The Fredösphere

An alarm went off in my head when I read the following story by my two kids. The Maharincess (now 8) started it off, then gave her brother (Der Drübermensch, 10) permission to add something of his own. Here's the first few sentences of the story. Figuring out where the girl leaves off and the boy picks up is left as an exercise for the reader:

Once there was a princess in a castle. Her name was Lexi. She was 15. Her favorite toy was Pollys. Lexi's best friend was Snowy, her cat. she wished she had a friend, a real friend. She was never happy aways sad.

One day Lexi fond a friend, her name was Nancy she was so nice Lexi asked if Nancy could have a sleepover at there castle. Her mother said "yes."

When Nancy came in she gasped and said "you live in a castle!"

"Yes." said Lexi. "I'm a princess."

They had a great tea party with apple tea. In bed they told secrets. The next morning Nancy had to leave.

Lexi played with her cat and Pollys for the rest of the day.

The next day Nancy and Lexi saw this really cute boy. His name was Jacob. Then Lexi ran home to rite a letter to him. It said, "dear Jacob, I just fell in love with you. I'm a princess. I will ride my bike on Saturday you will to. Love Lexi."

So, on Saturday, Jacob told Lexi a secret. He was a member of Team Dogatron, and was on a special mission. He needed to find the Lost Sapphire that was under the ocean before the evil Team Catomatic found it. He asked her to come with her. Then Snowy started talking, which was a surprise since Snowy had never talked before. He said that he used to be a member of Team Catomatic, but when he heard that they were evil, he secretly quit, and Team Catomatic had been looking for him.

The alarm in my head was the feeling I had seen this somewhere before. In a moment, I remembered: it was a materpiece called The Writing Assignment, ostensibly the work of two students in a college writing class, working tag-team style, so that the woman writes the odd-numbered paragraphs and the man writes the even-numbered ones. It begins like this:

At first, Laurie couldn't decide which kind of tea she wanted. The camomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home, now reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times, that he liked camomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about him too much her asthma started acting up again. So camomile was out of the question.

Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squadron now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about than the neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. "A.S. Harris to Geostation 17," he said into his transgalactic communicator. "Polar orbit established. No sign of resistance so far..." But before he could sign off a bluish particle beam flashed out of nowhere and blasted a hole through his ship's cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent him flying out of his seat and across the cockpit.

. . .and after that, it only gets better and better. Go thither and read it now!

Labels: Creativity, Fiction, fun

If you've been following the kerfuffle over Amazon's summary deletion of certain ebooks from customers' Kindles, you'll be amused to know that 1984 is one of the titles that have been disappeared. Thanks to my friend Jeremy for pointing this out to me, and also thanks to my friend Victor, who was reminded of a piece from Byte magazine that imagines how a certain famous book would be published the way software is: Moby Dick 2.1.

We have added several new characters to version 2.1. In particular, several readers reported that the character of Harold the bookkeeper, who was intended to act as a foil for Ishmael, simply did not work. This character has been replaced by Queequeg, a South Seas savage.

Labels: fun, Technology

Another one!  I guess I'll make this a regular feature, called Five Words I Never Expected to See Combined Into One Sentence.  Here's today's unexpected headline:

Stoned Wallabies Make Crop Circles

And there's even a science fictional angle.  How nice.

Labels: fun, Words of Power

My friend Jeremy experienced high levels of excitement in his life yesterday involving the recovery of a lost cellphone.  He was quite eager to share his story with readers of the Fredösphere, and I am only too happy to oblige him.  Enjoy.

So my wife "lost" her cell phone, which happens from time to time. This time we hadn't found it in over 2 weeks and I was starting to get annoyed/worried.

On a whim, I called today and it RANG. Now a cell phone doesn't ring unless it's connected to the network. It goes straight to voice mail otherwise. After ringing for a while, it went to voice mail....

At this point, my first thought is that a Good Samaritan picked it up, dusted it off, plugged it in, and was hoping someone would call to claim it. So I called back. A male voice answers and the conversation goes something like this:

"Hey! You have my wife's phone!" I say.
"Huh?" he says
"You have my wife's phone! Awesome! Who are you? Where are you?"
"Who is this?" he asks
"This is Jeremy"
"Who's your wife?"
"She's Jackie and you have her phone"
"Jackie?"...

Er... Huh? What just happened? Immediately I call back, assuming we've been cut off. The call goes to voice mail after one ring.

OKAY, I think... The phone was stolen. But it wasn't stolen by someone smart.... It was stolen by someone who would actually PICK IT UP.

Now I'm on a mission. I'm curious who this guy is, where he is, how he wound up with the phone, etc. Guess what? AT&T has a new feature: FamilyMaps! I add Jackie's phone to the plan (free for 30 days thank you!) and quickly locate the culprit to within 1/2 a mile. HE STILL HAS THE PHONE ON.

Well, now that I have some idea that the phone is still within 15 minutes of home, I figure I might as well try to call the guy back. The second conversation is even more odd:

"You have my wife's phone, I'd like it back" I say
"Who are you?"
"Jeremy"
"Who is your wife?"
"Jackie"
"You want to know how I wound up with this phone?"
"Listen, I really don't care too much how you wound up with the phone, I'd just like it back, no questions asked"
"You don't care?"
"Hey, I'll even throw in a $10 finder's fee"
"$10? I have to come up with $40?"...

Once again... Huh??? Why did he hang up? What $40? I personally figured that paying him $10 to get the phone back was fine since the phone insurance deductible was $50 so anything less than that and I'm saving money.

So some time passes... I'm not entirely sure what to do. He isn't calling back, he keeps hanging up... How to I converse with this guy?

LIGHT BULB: Text message.

So I sent the following:
"You have 2 options:
1) I call the police
2) You give me back the phone, recover some of your losses, and you're free and clear."

He responded with (and I quote):
"Yea can cum get da phone"

Okay! Now we're getting somewhere! I ask for his address or a place to meet. He responds with:
"Meet me n west willow on calder ma dads is a state police just 2let ya knw n he is wit me rite knw n a under cover car so cum on"

In English:
"Meet me at the West Willow Church near Calder St. My father is a State Police Officer just to let you know, and he is with me now in an under cover car. Make haste."

Now I have a place to go! Woo hoo! So, I went. I personally figured that if he had to make up something about a State Police officer father, he was probably more scared than I was.

So I headed over with $10 in my pocket. It turns out that West Willow Church isn't ON Calder, nor is there a street named West Willow, but I called our friend and he directed me once I got to the neighborhood. Remember, I knew where he was because of FamilyMaps :-)

I pulled over to the side of the road near where he was standing, popped out of the car, and said:
"Hi, thanks for meeting me"
"This is your phone?"
"Yes, my wife's"
"You sure?"
"Yes, quite sure"
"You got my money?"
"I do. Here you are" at which point I pull out the $10 and hand it his way. It's about here that I notice the switchblade knife he has in his other hand. Blade out. "$10? You said $20" he says
"No, I said $10" and I leave the money extended.
"You sure this is your phone?"
"Yep. What's the knife for?"
"Just so you don't try anything funny"
"Ah"
"Take off your shirt!!"
"What?"
"Take off your shirt!"
I realize he wants to check me for a WIRE. Now I don't know what TV shows he's watching, but wearing a wire to catch a guy who has a CELL PHONE? Seems a bit much. I lift up my shirt, but don't remove it.
"Nothing there" I say
"This really your phone?"
"Sure is"
"Ah hell, I don't care" and he takes the $10 and hands me the phone.

It's pretty obvious he's scared out of his mind... So I figured I might as well see if there's anything more interesting to the story of how he came about having the phone. I presume most of it is made up, but the story he told is that "some guy" was going to prison and asked him to hold on to his phone while he was there. Our pal, being the nice guy he is, said "sure thing" and proceeded to make about 500 minutes of phone calls on it :-) He also answered quite a few calls for "Jackie" and was kind enough to inform them that she no longer had the phone.

He asked me if the guy who went to prison was my son. Since Cameron is 9 years old and at school, I was pretty confident with my answer of "no".

We parted ways. I never got his name, I never even asked.

So there you have it. My cell phone adventure.

The phone itself was in great shape. It had been completely wiped of anything related to Jackie and had a new address book for people like "Tay" and "Dads". I promptly reset the phone and now Jackie is going to have to answer calls for our friend for the next several weeks.

Oh, and I never did see his dad, though maybe he was VERY undercover.

Sorry for the length. I think I remembered all the good stuff :)

Jeremy

Labels: fun, local

Dear Amazon.com Customer,

We've noticed that customers who have purchased or rated Henryk Gorecki: Symphony 3 "Sorrowful Songs" have also purchased Henryk Górecki: Symphony No. 3 "Symphony of Sorrowful Songs". For this reason, you might like to know that Henryk Górecki: Symphony No. 3 "Symphony of Sorrowful Songs" is now available.

Labels: fun, Holy Minimalists

Annette of Germany writes in to let us know the Garrison Keillor sketch I quoted in my previous post can be read or listened to here.  Thanks, Annette.  In unrelated developments, Prague's Franz Kafka Airport is rated dead last in customer satisfaction and two talking rabbits debate the fantasy / sci-fi divide and TypeNow has movie-themed fonts.

Labels: fun, sci-fi, SoundClip

The disciplines of my workplace being what they are, my co-worker and friend Victor found it necessary to send my a link to the video of Rick James' seminal masterpiece Super Freak.

(Those early videos were crude things, weren't they.)  Another co-worker has the Super Freak intro as a ringtone on his (constantly ringing) cell phone, and I had not recognized it, so Victor corrected my ignorance.  In my email reply, I admired one especially inventive lyric:  "she's got intertwining candles."  I thought the imagery brilliant, with a queasy decadence that perfectly matched that of the song.  My amused friend shot back with a link to kissthisguy.com, for truly I had misheard the lyrics which say, "she's got incense, wine and candles."  My mistake was one of those rare instances where the mishearing actually improves the song.  Most mishearings are along the lines of the very famous Jimi Hendrix lyric "I kiss the sky" which so many (reasonably) mishear as "I kiss this guy."  Follow the link and enjoy 15 minutes of fun.

Labels: fun, VideoClip

So I'm surfing the web today and everywhere I turn something's making me laugh?  When did they start allowing humor on the internet?  The change must be the result of one of those zany end-of-administration executive orders that presidents always indulge in.  Anyway . . . .

Soho the Dog gives us Superlenny and his arch-nemisis Igor in graphic novel form.

Colby Cosh finds life imitates TV comedy in one of those connect-the-dots moments that Cosh delivers reliably on a regular basis.  Superjuice!  Unbelievable.

My own modest contribution to the Gross International Amusement Index was my Nixon Et Messiaen post.  It received an Alexplosion of traffic (for which I am grateful) but it is old news by now.  What is new news is that several people were sucked in by the post's seductive alternate history and believed (no doubt wanted to believe) in a Nixon whose paranoia was all-embracing, even including the machinations of modernist French composers.  See the first comment of the post, which hints at credulity, or go to the blog Dazzleship Potemkin of my new friend "Maréchal TULIP" and read his full confession.

Labels: Composer, fun

That's right, just keep telling yourself that these things are "clouds."  Yep.  Clouds.  That's what they are.

Alex Ross dreams of a Messiaenic inaugural, conveniently forgetting just how Nixonian presidential fixations on dowdy, devout French modernists can be.

I got this video from A Cappella News.  These guys make Anglican chant sound actually attractive (ooh, that was snarky):

Labels: Choral, Composer, fun, Spooky, VideoClip

So much information became known about the major scandals of the Nixon administration during the release of the Oval Office recordings, many fascinating sub-plots got overlooked.  Today is an appropriate day to draw attention to Nixon's long-term obsession with Olivier Messiaen.  Nixon consistently loathed and distrusted the French musical avant garde as personified by Pierre Boulez, but his relationship with Messiaen was more complicated.  Privately, he found Messiaen's music bewildering and decadent, but Messiaen's traditionalist religious outlook encouraged Nixon to view Messiaen as a "wedge" who could be used to divide and confuse his enemies.  The following are key excerpts from the Nixon recordings:

-- On July 1, 1971, Nixon instructs Chief of Staff H.R. Haldeman to have someone break into the Darmstadt School, which refers to a group of like-minded European composers (e.g., Boulez, Stockhausen).  Apparently Nixon believed the Darmstadt School had a physical location; the school was named for a series of summer courses that ended in the early 1960s:

NIXON:  "I can't have a high-minded church organist ... I want a son-of-a-b----. I want someone just as tough as I am. ... We're up against an enemy, a conspiracy that will use any means. We are going to use any means....  Get it done. I want it done. I want the Darmstadt School cleaned out and have it cleaned out in a way that has somebody else take the blame."

-- On April 4, 1972, Nixon discusses Messiaen with Haldeman:

NIXON:  "Return the calls to that poor dumb bastard ... who I know is our friend. Now do it ... We made the same mistake [Dwight] Eisenhower made, but not as bad as Eisenhower made, because he sucked the American Guild of Organists too much ... G-d damn it, don't talk to them for a while.  Will you enforce that now?"
HALDEMAN:  "I'll try."

-- On May 18, 1972, Nixon talks to Henry Kissinger about the National Security Adviser's meeting with Ivy League composers regarding Messiaen's oratorio La Transfiguration de Notre Seigneur Jésus-Christ:

NIXON: "The Ivy League composers? Why, I'll never let those sons-of-b------ in the White House again. Never, never, never. They're finished. The Ivy League schools are finished ... Henry, I would never have had them in. Don't do that again ... They came out against La Transfiguration when it was tough ... Don't ever go to an Ivy League school again, ever. Never, never, never."

-- On Nov. 14, 1972, Nixon talks with his aide Charles Colson about his successful attempt to prevent Pierre Boulez from becoming President of France:

NIXON:  "What in the hell did you think of Boulez's statement on the election? Wasn't that the sour grapes crap again?"
COLSON:  "Well, it's unbelievable, the arrogance of the guy ... God, what a bad man. Just awfully glad we got him buried and put away for good. I think he is."
NIXON:  "Oh, he's buried. He's buried."

UPDATE:  Please see this explanation if you are tempted to take the Higher Truth of this post too literally.

Labels: Composer, fun

My never-ending research on the topics of science fiction, choral music, and the effects of Hee Haw on modern font development led me to these gentle distractions from today's Big Event.  First, a one-man quartet synopsizes Star Wars:



Then, I give you a very nicely-prepared summary--and one more example of the kind of kooky obsessiveness that the internet enables--of font jokes from Mystery Science Theater 3000.  Does anyone do obscure reference humor more boldly than these guys?  Finally, here's the official Hee Haw site.  Man, that was a bad show.  Bad, bad, bad.

Labels: fun, sci-fi, VideoClip

Speaking as a Lutheran, I'm thrilled by the enthusiam shown by the general population in celebrating Reformation Day. (But what's with all the costumes?)   In honor of the day, here's 95 Theses:



Here's more.

Labels: Antipope, fun, Religion, Renaissance, VideoClip

Something big is coming to the Fredösphere soon, something at that magical place where science fiction and choral music intersect.  Keep watching this space.

Meanwhile, I had no idea Pagan Roman sun worship and Catholicism were practically the same thing.  You people don't tell me any of the cool stuff!  Furthermore, a robot keeps watch over the Pope.  Who is one.

Labels: Antipope, fun, SoundClip

As with so many musical jokes, the concept is way funnier than the execution.

Labels: Composer, fun, SoundClip

I think I've spent most of my life trapped inside this loop.

Labels: Creativity, fun

Via The Standing Room via this is sippey:  the most wonderfully stoopid promotion of high culture by a big fat corporation, evar:

Labels: Culture, Food, fun, VideoClip

Whoa, whoa, whoa!  I pour all kinds of creative energy into composing my music; do you really think I have any left over to design original fonts for the score???

(This is on my mind because I just sent out a score this week for a competition.  The music is a setting of an ancient Irish poem.  For the title, I used a free, Tolkieny-looking Icelandic font called Edda.  For the rest of the score, I used the Finale defaults, except for the complete text printed on the first page; the text is so long, I had to use Arial so the tiny letters could be read.  I know what you're saying:  font promiscuity!  ...but that was the best I could do without rethinking every font decision in the score, which I had no time for.  Why, why, why did you people ever get me noticing fonts?!  Cure you, Daniel Wolf!  Curse you, James Lileks! 

I am pleased, however, that M. Wolf and others like Georgia; after an exhausting review of my choices a while back, I settled on Georgia as the most - interesting - yet - commonly - available - and - without - being - too - weird choice for my outgoing email.)

Meanwhile...

What's the greatest choir on earth?  Chanticleer gets my vote.  Richard Morrison (quoted at A Cappella News) seems tempted to nominate the Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir directed by Paul Hillier.  He pulls his punch, however, and for the same reason I would:  their programming lacks the brilliance of Chanticleer.  (Maybe they could compensate with better fonts.)

Finally...

The Sci-Fi Catholic demonstrates how awkward confession can be for the anime fan.  It is no easier for the hardcore MMORPGer.

Labels: Choral, Design, fun, Religion

Who besides Daniel Wolf is blogging brainily about the process of composing?  If there are others, I want to (I should!) know.  Most recently he's making an analogy about the world-building of speculative fiction and role-playing games.  Yeh got yer composing, yeh got yer SF; perfect.

Next, let's sample some SF video.  First, we return to the most SF country that ever was, the USSR, for an animated interpretation of Ray Bradbury's There Will Fall Soft Rains:


...followed by a Star Trek mashup called A Cavalcade of Redshirt Fatalities:



Finally, we explore two interstitial realms of the almost-real and the almost-fake.  Of the former, Design Observer reverse-engineers the Steampunk movement and finds it wanting, making good points but adopting a regrettable "gatekeeper" tone in the process:  how dare these people design when they're clearly not real designers?!  (I like DO; why do I only link when they annoy me?  Maybe I am the regrettable gatekeeper.) Of the almost-fake, check out these "tilt-shift" photos (more here) that make true cityscapes look like cheesy H0-scale models.  Be-yootiful, and don't miss the skeptics in the comments section.

Labels: Composition, Creativity, fun, Futurism, VideoClip

If I were a Dead Russian Composer, I would be Igor Stravinsky. Known as a true son of the new 20th Century, my music started out melodic and folky but slowly got more dissonant and bizzare as I aged. I am a traveler and a neat freak, and very much hated those rotten eggs thrown at me after the premiere of "The Rite of Spring." Who would you be? Dead Russian Composer Personality Test

Labels: Composer, fun

A musical ... a sci-fi comedy musical ... released on the web?  I admit, I was grossly derelict in my blogging duties by not telling you to go watch Joss Whedon's Dr. Horrible's Singalong Blog while it was available for free download.  (The DVDs will be on sale soon, with--wait for it!--a sung commentary track.  Geniuses.)

Anyway, I just found out the good Doctor is available for one more day for free.  Today.  What are you waiting for?

Oh, yeah.  You're waiting for the link.

Labels: fun, movie, Opera, sci-fi, VideoClip

Incontrovertible proof that aliens have visited the Fredölawn.

(Okay, seriously, what are those dark, perfectly round rings that show up in the grass every summer?)

Labels: fun, sci-fi

Cobly Cosh thrills to the news that a near-complete print of Fritz Lang's Metropolis has be discovered in Argentina.

USB wine.  Le wow.  Also, we speakers of English may be losing control of the language--oh frak!  And those alien spacecraft just keep getting bigger and bigger.

Steve Hicken's fantasy life is pretty similar to mine, and I mean more than just the win-the-lottery part.  He's got the musicians, the new compositions, and even the bathtub filled with chocolate pudding.  At least, that's the way I remember it.

Labels: Composer, fun, movie, sci-fi

It is in the cold light of a post-July-Fourth morning that we can shake of the effects of that drunken orgy of patriotic jingoism we so recently indulged in, and reflect soberly on an interesting question:  why do so many nationalistic songs have lyrics that, on close analysis, reveal themselves to be crazy?

(And we don't normally give them close analysis.  Perhaps our fear, or better, our piety prevents us from probing.  Or, most likely of all, these words are too familiar to be understood, just as one cannot focus on an object that is too near the eye.)

Let's start with The Battle Hymn of the Republic.  Unless my interpretation is way off, the song seems to posit the idea that the U.S. Civil War is nothing less than the harbinger of the Apocalypse.  Shiloh, Manassas, Antietam, Chancellorsville, Gettysburg...Armageddon.  Forrest, Jackson, Lee, Davis...Satan.  I'm sure those persons immersed in the events found these progressions compelling and believable, but why do we today still sing "mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord; he is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored"?  God metes his punishments to each nation sooner or later according to his mysterious timetable; just because it happened to be our turn for a lickin' in 1861 doesn't mean the whole world is coming to an end.

Next, consider Jerusalem:



It poses a question:  did Jesus Christ visit England as a youth, and does not that event portend a special destiny, a special burden placed on the shoulders of the English people, one which endows them with a greater dignity and mission?  Short answer:  no.  The British Empire was unusually cool, as empires go, but William Blake was nuts when it came to the whole Joseph-of-Arimathea-Brought-Jesus-To-England thing (as he was nuts about so much else [William that is, not Joseph]).  On the other hand, I'm inclined to give Jerusalem as many bonus points as needed to offset what the lyrics lost, because I think it is about the most mind-blowing tune ever written.  Plus when the second verse kicks in, with it's burning gold and its chariots of fire--wow!  All is forgiven.

The U.S. national anthem also asks a question.  (Isn't that a sign of insecurity, by the way?  Why can't we have a national anthem that asserts something rather than begs for affirmation?  Deutschland über Alles doesn't begin with an Ist, after all.)



In it's obsessive concern for the flag, the anthem never get around to discussing any other attribute of our nation, or noticing anything else beyond the flag's wave status, so no crazy philosophical or theological idea emerges, but as has been observed many times before, the tune is awkward and unlovely.

Most national anthems have lyrics belonging to what might be called the "purple mountains majesty" school:  lots of talk about the landscape, culminated with a promise before God to defend the country.  The beauty of O Canada is marred by a particularly lame (and so quintessentially Canadian) vow to "stand on guard for thee," a timid, passive phrase which has never been dumped, although that's what they did to the old, unofficial anthem "The Maple Leaf Forever" wherein "Wolfe the dauntless hero" is celebrated for crushing the francophones.  I guess the feeling was, it was only a matter of time until les Québécois noticed.

For England, it's not just Jerusalem; the country scores of twofer of kookiness with this verse from God Save the Queen:


...and some countries' anthems get bogged down in historical controversies that probably seemed terribly compelling at the time--here is Andorra's:


Well, la...tee...da.  Here's the Netherlands:


Come on people, get over it.  Then there's Poland, still dancing on the grave of some guy who's been dead for over a century:


I look forward to hearing verses that describe the many positive side effects of Hitler and Stalin.  Furthermore, it doesn't help matters that the national hero of Poland is named Dabrowski, who sounds like he should be famous, if he were famous for anything, for being the best bowler in Chicago.

Algeria's patriots adopt a favorite strategy of my kids:


...which is, if no one is paying attention, TURN UP THE VOLUME!  Other miscellaneous oddities include Austria (Land of Hammers! -- but hey, nice melody for once, Wolfgang; too bad the lyrics are, gasp! sexist) and Iceland (a reference to the solar system gives the song a nice sci-fi vibe); Turks worry that their "coy crescent" may "frown" (gee, I wish my life was that uncomplicated) and the Mexicans denounce "Masiosare" who wants to make their country "dirty with his plants."

Finally, we come to the Japanese, whose anthem is the most ... Japanese ... of them all.  The lyrics are a tanka, a 5-line, 31-syllable poem:

May the reign of the Emperor continue for a thousand, nay, eight thousand generations and for the eternity that it takes for small pebbles to grow into a great stone and become covered with moss.

...in other words, it's about a rock garden.

</cynicism>

Labels: Culture, fun, Poetry

Ooh, yes, I do hope they find a way to "boost" the "concentrations" in the "flesh."

Also from Instapundit, another romantic fool refuses to acknowledge that, if man were meant to fly, he'd be born with giant balloons.

Labels: Airship, Food, fun

Savor the delights of passiveaggressivenotes.com.

One of the great failings of my life has been to not photograph a wonderful sign that years ago was nailed to a tree at the edge of a field near my parents' house. It was a rough piece of plywood with letters in drippy white paint. It said (as best I can remember) "Anyone caught trespassing on this property will pay $50 or GO TO JAIL." I'm sure the implicit threat--that the trespasser would fall into the clutches of a seriously psychotic individual--was about 100 times the deterrent of the explicit ones.

Labels: fun, LovableOddballs

Sorry Don, but this is my topic:  harmonic intervals in all their beautiful, mediaeval purity:



I'd like to see the monk's reaction to some of my yummy minor ninths.

Labels: Choral, fun, MusicTheory, VideoClip

I just found out Stanley Kubrick died exactly 666 days before the start of the year 2001.  Come on, guys--you're supposed to let me know about important stuff like that.

Labels: fun, LovableOddballs

My good friend Victor sent me this:

Choosy mothers choose Obecalp

This sentence caught my eye:

Franklin Miller, a bioethicist at the National Institutes of Health, is skeptical. "As a parent of three now grown children," he said, "I can't think of a single instance where I'd want to give a placebo."

As a parent of two children, I think Mr. Miller's last sentence there could be made more accurate by removing all the words that follow "think."

Labels: Culture, fun

Snapshots from the Washington National Opera's production of Elektra suggest that Strauss drew inspiration from a certain SNL sketch, or vice versa.

Labels: fun, Opera

The title says it all:  The Revolution Will Not Be Pasteurized.  (Hat tip 2Blowhards.)

Meanwhile...

Rene's Apple will have what Ann Althouse is having:

I'd rather see a show where philosophers descend on a woman with a perfect exterior and rip into her for her intellectual and spiritual failings, put her on some kind of internally transformative regime, and turn her into a human being of substance. Can we get that?

...and furthermore...

Man Babies.  Plus, have a look at Nazis on the Moon.

Labels: Culture, fun, Futurism, movie, VideoClip

Via SF Signal, it's High Noon exactly as you remember it.  Well, as I remember it anyway:



Via Ionarts (who got it from Boing Boing, who got it from Laughing Squid), it's a cat playing a theremin.  I definitely detect the influence of Messiaen, although I'm thinking not so much the Turangalîla Symphonie as some of the more pointillistic moments in Des Canyons aux Etoiles:

Labels: fun, movie, VideoClip

Here's an enticing subject line from some spam I received today:

Stalin took this pills two times per day before food

I'm tellin' ya, spam is the art form that modern poetry anticipated and aspired to become, but could not.  Spam is the authentic voice of our time!

Labels: fun

Lingering after- (and fore-) shocks of the Day of the Fools:  Charles T. Downey celebrates the Ahn Trio (hey, they're not that bad, are they?), Harriet Klausner has a bad day (more context here), "Virgle" makes you an offer, the Blogger Complains, the Writer Creates and the Highway refuses to stay Lost (sadly).

Labels: fun

Music: the international language!

Labels: fun

Just to reassure you in case you thought I had stopped idolizing James "Apotheosis of the Noösphere" Lileks, I'll give him the Fredösphere Best Quote of the Day Award:

Cold day; got up to about two and a half degrees before it fell down and gave up. I’m used to it. I get up, check the temp – ONE – and shrug. You get used to anything. If it rained flaming hamsters every morning you’d walk to the bus stop with a steel umbrella and a shovel.

Read the whole thing, especially for the part where it veers into UK-PC-gone-wild territory, a territory which seems to have expansionist tendencies lately.

Labels: Culture, fun

A few days ago, my daughter, the Maharincess, determined to launch her composing career.  I sat her down at the computer, gave her a few instructions in how to use Finale, and turned her loose.  The ol' Himebaugh genes kicked in, and like her brother before her, she has produced a bold masterpiece of singular brilliance.

Like all uncompromising geniuses, she cares nothing for the whining criticisms of performers locked in old-fashioned notions of what is "performable" or "practical."  So, as we expect, the Maharincess pushes instrumentalists beyond all bounds.  Unlike other experimentalists, however, she explores new territory in her pronounced bias in favor of treble sounds.  At first, I suspected this was caused by the position of the MIDI keyboard relative to the computer, which makes the low notes hard to reach for a six-year-old's arm.  But no:  upon listening to an early version of this piece, the diminutive maestra insisted on replacing a line of low-lying notes with high ones.  She knows what she wants, and she knows how to get it.

The Maharincess seems to have a special animus for the expectations of trombone players.  I am no Freudian, yet I cannot help but speculate that latent feminist resentments lurk in the mind of the budding young composer, expressed by unprecedented demands on a orchestral section known for its high proportion of male players, players with a reputation for chauvinism.  I will refrain from the more shocking terminology employed by feminist theorists, and simply invite the reader to imagine for himself (or herself!) the psychological effect on a male trombonist as he is subjugated to a passage wherein he must "sound like a girl."

As happened when I revealed my son's genius to an appreciative world, I expect this new work, Flowers in the Wind, to be greeted by embarrassingly effusive critical acclaim.  After all, my little Maharincess deserves no less.

Labels: Composer, fun

My friend Victor sent me this image in an email entitled "why N3tflix recommendations suk."

Labels: CollaborativeFiltering, fun

I'll see your Messiah Organist On Crack and raise you an O Holy Night.  (Find it in the list titled "A Stockingful Annoying Tunes.")  Far more polished, but hardly annoyance-free, is the Billy Gilman version, which with its neglect of the second verse and its throaty warble reminded me, implausibly, of Mahalia Jackson's rendition, without the endearing grammatical errors ("from yonders break a new and glorious morn").

Labels: fun, vocal

Everyone should listen to two culinary-related reports from NPR:  James Lileks talks about his book Gastroanomalies on Talk of the Nation, and Curt Nickisch samples absinthe (newly legalized in the U.S.) on Weekend Edition.  I am shocked they failed to mention the hot, trendy new drink, non-alcoholic absinthe, on either show.

Labels: Culture, fun

A scene from a Miss Teen Universe competition, in some universe alternative to this one:

The Fredösphere:  Recent polls have shown a fifth of American's can't locate the collective unconscious within their own psyche.  Why do you think this is?

Miss Teen South Carolina:  I personally believe that U.S. Americans are unable to do so because, uh, some people out there in our nation don't have psyches, and, uh, I believe that our education like such as in South Africa and, uh, the Iraq everywhere like such as, and I believe that they should use two hands and a flashlight!  In the U.S., should help the U.S., or should help South Africa, and should help the Iraq and the Asian countries so we will be able to link up our individualized consciousness with the totality of the autonomous Self by means of the transcendent function, communicating symbolically through the manifestation of Archetypes, thereby achieving individuation.

Meanwhile, Daniel Wolf describes a scene from a competition occuring in a universe that is all too real.

Labels: Culture, fun

My darling, 5-year-old Maharincess is learning to read and write, and naturally revels in her growing mastery.  I found this piece art she made, and wondered at the mysterious, yet probably profound message upon it:

Yes, rosepist.  I haven't probed her mind to learn what rosepist means, not wanting to embarrass her.  I will leave that job for others.  In fact, I can imagine a time, many years in the future, when my daughter has come to the end of her life.  She will be filthy rich.  She will be utterly isolated, completely estranged from all her friends and family members. She will be known as "Citizen Maharincess."  She will be ensconced in a sprawling mansion with a name like "Physical," or "Grease," or perhaps it will be named after yet another one of Olivia Newton John's albums.  Just before her tragic death, a nurse will overhear her whisper one last, ambiguous word:

R O S E P I S T

and an army of journalists will be dispatched on a vain mission to learn the meaning of her final utterance.

Labels: fun

When nuns are outlawed, only outlaws will become nuns.

This link is via Mystic Chords, an excellent website I should have mentioned earlier, which obsesses over classical music, right-wing politics, and the manifest innocence of Barry Bonds.  (If the Mystic Chords link is down, keep trying; I'm sure it's correct.)

Also:  robot infestation!

Labels: fun

I'm not angry, I'm hurt.  The Washington Post ran an entire article on the exotic appeal of the name "Fred" without once mentioning this website.  Instead, they focused on some bozo politician from some state nobody ever even heard of, a guy with a last name of "Thompson."  Ridiculous.

The phonetics of the name seem integral to its image problem: On Urbandictionary.com, a "Fred" is defined as "a person who does stupid, annoying, or idiotic things" (Fred Flintstone, Fred Mertz). The best-case descriptors a Fred can hope for are terms like well-intentioned, predictable, benign (Fred Rogers).

If you ignore the confusing typos (I think "image problem" should read "image advantage," for example) you are still faced with the big question that goes begging:  what famous Fred is the most sublime, butt-kickingly bestest choral music blogger on the planet?  >Sigh.<  The news blackout continues.

There's a hint the author wanted to mention me, but could not.  She used the neologism "fredophile" but stopped short of mentioning "sphere" and, of course, the diacritic is missing.  I suspect tampering on the part of upper management.

Also:  Ann Althouse reacts to the article.

Labels: fun

It's art!  Do yourself a favor and do not watch the video of the robotic cow tongue.  Really.  Don't watch it.

We got the music angle, the sci-fi angle, and the local angle covered, right here:  Tom Smith is an Ann Arbor "filk" singer who performs at sci-fi conventions.  SciFi.com reviews his comic opera, The Last Hero On Earth.  It is, apparently, funny.  Smith has another project in the works:  Lovecraft:  The Musical Comedy.  Hoo-boy.

Labels: Composer, fun, sci-fi

It's the improbable, creepy world of sensation known as the Schmidt Sting Pain Index! My friend John discovered the Wikipedia entry on the subject of insect stings, which includes descriptions so bizarro, so voluptuous, they would shame a wine snob. Sample the complexities of the sting of a yellowjacket:

Hot and smoky, almost irreverent. Imagine WC Fields extinguishing a cigar on your tongue.

Then decide to move on to something stronger.  Savor the sting of the red harvester ant:

Bold and unrelenting. Somebody is using a drill to excavate your ingrown toenail.

I'm not making this up, but this is Wikipedia, so maybe someone else is.

Labels: Culture, fun

Some non-music fun via Stumble Upon:

Screw all this global warming talk!  What are we doing now to prepare for the eventual heat death of the universe?

You know me.  I'm a sucker for weather pr0n.

I knew Lynne Rosetto Kasper.  Lynne Rosetto Kasper was a friend of mine.  This website is no Lynne Rosetto Kasper.

Labels: fun

Phor your Phriday phun, it's that Honda choir commercial, take two!

Meanwhile, some music composition toys, found via Stumble Upon.  (You do have the Stumble Upon add-on with your Firefox browser, right?  Right?)  By some amazing coincidence, both these computer-based music generators compose in a minimalist style.  What are the chances of that???!

Is this called The Pixel Plant?  Or DMF?  I dunno, but it needs no explanation.

Grotrian Pianos, however, needs plenty of explanation.  Fortunately, the mouse-over help instructs you to bringen sie neue tönen ins spiel and also to wählen sie aus den vorgegebenen kompositionen aus.  (That is, "bring your new tone into play," and "thy whales were to be going out composing toboggans," if my German can be trusted -- and if it turns out he can't, I'll order him beaten.)

Labels: Composition, fun

Michael Blowhard noticed our political class exhibits a certain herd instinct, and wonders why.  My first reaction was to blame an overabundance of vacuous but ambitious people, but I have to admit I follow the crowd myself sometimes (jumping on, and then off, the Giuliani bandwagon, for example) and vacuous-but-ambitious is not what I am.  Well, not ambitious anyway.  Fortunately, Durham U. has done the research (via Futurismic).

In other fluff....

Joymaker?  Age of the pussyfoot????  Who would guess this is all about something as mundane as scheduling?  (Albeit computer-assisted, web-aware, mutually interacting scheduling.)

Okay, now I understand what this odd little joke is all about.

The count of known exosolar planets increases all the time.  Who can keep track of them?  Here's the tool you need.  To the list, add this strange discovery, made of exotic "hot ice."  (We still have not located the "hot fuzz" planet.)

It's ironic that an article about typeface might contain a typo, but I'm pretty sure that's what happened here:

Sometimes a typeface is already living on the premises when you show up, and it just seems mean to evict it. "We use Baskerville and Univers 65 on all our materials, but feel free to make an alternate suggestion." Really? Why bother? It's like one of those shows where the amateur chef is given a turnip, a bag of flour, a leg of lamp and some maple syrup and told to make a dish out of it.

Labels: Culture, fun

Der Drübermensch, still shy of his seventh birthday, asked for permission to play around with Finale, the music manuscripting software I use.  Naturally I jumped at the chance to let him compose, even though I suspected his interest was on the level of "one more way to have fun manipulating stuff on the computer screen," which is his most favorite activity.

I now present to you the result of this burst of creativity, which he entitled Drew's First Piece.  As you look through the score (click on the image for the whole thing in pdf) you will no doubt realize, as I did, that we are in the presence of a once-in-a-generation musical genius.

You might think that Der Drübermensch's artistic intent is focused on creating a musical score as its own, self-contained aesthetic artifact.  The dismayingly unplayable notes would lead you to think that.  It's an artistic choice that is not exactly unprecedented, yet this example is noteworthy for the courageous rigor of its application.  The difficultly goes well beyond the decision to give a high A to the tenor's first entrance in measure four; by measure seven, he calls for three tenors to sing a cluster on 64th notes at the extreme upper end of their tessitura.  I wonder if Der Drübermensch could find three tenors in the entire state of Michigan willing to take on these parts.

It gets worse; by measure eleven, the tubas are also playing impossible leaps, occurring on 64th notes, which are brutally difficult if we assume a moderato tempo.  (It would seem the 64th note is a signature of the young genius' emerging style.)  We haven't seen such boldness in writing for this instrument since Alex Ross' ground-breaking work.

Go back to the previous example:  notice the "useless" rests in the double bass part.  Can we be so sure they have no function?  Who is to say what subtle difference the counting of those rests would have on a live performance?  Indeed, this is where I begin to suspect my son is engaged in a game far subtler than we can imagine.  So what if we are decades or centuries away from producing virtuosos capable of playing this score?  If Der Drübermensch hears an ending of great dramatic power, he's going to write an ending of great dramatic power, and the tuba players can go suck eggs if they can't play it:

(Low brass players have a reputation for wussiness anyway, so we can discount their whining.)

I am ready to conclude that this score reveals to us the most uncompromising artistic visionary in the history of the world.  I am deeply humbled to have fathered and trained this young maestro.  It is clear he has nothing more to learn from me or anyone else.  I hereby release him to the world.  No need to thank me.

Labels: Composer, fun

I really, really like The New Criterion, but sometimes they just drive me nuts.  First it was their embarrassing Toga 2004 campaign, by which they accomplished nothing but the undermining of their own credibility.  Now I hear they have started a movement to get Roger Kimball elected the next pope.

Considering the suffering experienced by the current pope (who is still very much alive), this seems like an exercise in bad taste.  "Let's Send Roger to Rome!" is their slogan.  Besides the considerable theological hurdles (Kimball is a married lay person), I think he'd accomplish more by staying put as editor of TNC.  Can someone please talk some sense into these people?

Labels: fun

This is infuriating.  Infuriating.

I've subscribed to The New Criterion magazine for some time now.  I'm a big admirer of what they are trying to do -- or at least I was. But now I hear they have begun a campaign to bring back togas.  Yeah, you read that right.  Those wacky bathrobe things they used to wear in Roman times.  Apparently they've got a fund of several million dollars and they're going to spend it all on a big splashy publicity campaign to try to convince people that wearing a toga is cool.

I understand their argument.  Really, I do.  Symbols matter, what you wear can profoundly influence how you behave, bring back the virtues of the Roman Republic, classical education, yah, yah, yah.  Okay, but guys, you need to think about the old saying:  Pick.  Your.  Battles.

Heavens to Betsy, they've got all that money at their disposal; think of the good that could be accomplished.  But they throw it away on this crazy scheme that is doomed to fail.  Listen to me, people:  no one is going to wear your stupid togas.  Give it up.  You'll only destroy your credibility.  There are better ways to preserve Western Civilization than this.  You were fighting the good fight.  Please don't go loco on us now.

Labels: fun, New Criterion