Big Bad World One

Meet Goat Dog

The Mysteries Of Bread

The Laundry Monster

A Few Words About Florida

Date Movie

Sitcom Trivia

The Nocebo Effect

Goregrind

John Lasseter

Tractor Beam

Kilroy was here

Wordplay

Cursive

Raining Animals

Exploding Whale

Fall Out Boy

Human Billboard

George Stroumboulopoulos

Soramimi Kashi

W

Ambigram

Sarah Vowell

Godwin's Law

George P. Burdell

Helicopter Parent

Tomcat & Bobcat

2000s

Terry Gross

Mr. Bean

World Domination

The Ann Coulter Decade

Remember the "Al Franken Decade"?

It was Franken's way of lampooning the self-absorbed attitudes of the 1970s by declaring the 1980s to be his and his alone: "For me, Al Franken, the '80s will be pretty much the same as the '70s. I'll still be thinking of me, Al Franken. But for you, you'll be thinking more about how things affect me, Al Franken."

It was meant as biting satire, of course. But in reality, Franken was providing a basic template for all future human endeavors.

"Look at me; I'm unique and attractive!"

"Listen to me; I'm the host of a nationally-syndicated talk-format radio program!"

"Read my blog; I just got a nasty paper cut!"

It's pretty clear that Stephen Colbert has embraced the self-centered ethos of the "Al Franken Decade" for his own comedic purposes. In some ways, though, he has it much tougher than Franken; When something has thoroughly woven its way through the fiber of our being, are we still able to recognize it in ourselves - and laugh? (Since Colbert seems to riding a wave, maybe we DO get the joke. Let's hope so.)

Anyway, after the current "Ann Coulter Decade" wraps up, I'm sure we'll be able to look back with a more enlightened mindset.

Or, wait - is this the "Paris Hilton Decade"?

Or the "Anderson Cooper Century"?

Or the "Rachael Ray Millennium"?

Cashew Guilt

I can't begin to understand how the marketing of cashew nuts can be profitable.

They require special handling, their shells are filled with a caustic liquid and, most confusing of all, each cashew nut comes with the excess baggage of a piggybacking cashew apple.

My 99-cent bag of whole cashews from Walgreen's contains 50 nuts, more or less. If a bushel basket holds roughly 100 medium-sized apples, that means it's necessary to harvest and process the equivalent of a half-bushel of cashew apples to account for my measly snack-food purchase.

How does that work, economically? Do the cashew farmers earn two bucks a week? Seems like a lot of bother to go through just to keep cashews on the shelf at Walgreen's, if you ask me.

Figure in the discomforting knowledge of caustic liquids and painful skin rashes, and the pleasure of eating a handful of cashew nuts suddenly feels, well, wrong.

I've never felt morally conflicted about a pretzel.

Take Out The Trash

John and John of "They Might Be Giants" just keep coming up with sonic surprises.

Everyone who knows and loves their work from years past ("Birdhouse in Your Soul," "Don't Let's Start," "They'll Need a Crane," etc., etc.) already understands their unique way of mixing unbelievably catchy melodies with darkly quirky or otherwise-unexpectedly-twisted words.

The lyrics for their new song, "Take Out the Trash," are about as straightforward as they get - but with their distinctive twists throughout. (It's going to work perfectly whenever some enlightened country performer decides to cover the song - and it's an instant TMBG classic in its own right.)

Check out a few of the lyrics, and I think you'll see what I mean:

Girl! Why not take out the trash?
And once you get him out, tell him not to come back again
Girl! Put that cat in the bin
After what he said, after everything he did

You had him figured out a while ago
And I know it's not exactly breaking news
But it's all been a little like a trial for you
And a bunch more talking won't make him true

(So, who's going to jump on this first - Miranda Lambert or The Dixie Chicks?)

My Headless Chicken Memories

Every month or so when I was a kid, we would visit my grandparents on their farm. That was pretty much the extent of my experience with rural living.

I wasn't expected to do any chores, but occasionally I would volunteer to throw corn cobs to the pigs. (AT the pigs, really, if no one was looking; They were such inviting targets, and they squealed like crazy if you landed a good one.)

Like most of the other grandkids, I thought of the farm primarily as a playground - a stinky, dangerous playground. Where else, in the course of a simple game of hide-and-seek, could we encounter barbed wire, pitchforks, heavy machinery AND crusty green cowpies?

One of my clearest farm-related memories involves a headless chicken.

I must have been fairly young. I was out behind the farmhouse with my grandfather, who was carrying a live chicken by its neck. With no warning, he held it firmly on a block of wood and took off its head with one whack of a hatchet. The bird's winds flapped wildly as my grandfather let it loose to run in frantic, frightening loops for ten or fifteen seconds before collapsing.

I don't remember what we had for dinner that night.

Hodgmania!

When choosing topics for these comics, I have found that I am especially interested in the distortion of reality - something that seems true but isn't, or vice versa.

John Hodgman is a modern master in the art of subverting expectations. In his TV appearances, he appears low-key and deadpan, with just the faintest hint of a muscle-twitch smile, as he matter-of-factly discusses furry lobsters and failed hobo rebellions. (Amazingly, the Hodgman half-smile finds its way into his writing, as well.)

Woe to the unattuned populace, should Hodgman ever elect to use his quietly persuasive powers for the purposes of evil.

[Editor's note: The preceding text was converted from standard English (aka "vulgar English") to Hodgmanese using the only surviving Schleiermacher3000 machine-translation prototype (circa 1895), from the permanent collection of the Smithsonian Institution.]

Floor Candy And Carpet Cookies

In 2003, Jillian Clarke made her mark in the field of food sciences.

The Chicago-area high school student, who was participating in a summer apprenticeship program at the University of Illinois, conducted a research study on the validity of the Five-Second Rule: "If food falls to the floor but is picked up before five seconds have passed, it's safe to eat it."

Although Clarke's scientific findings were noteworthy, her research tells us nearly as much about the quirkiness of human behavior.

Of those surveyed, Clarke found that more than half of the men and two-thirds of the women were familiar with the rule, and most of them referred to it when deciding whether to eat dropped food.

Women, it seems, are more likely than men to eat food from the floor - and sweets such as candy and cookies are much more likely to be retrieved and eaten than cauliflower or broccoli.

(My own anecdotal studies indicate that 99.99% of floor candies and carpet cookies are dropped accidentally, while precisely the same percentage of vegetables hit the deck intentionally.)

Exacting Change

In today's business climate, it seems that the phrase "tried and true" may need to be drastically revamped, to avoid complete irrelevance.

How's this?: "Tried and true last Tuesday."

Or does that sound too lackadaisical, in light of the volatile nature of our fast-paced world?

What about?: "Briefly considered before lunch."

Anyone who still expects an existing business model to stay the same for any measurable span of time might as well paint a bull's-eye on his or her swivel chair. The innovators are out there, and they're itching to change the game - whether we like it or not.

I'm certainly no expert in these matters, but it's hard to miss the fact that "the status quo" has become little more than a roadside fruit stand in the rear-view mirror of commerce.

Experts in the study of "disruptive technology" - such as Professor Clayton Christensen of Harvard Business School, who coined the term - can explain the whys and wherefores. But don't worry if you can't understand all their talk of "organic semiconductors" and "nanoparticle suspension."

When Daniel Gamota of Motorola writes about a printing process that uses electroactive inks to produce organic field-effect transistors, this is all you really need to know: The new technology may be used to create instantly updateable newspapers or animated product packaging.

A culture-altering innovation or a gimmicky novelty act? Only time will tell. But it's hard to dismiss Gamota's advice to business leaders:

"Find out what a five-year-old child wants, enter that area and start creating revenue streams."

Obenglobish Lobessobons

Now and then, I've heard kids and cartoon characters speaking Ubbi Dubbi on TV, but I've never tried to master it myself.

Most of the time, I've been able to follow along fairly easily. When the words are simple and recognizable, it seems no harder to grasp than basic Pig Latin:

"Tuboothpubaste."

"Wubet pubaint."

"Subantuba Clubaus."

But things can get tricky real quickly, as the syllables start piling up:

"Hubelubicuboptuber."

Even when I can't begin to decipher the words, I like the look and sound of Obenglobish, a similar language game. (The word "Obenglobish" itself has such an authentic feel; How can it be nothing but meaningless gibberish?)

My favorite bit of Obenglobish:

"Robomobantobic cobomobedoby."

Superstition Ain't The Way

I know someone who was born on Friday the 13th - and he always considers it to be a lucky day.

It's not that he expects great things to happen, necessarily. He just doesn't seem especially eager to inherit other people's superstitions.

I've never been a superstitious person, either. If 17 million people believe something - ANYTHING - I'm inclined to assume it's a farce or a sham, if not an actual stinking load.

In fact, I used to consider it a sign of intellectual laziness when I'd see people buying into superstitions, urban myths, conspiracy theories and the like. Lately, though, I've decided the problem is mine, not theirs: I'm simply unable to muster the energy that's required to maintain a belief system that would support a vibrant superstitious lifestyle.

(Isn't that just like a Libra?)

Calvinist And Hobbesian

Bill Watterson could have plucked names from the phone book, but instead he gave us Calvin and Hobbes - an indelible comic-strip duo named for a couple of serious "big thinkers" from centuries past.

And a brainy bit of pop-culture trivia was born.

Loads of other well-known characters got their names from interesting sources. Their stories are scattered throughout the blogosphere - and, as everyone knows, if it's on the Web, it MUST be true!

For example, Bugs Bunny's name supposedly references gangster Bugsy Siegel (in a shortened form, to avoid the appearance of "honoring" a criminal).

Yogi Bear is an obvious nod to baseball legend Yogi Berra.

"Simpsons" creator Matt Groening named sisters Lisa and Maggie after his own sisters, and Marge and Homer after his parents. (Bart's name is an anagram for "brat.")

"Star Wars" mastermind George Lucas slyly represented himself when he named Luke Skywalker. (Think: "Luke S.")

And Bert and Ernie from "Sesame Street" were named after Bert the cop and Ernie the taxi driver from the classic Frank Capra film "It's a Wonderful Life." (Unless they weren't; Arguments for and against this connection are equally insistent.)

Cat Defies Gravity!

I've always been interested in paradoxes.

Here's an old chestnut: "This sentence is false." (If it really is false, then it must be true. But if it's true, it must be false - meaning, of course, that it's true.)

And then there's this paraphrased quote from the German philosopher Hegel: "We learn from history that we learn nothing from history." (That one's a little too scary to think about, considering the current state of the world.)

During junior high school, I was determined to devise a workable "perpetual motion machine." Never mind that a number of great thinkers already had covered that particular ground. Success would be mine!

I'm just glad I never heard about the "buttered cat paradox" when I was young enough to think it actually had some scientific merit. I might have devoted precious hours to pondering the concept - instead of spending my time on more productive activities, like lining up rolls of caps on the sidewalk and smacking them with a hammer.

Hodag Country

I've only been to Rhinelander once, years ago - but as a native Wisconsinite, I knew a few vague tidbits about the legend of the hodag.

It wasn't until I read Wikipedia's entry about the hodag that I learned there were different types, several of which were rumored to roam the hills of southwestern Wisconsin, where I grew up.

Although a fair number of loopy tales had found their way into the regional lore, I can't recall hearing a single thing about hodags. Prairie dogs, yes - but not hodags.

Somehow, the name of my hometown, Prairie du Chien, was sufficiently twisted by non-French-speaking residents to result in a widespread belief that the area once had been overrun by prairie dogs. So, where did they all disappear to, I always wondered ...

Maybe the hodags chased them off.

My Favorite Stooge

Although I spent a big chunk of my childhood watching Shemp and his fellow Stooges, I never really identified a favorite.

The topic surely must have come up. After all, I remember having discussions about favorite Beatles (mine was Paul), favorite Monkees (Mike) and favorite Darrins from "Bewitched" (Dick York, of course).

Then again, maybe The Three Stooges remained somehow immune from that sort of pre-adolescent analysis, since Curly always seemed to be such a strong "default favorite." Proclaiming that you liked Larry better than Curly would have raised more eyebrows than saying you found Lovey Howell more enticing than either Mary Ann or Ginger.

So, after all these years - at the risk of alienating the male population as a whole - it's time to make a choice: Who was my favorite Stooge?

Thinking back, most of my fondest Stooge-related memories involve Moe. Don't misunderstand; It wasn't his nearly perpetual anger, his bullying demeanor or even his knack for slapstick violence that won me over. I liked his conceptual humor.

For example: During one of their classic short films, a linked pair of fried eggs flies through the air and lands squarely on Moe's face. Larry laughingly asks, "Hey, Moe, where'd you get the sunglasses?" Moe's reply? "I bought 'em!"

Pure genius.

Charles Lane (1905-2007)

Charles Lane was a character actor who perfectly embodied squinty, flinty, sharp-tongued American crankiness for several generations of movie and TV fans. He lived to be 102.

Lane's longevity seems especially remarkable because, when he shows up in the classic 1946 film "It's a Wonderful Life," he already looks old and crotchety. But he was just 41 - roughly the same age as Tom Hanks in "You've Got Mail" and Clint Eastwood in "Play Misty for Me."

In 2058, when Mr. Hanks is 102 himself, I suspect he might smile warmly if he catches a classic Charles Lane performance on the Telepathitron.

If he's not too busy having dinner with Clint.

Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo, etc.

How much of what we learn in school do we actually use in our adult lives?

That's a question my teenage son seems to ask once or twice a week - not looking for a serious answer, of course, but merely to vent his frustration about being expected to use brain cells for anything other than videogaming.

I can't remember the last time I needed to diagram a sentence or determine the cubic hypotenuse of a quadrilateral hexagon.

On the other hand, there's something to be said for gaining a basic understanding of the problem-solving process. I may not remember many specific lessons from Logic 101 - ("God is love. Love is blind. Therefore, Ray Charles is God.") - but that introduction to conceptual thinking has paid off on thousands of occasions.

For example, I was able to stick with the "Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo" explanation long enough to grasp its meaning. (Luckily, it didn't involve a hypotenuse.)

Saving Private Wilhelm

I've only been aware of "The Wilhelm Scream" for a couple of months, so it's impossible to say how many times I may have heard this particular sound effect, unknowingly.

But now that I'm aware of it, it seems that a week doesn't go by without another chance encounter.

Not long ago, my youngest son and I were walking through our local multiplex and heard Pvt. Wilhelm's unmistakable cry from behind the door of another theater. That's right, from BEHIND THE DOOR! (My hearing is notoriously selective, so there was something faintly Pavlovian about this experience.)

More recently, we noticed it in a trailer for the movie "Blades of Glory," in a scene where Will Ferrell and Jon Heder inadvertently set fire to a costumed mascot.

Many thanks to sound designer Ben Burtt for rescuing "The Wilhelm Scream" from obscurity. In its own unique way, it provides a sly affirmation of what makes movies so important to us.

Cartoon Physics

As every 5-year-old fan of Wile E. Coyote understands, the study of cartoon sciences is predictable and rewarding.

One of the basic Laws of Cartoon Physics states that "Everything falls faster than an anvil." This means, of course, that whenever Wile E. happens to fall off a cliff at the same moment as an anvil, he will always hit the ground first - glancing up helplessly seconds before the plummeting anvil finds his skull.

(I suspect we'd have a lot more scientists if our colleges offered advanced degrees in Anvilology.)

Much of what we know about the world comes directly from the classics of cartoon animation. Several generations of Americans now recognize the same set of visual touchstones - wildly outdated, but warmly familiar.

Fedoras. Propeller beanies. Stockings with seams. Tattoos of anchors and battleships. Parasols. Clothespins. Slingshots. Peashooters. Ball bearings. Clark Gable. Animals wearing white gloves.

All together now: "Shave and a haircut ..."

Meet The Rutles

Surely this idea already has occurred to Eric "Spamalot" Idle and Neil "the Seventh Python" Innes - but, in a year or two, when a stage musical about The Rutles is the hottest ticket on Broadway, I'll gladly claim some psychic credit.

If "Hairspray" and "The Producers" could become smash hits, why not the story of The Pre-Fab Four?

Assuming my fine-tuned powers of prediction hold true, the Rutles musical will follow hot on the heels of musician Jim Boggia's long-rumored worldwide "Rutlemania" tribute tour. (At Boggia's request, I should mention that "Rutlemania," "Rut-a-delic" and the capital letter "R" are all registered trademarks of Boggiaco Industries.)

Pet Skunk Search Engine

Fans of pet skunks seem to look at life from a whole different perspective. And, judging by what I've seen online, they all have stories to tell:

"I had a pet skunk named Pepper back in Walla Walla."

"I had a pet skunk and her name was Squirt!"

"We had a pet skunk when I was 5 - he loved to have us chase him around
the house, and my little brother used to chew on his nose."

"There are few attention-getting devices greater than a
skunk on a leash."

"If you have it tied up outside in the yard, no one will go near your
house."

"We had a pet skunk when I was a child. It hung itself in the barn. We
think it was chasing bats in the loft, jumped and didn't land right."

"I know a woman that had a pet skunk when she was little that 'died' and
my grandfather gave the skunk mouth to mouth and revived it."