Let us take a moment to reflect on the lesson set for us by Holden Day Wilson, attorney at law, who on this day in 1993 plunged to his death from a Toronto skyscraper in an attempt to demonstrate to a client that the window glass was unbreakable.
The genius move is that 4chan trolls don’t actually need to post gore-inducing triggersplatter, or whatever it is, in order to take out a tag. All the tags in question have now taken themselves out with SIGNAL BOOST OMG 4CHAN IS COMING!!!! And that might last for weeks. Saves all kinds of work.
"Citation needed"s in Wikipedia's Salvador Dalí article
…an endless party game…
—> [Dalí and Edward James] also collaborated on two of the most enduring icons of the Surrealist movement: the Lobster Telephone and the Mae West Lips Sofa.
—>[After 1939], some surrealists henceforth spoke of Dalí in the past tense, as if he were dead.
—>After Gala’s death, Dalí lost much of his will to live. He deliberately dehydrated himself, possibly as a suicide attempt, with claims stating he had tried to put himself into a state of suspended animation as he had read that some microorganisms could do. He moved from Figueres to the castle in Púbol, which he had bought for Gala and had been the site of her death.
—>Improvisation on a Sunday Afternoon, [a] television collaboration with the British progressive rock group Nirvana.
—>As a result [of him signing blank canvases that others painted later], art dealers tend to be wary of late works attributed to Dalí.
—>The entertainer Cher and her husband Sonny Bono, when young, came to a party at Dalí’s expensive residence in New York’s Plaza Hotel and were startled when Cher sat down on an oddly shaped sexual vibrator left in an easy chair.
—>His copious writings freely mixed words from different languages with terms entirely of his own devising.
—>When signing autographs for fans, Dalí would always keep their pens.
—>During another television appearance, on The Tonight Show, Dalí carried with him a leather rhinoceros and refused to sit upon anything else.
I can barely even upload to Tumblr because apparently my browser is too old. (It’s Mosaic. (Not really.)) But anyway, I just started a new tumblr to work through my love-hate relationship with overly complex network diagrams. It’s called fuckmaybenetworkdiagrams, and I can’t link to it because Mosaic, or whatever. So yeah.
Turing Tests have always struck me as ridiculous, but the joke is getting better now that AIs can pass them. Eugene Goostman has beaten a rather low-bar Turing Test by claiming it was a 13-year-old Ukranian kid with a limited grasp of English.
We can now expect the robot apocalypse, viz:
July, 2014 - Racter comes back out of retirement to beat a Turing Test in the “deranged poet who just drank up all the brake fluid” category.
October, 2014 - J.J. “Grumpy” Wallace beats a Turing Test by not showing up at all, cause who is this Turing feller anyhow?
January, 2015 - A special-ops robot passes a Turing Test by refusing to say anything except its name, rank, and serial number.
March, 2015 - BrV1 and BrV2 fail to respond to any questions on the test, but do convert the judges to Mormonism.
I had a pretty awesome day. I did everything on my to-do list, which never happens.
Most of all, maybe, I finished the first draft of the deep core network for Sphinx. Only a couple of you know what that means—I’ll be more forthcoming later—but as Carl Arbogast once said: “That wasn’t easy what I just did!”
The best burn I can remember (of myself) was about nine million years ago. I was hiking in the Andes with my friends Benj and Dylan, and I had been tunelessly humming and singing chain songs with shitty made-up lyrics for two or three days, quite unconsciously. No one had complained out loud.
Suddenly, it all hits me, and I said to Dylan: “Hey! I know what my problem is! If anyone says a three-syllable word, I start singing the theme song from Gummi Bears, and if anyone says a four-syllable word, I start singing Oklahoma.”
Very patiently, Dylan looks at me, and he says: “Ethan, that may be _one_ of your problems, but that is not ‘your problem’.”
Justin Bieber has now caused an international controversy by visiting the Yasukuni Shrine, seen by Korea and Japan as an homage to war criminals. This after managing to trample on the Argentine flag, cussing out Bill Clinton while peeing in a mop bucket, and pissing off Indonesia, Brazil, Florida, and everyone who’s ever heard of Anne Frank. If he were doing it on purpose, he would be the most punk rock dude ever to walk the face of the earth. But no.
Talking to Zoe about the stabbing in Pittsburgh today, and she mentioned that there was an earlier stabbing spree last year at a Target (3 people). Just noting this for later, as mass stabbings are pretty rare (and often considered one of the highest-emotional-threshhold forms of murder).
So we had this huge rutabaga. Much discussion of what to do with it. Looking up of recipes…despite having about 800 pounds of cookbooks, we drew a blank and had to hit the internet. Made rutabaga oven fries. Watched a video on Youtube about rutabagas. Talked about Sandburg’s book Rutabaga Stories. Talked about how to pronounce rutabaga. Looked it up. Ate rutabaga fries with paprika and rosemary. Cajoled Jonathan into almost trying some. Shared them with extended family. Etc.
At about three AM, Susannah wakes up like she’s seen a ghost and says: “that was a kohlrabi.”
I am solidly impressed by the things that can clog my sink. Like, if you gave me a peanut and some little onion chunks and said: “Make these into a watertight seal”, no way. But my sink knows how to do that.
A lot of people have said that they preferred band X’s “early stuff”. But because of math, somewhere out there in the world is the guy who said that _soonest_…perhaps only a few hours after band X’s debut in a Newark dive bar.
I don’t really object to a pickle if I see it coming, but when I get in the car with a sandwich and I unwrap it and BAM there’s a surprise pickle, I don’t know how to handle that, because I don’t want to throw it out the window and get ticketed for littering, but if it stays in the car the whole car winds up with pickle smell and so basically the only thing I can do is eat it, and it feels like I’m being ambushed into eating the pickle.
Way back when the dude I reblogged this from was in kindergarten, we used to sing this at parties. From a paper print-out, like we were caroling, with someone playing along on guitar. Until today, I’d never heard the original…
I have spent the last few weeks looking mournfully at the weather reports and hoping it would start trending warmer. Now I have an igloo, I am looking mournfully at the weather reports hoping it stays cold.
Conclusion: should have built the igloo a month ago.