Friday, November 20, 2009

On Grammar Nazis.

While reading Jeff Cooper's Commentaries, I come across this gem:

"I find it curious that various people find time to write me to the effect that popularity equates to rectitude. This has to do with my expressed annoyance of the barbarism of using the word 'decimate' to signify 'devastate.' It seems to me essentially presumptuous to publish a lexicon in the first place, and, of course, we find that lexicographers disagree amongst themselves. The notion that if enough people do things wrong that will make a wrong into a right is essentially immoral. To say that a good many people use the word decimate incorrectly, and that therefore it is all right, is to justify such other phenomena as lying, infidelity, and public indecency. A decimal is a decimal. See 'decimal point.'"


Heh. "Evolution of language," Mother Theresa's ineffable left tit. The same applies to grammar.

Thursday, November 12, 2009

It's Uncanny.

People have been wondering about Subcommandante Marcos' identity for more than a decade now. In a flash of brilliance, I realized that I had seen at least one of those distinguishing characteristics somewhere...


Yes, don't deny it.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

On Lagunitas A Little Sumpin' Extra! Ale.

Safeway's selection of inebriates is underwhelming, to say the least.  About the only local color present were Lagunitas IPA and another selection, the Little Sumpin' Extra! Ale.  Because I've yet to drink a Lagunitas that is less than exceptional, and I had already drunk about three cases of their IPA this year,  the choice made itself.

Short verdict: Why are you still reading this?  You should have your keys in hand, headed to the local Inebriation Bazaar.

Long version:

An approximation of Little Sumpin' Extra! would be:

2 parts Lagunitas Maximus IPA.

1 part Darjeeling tea, brewed triple strong, so your teeth feel like they've grown a layer of shag carpet.

1 part lemon juice.

The phrase "wall of flavor" describes this sort of beer perfectly.  In fact, anything with less body and kick (which means just about everything but Arrogant Bastard) tastes like making love in a canoe.

Monday, November 9, 2009

On Undead.

I saw Undead last night. I suppose I could write out a synopsis and full review, but there are only two things you really need to know about this film.

1. There is a triple quadruple pump-action shotgun.* (As seen on the poster.)

2. A fisherman punches a zombie trout in the face, then shoots it with a 1911.

Is it actually a good movie? I was somewhat consistently entertained for 106 minutes. There is a noticeable absence of things that high-falutin' critics like (such as, for instance, characterization), and the brisk pace almost covers up the lack of coherent progression. There isn't consistently funny enough to file it next to, say, Bad Taste on the ANZAC horror-comedy shelf, but the tongue stays firmly in the cheek the whole time.

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* That seems to be made out of Mosin-Nagant and SMLE parts, but never mind.