Overtures
I lick my nose and turn my head askance
to let you know I mean you only well,
and duck my head in playful bow: let's dance.
Oh no? Your choice. So, care to have a smell?
Well, let me sniff your bottom — what's amiss?
I'm friendly, look: my tail is whizzing round;
let's — gracious me, whatever was that hiss?
You heard that, right? Extraordinary sound.
So anyway, you want to see my toys?
Or run around and bark and bark at bikes?
Why, there it is again, that hissing noise.
Ignore it; let's play chase. I'll get you — yikes!
I didn't know you had a bunch of those!
That hurt, I — Mummy, help, she got my nose!
I'm currently listening to one of cubicgarden's trance mixes. If this thing rickrolls me, I'll have to vanquish him on Monday.
Oh, and as soon as the healing springs faerie heals my Lupe I'm painting her Spotted, because I just got the PB and the spotted Lupe looks just like an African Wild Dog, for which I'm a sucker. (So she'll be a literal Painted Dog, then...)
View the original post at Black Dog Blog
I have been jumped upon by a Staffie on the tram. The Staffie should not, strictly speaking, have been on the tram in the first place, but I wasn't complaining. Any contact with dogs fairly sets me up for the day. I miss them a lot. Besides, he is a friendly Staffie and my trousers are now patched with dog slime. Good Dog. Annoying owners, though.
I think I eye people's dogs in a way that confuses the owners. They jerk the dog away or step off the pavement as if thinking I'm afraid of it, when in fact I'm conducting a leisurely exchange of looks with the dog oblivious to its walking assistant. Guess I should smile too, or say something to the owner. I'm not all that good at smiling to order, though; people occasionally seem to interpret them as angry grimaces or nervousness. And I'm worried people might realisesomehow think I want to kidnap their dog. Honestly, relax, we don't have room at home!
Walking among real people reminds me of being a GCSE French student in France, where attempts to speak the language can be met a little rudely and you occasionally get the feeling they'd rather you didn't bother trying. Yaknow, at least in Germany I was generally spoken to politely and slowly, as if they were pleased I'd made the effort.
Therefore, I present to you Hellmutt's Eurospecies Law:
Humans are from France; dogs are from Germany.
Bill Bailey last night was awesome. Highly recommended. I particularly like his musical skits.
We ate at the Eighth Day before the show. I've been in there several times to buy stuff, but never gone to their restaurant. It's a simple and cheerful canteen-style affair, and they get mega points from me for... their toilets! It's something as simple as putting "Unisex" instead of "Disabled" on the third door, but it made me feel so welcome.
Possibly playing Arkham Horror round at someone's house tonight if we can work out how to get there. Hastur la vista, baby!
(edit: I've been #followfridayed on Twitter. Give me a moment to pick up my jaw off the floor.)
View the original post at Black Dog Blog
I'm pleased to report that I have seen not one, but two Aibos, and that I still want one.
Aside possibly from hypothetical robot pangolins and Razer from Robot Wars1, robot dogs are the undisputed coolest thing in existence.
I've also witnessed a Pleo attacking a Sony Rolly.
Seeing Bill Bailey tonight, woo! I bought Slen a ticket for his birthday.
1 OK. Dead Metal is awesome too. I so want the thing.
View the original post at Black Dog Blog
- Mood:cat-sitting
"Frerene is not a chick," said Suitov icily.
The continuing adventures of Dork Boy and Poochy
View the original post at Black Dog Blog
Now I need to show some folks and see what they think. There is a Very Important Person in the pic and the artist has drawn his muzzle and ears wonderfully. She's also got Weft looking non-pretty AND oldish AND ill-tempered. *scritches him* stupid old kitteh.
Right, artistic friends, get online so I can canvass (dur hur) your opinions. Otherwise, you know me, I'll be giggling "doggeh is very good doggeh" all night.
Certain brain areas could be linked to sociability, or so a study suggests.
I don't see how a study on just 41 people could possibly be valuable.
Go ahead, speculate that autistics' brains are underdeveloped, that's fiiiiiiiine. Just don't impugn our taste for chocolate, please.
edit: Good dog.
View the original post at HellHound.net
US teacher broke law by describing creationism as 'superstitious nonsense'.
Creationism is superstitious nonsense. So are most religious beliefs. I live in the UK and am not a government employee, or indeed anyone with editorial responsibility, so either live with it or tell me my atheism is superstitious nonsense. Atheism1 is a treasured part of my identity too, but the law and I give you express permission to whinge about it all you want.
I don't know if this is the teacher's actual words being quoted, but if he truly said he had an "unequivocal belief that creationism is superstitious nonsense", how can that be attacked under the First Amendment?
If we're getting petty, this judge's ruling breaks the First A. Emphasis mine:
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.
So there. Anyway—I'm not particularly bothered by the finding represented by the headline.
The most interesting part for me is that most of the teacher's comments were protected. They include, in appropriate contexts, "when you put on your Jesus glasses, you can't see the truth", "conservatives don't want women to avoid pregnancies - that's interfering with God's work" and "[there's as much evidence that Jehovah created the world] as there is that there is a gigantic spaghetti monster living behind the moon who did it".
Those statements are now protected by law or precedent or something, which gives the good guys some kind of framework within which to work.
Should we care about animals? Discussion of animal ethics.
From Julian Baggini's answer:
The simplest and clearest motivation for taking animal welfare seriously is the recognition that pain is in and of itself a bad thing, and that to inflict significant amounts of it unnecessarily is wrong. Of course, until you cash out "significant" and "unnecessarily", the principle remains vague, but without these qualifications, the rule is a clearly nonsense.
From HE Baber's answer:
In fact there is no principled way to sort all and only humans into one moral category and everything else into another, so we face a moral dilemma. Either we hold that there is no objective criterion grounding moral consideration or we hold that when it comes to common practice we fall short.
They may post more responses; I'm not sure. Just those two at time of writing.
If I had a Retriever, I'd admit to kissing him or her good morning.
So here's a thought. When it comes to ethical choices regarding companion animals, if in any doubt, substitute "my infant child" for "my dog" and see how you feel about it then.
Following that principle, and if we allow (although I realise some (particularly in parts of the US?) don't) that debarking and declawing are not defensible, you won't find much that's morally taxing or lifestyle-inhibiting until we get to neutering. Because I wouldn't permit an infant child in my care to be sterilised, I'm forced to adopt the view that spaying and neutering companion animals is wrong. Putting that into practice, of course, as Baber points out, is difficult.
Our dogs weren't spayed, although Bracken had a hysterectomy in adulthood to cure a bad infection. Our male cat, however, is neutered. I do think if I ever own a cat I still would have it sterilised, albeit with qualms, but not a dog. Handling bitches in season is fine; we had doggy equivalents of panty pads for ours, and most people in suburbia these days don't let their entire males roam the streets. Males are easy to control, although that seems to have escaped my father, whose entire male Labrador regularly drags his bedding outdoors after meals and copulates with it.
I have seen neuters and spays performed on cats, and noted the enormous difference between the operation on a tom (literally 30 seconds. Slash, snip, snip, done) and the operation on a female (much longer and more invasive). For that reason alone, given that I would have a cat neutered, I would be much more likely to own a male cat than a female.
1 Actually, technically, that treasured part of my identity is better described as "intelligence" and "freethinking cynicism with a generous helping of Occam", because I don't define myself by negatives. Except perhaps that I'm not blond. And, of course, that I'm not the werewolf/saboteur/traitor/cylon.
If you think it's funny for a self-described neuter (-gendered individual) to be arguing about neutering, I agree.
View the original post at HellHound.net
Even now, in the stillness of death, the huge jaws seemed to be dripping with a bluish flame and the small, deep-set, cruel eyes were ringed with fire. I placed my hand upon the glowing muzzle, and as I held them up my own fingers smouldered and gleamed in the darkness.
"Phosphorus," I said.
"A cunning preparation of it," said Holmes, sniffing at the dead animal.
Glow in the dark pups aid science
("Critics argue it's playing god, but scientists point out that what we're looking at is in fact playing dogs.")
View the original post at HellHound.net
The "original" ending to The Hound of the Baskervilles.
Quite good, if silly. The Americanisms hardly show. The various neologisms are rather more pronounced.
Also, Sirius > Betelgeuse.
View the original post at HellHound.net
Devil Dog: The Hound of Hell is a very silly film with a very good doggie in it. It's quite schlock made-for-TV horrorish with atrocious special effects and mostly low-key acting and production, apart from some scenes ostensibly in Ecuador (complete with bowler-hatted people).
There isn't much surprise to the plot, and the acting (of the dogs) is pretty bad.
I enjoyed it.
It gets minus points for the old "woman possessed by the devil becomes sex-mad because sex is evil" trope. And minus a squillion points for equating my Barghest with Christian mystical junk, but that was a given; said so right in the title.
The DVD has won a place in my hellmutts library, along with Zoltan, Hound of Dracula. (Which was even worse.)
View the original post at HellHound.net
Just call me Wolffinder General.
Some excellent rounds last night. At one point I finally got to be the Seer, had both the werewolves pegged even before checking... and was promptly torn to pieces after I orchestrated the first getting lynched but before I could get the second. It was great fun just watching the rest of the game, though, as the werewolf deadpanned her way through to the last round before being narrowly defeated by the two remaining villagers. The wolf hadn't even known I was the Seer, she admitted afterwards.
Another time we played "the first person to die becomes the moderator" version. I was the werewolf, but the person taking turn as moderator — my fellow werewolf, killed by lynching because "he was the werewolf the last two times" — accidentally unmasked me. I think I would've got quite far if he hadn't.
I think Slen and Kat are addicted too. We might even bring our mother next time because she sounded interested. (There's precedent. The first time, someone else brought his mum. She was initially bemused, but pretty good. Shame she wasn't there last night.) Mother is a potential threat, though. Slen and I will have to agree a strategy in case we should both be werewolves. Mothers can tell...
After last night, villagers and werewolves are tied for victories. Werewolf is awesome. I'm learning a lot from the experienced players, and I even dared to be moderator once so the game-organiser could play. I didn't screw up, either!
And now a photo I liked: Beauty in sadness
and oooohmydogsocute
View the original post at HellHound.net
Comment to this post and I will give you 5 subjects/things I associate you with. Then post this in your LJ and elaborate on the subjects given. (If you've done it before, feel free to add a link so I can avoid duplication.)
Altivo gave me the following five:
Doggerel [heh heh, make of it what you will]
The dictionary definition of doggerel is comic verse of irregular measure. I am not quite sure what this means, and my working definition of doggerel is "rhyming poetry written in little time, not (necessarily) any good".
The reason I wouldn't ever mind my poems being described as such is quite simple: it has the word "dog" in it.
I do enjoy poetry, reading and writing it, but it has to rhyme and scan impeccably and not be what I consider 'up itself' or 'pretentious'. It helps also if something happens in it and it's funny. Poetry written for children tends to be good for these qualities.
I've been criticised, within a small writing feedback group I've frequented, for my overadherence to rhyme scheme and meter. I don't particularly want to move away from it, though. Those are what I like about the stuff in the first place.
Otherwise it
tends to feel
like prose
with
unnecessary
line breaks.
Doggerel! Doggerel is when people rhyme fire with desire (or, worse, higher), love with above (or, well, love with anything that rhymes with love; it's all over-done) or alone with [on my] own. When I hear these, I want to smite things. A good one I heard once, from Shania Twain I believe, was optimistic rhymed with pessimistic.
A doggerel might also be a cross between a dog and a cockerel. It could comb its own fur, but it might give you some rather sharp pecks on the cheek.
English
I am, I suppose, what one might call very English. I am not talking about being born in Chester, but more about such things as dry and ironic humour, honesty, fair play, dislike of making a fuss, excess of reserve and not doing sex. Oh, and liking dogs. A lot. However, I never drink tea, don't think all that much of the Royal Family or the Church of England, loathe cricket and football and am chronically disinterested in the weather.
I like the English language, though am aware that it's a pig for non-native speakers to learn. (Something about a Great Vowel Shift, which always sounds vaguely scatological to me.) I have no ear for accents and sometimes have trouble telling what people with thick accents (of any sort) are saying. Perhaps for this reason, Received Pronunciation accents — posh English, also called BBC or Queen's English — are the most pleasant on my ears. My own accent might be described as modern RP or BBC English with the edges knocked off, or... well, perhaps I'll record it someday and let others judge. I've lived in the North all my life, but don't have much of a local accent, if any at all.
I find the Heroes character Mohinder Suresh's Indian-tinged (or... less) accent extremely attractive, and was most peeved to find it was fake. Still good, though! The actor talks about it here.
I'm extremely weak to wordplay, too. Puns aren't the lowest form of wit. They are de rigeur, even obligatory, at least when one is handed the perfect set-up.
I'm also a pedant when it comes to those parts of English grammar that I fully grasp, which aren't necessarily all of it. I do have the reputation as go-to guy within the office for matters of spelling, punctuation or usage. What surprises me is that people are so nervous and unsure of some really very basic conventions. What might surprise people is that I didn't study English beyond the mandatory level (GCSE; 14–15 years of age) at school. And I learned nothing from those lessons beyond parroting someone else's interpretation of a poem. (This is what I think of the analysis of poetry by classes of 14–15-year-olds.) My secret? Genetics and upbringing, sad to say. I came into the world hard-wired to read; the usual autistic difficulties with language passed me by quite. I learned to read when I was about two years old (apparently it wasn't a question of being taught by a pushy parent; Small Me decreed that I jolly well would be taught) and didn't stop for many years.
There, I used the phrase "jolly well" as an intensifier. What more proof of Englishness do you need?
Sang-froid
The dictionary definition of sangfroid is "coolness of mind; calmness; composure". A quality I much wish I had. On the other claw, a less neutral and more negative definition — 'cold-bloodedness' in the sense of not caring about people — might easily be applied to me. I wish mankind no specific ill. Let's leave it there.
I also write a character known for both sides, coolness and coldness. (He means well. The problem may stem from the fact that he means well in an entirely theoretical and abstract sense.) However, in my writerly universe, your Captain Kirks and your headstrong princesses tend to get themselves killed out of clear incompetence and what we might call excessively glandularly-oriented decision-making, to the benefit of chaps like him; in other words, I deeply distrust people who claim to be led by their 'hearts' or 'gut feelings', which generally means "prejudices and guesses I don't want to bother to substantiate", and so I do not do things like setting up such rather reptilian sorts of fellows as cheap fall guys to 'prove' emotional humans are superior to thinking ones. Calculating people tend to succeed. At least ones who know how to play the socio-political game.
I actually have a character called Sangfroid, too; she is the great-grandmother of the character I've been talking about. She was a military general. It's said her legendary composure only cracked once, when her infant twins were in danger of death. (I bet whoever said that wasn't present at the birth. "More morphine, darling?" "Only half a glass, thank you; I'm driving.")
Twine [not string]
There was once a little installation of UseModWiki, hacked a little bit to include a 'boilerplate' text functionality, which was rather an achievement considering its owner didn't actually know any Perl. Its name was Twine Encyclopaedia and it was and is is the main publically-accessible repository of information regarding the HellMutt's writing characters, not to mention those of des co-writers at Profusion.
The little UseMod that could is named Twine because Twine is a word associated with Profusion's shared universe — though in exactly what manner remains to be seen. That's the nature of shared universes. The idea advanced so far is that it is the name of an interplanetary organisation that sets itself up as some breed of self-declared police force, tasking itself with applying and upholding interplanetary treaties and laws.
According to current plans, The Twine Encyclopaedia shall eventually apotheose and become some manner of wiki add-on in an installation of Drupal, which shall be database-driven and PHPish and Chaotic Good. Its owner does not currently know any PHP, except phpinfo(). You may be sensing a pattern here.
Kitties
As aforementioned, I like dogs. In actual fact I grew up with two exceptionally good-natured and well-trained Golden Retrievers. The stupider one knew upwards of 100 words in three languages plus sign language. This is why I don't believe in stupid dogs, only unambitious (one might even say inhibiting) owners.
I do not, however, currently enjoy the necessary honour of living with a dog, instead being drooled and occasionally sat upon by a fat, eleven-year-old, somewhat toothless cat.
They say write what you know, and so far I have a character, and to a lesser extent an entire species, based on or influenced by my inept observations of the feline nature. According to my fair and unbiased assessment of catkind, the character is murderous, spiteful, graceful, hateful, extremely fast, distractible, equal parts cynical and naïf, excessively interested in moving objects, rather dim, insecure, almost impossible to keep hold of if he wants to escape, utterly convinced of his own species' superiority to all other forms of life, and obsessed with balls of yarn. (In addition, he loves high places, can't bear to have his tummy touched and really hates getting wet.)
The character fiercely denies being kittyish in the least. He does not have fur, pointy ears or a tail and never wears bells around his neck, so we will have to believe him.
View the original post at HellHound.net
That's my grey dog aspect, the Interactor-Protector. If you want to think in Hindu terms, it's Vishnu. If you want to think in writing terms, it's a self-insert (and/or canis ex machina). If you dream, you may meet it.
Bigger
Artwork © Herm Baskerville, 2009. Not for reuse.
Make a list of 5 things you can see without getting up:
- Quiver trees (Aloe dichotoma) in Richtersveld National Park, South Africa (this picture), because I finally got bored of the ice floes and turned the calendar page over.
- Bob's Quick Guide to the Apostrophe, You Idiots, printed out and stuck to the divider thingy at the back of my desk.
- Ten unmatched jigsaw pieces that I collected one day by the railway level crossing out of joy that such things would be unexplainedly scattered there.
- A little bright green plastic windmill (like a cocktail toy or party favour), which is a Super Secret Symbol of Freedom. It stands up because I cunningly pushed the the wooden stick through the bottom of an inverted plastic cup and then fixed the bottom with some Blu-Tack. The spirit of Blue Peter permeates this organisation, I tell you.
- An article about an ex-Nasa scientist who does origami, cut out from a newspaper. I have yet to make the origami snail from the directions in there, but I will.
It seems my desk is more personalised than I realised. And more untidy.
How do you style your hair?
"Short back and sides, please". If you mean what do I do with it when I get up in the morning, I brush it. If you mean how do I dry it, I towel what I can and let mother nature do the rest.
What are you wearing now?
A buff-coloured collarless shirt with mud (see below) on the left sleeve. Black slacks and my black ankle boots, a little muddy for unrelated reasons. A black baseball cap with a C and two Bs on it, a solar-charged watch of which I'm rather fond, contact lenses and underwear. A neutral expression.
Who was the last person you said 'I Love You' to?
I don't think I've said that outside childhood.
Do you nap a lot?
Only in meetings. Er. I'm trying to cut back on that.
Who was the last person you hugged?
What constitutes a hug? Held in my arms, whispered endearments to and rubbed heads with? That was this morning. The somewhat violent endearments ("You stink and I'm going to kill you" - these pass for endearments in my case) were followed by "On reflection, this may have been a bad idea". The reason for this was that I'd just realised about the muddy pawprints all up my sleeve. I have to work in this shirt, damn you.
I don't think this qualifies as a hug, but I did get a lot of kisses and (cleaner) paws up my arm from a dog outside the pharmacy on the way to work. I don't know what it was - like a very large Staffie. I want one. Those blunt, flat-topped HEADS and that bad waggy TAIL.
What TV character would you most like to meet in real life?
IMDb lists nine television adaptations of The Hound of the Baskervilles, hey?
Other choices, hmm. Lassie. I'd like to buy Irene Adler a drink. Oh, and meeting either first-season Mohinder Suresh or Hiro Nakamura from Heroes would be likely to be fun. I could quiz Suresh on how he talks so much bollocks about genetics given that he's supposed to be a geneticist, and hear him splutter about it in that rather gorgeous voice of his (which I will steal some day, oh yes). And Nakamura, well, we both like waffles. Oh, I know! A couple of Pratchett novels have been adapted for TV, so: Death. And Gaspode.
What was the last thing you ate today?
Low fat houmous. Shut up.
What was the last text message you received?
No mobile phone, but I did get an AQA texted to my brother for a laugh, just in case Charly got the question. The answer claimed Hazz is the most handsome member of Miniluv and that he makes the ladies go wild, which - no offence to drummers anywhere - I find myself reluctant to believe without photographic evidence.
What websites do you always visit when you go online?
At home, obviously: Profusion, home of fantasy and scifi collaborative writing and roleplay, email (if I don't have Thunderbird open), Gmail (nicer interface than Thunderbird anyway), two LJ friends filters, pholph.com (because it's one of the few comics I read that doesn't have a feed, curse you Tet), usually Neopets, usually check Twine. I almost always use Google for something, too, and often Wikipedia, Darklyrics and reference.com. I have a few news feeds set up in Google Reader, but am never arsed checking them.
What was the last thing you bought?
Just been to Sainsbury to break my fast with carrot batons (they didn't have any mangetout. Pout), low fat houmous and Diet Coke with Citrus Flavour Aspartame. Yes, all right, extremely girly, no need to rub it in.
What are you listening to right now?
Office ambience. Drone of one male voice to my left-left-front, cackling female to my front right, tictac of my keyboard.
What's the last song that got stuck in your head?
Don't Fear the Reaper, Blue Öyster Cult, is playing right now. I don't know why, but it's guaranteed to be a hideous pun. My brain does that all the time. (And if I wasn't filling in this meme backwards as is my habit, it'd be Meat Loaf's Paradise by the Dashboard Light.)
If you could have any superpower, what would it be?
Teke, obviously. It's the granddaddy of all superpowers. For recreational purposes, shapeshifting, and teleporting would be useful too.
What is your favourite weather, and why?
For beauty's sake, light snow that doesn't settle (given that, beauty aside, I still have to walk to and from the station each day). To be out and about in, I'll settle for anything dry with moderate temperature. I love the wind in my face.
If you could play any musical instrument, which one would you play?
Electric bass is most likely. I don't really have a strong urge to play any instrument. Sing, perhaps, if only I had a deep enough voice.
How are you?
How? I just am; I don't have to try or anything! Epic!
What's something you'd like to say to someone right now?
I'd like to burst into a cheesy song from a musical at someone.
Your dream career?
I basically already have it, I think: something I do for money and leave at the office when I go home, ready to do my own thing with the rest of my time.
What's your favourite flavour of ice cream?
A few different Ben & Jerry's kinds - Cookie Dough, occasionally Phish Food (it's a bit rich), Caramel Chew Chew and Cherry Garcia (I think? cherry and dark chocolate bits)... well, I think I've liked all of theirs that I've tried. To avoid sounding like a B&J advert, I also like pistachio ice cream, and mint choc chip, and once had this very nummy melon flavour (yes, ice cream, not sorbet, quite weird). If anyone makes me this, I will immediately make you my wife.
View the original post at HellHound.net
My weekend was spent:
- Making music (fun)
- Taking cat to a Sunday surgery on account of a sudden rush of blood to the urine (cystitis; he's had it before. Not fun, but interesting)
- De-virusing computers and memory sticks (Slen is the prime suspect for this. Not fun, but I don't mind doing things like this with computers)
From the music, I learned that I am awesome, and the three of us (Slen, me and our mother, who helped with the later stages of the lyrics) are capable of unbelievable heights of awesomeness. (Perhaps mostly me and my mother on the lyrics; it might have been a quicker process if I wasn't determinedly trying to keep Slen's attention on it so he'd have a chance to contribute. Noodling his guitar and canoodling someone else were both vying for his attention.)
From the vet palaver, we learned of a place that has reasonable prices and a Sunday surgery, and found out a few more interesting things about cat innards from the vet, who made the time to chat to my mother in some detail. (Probably because there weren't any other patients there; that and she's good at getting medicos to talk to her in a non-patronising way, which I can't make them do, even though I'm intelligent and interested too.)
I also put a pill in the cat and held him for ritual emasculation (claw-clipping and eye drops for his cohnjuhntuhvituhs). And fed the neighbouring cats.
From the virus kerfuffle, I learned that ClamAV does not find the particular autorun.inf virus we had. On the advice of some pages I googled up (having identified the virus by myself from behaviour and a little investigation), I installed Avast!, which is spelled with an exclamation mark, and which found and removed the thing.
Avast! demands an internet connection to download its libraries, which means my mother's laptop (which is never connected to the internet as a matter of practice, but was infected by Slen's memory stick) is a little stuck — ClamAV Portable, as I mentioned, not being able to deal with this virus. I asked her to take the laptop into work and have their technicians look at it, because in any case they should be made aware of the threat, but I don't know if she'll do as I advise. Meanwhile, any USB drive connected to it is of course immediately reinfected.
Happy Australia Day and Invasion Day to those who mark one or both.
A programme called Terry Pratchett: Living with Alzheimer's is coming to BBC Two "soon"! At last, I've got some use out of the annoying TV on the wall that's turned on all the time with the sound down. (It seems his face is the same as his voice, in that I always recognise the man if I catch him out of the corner of my eye/ear, for example on a television trailer. Weird. Even my immediate relatives can't boast that level of recognisability to me.)
I keep watching Demons even though it's crap and Glenister's accent is beyond self-parody. There's one character called "Mina Harker", which annoys me almost as much as if someone were to make a character called "Irene Adler". (Which they have. Not long ago, I saw some kiddies' series to do with Sherlock Holmes and the Irregulars, and there was a murderous jewel thief character who was meant to be Adler. NO. JUST NO.)
There are some things that are guaranteed to be rubbish if done by pretty much anyone, and portrayals of supposed Mina Harkers most assuredly qualify. Don't mention That Film based on That Comic Book, either...
Oh, there has been one good thing about Demons: at the beginning of the series, the Monster of the Week was a demon named Gladiolus Thripp, which is quite possibly one of the best names ever. He was killed off in the first episode. BOO.
Oh, and I saw on Amazon that All Cats Have Asperger's Syndrome, while All Dogs Have ADHD. What is this popery! My brother gets a better genetic deal than me in EVERYTHING! (I'll have you know I'm an alpha dog, morally if nothing else. I think too much about food and too little about sex to be a tomcat.)
Current music: Power Quest, Into The Light, of which there are no words to describe the wonderful uplifting cheesiness.
View the original post at HellHound.net
Daily Mail: Religion divides us more than race, say Britons
Religion is something you can choose. Even the most brainwashed, indoctrinated or abused child can be freed from it, given competent care. Whereas I couldn't become un-white even if I wanted to. Fake tanning lotion ain't the same. (More's the pity. On a completely superficial level, I'm marginally more attracted by the less pale skin types. I hate sunburn. :P)
So. I am angry. I am angry. I've just watched three clips from a television programme on whose website I'm working. Animal sacrifice. Not only the usual livestock-type animals (and I find that completely unacceptable in itself), but also babies of some animals we in Britain consider domestic companions.
It makes me angry that people still inflict fear and pain on a bound animal, hold it down and murder it and then dance around their pet's blood in the belief that it will make the sea calm. It makes me angry that people still load children with dogmas and guilt and magical thinking and useless lore and superstitious rituals in the belief that after they die they will go to fairyland. Do not come near me with pamphlets right now because I swear... *temporary transmission loss* ...so far you'll have papercuts in your sodding mouth.
...
Nonetheless, I remind myself, I strongly feel that everyone may think whatever superstitious bollocks they choose—as long as no laws or bounds of common decency are broken in the process of whatever they choose to do about their superstitious bollocks, doing being a crucially separate thing from thinking. As part of that freedom, the superstitious bollocks should be continually challenged and held up to debate. And if they're rude or obstructive in how they act on their superstitious bollocks, "but it's what I beliiiiiiiieve" must not be a mitigating factor in how society censures the bad behaviour, which, remember, is not the same thing as the belief.
And that goes for people who think whales are fish, people who think they're psychic, people who think little grey aliens are obsessed with their rectums, people who think standing on a phone book will stop you getting pregnant, people who think the invisible beard told them not to eat animals that weren't murdered with the proper magic words, people who file Green Day in the metal section... you get the idea.
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A late appearance in the Christmas piccy stakes, entered after the closing date through the power of rampant favouritism. (Hey, I made the rules, I interpret the rules.)
Hrian headshot (600×800, 100KB)
Hrian is a plain grey Canis lupus, at least for part of the time. The colours on this went a lot more red and blue than I intended, making him look more Mexican (see what I mean?). I ran with it and offered the recipient an alternative desaturated version, but he preferred the original.
I might take another shot at this... Oh, and I kinda like the sketch, possibly even more than the finished article, so there it is.
View the original post at HellHound.net
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hellmutt- A Straunge and Terrible Wunder
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