I am not a big fan of advertising and marketing. To the extent they provide information that allows people to reasonable decisions about purchasing useful products, I have no problem. Quite the opposite. Of course, a company should let you know what it offers.
But when they try to force unnecessary products on us, that’s a problem. When they use carefully concealed misdirection – sometimes outright lies – to trick us, that’s a problem.
An earlier Sideband references the, “These go to eleven,” bit from This is Spinal Tap. As I mentioned, some people I know consider it one of the funniest bits in all of film, but the phrasing I just used should clue you in that it’s not mine.
Make no mistake, I do consider it a classic moment, a very funny moment, and a moment that has become a cultural icon. But it didn’t make me laugh until I hurt too much to laugh anymore.
And that begs the question, “So what are those funniest moments?”
Saw the last movie in the Harry Potter series tonight. This isn’t called Movies: Harry Potter, because this isn’t particularly a review or commentary on the movie.
I don’t have much to add to all that’s been said. Liked it a lot; great job; respectful of the source material; exciting battles; thumbs up.
One review suggested it was hard to find anything to complain about. I agree; any complaints would only be nitpicking (not that that can’t be fun sometimes).
Milla Jovovitch, I’m sorry, I loved you long time, and it’s not over (I’ll keep buying Resident Evil movies as long as you make them), but Michelle Rodriguez just stole your crown in my heart for most beautiful kickass woman in the world. I’m afraid you’re now number two.
Michelle Rogriguez! We’re talking baying-at-the-moon beautiful! We’re talking bullet in the eye beautiful! I’ve liked her since her appearance as Rain Ocampo in (coincidence alert) the first Resident Evil movie in 2002. This was only two years after her first film, Girlfight in 2000. Since that time, she’s proven to be a major star (and apparently quite a handful). She’s been in several of the Fast & Furious movies, and many know her from Lost (a series I avoided like the plague — I’m allergic to trendy)
What can I say, I like a woman with some attitude.
Nearly all science fiction fans share a meme about the number 42. This meme comes from the Douglas Adams book, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, one of the great “modern classics” (an apparent oxymoron, but it is just shorthand for ‘a recent work that is so good that someday it will be counted among the classics’). The book is the first in the “increasingly misnamed” trilogy that shares its name.
The trilogy is “increasingly misnamed” in that it now has five books. The joke is that, in science fiction, trilogies are as common as aliens, spaceships and time travel. In fact, depending on the context, there are two trilogies that have easily earned the sobriquet, “The Trilogy.” (Issac Asimov‘s Foundation series in the context of pure SF; and, of course, J.R.R. Tolkien‘s Lord of the Rings books in the context of SF + fantasy.)
In any event, the number, 42, is the answer to the question.
Last time, I wrote about irony and the perverse universe. This time I want to write about something just as fundamental. It has the technical name, entropy, and there is a very technical definition that goes along with that name.
I’ll return to that later, but for now consider this simple truth: If you have a barrel of fine wine, and you add a teaspoon of sewage, now you have a barrel of sewage. On the other hand, if you have a barrel of sewage, and you add a teaspoon of wine, you do not have a barrel of wine.
You still have a barrel of sewage!
I’m on a numeric kick with regard to Sidebands. Don’t worry, it can’t last past 13, because 14 and the numbers that follow are fairly uninspiring. Maybe #21 will be special (or not); Sidebands become adults or something. I’ll have to think about that.
I’ve also noticed that Sidebands have taken on more life than I intended. The plan was for them to be short and frequent, but some of them are pretty meaty. That’s okay, meaty words are the point here. And I’m still searching for my “voice” as I write. Many years of more formal writing, much of it technical, seem to push me away from the personal writing I wanted for this blog.
Well, it’s a journey, isn’t it — a process.
“These go to eleven.“
I know people who feel the funniest moment in all of film is the bit in This is Spinal Tap about the volume knobs that go to 11. It does seem clear that the bit has become a well-known cultural meme. Just about everyone (who’s anyone) knows exactly what you mean when you refer to turning it up to eleven.
For those of you just exiting the cave (Plato’s or otherwise), here’s the bit:
The universe is perverse. I don’t mean that in the peeking into windows sense (although the universe is indeed peeking into all our windows every moment), but in the ironic sense. The universe is deeply, hugely, fundamentally ironic in ways that are incredibly perverse.
It is ironic in that the only constant is that nothing is constant.
It is ironic in that the only absolute truth is that nothing is absolutely true.
It is ironic in that its most basic everyday aspects are its greatest mysteries.
It is ironic in that the toast always lands buttered side down.
Sidebands are 10; a full hand; a (very small) odometer moment.
The accident of genetics and evolution that gives us ten fingers (and ten toes) causes us to count in tens and celebrate things that occur on tens boundaries.
Turning 30, 40 or 50 years of age is viewed as cause to bring out the black balloons and mocking birthday cards. Yet celebrating 30, 40, 50 or 60 years of marriage is cause to celebrate (especially these divorce-prone days).
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