Random Acts of Cuteness

Liberty Pups

The term ‘hot dog’ is popularly believed to have been coined during a baseball game between the New York Yankees and the Giants in 1901. It was a chilly day and concessionaire Harry Stevens decided to buy up all the dachshund sausages he could find, his vendors offering them for sale with the following cry: “They’re red hot! Get your dachshund sausages while they’re red hot!” Observing the vendors, newspaper cartoonist T. A. Dorgan sketched a dachshund dog inside an elongated roll and, apparently unable to spell “dachshund,” used the caption “hot dog” instead, a term that quickly caught on. This also reflected the suspicion at the time that the best cuts of meat weren’t always finding their way into the cheap sausages, which, for all one knew, might actually contain dog meat. Whatever they contained, hot dogs clearly didn’t taste too bad as consumption of them never let up. Manufacturers of frankfurters initially tried to avoid the term but, with anti-German sentiment running high during the Second World War (see also French toast and Salisbury steak), “frankfurter” was dropped in favor of “hot dog”* and, under this name, quickly rose to become the American icon it is today. Footnote: During the First World War, dachshunds (the actual dogs, that is) had been renamed “liberty pups.”

Oliver Peoples

Bieber snubbed; Radiohead release

Every blog has begun their story of Radiohead’s announcement with a bite on Bieber’s loss last night. Is there some sort of correlation?

Happy Valentine’s Day!

New Year, new track

Click the image to download the track, obviously.

Keytarded

Click to download

DJ for Hire

Click for download

((ºjº))

How many faces are so recognizable that they only require seven characters to be identified?

Retrospective Futuristic: Astronautics

From the vaults (2002, I believe, using Acoustica): Wardrobe – Astronautics

To Preserve A Benevolent Attitude

Verona Wylie Slater – Penn Valley, Pennsylvania

As heard on The Bob Edwards Show, June 25, 2010

My early life was spent in Presbyterian parsonages where I learned a great deal about the “thou shalt nots” of this world. In those days his parishioners’ problems were often brought to the minister for settlement. He was supposed to be their spiritual advisor, marriage counselor, economic stabilizer, and psychiatrist. Sometimes, father referred to conferences with his flock, saying he had been wrestling with men’s souls. In these mysterious matches I though of God as a giant referee who spoke through father.

My brothers and I held long conversations about what might be true or false in Christian teachings. One evening during a thunder storm, my eldest brother was inspired to make an unholy experiment. He stood on a sloping rock, which jutted out into the lake near our summer home. Holding his face upward, he defied the almighty to strike him with a bolt of lightening. The storm was loud and close. The skies opened with a terrifying flash, but the bolt flew across the dark waters a mile away. We felt relieved, foolish, and very insignificant. I have felt unimportant many times since that night and remembered with a smile a bolt of lightning which scorned Parson’s children.

It took many years to recover from the idea that God was a figure of personal vengeance. Now I think of God as a spirit of goodness, reflected in sane human beings everywhere. In much the same way I look through the pantry shelves to see what is needed for dinner, I have frequently taken inventory of my thoughts searching for a simple philosophy by which I might live. My philosophy embraces three things I would like to be as a woman: wise, gentle, and brave. To be truly wise would take more than one lifetime, perhaps. But achievable wisdom implies the use and enjoyment of my five senses. I can observe. I can read and gather at least a partial understanding of the world. I can learn by listening to others. I can enjoy music. I can taste what is sweet or bitter. I am warned by the smell of smoke and pleased by the fragrance of flowers. With my fingers I might stroke the silken hair on the head of a child. But these same nerve ends keep my fingers from the fire.

Gentleness is the sort of kindness which accumulates with wisdom. It is the big watchword in my book. It is so easy to become an opinionated monster after 40. With age, I want to preserve a benevolent attitude. Children need tenderness to combat their natural savagery and to comfort them in distress. A soothing manner is an important ingredient in any formula dealing with men. It lightens the tensions that shorten men’s lives. A gentle approach toward other women is a vital necessity if I hope to accomplish anything in group projects and if I wish to have friends.

The real value of gentleness is lost if it is not fortified with bravery. When I am afraid, I am paralyzed and ashamed. Women who show a quiet courage in grief and disaster fill me with admiration. I have to evaluate and control fear. In order to reason clearly, I must be brave. Rather than a monument to my own failings, I want my children to be a credit to the society in which they live. All the wisdom I glean, all the gentleness I can maintain, all the courage I can command, I want for them.