Do you all know the Gallagher bit about the Crazy English Language?
B.O.M.B. … “b-ah-m!”
T.O.M.B. … “t-ah-m?” … no T.O.M.B. “t-oo-m”
C.O.M.B. … “c-oo-m?” … no C.O.M.B. “c-oh-m”
P.O.M.B. … “p-oh-m?” … no P.O.E.M. “p-oh-m”
H.O.E.M. … “h-oh-m?” … no H.O.M.E. “h-oh-m”
S.O.M.E. … “s-oh-m?” … no S.O.M.E. “s-uh-m”
N.O.M.E. … “n-uh-m?” … no N.U.M.B. “n-uh-m”
This will make more sense when you get to the end of this Special Edition of Brain Bubbles.
And what makes it so special you ask? (And why do you even need to ask? You really should know by now that I’ll not only tell you, but I’ll tell you in as many words as possible!)
Well, it’s special for a couple of reasons. Firstly, it’s BB #11, and the number eleven is both part of a great joke (hint: Rob Reiner) and a source of a bit of weirdness for me. I wrote about both way back in Sideband #11.
Which provides the next hint! Sidebands are coming back! The problem I’ve had is that the next Sideband will be #42, and any science fiction fan knows that means it’s going to have to be a good one! But I can’t write what you might expect, because I already wrote about that in Sideband #13.
What can I say. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and there was a great connection to the number 13 (and damned if I was going to wait for SB #42 to come around).
So I’ve been stuck on how to celebrate Sideband #42. It’s got to be something good enough to rate the number, and it needs to be—at least vaguely—related. (Oh, the pressure!) I finally figured what to do recently; now it’s a matter of waiting for the right time. And that time is near (hint: it involves… orbits). [I hope I finish the big graphic in time!]
But wait; there’s more elevenness! (Elevenage? Elevenosity?)
Tomorrow is the eleventh. Of September. It’s the 11th anniversary of 9/11, and I’ve been working on a set of posts talking about it. Last year, on the 10th anniversary, I wrote a post about how we’d changed. (“Anniversary” seems a strange word to use here.)
This year I’m going in a direction that may or may not be something you want to read, so I’m posting a warning here. I’ll be discussing 9/11 conspiracy crazies, debunking them, and that requires going into detail about how the Twin Towers and WTC7 fell. I fell into an online debate on the topic years ago, did a bunch of research, and that’s the content of tomorrow’s posts.
If you’re deeply connected to the events of 9/11, if the scars still hurt, I will understand if you choose to skip these posts. Or perhaps you just aren’t interested in what the crazies think or in the detailed mechanics of the collapses. For what it’s worth, I was born in New York City, so I feel a connection.
In a much less serious—but still serious—vein, for those following my post-Gobsmacked adventures, I have a call-back interview today at 9:30 AM. It’s with the guy I previously mentioned as my last, best hope. Considering that this Friday could be the unwilling last day of a 33-year career, the Ground Rush is getting intense. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t call me back just to reject me in person, so I’m feeling excited.
I’ll have an update on that situation this evening.
[Oh, geeze! I’ve ranted about “Reality TV” and here I am giving you a “Reality Blog!”]
Still being a bit serious, I hope I didn’t offend a certain math teacher recently… as usual, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut (or my hands off the keyboard). If I did offend, know that I regret that.
Having squeezed the last drop of serious out of the vein, now it’s time for some fun!
Recently the blogger Traveling With Teddy dropped by for a Like. As with palisadespete‘s most excellent blog, this blog has a central theme: Teddy. As in Bear. That reminded me of an old, much-loved bit of fun:
And it came to pass that all the bears held a meeting. Every bear came: Teddy Bear; Mokey Bear; Smokey Bear; Momma, Papa and Baby Bear. Even Yogi Bear and Booboo were there. (Also attending were Bear Back, Bear Naked and Bear Withme.)
And when the meeting was done, all the Bears went out to eat.
Except for Teddy.
He was already stuffed.
(I confess… these days I rather like the Teddies one can wear. (Um, not this “one,” in case there was any confusion there. I’m on the enjoying and removing side, not the wearing side.))
And on that note of pure silly, I leave you with some doggerel from my overwrought high school days. I give you Pomes. I mean Pombs.
Well, actually poems, but they hardly deserve the real word. I give you these to make you smile; I was such a serious geek. A serious serious geek.
out of the womb
of my mother.
seeing the world.
I think I shall…
Off to work to see if my parachute opens! Be seeing you!