It’s not the heat, it’s the stupidity
Today’s highest temperature in Chicago, not including the heat index, was 101?F. In such hot, humid weather, my hair tends to curl up. Observe this photograph, taken today:
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That’s right. I am turning into Mr. Kotter.
Hatten är din [hatt-baby] revisited
Remember this?
I was poking around through a few search engines, trying to find some way to get that music on CD, because it was very addictive, and I turned up a translation of the lyrics. Reprinted from http://www.geocities.com/pommesrotweissx/:
| Lalalalalalala… Ååååååh-åhåhåhåh |
Lalalalalalala… Oooooh-ohohohoh |
| Vinna kinky roligt, vinna kinky roligt | Winning kinky and fun, winning kinky and fun |
| Hatten är din, hatten är din Hatt-baby, hatt-baby |
The hat is yours, the hat is yours Hat-baby, hat-baby |
| Den hatten lever så roligt, Den hatten lever så roligt |
The hat is living it up, |
| Hatten är din, hatten är din Hatt-baby, hatt-baby |
The hat is yours, the hat is yours Hat-baby, hat-baby |
| Det här är förjävligt Det tycker vi blir bögigt Det alltid var roligt |
This is hopeless We find this is becoming gay It was always fun |
| Hatten är din, hatten är din Hatt-baby, hatt-baby |
The hat is yours, the hat is yours Hat-baby, hat-baby |
| Hatten är din, hatten är din Hatten är din, hatt-baby |
The hat is yours, the hat is yours The hat is yours, hat-baby |
| Lalalalalalala Ååååååh-åhåhåhåh |
Lalalalalalala Oooooh-ohohohoh |
| Cool kille med läsk i hand Ja det tycker vi – nånting sött. |
Cool guy holding a soda Yes, that’s what we like – something sweet |
| Cool kille med läsk i hand Ja det tycker vi – nånting sött. |
Cool guy holding a soda Yes, that’s what we like – something sweet |
| Välte hatten i Berts cola-au-lait Välte hatten i Berts cola-au-lait |
Threw the hat in Bert’s coke-au-lait Threw the hat in Bert’s coke-au-lait |
| Men sen visste nog du att baby Men sen visste nog du att baby Men sen visste nog du hatt-baby Men sen visste nog du att baby |
But baby, of course you knew that But baby, of course you knew that But hat-baby, of course you knew But baby, of course you knew that |
| Hatten är din, hatten är din Hatten är din, hatt-baby |
The hat is yours, the hat is yours The hat is yours, hat-baby |
| Lalalalalalala Ååååååh-åhåhåhåh |
Lalalalalalala Oooooh-ohohohoh |
| Låna LP:n “Hatten är din” Man kan klä ut sig och hångla i TV |
Borrow the LP “The hat is yours” You can dress up and make out on TV |
| Låna LP:n “Hatten är din” Man kan knarka och hamna i TV |
Borrow the LP “The hat is yours” You can do drugs and end up on TV |
| Hatten är visst det din, din! Hatten är visst det din, din! |
Yes, the hat is yours, yours! Yes, the hat is yours, yours! |
| Alla vet varför och allt blir perfekt Alla vet varför och allt blir perfekt Alla vet varför och allt blir perfekt Alla vet varför och allt blir perfekt |
Everyone knows why and everything will get perfect Everyone knows why and everything will get perfect Everyone knows why and everything will get perfect Everyone knows why and everything will get perfect |
| Hatten är din, hatten är din Hatten är din, hatt-baby |
The hat is yours, the hat is yours The hat is yours, hat-baby |
| Lalalalalalala Ååååååh-åhåhåhåh |
Lalalalalalala Oooooh-ohohohoh |
| Limma skinkbit, cooligt Limma skinkbit, cooligt, cooligt |
Glue piece of ham, cool. Glue piece of ham, cool, cool. |
| Hatten är din, hatten är din Hatt-baby, hatt-baby |
The hat is yours, the hat is yours Hat-baby, hat-baby |
| Hatten lever så roligt, Ja, hatten lever så roligt |
The hat is living it up, Yes, the hat is living it up |
| Hatten är din, hatten är din Hatt-baby, hatt-baby |
The hat is yours, the hat is yours Hat-baby, hat-baby |
| Det här är förjävligt Det tycker vi blir bögigt Det alltid var roligt |
This is hopeless We find this is becoming gay It was always fun |
| Hatten är din, hatten är din Hatt-baby, hatt-baby |
The hat is yours, the hat is yours Hat-baby, hat-baby |
| Hatten är din, hatten är din Hatten är din, hatt-baby |
The hat is yours, the hat is yours The hat is yours, hat-baby |
| Lalalalalalala LALALALALALALA… |
Lalalalalalala LALALALALALALA… |
The lyrics very strongly give me the impression that the whole thing was made just to be freaky. And I suppose there’s nothing wrong with that, but it’s more romantic to think that other cultures can be so different from America that such a bizarre thing can have a deep intrinsic social/psychological explanation.
In a similar vein, I also turned up an interesting animation here. This one is from Japan, apparently. I read somewhere that while the Japanese have a tendency to employ non-sequiturs and absurd cultural references in their entertainment, they do not do so because they get more understanding out of them, but because they think the crazy little absurd things are funny. But I cannot decide for certain whether this animation is an authentic wacky Japanese production or a parody of same or some combination of the two. I honestly think it was made by an American, or possibly a Brit – if you watch it, you will understand why. Not that it matters much, because it’s very well done either way, and will drive you just as insane on repeat viewings.
Mixing vanilla-flavored vodka with root beer Schnapps tastes a bit like a root beer float, doesn’t it?
No.
Not even remotely.
I have been redesigning my web page all afternoon. I have been redesigning for so long that my shoulder hurts and that my fingers and wrists ache with carpal tunnel syndrome. This is an awful lot of hard work for something from which I will enjoy little to no reward. YES, I WOULD LIKE SOME CHEESE WITH MY WHINE.
These pictures are of my brothers, John and Tim, and were taken at the Old North Church in Boston one year ago at my cousin’s wedding.
Clowns.
To drop shadow or not to drop shadow
Hi. I’ve been working on a site redesign, and right now I’m really still playing with ideas. But I think I may have come up with a basic letterhead. The question is, should I use drop shadows, or should I let the colors remain flat? I’ll let the images speak for themselves…
With drop shadows:
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Without:
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This sentence is false.
Long ago in south Peru
There was a man who liked to poo,
And so he’d eat and eat and poo
And drink and eat and pee and poo.
One day, this man he saw a log
And in its hollow was a frog
And so the man thought “My O Me!
A lovely log this frog would be!”
And so the man who liked to poo
Took home the frog and made some stew
And though he tried to cook it through
It still was very hard to chew
So he had milk to wash it down
And went to meet his girl in town.
She said, “You don’t look so good.”
And he said, “Do you think I should?”
And she said, “Well, I’d think you could.
If not for me, you never would.”
Then he felt pain between his hips
And then a smile across his lips
And said, “I’m glad that I’m your man.
Excuse me while I hit the can,”
And went there in a happy way
‘Cause it’s his favorite time of day
And so he sat and had a dump
And heard a noise that made him jump
And it was like a little swish.
He looked down and saw little fish!
Then thought, “Not fish, but poliwogs.
I’ve given birth to baby frogs!”
And so he ran to get his girl
And had her bring along her squirrel
And showed the tadpoles to them both.
They all agreed that they were loath
To flush them down the toilet bowl,
For even tadpoles have a soul,
So then he caught them with a net
And dried them off ’cause they were wet
And put them in a bassinet
And said, “You’re Chuck, and you are Chet.”
And so, the man he wed the girl
(The maid of honor was the squirrel)
And raised the tadpoles as his sons.
And now he only gets the runs.
One
On the train today, a fiftyish gentleman dressed in striped shorts and a loose fitting tanktop entered my car. The tanktop was loose enough that it was all bunched up in front, leaving one of his nipples exposed. He was not a chubby man, but he was just flabby enough to give his breast a feminine appearance. He sat there, oblivious of his dangling man-boob. He got off at the very next station, approximately five blocks north of the station at which he entered. As he stepped off the train I noticed he was wearing sandals and red socks.
Two
Last night I watched the movie “Hardcore” on a cable channel. “Hardcore” is the story of a man’s quest to find his daughter, who has disappeared into the seedy SoCal world of strip clubs and porno movies. I watched it with some nostalgia, because, if my memory is accurate, “Hardcore” was the first nudity-laden movie I ever saw. Of course, back then (maybe seventh grade?), I could only barely understand the plot, and most of the innuendo went over my head. Last night I noticed that sure, there was lots of nudity, but none of it was glamorous. It was all very seedy and stark and absolutely unerotic – no doubt the filmmaker’s attempts to recreate faithfully that world. But my memories of it as tittilating erotica were undercut even more by the now-noticed presence of three established actors: George C. Scott, in the starring role as the man looking for his daughter; Dick Sargent; and Peter Boyle. PETER FUCKING BOYLE is tied to my first taboo-movie-watching experience. It’s no wonder I’m sort of screwed up. Thank god I saw “Hardbodies” not too long after, or else I’d be scarred for life.
Three
Some of you may have noticed that the posts here, while occurring with greater frequency than in the past, have gone slightly downhill in quality. This is because the *quality* posts will continue to appear at a normal rate, and everything else is just filler so that I can justify referring to this as a daily weblog. So this is filler. And this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And for some reason I just typed all those out instead of just cutting and pasting them.
I am ill
There is no other explanation.
Why else would I be weepy after watching the movie “High Fidelity”? The film does not have a sad ending. The main character is a music snob, and I don’t think that I share that characteristic, but otherwise it is a movie which makes me teary in a manly way. I blame the soundtrack; it’s very manipulative. Also I blame the gin.
I believe when I fall in love with you it will be forever…
I believe when I fall in love with you it will be forever…
I believe when I fall in love with you it will be forever…
[ad infinitum]
*sniff*
In which the author reveals other talents
It occurs to me that I have never plugged this site, one which I spent a good three months helping out on:
It’s all about the Haymarket bombing that took place in Chicago in the 1880s, which led to the trial and execution of several men whose only evident criminal behavior included being of an anarcho-socialist philosophy. It’s a very compelling read, and while I cannot take credit for any of the text that appears, I did ensure that many of the images were the proper size and resolution. Well, somebody has to do it. So if you were wondering what I was doing from January through March in 2000, now you know.
And also, just because it ranked high on the list when I searched my own name through Google, a review of the above site.
Also, I apparently ran for Hamilton Alderman Ward Four in Hancock County and lost.
um hey
Recently I have been noticing, more than usual, the little things.
For example, this morning I was drinking a bottle of iced tea. When it was down to about a third full, I took it up to the drinking fountain and filled it up with water. Just shake it, and it’s a full bottle of iced tea! Just like Mom used to make.
A few hours later, on my break, I sat down with a small carton of chocolate milk, and as I drank it, I could feel the cold liquid against my internal organs as it ran down through my esophagus. Heebie-jeebies!
This afternoon, I checked some books out to a man who then put his library card back in his wallet. He then went to put his wallet in his hip pocket, but he somehow missed and sent the wallet flying several feet to his left. Somehow my mind added a slide whistle sound effect as it happened. Zweeooweep! I laughed so abruptly that I shot a snot onto my shirt.
It’s the little things that aren’t big.
Summa-summa-summertime
Chicago is lovely in the summertime. Just walking down the street, feeling the sun’s warm rays on my face, the slightly humid wind on my skin, makes me wish I lived someplace where the weather was like this all the time. But the city itself is something to see also… flowers, sprinklers everywhere, birds chirping, teenagers running around screaming monosyllabic nonsense… there is nothing quite like it. Pick a day this summer and, with a friend, go wade hip-deep in Lake Michigan, fully clothed. Then get yelled at by the lifeguard in the rowboat for not wading close enough to the rowboat. There is nothing quite like it.
News and notes
Well, not really. I just ate some cold spaghetti and a pineapple coconut ice cream cone. Life is pretty sweet. I have been working on a new site layout. The problem with thinking of a new layout is that I’m not sure which elements, if any, that I would like to keep from the previous layout. One certain change is that this blog will be appearing on the front page, so typing “lucubus.com” will lead you straight to it, without having to type out “/thedailyhey”. It’s a fairly conventional thing, the blog-on-the-front-page, but it is a thing that makes sense, and a thing that will help reduce site-bloat. I will still be calling this The Daily Hey, despite claims from myself and others that it is not particularly daily. I have to say that it has been so long since I have done any designing that I am basically having to re-learn how to do it. But look for The Lucubus, Version 5.0 before summer is out.
Also on the horizon: I’m working on my first full-length comic book. The working title is THE INADEQUATES, and as it is planned as a 24-page story I have no idea when it will be finished, let alone when I will let anyone look at it. But it will be full of everything you have come to expect from me: drawings of pretty girls, and oodles of unfunny comedy and hilarious serious bits. Sneak peeks will be given as they become available. We shall see!
One more thing – in an effort to make myself look more ridiculous and less attractive to women I have started to grow a moustache. Actually, I have good reasons for doing so: the hair above my upper lip doesn’t itch, unlike the hair under my chin; every time I shave above my upper lip, I cut myself in six places and bleed profusely and have a scab moustache the next day; and there’s a slim chance I’ll end out looking like the dread pirate Wesley from “The Princess Bride”, and he was drop dead handsome.
Till later, sweet potater –