name (Tony Woolner). After I got home I consulted the Google again—and still came up surprisingly empty handed, save for only four additional photos and a physical street address (25 Baxter Road, North Salem NY):
(Can't say I honesly care for this elevation; it looks like a munitions bunker.)
Next time I'm downtown with some time to kill I'll head back to the library and look through Architectural Digest and Interior Design to see if I can come up with the article I was hoping to find.
It's just nice to have finally solved the mystery.