M-I-C-K-E-Why?

Alright, fine, this is hardly the first time Disney has been compared to Satan, but really? A fatwa? Against a smiling mouse with oversized shoes and gloves?

In a world with an abundance of 'easy' targets (think young Hollywood), an eighty-year-old cartoon - yes, we're talking about a fictional drawing here, good sir - incurs your wrath, Sheikh Muhammad Munajid?

You could have at least picked Roger Rabbit. Then he would have had a legitimate reason to ask who framed him. You know, if he was real.

From the Daily Express:

Mickey Mouse is a soldier of satan and must die, says a Muslim
cleric.

Tom and Jerry have also incurred the wrath of Muhammad Munajid who fears they are corrupting Islamic youth.

The Saudi Arabian cleric also recently denounced the Beijing Games as the “bikini Olympics” because of the female athletes’ skimpy costumes which, he said, made Satan happy.

His fatwa – an Islamic ruling which can carry a death sentence – against the cartoon characters was made in a religious affairs programme on an Arab television network.

Asked about Islam’s teaching on mice, Mr Munajid, a former diplomat at the Saudi embassy in Washington, said that both household mice – and their cartoon counterparts – have to be killed.

According to a translation by the Middle East Media Research Institute, he said: “The mouse is one of Satan’s soldiers and is steered by him. If a mouse falls into a pot of food – if the food is solid, you should chuck out the mouse and the food touching it, and if it is liquid – you should chuck out the whole thing, because the mouse is impure.

“According to Islamic law, the mouse is a repulsive, corrupting creature. How do you think children view mice today – after Tom and Jerry?

“Even creatures that are repulsive by nature, by logic and according to Islamic law, have become wonderful and are loved by children. Even mice. Mickey Mouse has become an awesome character, even though according to Islamic law, Mickey Mouse should be killed in all cases.”

But this may be easier said than done. Mickey has survived countless attempts on his life since he first appeared in the cartoon Steamboat Willie in 1928 while Jerry has been fending off Tom’s murderous attacks since 1940.

I also particularly enjoyed the term "bikini Olympics". They made Satan happy, did they? How can you be sure, Mr. Munajid? Had tea with the great red, horned beast recently? You sure it wasn't just you who was happy? Based on media coverage, I hadn't even realized there were any athletes other than Michael Phelps in this year's Olympics...

Car(te) Blanche.

Read this fun little feature from the Canadian Automobile Association (CAA) magazine about odd road rules (no, not the ridiculous 'reality t.v.' show) from around the world and felt the need to share. Not that we don't, of course, have our own idi-road-snycracies right here at home, but...

• Many of Bangkok's one-way roads change their direction at certain hours of the day. (Intoxicated drivers and tourists on mopeds, beware.)
• In traffic-heavy Manila, vehicles with licence plates ending with the numbers 1 or 2 are forbidden from operating on city roads on Mondays between the hours of 7 a.m. and 7 p.m. (One is the loneliest number. Well, other than two, I guess.)
• Taxi drivers in Finland must pay royalty fees to the Finnish Copyright Society if they play music in their cars while transporting paying customers (which has, not surprisingly, led to the runaway success of the Finnish talk show programme, 'Herring on the Side of Caution').
• It is illegal to park on the side of the road almost everywhere in Japan (which is likely wise; have you seen how many people live there? Yes, 127.4 million).
• Taxis in Australia must carry a bale of hay in the trunk. (For the lambs, scurrying alongside the road? Hmm, I guess that'd be more in New Zealand; maybe it's to transport wounded wallabies?)
• In Switzerland, washing your car on Sunday is frowned upon. (Isn't everything? You'd think they'd be more neutral than that.)
• South Korean drivers cannot turn left except at certain intersections where indicated (Um, isn't that being a little leftist?)
• In the UK, it is legal for a male to urinate in public, provided it is on the rear wheel of his motor vehicle and his right hand is on the vehicle. (The Brits, too: the discrimination against left continues, unabated.)
• Rental cars have been banned in order to control road traffic in Bermuda. (Not like there are tourists in Bermuda or anything. Line up right here to be gouged by a taxi driver.)
• In certain areas of Shanghai, it is illegal for drivers to honk their horns. (Ironically, not in residential areas?)

A Severed Connection.

Appropriate enough, I guess, given that the "Mix Fruit Bowl" likely consists of sliced fruit, but I got a chuckle of it being described as "Severed" with Strawberry, Orange, and Apple." Certainly, a cut above.

Yes, small things entertain me. I was also even mildly amused by the menu's inconsistent re-ordering of its ham, bacon or sausage options. In each different dish, it is as though a different pork product demanded top billing.

The fruit cup wasn't the only time the term "severed" came to mind on the weekend, either. At one point, looking across the street, I told the person I was with: "There's a homeless guy with a saw over there." "Yeah right," came the reply.

Then the scruffy man with several dark hoodies, tinted glasses and hat pulled low climbed through the broken slats in the fence, wandering along other people's backyards - with a long hand saw poking out like a pirate's hook. The only thing more jagged than the teeth on the saw were the ones in his mouth. It was a moment straight out of a cheese ball horror movie script - craziest thing I ever saw (yuck, yuck).

'Tis the Season to be Jolly.

Not to judge (okay, maybe just a wee bit), and say what you will about the world's oldest profession, but I'm still thinking it might be a bit of an oxymoron to be using the term "high-class" and "prostitute" in the same line. Call me old-fashioned, I guess.

But I digress. As the 'odd news' awardee of the day, we have a story of a woman with an unorthodox way of raising funds for a children's fundraiser. Now that's the holiday spirit. Given the context of the article, doesn't anyone else find the terms "deposit slip", "touches me deeply" and "spread her message" slightly disturbing (at least there wasn't a typo, inserting an 'a' for the 'e' in 'message')?

SANTIAGO (AFP) - A high-class Chilean prostitute touched by a charity telethon's bid to raise money for handicapped children has stepped forward with her own contribution: 27 hours of sex.

That's how much paid sex work the escort, Maria Carolina, has said she wants to contribute to the Teleton association. The 5,400 dollars she earns from the marathon session, scheduled for November 30-December 1, will go to the charity, Carolina said, explaining she earns 300 dollars per 90-minute session.

She said she would post a picture of the bank deposit slip on her website afterwards to dispel any doubts. "I am going to contribute with my work to a purpose that touches me deeply," said the prostitute, who has spread her message through several online sites and television programs.

But the administrator of the Teleton foundation, television presenter Mario Kreutzberger, has thrown cold water on the proposition, saying it falls well outside his moral guidelines and he cannot accept it. Carolina, though, said she was determined. "How can someone question a person who wants to put her job at the service of a noble cause?" she asked.

Rock, Stump, Scissors.

Passing this the other day, I decided to log what I considered a fine and witty example of some local guerrilla graffiti. I presume it was likely intended to provide cutting commentary on the state of diminishing green space in the city. Of course, given the impact on the ozone of aerosols present in most spray paint cans, the artist might have been barking up the wrong tree if it's environmental activism he had in mind. Just a snippet -- or sliver -- of information to consider. Perhaps he was stumped and saw no other way to branch out.

End of the rainbow?

According to that ever-so-scientific source, Wikipedia:

"The Irish Leprechaun's secret hiding place for his pot of gold is usually said to be at the end of the rainbow. This place is impossible to reach, because the rainbow is an optical effect which depends on the location of the viewer. When walking towards the end of a rainbow, it will move further (sic) away."

Okay, sure, there don't seem to be any fuzzy-hatted leprechauns (hoisting a Guinness and some Lucky Charms?) dancing around a pot of gold, but it certainly seems to appear that the rainbow ends in the backyard of the house toward the foreground of this photo. The coloured bands are seen clearly in front of the trees and seem to travel over the roof and down the face of the building. Odd -- I've never seen anything like that before.

In an unrelated story, young Johnny from across the road came out of the closet at that precise moment.

Chalkfitti?

Roving through the blog for Toronto urban landscape magazine, Spacing, today, I found this story and was immediately drawn (pun intended) to the piece about public chalkboards.

Started by a Halifax art student, the chalkboards -- replete with chalk and cleaning rags (and in this case, thankfully, a ladder) -- have begun popping up in the Nova Scotian capital.

"Locations were chosen based on how the site might normally be used as a place for advertising or other forms of communication that members of the public would normally not have access to, other than through the illegal act of graffiti," says the artist, on the project's web site.

Not one to be bored, this is chock-full of potential. Clever, though I can't imagine chalk would be too easy to read from billboard height. Still, it's an interesting way to look at, and question, communication in an urban landscape.

As an aside (isn't everything here?), I found these buttons on the Spacing site. While I collected buttons as a child (Mary Brown's apparently felt I was pretty special, or at least a 'Tater Lover'), I can't say I ever had a full set detailing Toronto's subway stops, right down to the stations' tiling patterns. Now I can. But I still don't think I'm stuck on them, though I can't quite pinpoint why.

School Spirit.

I had intended to post this last month when we hosted the Chinese Ambassador to Canada, but it got shuffled under a bunch of other papers in anticipation of the American Ambassador's visit soon thereafter.

In this rah rah world of alumni, boosters and school pride, I found it funny to read in Mr. Lu's Curriculum Vitae that he had "graduated from a university in China". No university in particular, but...a university, nonetheless. A lack of connection to the school? A fear its reputation was less than stellar? School mascot was the dreaded Beaver? Then again, it's not like the Chinese government has a reputation for nailing down specifics on a number of fronts anyway.

Ugg (ly).

Granted, the Ugg/Uggly joke has been made far too many times already, but really, just take a look at them. Wandering around campus, it appears sometimes as though the ubiquitous boots themselves have sprouted legs, marching their oversized Jackie-O glasses/Lululemon yoga pant-wearing owners to the latest hotspot. Heel, lemmings. Plenty of sole, but no soul.

Then, when I didn't think one could have worse taste in footwear, along came a rash (with no apparent ointment) of fur trim and fuzzy tassles. Obviously trying to get a foot up on the competition and reclaim their position atop the pile, Ugg have now come out with a crocheted version of the boot. I must be out of the loop here -- when did crocheting become cool?

And even with the warmer weather, they don't go away. Ug(g)h.

Playing With Words. And Hearts.

Ah, happy Valentine's day to those of you up to your eyeballs in powdered sugar and rose petals. May Cupid's arrow be soft and plushy. And your hearts, a-pitter-patter. You know, if that's how you roll (frankly, weapon-toting cherubs aren't my scene).

While I'm generally loathe to forward chain emails, I'll occasionally make an exception if only to revel in debunking seemingly realistic messages as hoaxes (and boy, are there many of those out there). Or, if they're particularly witty, they may merit more than a passing nod, forcing me to suck the drool back up from the corner of my gaping mouth. Perhaps, if they're droll, I won't drool? Granted, with yesterday's post in tow, it may begin to seem like I'm leaning a little too heavily on my inbox for post fodder. But I guess that's what happens when I'm not traveling. I can't regale you with tails of food in a bag. Mmm, food in a bag. Or jerky? Sorry.

Today's email is both clever and apparently, a hoax. Replicated web-wide because the premise is believable and the content, ingenious (though some of the so-called winners don't actually prescribe to the rule of only modifying one letter within the word and I also really cannot fathom a newspaper of that repute using some of these so-called 'winners'). I share for sheer enjoyment only.

The Washington Post's Mensa Invitational once again asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition. Here are this year's winners:

1. Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you realize it was your money to start with.

2. Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.

3. Bozone (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stop bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.

4. Foreploy: Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of getting laid.

5. Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period.

6. Giraffiti: Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.

7. Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.

8. Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.

9. Hipatitis: Terminal coolness.

10. Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease. (This one got extra credit.)

11. Karmageddon: It's like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a serious bummer.

12. Decafalon (n.): The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.

13. Glibido: All talk and no action.

14. Dopeler effect: The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.

15. Arachnoleptic fit (n.): The frantic dance performed just after you've accidentally walked through a spider web.

16. Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito, that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.

17. Caterpallor (n.): The color you turn after finding half a worm in the fruit you're eating.

18. Ignoranus: A person who's both stupid and an asshole.

My favourite, by far, was Sarchasm. Hoax be darned like a sock, I still found them entertaining. And I hope you do, too. For more such plays on words, visit unwords.com. And appropriately enough, my word submission for today is "Clogger", defined as someone whose blog is a blatant waste of bandwidth. And on that, I close.

Whassap?

Fine, Budweiser Frogs references are sooo, 1996. As an aside, did you know those commercials were directed by the same guy who directed the movie, Celtic Pride. Never heard of it? There you go.

But really, it's pretty cool when you find neat things that have been right under your nose all along, but which you didn't even know existed. Particularly at work. Wandering around campus looking for photo shoot locations last week, I came across the University's medical museum, a small tucked-away room filled mostly with things used to teach medical students. Body parts at random. And not in the good way. Much of it wouldn't exactly be housed in the type of museum to which I am accustomed (not being a veteran of the museum of the macabre circuit), but was interesting nonetheless. And just a titch unsettling for a stomach untrained in gross anatomy. Stress on gross.

Apart from plastic models which take the bloody mess out of dissection, there were also various pickled body parts. Real ones. Kosher dill, anyone? Most compelling was the hand -- skin peeled back to expose the intricate detail of the fine web-work of veins, musculature and tendons. I could somehow picture it reaching out from the soil, trying in vain (vein?) to clutch at my throat. Other things I saw in there, I'll spare you the details of. Suffice it to say that my colleague and I both decided we wouldn't be eating liver and onions in the foreseeable future (though -- not thinking -- I peeled back a can of smoked oysters that night and relived much of the experience anyway).

I'd give an arm and a leg to have muscles like this guy. Wait a second. But with skin still attached. Otherwise, it would be just creepy, not to mention messy. Some of this stuff in the museum seemed to be straight out of a horror movie set. But the most revealing thing of the whole experience was that I could really never be a doctor. Sigh.

on writing

My pen, like scalpel,
builds you from bones
to meat to muscle
and then trains those lean sinews
to rise and climb from the page.
Alive.
2005.02.09

Auctioneer (Another Engine).

I've long wanted to take in an auction, both for the experience and for the possibility of uncovering some great bargains. Greeted by the strong smells of stale tobacco and alcohol, bacon, eggs and church, SCS and I made our way to one of the local auction houses this morning, wandering in an hour into the four hour proceedings. Rookies on the floor, nervously flinching with our buyer card. The vets paid us no mind, perched as they were like birds of prey on plastic chairs -- copious notes and quick tallies, furiously scribbled into their catalogues. And still, we turned around to scratch our noses with eyes cast downward, lest we be pegged as buyers of crazy old Aunt Ruthie's favourite crocheted mauve slippers, always tucked lovingly onto arthritic feet. And under Morris, her sweaty cat's belly.

No, we have better taste than that. Still, it felt a little like Antiques Roadshow meets garage sale meets Vegas -- every item was a potential gamble, chock full of adrenaline coursing through your veins as players anted up. Are they bluffing, or do you fold? You might just end up with something nice. In the end you wind up with something: your purchase, or a broken heart -- lamenting the one that got away. Yeah, just like Vegas. Ensuring you don't get sucked into the fevered vortex of the moment can be a challenge, particularly for people as competitive as SCS and I both are. That said, with a little bit of research and a set price in mind, you can get some really good deals. So long as you are able to walk away from something you wanted when the auctioneer's chatter climbs a little too high. And the chatter can be quite something.

First and foremost, I was amazed by how pretty much everything goes. When an item doesn't receive much interest, the auctioneer combines it with something else in a package deal. A bonus nobody wanted. Plates, dishes and teacups rarely sold individually; rather, they ended up being combined. It was also incredible to see how cheaply some items sold: a great condition, antique wooden kitchen set, including a table with eight chairs and a hutch? 10 dollars. What? How can you go wrong there? While still a little out of my price range, a Haines Brothers square grand piano with intricately carved legs from the 1800s sold for $600. A quick look on the Internet and I found a similar one which just sold for $25,000. The auction's highlighted item, it would have likely cost about as much as the purchase price just to move it out of the warehouse.

Upon the sale of a cross filled with holy water, a fellow first-timer remarked: "Jesus, sold for 15 bucks? Sacrilege". SCS had fancied a couple pieces of furniture. She has a good eye: those items, of course, ended up being a couple of the day's highest draws and she came home empty-handed. There were obviously some professional buyers in there, grabbing things with good resale value, but there were still good deals to be had.

We participated in a couple of the auctions, but rarely ventured beyond the price raising a couple of times. We hadn't yet grasped auction strategy and were slow reacting on a couple of bids. But we didn't get sucked in, either. Not wanting to leave completely empty-handed, I did win a lot comprised of old glass bottles for five dollars. Much like old books, writing implements and printing plates, I've always had a fondness for old glass -- and particularly bottles. They were just so much more solid, made in interesting colours and shapes, and often had things embossed into them.

One is from Lavoris mouthwash; another big chunky bottle was for Enos Fruit Salts, which was reportedly used for easing stomach discomfort. The neatest, though, is a small rectangular bottle originally used for Davis Vegetable Painkiller. Patented in 1845, it is believed this product was the first nationally advertised remedy specifically for general pain and was distributed around the world by Christian missionaries. Lost out on some old pens and an antique child's chair with a drawer built into the base. Oh well. I think we'll be back another time; if nothing else, it was a fun way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

"Do ah hear five...fi..fi..fi...fi an' a quartah...fi...fi...fi an' a quartah?"

Posting the Post.

A post based on ingenuity, or at least a post based on, well, a post. When I saw this in a bed and breakfast earlier this year, I though it was clever, particularly considering its locale.

You know the little foam pads you put on the bottoms of chairs or tables so that you don't scratch the floor? Seems they also work well if you're trying to protect a wall. Yes, this is a bed post. Bedazzling. Yet muffled.

Sheaves of Paper, Falling Like Autumn Leaves.

I have a thing about old books, particularly old school texts and readers. Their musty pages telling stories of yore (yore, such a charming time, wasn't it?). I can spend hours thumbing through a used book store, unwrapping each page like a tissue paper-wrapped present. And sometimes I'll even find an added bonus, hastily stashed between the pages. A newspaper clipping. A photograph. A purloined letter. Not to mention random scribblings etched between the type-set. I wonder if Edna still loves Bartholomew? Was it love forever? I see she didn't like that teacher, Mrs. Hastings.

I'm not a purist -- I don't need the first editions, wrapped in Mylar. No, for me, the first-person history only adds to the experience. A social history of sorts. Which is oddly dichotomous of me, considering I have long been loathe to bend a corner on my books, let alone write in them. Sacrilege! No, they always get clad in plastic bags for travel. And I always properly open a new book as to not break its spine. A colleague once brought me back a Spelling Bee book from the 1800s from his trip to England. Really cool. One of the most thoughtful gifts I've received. Better than something about Knitting Bees, that's for sure.

Having studied automotive history as a part of my degree, I was excited to find the book pictured to the right today: a complete reference book for the Ford Model T and Fordson Farm Tractor from 1920. Considering Ford's first car -- the Model A -- debuted in 1903 and the first Model T rolled off the line in 1908, this was still pretty early into the company's history. Mechanics today would likely laugh at the simplicity of the schemata (like the fold-out, detailed above), however complete they are. I like the "Slow Speed Band" (Coldplay anyone?) and the "Clutch Fingers" (which I did last night, nearly slicing off the tip of my index finger). The author, noting that there "is only one make of motor vehicle in the world that is sold in large enough quantities to warrant the publication of a special treatise on its repair and maintenance and that is the Ford Model T," points to how there were already more than 3,000,000 Ford cars of all types in use. My, how the world has changed. Too bad Ford's cars drive like it's still the 20s.

They're Watching.

...wearing a suit of eyes, I
am uncovering the lies
stitched inside...

Wandering through campus today, I found this paranoid delusional rambling scrawled on the wall. Or was it? Ushered away by men in dark suits and earpieces, speaking in muffled tones, I could not really be sure. Lots of people named Roger. Something about the uniformity of their hair cuts disturbed me. The undercover cut, a beacon of conformity.

Written below a grate, the location (location, location, location!) was great (ha ha). But being in a secluded, seldom-used alley, perhaps not so. I cannot imagine CSIS would have much interest in the majority of conversations taking place on campus. Then again, if they could invent a filter that eliminates the phrase: "Like, omigod, I got -- you know -- soo hammered and stuff last night that I threw up all over my Uggs," there would be precious little else they'd need to transcribe. And national security would be, like omigod, so much, you know, higher and stuff. I'm just saying...

Doesn't that just say it all?

Shoe're thing! Nice to see such bold proclamations in advertising, even in the face of socially-progressive times like these. Wives, under foot everywhere! (Tongue firmly planted in cheek -- and under the laces). Like any good advertising, I both noticed and remembered it. It didn't hurt that I laughed in the process (wasn't quite in stitches, but perhaps in laces?).

N.B. Word of the day: "Retifism", named after Nicolas-Edme Rétif, involves one's fixation with shoes or other footwear. Okay, so I left out the rest of the sentence, which tied that bit to sexual expression. I think it's only because my research into the etymology of the word led to an article called, "The Erotic Shoe". Um, no. Thanks, though. To only have the power to heel. Er, heal.

Curious?

Intellectual curiosity is such an incredible thing. Really, where would we be if people didn't consistently question, then punish, the status quo? The cogs of today's world have become so dependent on our minds serving as the belt that pushes the agenda of discovery forward. Not to be technologically determinist of course, but the world has changed so much over the last five years, ten years, twenty years. I can hardly imagine living without many advancements borne upon the world during my lifetime, far less those my grandparents -- and even parents -- did without.

Which sort of leads me to ask what the greatest invention of modern history really is (discounting fire, the wheel and perhaps even the printing press). An automotive history class I took had put into gear the theory that the automobile altered urban geography, city planning and modern transportation, not to mention business on a grand scale. Welcome to Ford's assembly line processes. All true. Some might argue air travel has opened the world to a previously unheard of degree. No, computers. Really, it has to be. The power a small microchip has to alter a broad range of technologies, to enhance global communication, to accelerate development, change the ways we do business and, in fact, the ways in which we approach the world. Of course, this is not to say that all these changes have been good.

I am surrounded by these sorts of people on a daily basis. People pushing the envelope of discovery. Questioning the status quo -- but backing up their claims, too. I am inspired by seeing a researcher's eye light up in excitement when he or she starts to talk -- often animatedly -- about their work. About the promise of a world with cures, new technologies, new ways of looking at things. About looking at the past in a different manner and the future, in a better way. Passion still exists. And out world is better for it.

Which is, in the end, all the more reason to be fearful that North Korea, led by someone known less for intellectual curiosity than for than intellectual anomalies, has acquired nuclear capabilities. Welcome to one of the downsides.

Tomat-O'-Lantern.

Thanksgiving over, I suppose it's time to turn our thoughts to the next holiday. With its built-in excuse to devour succulent, succulent, miniature chocolate bars (really, they may be smaller, but eating the whole box sort of negates the reduction in calories this provides), I welcome Halloween with open arms. And an open pillow case.

Which brings me to the freakiest-looking tomato I have ever seen. Yes, that is a tomato. And it's already got its game face on. Ever the green thumb, SCS may have cultivated the first Halloween-ready fruit.

The tomato had grown into cracks between the bricks at the side of the house, resulting in its disfiguration (or figuration?) Really, no pesticides. Not the result of a science experiment gone extremely awry. It was a little sensitive about having been called 'pear-shaped' as a child. And having been called a Franken-fruit hurt him right to his seeds. But clearly, two eyes, a large nose and even a mouth. eBay? Can we say it looks like some religious disciple? The Virgin Mary Grilled Cheese woman was able to get $28,000 for a burnt sandwich. And then had it tattood on herself. Surely we can come up with a bald celebrity look-alike who might look a little green after a late night partying. Howie Mandel? Deal or no deal? If not, I have it on good authority that tomato soup goes well with a grilled cheese sandwich.

Interesting little note from Wikipedia about tomatoes, which I had always been told were fruits. This touches on the great fruit/vegetable debate. And introduces them as berries! No wonder the one above is having an identity crisis.

Fruit or vegetable?
Botanically speaking, a tomato is the ovary, together with its seeds, of a flowering plant, that is a fruit or, more precisely, a berry. However, from a culinary perspective, the tomato is not as sweet as those foodstuffs usually called fruits; and it is typically served as part of a main course of a meal, as are other vegetables, rather than at dessert. As noted above, the term "vegetable" has no botanical meaning and is purely a culinary term.

While the Tomato can be classified as a fruit, it is officially categorized as a definite vegetable in the United States. The USDA also considers the tomato a vegetable.

But due to the scientific definition of a fruit and a vegetable, the tomato still remains a fruit when not dealing with tariffs. Nor is it the only culinary vegetable that is a botanical fruit: eggplants, cucumbers, and squashes of all kinds (including zucchini and pumpkins) share the same ambiguity.

Ripping off Victoria.

Alright, so I'm unabashedly plagiarizing from Victoria this time (visit her fine blog, Idle Thoughts and Random Links). And I feel fine about it. I had just found a couple of things I liked, so here they are for your viewing pleasure (and yes Victoria, you have already seen these somewhere...)

First, this to the right (--> that-a-way, silly) is just plain disturbing. But I want it. Sad. But where do I get it? Mr. Suicide bathtub Plug. Yike. For when you feel it's all going down the drain. When you're sinking (or tubbing, for that matter). Sort of a reverse hanging effect, bobbing away on the surface, waiting for Leonardo DiCaprio to say "I'm King of the world". Then ending it all forever to strains of Celine Dion.

The second thing, was a post listing life experiences where you bold the things you've done. In an effort to better get to know you, the readers, and for you to get to know me, the crackpot at the computer, here is my list (feel free to copy and leave yours in the comments section should you wish). Suddenly I don't feel so boring (though I AM sitting here on the computer. Still.) Discuss.

01. Bought everyone in the bar a drink
02. Swam with wild dolphins (fudge number 1: not sure how wild they were)
03. Climbed a mountain
04. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive
05. Been inside the Great Pyramid
06. Held a tarantula
07. Taken a candlelit bath with someone
08. Said 'I love you' and meant it
09. Hugged a tree
10. Bungee jumped (too anti-climactic after number 50)
11. Visited Paris
12. Watched a lightning storm at sea
13. Stayed up all nightlong and saw the sun rise
14. Seen the Northern Lights (have seen parts, but would love to see them up north)
15. Gone to a huge sports game
16. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa
17. Grown and eaten your own vegetables
18. Touched an iceberg (does a glacier count?)
19. Slept under the stars
20. Changed a baby's diaper
21. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon (only when tethered, so no)
22. Watched a meteor shower
23. Gotten drunk on champagne
24. Given more than you can afford to charity
25. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope
26. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment
27. Had a food fight
28. Bet on a winning horse
29. Asked out a stranger
30. Had a snowball fight
31. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can
32. Held a lamb
33. Seen a total eclipse
34. Ridden a roller coaster
35. Hit a home run
36. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking
37. Adopted an accent for an entire day (only a part of a day, but then, I'm like that)
38. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment
39. Had two hard drives for your computer
40. Visited all 50 states (working on it -- up to at least 27 by car)
41. Taken care of someone who was sh*t faced
42. Had amazing friends
43. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country
44. Watched wild whales (fudge number 2: it was only one Orca, but it was wild)
45. Stolen a sign
46. Backpacked in Europe
47. Taken a road-trip (see here)
48. Gone rock climbing (I'm told I'm going soon)
49. Midnight walk on the beach
50. Gone sky diving
51. Visited Ireland
52. Been heartbroken longer than you were actually in love
53. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger's table and had a meal with them
54. Visited Japan
55. Milked a cow
56. Alphabetized your cds (not to mention colour-coded closets)
57. Pretended to be a superhero
58. Sung karaoke (mercifully, no)
59. Lounged around in bed all day
60. Posed nude in front of strangers (again, mercifully, no)
61. Gone scuba diving (a dream, ahead -- bring on the reefs)
62. Kissed in the rain
63. Played in the mud
64. Played in the rain
65. Gone to a drive-in theater
66. Visited the Great Wall of China
67. Started a business
68. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken
69. Toured ancient sites
70. Taken a martial arts class
71. Played D&D for more than 6 hours straight
72. Gotten married
73. Been in a movie
74. Crashed a party
75. Gotten divorced (Working on it, though still 'separated')
76. Gone without food for 5 days (riiiiight -- have you seen me?)
77. Made cookies from scratch
78. Won first prize in a costume contest
79. Ridden a gondola in Venice
80. Gotten a tattoo
81. Rafted the Snake River
82. Been on television news programs as an "expert" (well, radio)
83. Got flowers for no reason
84. Performed on stage
85. Been to Las Vegas (Reno, the poor man's Vegas, though)
86. Recorded music
87. Eaten shark
88. Had a one-night stand
89. Gone to Thailand
90. Bought a house
91. Been in a combat zone
92. Buried one/both of your parents
93. Been on a cruise ship
94. Spoken more than one language fluently
95. Performed in Rocky Horror.
96. Raised children (in process)
97. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour (one stop, many miles away...)
98. Created and named your own constellation of stars
99. Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country
100. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over
101. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge (no, but drove it, or sat on it in rush hour anyway)
102. Sang loudly in the car, and didn't stop when someone was looking
103. Had plastic surgery
104. Survived an accident that you shouldn't have survived.
105. Wrote articles for a large publication
106. Lost over 100 pounds
107. Held someone while they were having a flashback
108. Piloted an airplane
109. Petted a stingray (RIP, Steve Irwin)
110. Broken someone's heart
111. Helped an animal give birth (Do people count?)
112. Won money on a T.V. game show
113. Broken a bone
114. Gone on an African photo safari
115. Had a body part of yours below the neck pierced
116. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol
117. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild
118. Ridden a horse
119. Had major surgery (how major?)
120. Had a snake as a pet
121. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon
122. Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours
123. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. states
124. Visited all 7 continents
125. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days
126. Eaten kangaroo meat
127. Eaten sushi (Yum, Wonder Sushi!)
128. Had your picture in the newspaper (among others, ironically, while doing 32)
129. Changed someone's mind about something you care deeply about
130. Gone back to school (soon)
131. Parasailed
132. Petted a cockroach
133. Eaten fried green tomatoes (DVD was tougher to chew than the VHS though)
134. Read The Iliad - and the Odyssey (bloomin' English degree)
135. Selected one "important" author who you missed in school, and read
136. Killed and prepared an animal for eating (fish)
137. Skipped all your school reunions
138. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language
139. Been elected to public office
140. Written your own computer language
141. Thought to yourself that you're living your dream
142. Had to put someone you love into hospice care
143. Built your own PC from parts
144. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn't know you
145. Had a booth at a street fair
146: Dyed your hair
147: Been a DJ
148: Shaved your head (see above, right)
149: Caused a car accident
150: Saved someone's life

Updated: 12/18/2007

Unexpected Charlie Update! Nothing like the headline, "Charlie Attacks" to send Vietnam Veterans everywhere a-scurryin'. A case of the elevens (apparently cats tend to act all crazy around 11 p.m., hence 'the elevens' -- discuss amongst yourselves), albeit about a half hour early for the favorite feline. Random tearing around the house, pouncing on, let's see here -- air. Ever the fierce hunter. Nothing says Big Game Prey like, well, a prowling, green backpack. Charlie says he was able to subdue the beast, which he feared to be a giant turtle. But a fast-moving one. Really.



Now calm, he has been playing peek-a-boo from behind the chair for about ten minutes. Ever bashful, that cat. "Where's my darn treat, UD?" And now, the loudest purr, like a rattlesnake, pacing figure eights between my legs.

I Believe I Can Fly. No, Really, I Can.

Considering my last double dribble was at Dairy Queen and the only traveling I've done lately is to Alabama, I suppose the saying would normally dictate that I say (in the hoop head vernacular, anyway), "Yo, I've got to get the mothballs off my game." Today, though, it seems my shoes could have indeed used the mothballs, having attracted a new winged friend for most of the afternoon (on the heel).

I'm really looking forward to the upcoming season and to the opportunity to defend 'the Chip' as Fat Joe would say. Not that I really give a damn what Fat Joe says. But then, I don't want to end up looking like him, either. And if I don't play, particularly as the tennis season sets, my body will do nothing but prepare itself for hibernation. As great as bears can be, that would still just be wrong. Of course, any aerodynamics-hindering-ness would have nothing to do with that non-drug-user version of the speedball: chips and chocolate. Mmm, performance dehancing drugs.

Eventually, the little guy grew tired of the odour emananting from my sleds and decided to do as the rest of us do: admire the traffic wandering through campus. I think he just needed to air out. Or maybe, he was looking for his mother.