Television will suck out your soul through your ears and what's left of you will be a quivering mass of brainless mush.
Or it will waste more of your time than you care to admit.
Actually, those are not mutually exclusive consequences to watching television.
Watch with care.
24 October 2009
23 October 2009
Its...
Apparently, it's a difficult concept that possessive "its" has no apostrophe. Not that that's a particularly new observation. There used to be (maybe still is) a usenet group devoted to the fact that possessive-its-has-no-apostrophe.
"It's" is a contraction. "It's" is short for "it is" or "it has" (where "has" is an auxiliary verb used with a past participle to form perfect tenses, as in "it's been good seeing you," or "it's gone"). "It's" does not mean "it owns," and while I try to be linguistically open-minded, I hope "it's" never becomes standard for possessive its.
"It's" is a contraction. "It's" is short for "it is" or "it has" (where "has" is an auxiliary verb used with a past participle to form perfect tenses, as in "it's been good seeing you," or "it's gone"). "It's" does not mean "it owns," and while I try to be linguistically open-minded, I hope "it's" never becomes standard for possessive its.
20 October 2009
Living Dangerously
Some old man ran a red light today. After he had stopped at said red light. And after traffic from both perpendicular directions had started to go through the intersection.
Some not-so-old man walked into a crosswalk against the light. There was sufficient traffic that he should not have done so.
Inexplicably, no one was injured. Or murdered.
Some not-so-old man walked into a crosswalk against the light. There was sufficient traffic that he should not have done so.
Inexplicably, no one was injured. Or murdered.
14 October 2009
Judy Is a Punk
I love the song. Truly, madly, deeply, love the song. Well, maybe not madly or deeply, but definitely truly.
But my name is not Judy. (My desire for a certain level of privacy prevents me from revealing my real name. Not that my real name matters.) I did once wish that my parents had called me Judy, because in those days, I wanted Judy Jetson's hair.
The song is a better reason to want the name.
(My apologies to anyone whose brain exploded at the juxtaposition of Judy Jetson with the Ramones, but that's what you get for reading this blog.)
But my name is not Judy. (My desire for a certain level of privacy prevents me from revealing my real name. Not that my real name matters.) I did once wish that my parents had called me Judy, because in those days, I wanted Judy Jetson's hair.
The song is a better reason to want the name.
(My apologies to anyone whose brain exploded at the juxtaposition of Judy Jetson with the Ramones, but that's what you get for reading this blog.)
12 October 2009
Useless, useless, useless...
Of all the useless information I could possibly post, perhaps the most useless is that I'm not dead. (I mean, it's not useless to me, but generally speaking, most people in the world never even knew I was alive.)
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