A Random Wednesday Conversation Starter

This question came up over on the FSM boards, and I actually found it interesting, so I’ll post it here.

You buy a CD. Some time later, it doesn’t matter how long, you rip the CD to your computer’s hard drive for your own personal use, either to burn a new copy to use in the car or to put on your MP3 player or to listen using your computer speakers or whatever. Some time after that, for whatever reason, you decide to sell the original CD.

Should you then delete the ripped music files from your computer?

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Openly Judging You

This (.pdf warning) may be the greatest judicial ruling ever written. Or maybe not. I’d have to read others by this same fellow to be sure. It’s the final ruling in a divorce case that has apparently been extremely acrimonious, and the judge’s response (the Hon. J.W. Quinn, of St. Catherines, ON — just about a 35 minute drive from Casa Jaquandor, depending on the border crossings!), in the end, is to fill his ruling with lots of dry wit. The very first sentence is “Paging Dr. Freud. Paging Dr. Freud.” And check out the bits during a section wherein he details the various death threats made against the husband by the wife and her family.

:: After noting that Larry (the husband) has provided evidence that Catherine (the wife) tried to run over him with the family van, the judge notes in a footnote: “This is always a telltale sign that a husband and wife are drifting apart.”

:: When noting a threat that Larry would “end up floating in the canal dead”, the judge notes this by saying, “A nautical theme was added.”

:: He closes this section thusly: “As can be seen, Catherine and her relatives are one-dimensional problem solvers.”

Read through this thing. It is terrific!

(The title of this post is a shout-out to a Twitter- and Tumblr-mate of mine who goes by the handle “Silently Judging You”. Greetings, SJY, if you read this!)

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The Beatles Song of the Week: “Octopus’s Garden”

Well, I couldn’t have picked a worse title for this series of posts if I tried, huh? “Beatles Song of the Week”? Yeah, if we redefine “week” to mean “some indeterminate period of time that bears no relationship to a seven day span”. But anyway, about “Octopus’s Garden”. I can’t get enough of this song. It just tickles my hippie heart, in a big way.

At first hearing, “Octopus’s Garden” sounds like a harmless bit of bubblegum fluff, and at its most basic level, that’s pretty much what it is. Sandwiched on the Abbey Road album between the swelteringly sexy “Oh! Darling” and the grinding blues styling of “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)”, we find this happy song with its infectious beat, its guitar riffs that sound like pure fun, and its playful lyrics that are warm and colorful.

I’d like to be under the sea 
In an octopus’s garden in the shade 
He’d let us in, knows where we’ve been 
In his octopus’s garden in the shade 
I’d ask my friends to come and see 
In an octopus’s garden with me 
I’d like to be under the sea 
In an octopus’s garden in the shade 

We would be warm below the storm 
In our little hideaway beneath the waves 
Resting our head on the sea bed 
In an octopus’s garden near a cave 
We would sing and dance around 
because we know we can’t be found 
I’d like to be under the sea 
In an octopus’s garden in the shade 

We would shout and swim about 
The coral that lies beneath the waves 
Oh what joy for every girl and boy 
Knowing they’re happy and they’re safe 
We would be so happy you and me 
No one there to tell us what to do 
I’d like to be under the sea 
In an octopus’s garden with you 
in an octopus’s garden with you 
in an octopus’s garden with you

This is such a perfect little love song for its era, with its lyrical suggestions of an exotic realm that only the two lovers of the song can know about, a world of colors and warmth and safety. We would be warm below the storm / in our little hideaway beneath the waves makes clear that there is, in fact a storm that needs to be hidden from. And it seems to me a bit of wisdom to suggest that sometimes, in the face of a storm, the best thing to do is hole up in a little hideaway with someone you love. Someone with whom you can rest your head on the sea bed.

Musically, the song is interesting on its own. The guitar intro, punctuated twice by chords and drum hits, seems a bit mysterious at first, with a peppy sound but being played in such a way that the song’s meter and rhythm don’t become clear until the main body of the song begins. Also heard throughout the song is a tinny, saloon-style piano backing the main action, and the rest of the band (this one is sung by Ringo Starr, who also wrote it) provides appropriately cheerful backing vocals. The song’s final bars, with the final line repeated three times and the guitar answering each time before leading out in much the same way the song began, is a wonderful effect.

I mentioned above the contrast “Octopus’s Garden” makes with the two songs on either side of it on Abbey Road. This effect can’t be overstated, but then, Abbey Road is such a brilliantly assembled album of contrasts, with “Oh! Darling” leading into “Octopus’s Garden” leading into “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)” leading into “Here Comes the Sun”.

This song seems so silly, so goofy. And I can’t get enough of it.

And hey, this song was good enough to be covered by the Muppets.

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X-Files Case Report: “Eve”

“One girl was just abducted.”
“Kidnapped.”
“Potato, po-tah-to.” (Mulder and Scully)

“Eve” is one of the stronger episodes of the first season, and it’s actually a very memorable tale, only partially undone by some poor storytelling in the last act.

A shocking murder takes place in Connecticut, where a suburban father is found sitting on his daughter’s backyard swing set. His skin has gone completely white, and there are two distinctive puncture wounds in his neck. Only his daughter is there to see.

This sounds like a vampire story at first, but when learning of the case, Mulder’s initial hypothesis is alien abduction, based on blood loss that resembles that in cattle mutilation cases. Since the daughter reports having seen nothing, Mulder interprets this as a “time loss”, similar also to that of alien abduction cases. This is the direction in which things are going, when another murder takes place in San Francisco – under identical circumstances. When Mulder and Scully investigate this one, they find that this victim also has a daughter, who is identical to the daughter of the first victim.

There are a number of twists and turns in the course of this case, but it eventually turns out that the two girls are the second-generation progeny of a woman ‘created’ in secret US government eugenics experiments that took place at the beginning of the Cold War. The experiments created children with strong psychological connections to one another – and also with deep psychoses. The earlier woman – named ‘Eve’ – used her job as a fertility doctor to inseminate couples with her own created embryos, leading to the births of identical children on opposite sides of the country – but children who somehow already know of each other’s existence.

This is all very eerie and effective, until the final act, when Mulder and Scully are taking the two girls to where they can be treated or observed or some such thing. The girls are planning to kill Mulder and Scully, and their plan is to poison their soft drinks with digitalis, the same poison they had used on their own fathers. The script establishes that the poison has a very sweet flavor, so it’s maddening when Mulder and Scully both comment on how sweet their drinks taste but don’t put two and two together. Mulder figures things out, though, when he realizes he’d left his car keys on the counter of the truck stop where they’d bought their drinks. He goes back in, grabs his keys, and finds a couple drops of the poison right there on the counter. This whole scene is just awfully done. The rest of the episode is very good; I can’t believe the writers (Kenneth Biller and Christopher Brancato) couldn’t come up with a better way to have Mulder or Scully figure things out.

My only other quibble is the show’s apparent growing reliance on the Deep Throat character to show up and provide an infodump at some point. Mulder always seems to have his source of information that jump-starts his investigations.

Nevertheless, the episode has a nicely chilling premise, its first three acts have enough shifts that we don’t know what’s going on, and the last scene is one of those niftily eerie ways The X-Files had of ending things on a note of non-resolution. It’s a very good episode that is mainly marred by some deus ex machina in the end.

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Sentential Links #252

Steaming forward….

:: A sad end to the life of a great man. Perhaps we might convert the facility from storage unit to museum at some point to honor one of the greatest engineers in the history of mankind. (Tesla was a towering genius. He was also an eccentric lunatic. Truly one of the fascinating figures in science, not just in terms of discovery but also in terms of cautionary tales.)

:: What can I say. I was HIGH from the whole experience. (This post makes my heart sing. Seriously. Go read it.)

:: Ah, but I am one of a dying breed, I fear. There is no room in our modern, confoozled America for artful living. Life has gotten too hard. I really belong in Europe and, if I could somehow manage it, that’s where I’d be. (I wish I knew how to disagree with this, but I don’t. I do think it depends on where one is, though…there are places in America where this kind of living is OK. Ithaca, NY strikes me as one such place.)

:: But once again, the voice of Mission Control reminds us… this is the last time this woman will ever show off for us. Savor every moment with her, because soon she’ll be gone. (There’s a quote by Stephen King that keeps popping into my mind as the space shuttle program comes to its conclusion, with nothing in sight to follow it…and as America is turning into a country that seriously mulls over things like privatizing state parks and closing libraries. Referring to something else, King says: “I don’t wish to speak too disparagingly of my generation…actually, I do, we had a chance to change the world and opted for the Home Shopping Network instead.”

:: Anyway, the whole point of this sordid tale is this: when Watson woke me up this morning by punching me in the face from inside my nose, I thought this would be pretty funny: “Me: Dude, come on, cat. Your toxic shit is suffocating me over here! Cat: I CAN HAZ-MAT? Me: Yes. Yes you can.” (Only cat owners would find the humor in a story about horrible cat shit.)

:: I’ve been musing on how goodbyes never get any easier. Every other task I can think of seems to get easier with practice. My proficiency increases with repetition. Alas, parting from those I love is not like that. (No, this one does not get easier. Nor does comforting friends at funerals.)

:: I’ve given you a lot to think about and digest in this letter. Chances are you’ll forget most of it. So if you only take away one thing from this message, let it be this – don’t be a douche.

More next week!

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Sunday Burst of Weird and AWESOME!

Oddities and Awesome abound!

:: What happens if you eat that little packet of stuff that says “Do Not Eat”?

:: In general, 62 percent of people like spicy food. But among those who think flag burning should be illegal, 78 percent like spicy food. How do we know this? Correlated.org, that’s how!

:: I did not know that the Taco Bell chihuahua ads actually led to decreased sales at Taco Bell. The things you learn.

:: I’m of mixed mind on this super-patriotic paint job on a Camaro, which a friend e-mailed me last week. On the one hand, yes, that’s a really impressive bit of car painting. But on the other hand, I’m really tired of the brand of patriotism that seems to only define national greatness in terms of wars we’ve fought.

More next week!

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At the Taste

This weekend sees the annual Taste of Buffalo food festival, which takes place downtown. We go every year, and I’ve blogged about it before, but here are thoughts from this year’s edition! (If you don’t care, I’ll put it below the fold and you can ignore it. Unless you read me on Google Reader, in which case, well, you’re screwed.)

First of all, the weather on the day was absolutely, gob-smackingly, you-wanna-make-sweet-sweet-love-to-it, perfect. Sunny, only an occasional cloud, a nice breeze the entire time, just one degree less than when you start sweating, and a sky so blue that, as Mr. Kinsella wrote, “it hurts your eyes just to look at it.”

TOB 2011: Through the trees

But before I get too excited here, let me get my usual gripes about people-behavior at The Taste out of the way right here.

Seriously, those are the two things people do at The Taste that drive me crazy. As I always point out: there is plenty of room to get the hell out of the way and eat once your food is in your hand. Standing in the middle of the street, or worse, at the counter, is as good a way to announce your douchery to the world as holding up a giant sign reading “Hey world! I’m a douche!”

OK. That’s out of the way. What did we eat? Here’s a rundown, with thoughts on each dish, roughly in the order that we ate them. (If I remember rightly, that is.)

Just Pizza: two slices here. The Kid had a cheese-and-pepperoni slice all to herself; The Wife and I split a steak-and-sweet peppers slice. We eat here every year. We’ve always been big fans of Just Pizza; we just don’t go there often because there are about a dozen pizza places that we also like that are a lot closer to Casa Jaquandor. (And no, I’m not exaggerating with the “about a dozen” thing.)

58 Main Street Barbecue. Pulled pork nachos. This was junk-food goodness. It was really basic, and not any kind of gourmet item at all — standard nacho chips with nacho cheese sauce, but with barbecue pulled pork added to the mix. This shouldn’t win any “foodie” awards, but it hit a comfort-food sweet spot!

Alex’s Place. Here we had fried calamari. I’m a big fan of fried calamari, but a lot of times, the calamari is overdone so that with the fried breading, you might as well be eating an onion ring. Their calamari was still tender and tasted distinctly (although not strongly) of calamari. They also served it with banana peppers, which always makes me happy — I’m a banana pepper freak.

The daughter even reluctantly tried one, even though she was a tad skeptical. Her verdict? Well, we ended up going back for a second helping later on so she could have more. Awesome!

Danny’s. Chicken wing soup. Because it’s Danny’s Chicken Wing Soup. We eat at Danny’s all the time, and I make my own reasonably kick-ass chicken wing soup, but still — we got some soup at The Taste anyway. Wish they had croutons for it, though.

Saigon Cafe. Summer roll. This thing — a kind of cold spring roll — was wonderful. I really loved this dish, with its bright, clean, and cold flavor. It was served with two dipping sauces, a hoisin-style sauce (not unlike what you put on the pancakes in mu-shu pork) and a chili sauce that packed quite a punch. Here’s a photo.

TOB 2011: Summer roll

Seriously, I could have a meal of four or five of these.

Dinosaur Barbecue. Pulled pork sliders. We’re big fans of pulled pork, so this was typically good. I didn’t realize until afterwards that they had a table set up with additional sauce for you to doctor it, though. Oh well.

Carribean Experience. We’ve had their Jerk Chicken every single year we’ve gone to The Taste, even back when it was held on Main St. We still love it.

Prima Pizza. Because The Daughter can’t have pizza from just one place, we always stop here, too. She had her cheese-and-pepperoni slice, and The Wife and I split half a sausage calzone. It was served with marinara sauce in a dipping cup, but it wasn’t fresh-made sauce — it had a paper lid you had to peel off, like the syrup that McDonald’s serves with pancakes. This sauce was very sweet. I enjoy a sweet marinara or pizza sauce now and then, but The Wife wasn’t thrilled. The calzone was OK. Not great, but not awful, either.

Nick Charlap’s. By this point we were getting a bit warm, so it was time for Ice Cream stop number one. Small cones of soft-serve for all — choc-and-vanilla for The Kid and I, and a raspberry-something else twist for The Wife.

Here we took a break to go into the New Era hat store for the first time. I was hoping for a water fountain where I could refill our water bottles, but no dice. I suppose it’s necessary, but I was amused by the intimidating-looking security guards all over, keeping careful watch on…a store full of hats.

Interestingly, I saw a number of folks in Pittsburgh Pirates hats. Fair weather fans, now that the team is actually playing well for the first time since 1992? Or long-time, in-the-closet fans? Hmmmmm!

Fat Bob’s. Macaroni and cheese. I would have gone for serving number three of pulled pork, but by this point, The Wife wasn’t wanting any more pulled pork, so we got a dish of their signature mac-and-cheese. Here it is:

TOB 2011: Mac-n-cheese

It’s perfectly good macaroni and cheese, it really is. I don’t think it’s spectacular in any way, though. I’ve heard a lot about it, and I’d order it if I ate at Fat Bob’s, but I wouldn’t go out of my way on the basis of this mac-and-cheese. Not when I can make my own.

Chester’s Cajun Grill. Blackened shrimp over cajun rice. This was a huge disappointment, the only one on the day. We’d never had this before, so it really sounded good — we love shrimp — but it did not end well. I’m no expert, and I certainly don’t have the most refined palate in the world, but surely Cajun cooking should not leave an overwhelming sense of being comprised of nothing more than salt and heat. This dish was extremely salty, and the spiciness was that disappointing, flavorless spiciness where the heat doesn’t taste like anything. There was no flavor of shrimp, no flavor of whatever peppers provided the heat — just salt and heat.

Anderson’s Custard. We wrapped up with ice cream cones — mint chocolate chip for me, cotton candy for The Kid, and something with oreos for The Wife. After this, we bid farewell to Taste of Buffalo 2011. Three hours of walking, $55 in tickets, three water bottles and three cans of Squirt later. Can’t wait ’til next year!

And if I might editorialize about downtown Buffalo a bit here…I’ve always generally been a fan of Buffalo’s older architecture, but over the last five or six years I’ve grown increasingly frustrated with the fact that the glut of old buildings around here, combined with folks who really love them some old-ass buildings, and a political culture that makes getting a single building erected more difficult than, say, mounting a major invasion by sea of Normandy, France, means that downtown Buffalo is now…well, there’s no other way to say it. I think it’s starting to look a bit ugly down there. Not old. Not run-down but with pockets-of-progress. Just plain ugly.

Looking around at the buildings of downtown, one word kept popping into my head over and over and over again: crumbling. So much of downtown Buffalo is doing just that: falling apart. Witness what has befallen the old Hotel Statler, which sits a literal stone’s-throw from City Hall:

TOB 2011: Crumbling

TOB 2011: Falling apart

You may have to embiggen that last one to really see it, but entire sections of terra cotta bordering have tumbled off that building. Now, the Statler is a special case: it has gone through prospective changes in ownership a number of times over the last decade, and only in the last year has it finally been taken over by someone with money, so repair work is beginning. This is a genuinely saveable building. But all over downtown are very old brick monstrosities that are crumbling, whose majorities of windows are shattered, and whose sides still sport large painted advertisements for products or businesses that haven’t existed since before the giant majority of people even living in the city were born. Sometimes these buildings are right across the street from the new buildings that have gone up in the last ten years or so.

I’m not sure what to make of this, but downtown Buffalo seemed to me today to be a modern urban Acropolis, and I don’t mean that in the “site of enormous importance to the human heritage” sense but in the “decaying ruin of a civilization long-since gone” sense. Everywhere I looked was a building that made me think, “Ye Gods, why doesn’t someone just tear that damned thing down.” And the answer will almost always be, “Because no one wants to build anything here, and even if they did, someone will claim that that horrible decaying brickpile is historical and needs to be preserved.”

Lots of folks talk about what signs we need to see before we can say that Buffalo may actually be rebounding. For me, I know what I’ll need to see before I’m ready to say that maybe this city is moving in the right direction.

Wrecking balls. And lots of ’em.

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Cheez Balls!


Cheez Balls!, originally uploaded by Jaquandor.

Wow. Just…wow!

I’ve written before of my love-affair as a kid with Planters Cheez Balls. Those things were wonderful, just wonderful…and they’re gone. Made no longer. They live now only in Valhalla, where only those warriors who gave their lives in battle get to feast upon their globular cheesy goodness for all eternity.

Cheez Balls may seem like just plain old cheese puffs in ball shape, as opposed to the longer twisty kinds, but it was the ball shape that made them wonderful. For one thing, Cheez Balls had more crunch to them than your regular cheese puff; they were, in terms of crunch, about halfway in between “regular Cheetos” and “crunchy Cheetos”. The round shape concentrated that delicate crunch, and in addition to the Cheez flavor, Cheez Balls had a distinct aftertaste of corn.

Planters Cheez Balls were the perfect snack, and I’ve mourned their passing. Mourned, I say!

But tonight, I was in Target, looking for a copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows part one on deeveedee, and I darted down the snack aisle looking to see what was new. I’m not sure what for…a coworker told me about a new Honey BBQ flavor of Cheetos, but I was just looking around, mainly. And then I saw a whole shelf…full of these huge plastic jugs…filled with small globes of puffed cheese goodness.

And now, one of those jugs is mine. Mine, I tell you! Mine, all mine!

So…how are they? They’re really close to Planters Cheez Balls, actually. The cheese flavor and the delicate crunch are dead on. The only thing missing is that noticeable aftertaste of corn…you can detect it, actually, but it’s not as strong.

Now to put an Errol Flynn movie on the teevee on Sunday afternoon…and plop down in the middle of the living room floor…with the cheese balls!

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The official site of Kelly Sedinger: Reader, writer, photographer, and dreamer

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