Posted 6:23 PM by Angie Schultz

Foto Friday: Saguarooooooo!

A menace to the West!

Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum
Tucson, AZ, April 1994

From looking at its web site, I'd say the ASDM has grown quite a bit since I was there last. What I remember about it is that it had 1) a beautiful 3D model of a galaxy embeded in glass, and 2) a caving exhibit with a fake cave. The latter had a narrow passage you could (barely) walk through. For some reason I thought this was the coolest thing: all the fun of caving without any of the nasty slimy dripping parts, and no bats. It was sort of like a geological funhouse. We need more stuff like that.

Having nothing else to say, I might as well tell you the spiders-in-cactus urban legend that was told to me as a true story in the early Nineties, as happening to "a friend of my aunt". It varies quite a bit from the usual version, having been customized for local consumption (you'll see). In fact, the plain vanilla story is the little paragraph at the bottom of the quoted bit at the snopes link. The first, large quoted bit was an Australian version new to me, packed with glorious Aussie overkill.

Anyway, here goes:

Once upon a time a family went on vacation to Arizona, where they dug up a barrel cactus[1] from the desert and brought it back home (to St. Louis) with them. One day the woman is home alone, and she notices that her cactus is...breathing. Puzzled, she calls up Shaw's Gardens[2] and they tell her to get everybody, including pets, out of the house immediately, and they'll be right over.[3]

Within a few minutes a van pulls up, and two men rush inside with a big lucite box,[4] and come out carrying the cactus inside it. They hadn't reached their van when -- KERBLOOIE! -- the cactus exploded, spewing thousands of baby tarantulas all over the inside of the box. Wow! What a narrow escape[5]!

[1]When I first told Niles this story, he interrupted at this point to inform me that this was illegal. I was annoyed at the interruption, and told him it wasn't relevant. But perhaps it is; perhaps this detail adds a measure of "just deserts"[6] to the legend. It's this sort of thing that gives legends legs[7].

[2]Known to some as the Missouri Botanical Garden, a serious research and educational outfit, as well as a garden where the unwashed can stroll among the pretty planties. It was started by a fellow named Henry Shaw in 1859, and is still often known as Shaw's Gardens locally.

[3]It's kind of charming the way this story assumes that Mobot (as their URL has it) is a sort of plant version of Animal Control. Also, unlike the Australian story (where the guy has to call around to get answers), the people answering the phone know the problem immediately. This suggests that this incident happens often enough to be well-known to the plant community, but not often enough so that they feel obliged to, you know, warn anybody or anything like that.

[4]Why a lucite box? So you can see the explosion. What's the point of being trapped in an urban legend if you can't see the good bits?

[5]Unfortunately for the delightful frisson this tale is supposed to give you, tarantulas really aren't all that poisonous (although I suppose there's always the chance of an allergic reaction). I still wouldn't want thousands of tiny ones crawling on me, though.

[6]Har! I make pun!

[7]Eight or more.[8]

[8]Will these footnotes never end??[9]

[9]Probably not before noting that any resemblance between spider-filled barrel cactuses and singer Amy Winehouse's hair is purely coincidental, although really creepy.

Labels: Arizona, Foto Friday

Posted 9:27 PM by Angie Schultz

The Jobs Americans Won't Do

Like picketing on behalf of their own union:

Although their placards identify the picketers as being with the Mid-Atlantic Regional Council of Carpenters, they are not union members.

They're hired feet, or, as the union calls them, temporary workers, paid $8 an hour to picket. Many were recruited from homeless shelters or transitional houses. Several have recently been released from prison. Others are between jobs.

OK, there's no indication that these are immigrants, illegal or otherwise. The story says that the union requires (or "asks for", which I assume is the same) a Social Security card from potential paid picketers.

But it sort of diminishes the notion of the poor, downtrodden working man, dependent upon the union to secure his rights in an land of heartless capitalism, when he'd rather hire a bunch of street people to take his place.

I wonder what happens when the professional protesters get their own union, and start demanding $25 an hour to shout and bang on buckets.

But forget about that -- the story mentions, but only barely, a person who gets paid to picket nuclear war. Just remember that possibility when you see the seething crowd, two score strong, at the next Code Pink rally.

Via Best of the Web (look under "You Got Me Walkin', Talkin' and Squawkin'" -- wish to hell he'd get permalinks.)

Posted 8:22 AM by Angie Schultz

PSA

May I have your attention please?

The leaders of the military government in Fiji all have B.O. and halitosis, and their mothers dress them funny. In addition, their personal regions are infested by fleas. Their children have perpetually runny noses and ears that stick out at odd angles. Furthermore their leader, Josaia Voreqe "Frank" Bainimarama has a name reminiscent of silly pop group Bananarama, and shall be henceforth thus yclept.[1] And he couldn't come up with a better nickname than "Frank".

And finally, they all seem to be dumb as rocks, given that they are following the proven Mugabe Path to national ruin.

Now, come and get me, spoot-heads.

Background here. See also here.

Until further notice, everyone stay the hell out of Fiji. When you google Fiji, your top hits are for romantic honeymoons. How damn romantic is it going to be when you snicker at "Bananarama" and wind up rotting in a Fijian jail, hmmm? You're safer in Mexico.[2]

[1]See here.
[2]Now that's got to sting.

Posted 2:30 PM by Angie Schultz

Foto Friday: The Big Peach

And now for something comp -- well, a little different: a Big Peach:

The Big Peach
Bruceville, IN, June 2007

We went here directly after my grandmother's memorial service, mostly because we weren't sure if we'd get another chance, but partly because Grandma used to take me here when I was a little girl. The eponymous Peach fascinated me, even though I realized that it wasn't a genuine peach, but concrete. I credit the Big Peach for my enduring love of bizarre, outsized foodstuffs, and the tourist attractions that gather around them. (I have photos of the Big Lobster in South Australia that I'll post one day.)


Here's another view:


Note the witty allusion to the Trylon and Perisphere of the 1939 New York World's Fair. This isn't a trylon, though, and there's no pear -- you could call it the Pylon and Peachisphere. (Laugh! It's funny!)

I remember the Peach being actually on the tin roof of the building, and wondering how they'd gotten it up there. Perhaps I'm misremembering -- everything looks much bigger when you're little. Except that I don't remember the stand looking as big as this:


One of these days I will get Google Maps to work inside my blog (tried it, failed), but until then, here's a link to the location. You can clearly see the sign on the roof!

I think when I was there last (late Sixties? early Seventies?) they had less touristy stuff, concentrating on produce-stand staples like corn, tomatoes, and of course peaches. Since we were flying home this time we couldn't take a big ol' bushel of "roastin' ears", as Grandpa called them, but we did buy a little bottle of apple cider (disappointing -- tasted like caramelized sugar water), peach cider (good), and peach preserves (haven't opened them yet). I was crushed to learn that they were fresh out of postcards.

Sadly, the Big Peach does not seem to have its own web site. However, you can mentions of it at Roadside America (the sun was in exactly the wrong spot for me to take the nice picture taken by John Holmes) and Road Escape (where you'll find an interview with the owners).

This was a very nostalgic trip for me. The weather was beautiful (because there was a drought), and the land as warm and friendly as I remembered it. I was in some danger of wishing to live there, maybe thinking that I'd meet Grandma and Grandpa around some corner.

But of course that cannot be.

And you gotta drive half an hour for a pizza.

Labels: Foto Friday, Indiana

Posted 6:24 PM by Angie Schultz

Try It With a Side of Ivory-Billed Woodpecker

A New Guinean tribesman has been snacking on endangered species. But that's OK -- he didn't know it was rare.

I have really nothing to add here, except that I have heard of this animal before -- I was googling around once upon a time, and must have come across this Wikipedia page, which gives the animal a slightly different name.

I think that we can all agree that Sir David's Long-Beaked Echidna would make a terrific name for a rock band.

Labels: Good Names for Rock Bands

Posted 1:12 PM by Angie Schultz

Foto Friday: This Is the Forest Primeval

Sequoia National Park, California
Oct. 1995

Well, no, because forests primeval do not have fences and paved paths.

I had beautiful pictures of the Owens Valley to show you, but I decided something went wrong in the scanning and they need to be re-done. They look pretty -- almost as if the landscape were made of brass. But they are not Right. So instead you get these trees.

I was disappointed somewhat with photographing the Big Trees: they were so dark! Except for the parts that were so bright. When the photographs came out they were either under-exposed or over-exposed, except for the ones which were both.

But in this brave new world of image-diddling software, I can fix that. So here's a shot that actually came out kinda nice. Not spectacular, but good enough.

Labels: California, Foto Friday

Posted 9:08 AM by Angie Schultz

Sockpuppet in Chief

I spent a year in Pasadena[1] one week, and I got my lunch at the nearby Wild Oats Market (which the natives referred to as Wild Goats). Ordinarily I don't go in for that "organic" crap -- figuring that it's chock full of bug parts and e coli -- but Wild Goats was close and its deli had a variety of interesting dishes that weren't egregiously self-satisfied and politically correct.

So I was mildly interested (and dismayed) when Niles read me an item in the business section about how Whole Foods had closed a deal to buy Wild Goats Oats. Ah, but that wasn't all -- turns out that Whole Foods' CEO, John Mackey, had been posting to Wild Oats' boards using the sockpuppet "Rahodeb", running down the company:

"Would Whole Foods buy OATS?" Rahodeb asked, using Wild Oats' stock symbol. "Almost surely not at current prices. What would they gain? OATS locations are too small." Rahodeb speculated that Wild Oats eventually would be sold after sliding into bankruptcy or when its stock fell below $5. A month later, Rahodeb wrote that Wild Oats management "clearly doesn't know what it is doing .... OATS has no value and no future."

"Rahodeb" is an anagram for Deborah, the name of Mackey's wife. At least Rahodeb didn't disavow his interest in Whole Foods:

Rahodeb had begun posting on Yahoo Finance in the late 1990s, and quickly became known as a cheerleader for Whole Foods stock. "I admit to my bias," he wrote in 2000. "I love the company and I'm in for the long haul. I shop at Whole Foods. I own a great deal of its stock. I'm aligned with the mission and values of the company ... Is there something wrong with this?"

But he did talk about himself in the third person:

Rahodeb expressed pride in the CEO's work. "While I'm not a 'Mackey groupie,'" he wrote in 2000, "I do admire what the man has accomplished."

and

Rahodeb even defended Mr. Mackey's haircut when another user poked fun at a photo in the annual report. "I like Mackey's haircut," Rahodeb said. "I think he looks cute!"

Maybe it was his magic boyfriend.

Now, I'm not a business tycoon like Mackey, so it would appear to me that not only is this lame and petty, it really isn't a good use of a CEO's time.

Furthermore, the post in the first quote above -- dismissing the possibility of Whole Foods buying Wild Oats "at its current price" -- was made in January 2005, when Wild Oats stock was $8 a share. Two years later, Whole Foods actually did buy Wild Oats at $18.50 a share. To your average uninformed amateur layperson blogger, it looks as if Mackey's one-man campaign backfired, big-time.

Maybe I should have titled this "Business Ideas That Work" (with a nod to Agent Bedhead).

Turns out though, that although sockpuppetting (and losing money while doing it) makes you look like a dick, it isn't actually illegal. The FTC is suing, though. [SEE UPDATE]

Often on blogs I see someone (metaphorically) beating a dead (or living) horse, and I think they're just obsessed. Usually, someone else will accuse them of being a paid shill, and I always think that's nuts. Who the hell would pay good money for someone to run down or build up a company/idea/President on a blog, fer chrissakes?

I guess now we know.

I gotta get me some of that action.

[1]California

UPDATE 7/17/07: The FTC is suing to block the Wild Oats takeover on anti-trust grounds, not because of the sockpuppeting. The Captain's Quarters points to this NYT story, which says that the FTC is just doing an informal inquiry. You won't read that in the main body (where it says "formal inquiry") -- it's in the correction at the bottom of the page.

Posted 9:01 PM by Angie Schultz

Do I Know You?

I knew that one of these days, if I was good and ate all my spinach, I too would be diagnosed with an obscure medical syndrome which would entitle me to big gobs of sympathy. I was hoping for money, but I'll take sympathy in small denominations.

People with the disorder, which can lead to severe social problems, lack sufficient wiring in the part of the brain that recognizes faces..."You see faces like everyone else, but when it comes time for recall there's nothing really there," said ["faceblindness" sufferer Eliane] Scheib...

I do this all the time, and it's embarrassing. I can't recognize faces. I couldn't recognize Niles in the Honolulu airport ("Look at that idiot! Why's he waving like that? He can't be drowning here in the term---Oh! Niles!") In 1999 I had surgery, and the next day a pretty young woman in blue jeans came into my hospital room. She gave me a wonderful smile, and I thought, "She looks nice. I wonder who she is." She said something to me and it took me a few seconds to realize that she was my doctor. Not some specialist I'd only met once, but the same doctor I'd been seeing every few weeks for months. I joked that I hadn't recognized her without her doctor suit on, but it wasn't a joke.

I try to get by with remembering people by their sex, hair color, height, body type, etc. In my first year of grad school the guy in charge of labs (who also directed us lab TAs) and one of my professors were both tallish guys with a medium build and gray hair. I was terrified of getting them mixed up, and only felt secure talking to them in their offices. I was always afraid of finding them both together, and not remembering which was which! After a while I got to be able to tell them apart, and eventually it was a wonder to me that I ever confused them.

In my last job there were three women students, all with dark hair. I apologized to them in advance, saying that it would take me a while to get them straightened out. After some months it occurred to me that one of them was about 5'8", and another was 5'3".[1] There was also a tall thin young man with dyed purple hair, John. I was glad to meet him, because I knew I could always recognize him by his hair. The next time I saw him he'd dyed his hair a different color. And his name turned out to be Michael.

My own personal nightmare is that I'll be the only witness to a crime: "And do you see that man in the courtroom today?" "Um, he could be the defendant. Or Juror No. 4. Or the man in the gray suit in the back of the room. Or the judge."

The article also says that there's one face everyone recognizes: Bill Clinton. Or, maybe not.

[1]This reminds me of an ancient joke, told to me as a "Pollack" joke. Two guys were having trouble telling their horses apart, so one put a notch in his horse's ear. This worked for a while, but then the other horse caught his ear on fence barb, and they couldn't tell them apart again. Then the second guy bobbed his horse's tail -- and this worked until the other horse got its tail caught in a gate, and it was shortened. So finally they measured the horses, and found that the black horse was two inches taller than the white horse, and afterwards they had no trouble.

Posted 7:07 PM by Angie Schultz

Foto Friday: Grow Your Own

I spent today scanning old family photos for a CD my mom wants made up. You're not going to get any of those -- family photos are mostly boring to outsiders, anyway. I'm puzzled, though, by the repeated images of myself looking stricken. It's as if, just before every picture, someone had told me that my dog had died. Perhaps that's what happened. We went through dogs quickly in those days.

But whatever the facts of the matter, the result is a parade of black and white images that hint at an unspeakable horror lurking just off -- or perhaps behind -- the camera. And it's not just me; sometimes my whole family is afflicted. (Zanesville: Town of Terror)

Anyhow, y'all get a nice salad of rocket.

Rocket Garden, Kennedy Space Center,
Nov. 2004

In Australia restaurants were always putting "rocket" on things. I eventually figured out it was some kind of lettuce. But it wasn't until I googled it up just now that I learned that it's actually arugula. Can you beat that? Arugula! Well! They were passing off metrosexual "arugula" by giving it the manly name of "rocket".

Could "arugula" scare the bejesus out of the Russians and take men to the moon? I think not. "Ivan! Eez American arugula incomingk!" "Not to worry, Boris. We will drown it in Russian dressingk! Muahaha!"

Sometimes I just don't know when to end these things. Have I said: "Zanesville: City of the Damned" yet?

Almost forgot: past rocketage here. Features garbage bees. Mmm.

Labels: Florida, Foto Friday

Posted 12:33 PM by Angie Schultz

Bite Down Hard

Irishman Eamonn Fitzgerald takes advantage of today's holiday to remind us that British novelist Margaret Drabble has for years admitted to an uncontrollable disease: hatred. Specifically, she admits to being possessed by vicious loathing for...a sammich.

Here's just a small, non-sammich-related, lagniappe from that dog's breakfast:

But what struck home hardest was the subsequent image, of a row of American warplanes, with grinning cartoon faces painted on their noses. Cartoon faces, with big sharp teeth...But there was something about those playfully grinning warplane faces that went beyond deception and distortion into the land of madness. A nation that can allow those faces to be painted as an image on its national aeroplanes has regressed into unimaginable irresponsibility. A nation that can paint those faces on death machines must be insane.

Among the insane nations of the Earth would be World War II Britain. Or, in fact, modern Britain. The RAF has recently forbidden this practice, lest, I suppose, the Margaret Drabbles of the world have another spell of the vapors. Talk about infantile.

Try to read Drabble's drivel without thinking of this magnificent item:

"...I mean, one does not wish to say that this debacle is what America deserves for its arrogance, its vulgarity, its bullying ways -- well, actually one does wish to say it, doesn't one rather? Really, one just hates America. Really, one always has, ever since one was just a little chap."

Anyone, even a Serious Novelist, can be parodied by some hack scribbler -- but to be parodied nearly two years in advance requires real effort. Well done, Drabble!

This is what our intelligentsia has come to -- penning flailing incoherent screeds about how all the essential wickedness of the world is due to the unique evil of hamburgers. It's just as well, then, that wars for civilization are not fought by novelists. At least, not since Kipling.

If Drabble's dribbling has got you down, try this for a pick-me-up.

Posted 9:58 AM by Angie Schultz

And Satire Died

Tim Blair notes some airhead quoted in the Sydney Morning Herald:

"I don't know what it was like in Australia," ["Texan" "playwright" "Kirk"] Lynn says of the years immediately after September 11, "but I know for certain in the States there was this whole period where there was no satire. That was the climate, no one was saying anything, it was all hush-hush and certainly not funny.

Tim points out that this classic Onion issue came out on September 27. (He also notes the word "years" there -- a dread plague of humorlessness which laid waste to the world until, probably, the 2006 mid-terms.) But what he doesn't know is that it doesn't count as satire, or even as humor, because it did not make sufficient fun of George Bush. And thus the heavy hand of McCarthyism fell upon the so-called "land of the free".

This is according to SMH hack Gay Alcorn (sister to Margo Kingston), who wrote an article -- a news story -- to that effect soon after that Onion issue was published. I'm afraid I don't have the link, but I remember the article because it was the proximate cause of my personal (and, no doubt, devastating) boycott of the Sydney Morning Herald. I vowed not to buy it after that day, and did not. I figured any newspaper that could publish something as abysmally stupid as that couldn't be trusted with providing information.