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Mark’s Neologisms #2

February 5, 2015 by 6 Comments

“Never trust a computer you can’t throw out the window.”–Steve Wozniak

computus interruptus— n. the spontaneous unwanted shutdown of a program or app on a computer, tablet or smart phone.

 

 

computus interuptus

We’ve all been there.   You’re just about done with the spread sheet, or you just found the eatery you want on Yelp, or you are on the verge of a record score on some dumb game.  And then you click or tap or swipe and the program or app shuts down.  Poof.  It’s gone.  Dear Mr. Hawking, please tell us which black hole it fell into and how do we get it back?  Or do we do the Wozniakian thing and throw the device out the window?  Oh look, I just created another neologism.  Wozniakian.  Isn’t this fun?

 

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New Feature: Mark’s Neologisms

February 2, 2015 by 7 Comments

” I can’t wait to go home and wash all those socks.”–Julianne Moore

Let’s face it:  daily life in the new millennium is full of any number of experiences that, well, there is just no word or words to describe.    Enter Mr. World’s Most Cluttered Mind to come to the rescue.  Herein lies the ultimate descriptionary for everything you wanted to curse out but had no easy descriptive way to do so.  We’ll start, though, with a low tech dilemma, rooted in the 20th century.

Dysoxia–n.  The anxiety caused by inability to match socks when they come out of the wash.

Somebody is not following directions.

Somebody is not following directions.  (Cartoon attribution unknown)

We’ve all experienced it.   You get to the end of folding a basket of clean clothes, and there they are:  two socks that don’t match.  Even worse, maybe there is an odd number of socks left with no matches.  Three. Five. (1083)+1.**    There are any number of theories to explain this phenomenon.   The socks are alien beings, and the missing one has reported back to its home planet.  Socks are the larval form of wire hangers.  A more scientific approach is my theory of frequent wash color drift:  as socks get washed over and over, the color of each sock fades at different rates over time.   This causes subtle mismatches which, when compounded by folding several pairs,  may leave you with two socks at the end that are far apart in hue.   How does this explain being left with an odd sock at the end?  My guess is somewhere one sock disintegrated and its remains will be found in the lint drawer.

Please feel free to share your theories, and to suggest subjects for future editions of Mark’s Neologisms.  Oh, and my advice to Ms. Moore?  You’re a rich movie star.  Don’t ever wash socks,  you can afford to wear them once and throw them away.

** In case you were wondering how many socks (1083)+1 is–it is probably enough to fill the entire visible universe.  And none of them would match.

 

 

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Cosmic Quote #50

January 16, 2015 by 3 Comments

“Everything that happens to me is very cosmic.”–Tommy Chong

 

Tommy Chong. Cosmic is as cosmic does.

Tommy Chong. Cosmic is as cosmic does.

Um..um…yeah!! (Duh).  It’s pretty obvious why his experiences are so “cosmic.”  And how often do I get to run a Cosmic Quote that actually has the word cosmic in it?

Stay cosmic, my friends.

 

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Cosmic Quote #13 (redux)

December 24, 2014 by 2 Comments

“The main reason Santa is jolly is he knows where all the bad girls live.”–George Carlin

Hmmm.I Wonder what he's looking for...(www.savagechickens.com, click for link)

Hmmm.I Wonder what he’s looking for…(www.savagechickens.com, click for link)

I knew there was a reason I was jealous of the guy.  I also now know what he is doing the other 364 days while the elves are making all the toys.  At any rate, this non-theistic, almost-atheist existentialist wishes you a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Season’s Greetings, happy pagan winter solstice, or whatever it is you celebrate.

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Google This! Search Term Haiku #5

September 16, 2014 by 11 Comments

“If it isn’t on Google, it doesn’t exist.”–Jimmy Wales

 Not that it has anything to do with this post, but I have to start with something:  reading the above quote, it also occurs to me that if something is ON Google, it exists whether it wants to or not.  

OK, now down to business with another rousing rendition of Search Term Haiku, the game that asks the question, does anybody have a life?  Me? My readers? The anonymous boobs who type this drivel into search engines?

To review how this works:

  1. Every phrase must come from actual search terms that yield this blog in the results, per my WordPress stats page or Google Webmaster Tools page.
  2. The poems must follow the accepted Anglicized format of the traditional Japanese art form: three lines of 5, 7 and 5 syllables respectively.
  3. Each line must be comprised of actual search term phrases, verbatim.  The only changes allowed are punctuation and truncation and capitalization.
  4. Words may not be changed or rearranged. Typos and misspellings must not be corrected.
  5. Phrases may be combined or extended to multiple lines, as long as the previous four conditions are met.

I should point out that the use of terms from Google Webmaster tools is a new feature for episode #5,  made necessary by the fact that Google just doesn’t report many search terms to WordPress anymore.  Or to anybody else for that matter.  But webmaster tools reports oodles (meaning hundreds) of search terms in which a page turns up in, even if not clicked on, so I get to use those.  Whatever.  I don’t explain Google, I just make fun of the boobs who type dumb things into it.

So here goes nothing.

.

Cyber-stealth

On the internet

nobody knows you’re a horse

a goat and a pig.

.

Allez France

Blague sur le tennis

Pepe Le Pew girl cat name

Cest nes pas un pipe

.

Ewww

Wank definition:

Osi Umeniora poop

guy has sex with snake.

.

Voice Recognition

Letrate** sentences

paraprosdokian quotes

Siri for dummies

.

Brainiac

Explain like I’m 5.

Please register or login

Tyson I.Q. score

**Sic

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Ova, Ova, Ova: Funny names in the 2014 U.S. Open

September 2, 2014 by Leave a Comment

As luck would have it, my second annual sojourn to the U.S. Open Tennis Championships just happens to fall on the same day as my monthly guest post on The Blog of Funny Names.  This post appears there simultaneously; don’t say I didn’t warn you.

“It’s true I always try to be as seductive as possible, but I wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t play tennis.”–Anna Kournikova

Kournakova. Yes, she also plays tennis.

Kournakova. Yes, she also plays tennis.

Rybarikova…Rodionova…Cepelova…Strycova…Pronkova…to the uninitiated these names may sound like they came straight from the roster of the Moscow Ballet.   In fact, they are just a handful of the 21 players whose last names end in “ova” in the Women’s singles main draw at the U.S. Open Tennis Championships now into the second week of play.   It seems that eastern European women would rather play tennis than dance–and why not? There is certainly more money in hitting those little yellow balls around.

So what about the men?  C’mon, now, you know better.  Men don’t have ova.   No, really.  There is not a single “ova” name in the men’s singles draw.    So where are all the Eastern European men whose surnames end in “ova?”  Hmm.  Maybe we should check the roster of the Moscow Ballet.

On the subject of the above quoted Anna Kournikova, it should be noted that the reigning USTA junior girls champion,  15-year-old American CiCi Bellis became the youngest woman to win a main draw singles match at the US Open since Kournakova in 1996.     And whom did Bellis beat?  Why Dominka Cibulkova, of course.

As for those of the “Y” chromosome persuasion, it seems the Eastern Europeans also contribute, with notable names including Czechs Blaz Kavil and Jiri Vesely and Slavakian Luckas Lacko.  All three were all somewhat lacko, though, and got knocked out in the early rounds, as did  Fecundo Bagnis, who just might be Bilbo Baggins’s Argentinian cousin.

Batten down the hatches, there's a Tornado coming.

Batten down the hatches, there’s a Tornado coming.

In the juniors,  the best name is a holdover from last year’s girl’s finals.  That would be Tornado Black.  What makes her name even more awesome is that her younger sister, Hurricane Black,  should be along to join her in a couple of years.  Who could ever hope to beat a doubles team named Tornado and Hurricane?

We can’t leave out the boy’s junior draw, where promising up and coming names winning first round matches included Korean Duckhee Lee and Americans Usue Maitane Arconada and Taylor Harry Fritz.  That last one is worthy of some discussion.  We’ve at times made comments about people who have two first names (like the eponymous Tommy John) and two last names (think Harrison Ford).  But in this case, we are looking at last name first and first name last.  Or for that matter,  maybe it’s inside out.  Taylor Harry Fritz?   Harry Fritz Taylor?  Fritz Taylor Harry?   No matter, as long as he wins.

I’ll actually be at the Open today…I’ll report in through the comments if I see any other newsworthy names anywhere else.   Anywhere.   Chair umpires, beer vendors, washroom attendants.  Don’t ever assume that I have a life.

Cheers 🙂

Filed Under: Ridiculous AND Sublime, The Blog of Funny Names Tagged With: , , , , , , , , ,
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Cosmic Quote(s) #41

July 31, 2014 by 5 Comments

“You’re on earth.  There’s no cure for that.”–Samuel Beckett

“We’ve got to reinvest in space travel.  We should have never left the moon.”–Ray Bradbury

“To the moon, Alice!”–Jackie Gleason as Ralph Kramden on “The Honeymooners”

attribution unknown

Samuel Beckett  clearly never spoke to the cow.  Ray Bradbury should have.  Jackie Gleason obviously did.

(illustration attribution unknown)

 

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Time Way Out: The Jug Handle State

July 15, 2014 by 8 Comments

“I believe that there’s an intelligence to the universe, with the exception of certain parts of New Jersey.”–Woody Allen

This is a summer rerun.   It’s not that I’m lazy, it’s that I’m in the midst of three days stuck in the so called “Garden State” on business, and I thought, “why shouldn’t I share the pain?”

The unintelligent part of Jersey.

The unintelligent part of Jersey.

I have spent the lion’s share of my adult life working in the pharmaceutical industry.   To be precise, I sell goods and services to pharmaceutical companies.  This is a difficult profession, for it entails enduring one of the most hair raising trials-by-fire in any known line of of work.

I have to drive in New Jersey. 

Unfortunately, due to the high concentration of  pharma companies in the so-called Garden State, I have to drive there often.  At least, I try to.  I sometimes think it would be easier to run in quicksand.  It has taken me 15 minutes, on one occasion, just to cross the street.  I have been 20 minutes late in getting to a location less than a mile away–not because there was a lot of traffic–but because I was pointed the wrong way on Route 22 and the nearest jug handle turnaround was three miles and seven traffic lights in the wrong direction.

It all started away back in the mid-1980’s.  I was driving for the first time to Sandoz in East Hanover.  As I approached my target on Route 10 from the west, there majestically high on hill to my right towered a high-rise with large block letters S-A-N-D-O-Z emblazoned across the top floor.  Brilliant!  I found it and I was on time.  I drove past an intersection, turned right into a parking lot and pulled up to a security gate to register for my sales appointment.

“Sorry sir, this is the service entrance, you need to go to the visitors center at the main gate.”

“Huh? Where’s that?”

The guard pointed to the intersection that I had just passed.  No problem, I was 10 minutes early for my appointment.   All I needed to do was pull out of the security area and turn left.  There was just one problem.  Between me and the traffic going in the other direction was something that looked like the Berlin Wall–complete with barbed wire and machine gun turrets.  It was then that I learned about jug handle turns.  You see, New Jersey has it’s own laws of physics.  In New Jersey, you have to turn right to turn left.  Understanding quantum mechanics is easy compared to understanding traffic patterns in New Jersey.

So I continued in the wrong direction on route 10 until I came to the first jug handle turn; I think this was somewhere near Bangor, Maine.  I came back to the original intersection I had missed, only to find there was no left turn allowed there, either.  This required me to go to the next jug handle, just outside of Allentown, PA.  Needless to say, I was late for my appointment.

It all boils down to this.  Other states have freeways, expressways and thruways; in New Jersey they have no-ways. Once you get on, there is no way to get off.  You have to drive to Delaware to turn around.**    There is one good thing about all of this, though. Here where I live in Connecticut, all the country roads in the woods can be confusing, particularly at night.  In a strange area it is easy to drive around in circles if you don’t have a GPS.   But in New Jersey, you don’t need a GPS to know you have gone wrong.  When you miss your turn in Jersey your whole life starts passing in front of you.   By now I have lived more lives than a cat.

**This literally did happen to me once, though it was actually in southeastern Pennsylvania, which has obviously been mapped out by the same civil engineers that designed New Jersey.  I was on a limited access connecting road and missed my exit.  In order to turn around, I had to drive six miles to the end of the connector–which was in Delaware!

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Cosmic Quote #39

July 9, 2014 by 3 Comments

“If god had meant us to play soccer, he wouldn’t have given us arms.”–Mike Ditka

www.cartonstock.com used by permission

http://www.cartonstock.com used by permission

If god had meant us to spend this much time online, we would have been born with a modem.   Personally, soccer sort of bores me.  I can’t wait for the world cup to be over so I can go back to being bored watching baseball, tennis and golf.

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Timeout: Hayden Siddhartha Finch and Joe Shlabotnik

July 1, 2014 by 2 Comments

This post also appears today under a different name on The Blog of Funny Names

 “It’s no wonder that truth is stranger than fiction.  Fiction has to make sense.”–Mark Twain

With Minor League Baseball’s annual Moniker Madness competition just a few weeks away,  what better time to investigate and recount the stories of two of the most curious names in baseball history?   Not only are the names unusual, but the stories more so, because neither of them ever actually existed.

Sidd Finch. He looks cuter with the French Horn.

Sidd Finch. He looks cuter with the French Horn.

Hayden Siddhartha “Sidd” Finch (Born and Died, April 1, 1985)  is to baseball what Piltdown Man is to anthropology–the most famous hoax ever recorded.  Concocted by iconic sports author George Plimpton as an April Fools day prank for the April, 1, 1985 issue of Sports Illustrated,  Finch was touted as a super rookie pitcher with the New York Mets.  According to the incredible story–a bit too incredible to get many people to believe it–Finch grew up in an orphanage in Tibet where he learned meditation, yoga and to play the French horn.   Supposedly he had never played baseball before his tryout in Mets spring camp that year but could pitch the ball an astounding 168mph without warming up and while wearing only one shoe with the other foot bare.   It was reported that he was still undecided between a career as a professional baseball player or professional  French horn player. I remember this story vividly, because one of my best friends called me and urged me to get a copy of Sports Illustrated and read the story.   The company I worked for at the time had front season box seats at Shea Stadium for the Mets;  my friend thought I would fall for the story and get really psyched to get a good close up look at this guy.  It didn’t work; I  was not buying it.   From the beginning, something didn’t seem right.  The pictures didn’t feel genuine; they appeared staged.  Then I got to the 168 mph fastball.  I’m an ex-sportscaster and major baseball aficionado–I stopped right there.  The fastest

See what I mean?

See what I mean?

pitch ever officially recorded at that time was 103mph (since surpassed by current Cincinnati Reds pitcher Aroldis Chapman at 105 mph).  I don’t care if the guy had a Howitzer for a right arm, there is no way any human being was going to pitch near that fast.  I turned the front page, looked at the issue date, and said “April Fools.” Ironically, that 1985 Mets team had no need of a Sidd Finch.   Their real super rookie pitcher, Dwight Gooden, had won NL Rookie of the Year award the previous season.  He proceeded to win the NL Cy Young award in 1985 and helped lead the Mets to their best season in history in 1986: 108 wins and a World Series championship.  The only sad thing about this story?  The current Mets probably couldn’t win with five Sidd Finches.

Good 'ol Charlie Brown

Good ‘ol Charlie Brown

Joe Shlabotnik (b.??-d??) was the favorite player of the most famous fictional baseball fan in the history of the universe:  Charlie Brown.  Joe Shlabotnik, in the “Peanuts” world, was to CharlieBrownFootballbaseball, as that infamous failed place kick was to football.  It was Lucy’s ultimate diss of Charlie.  Though Joe was a marginal player who spent most of his time in the minors, Charlie pined for his baseball card but could never get it.  On one occasion in the early 1960’s he squandered $5.00 on 500 penny packs of cards, and did not get one single Joe Shlabotnik.  Lucy then bought one pack, got a Shlabotnik but refused to trade it to Charlie Brown, even for the offer of all those hundreds of penny packs.  Charlie walked away in disgust, and Lucy proceeded to throw Joe in the trash.  “He’s not as cute as I thought,” she opined. With names like Zealous Wheeler, Jose Jose, and 2013 winner Sicnarf Loopstok, we’ve often commented that Minor League Baseball’s Moniker Madness has names that you couldn’t possibly make up.  Well, maybe, but George Plimpton and Charles Schulz might have had something to say about that.

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