[Editor's note: This post first appeared on this blog back in November 2007, nearly 11 years ago, proving that dinosaurs such as your correspondent can indeed survive. Whether they have relevance is, of course, another matter entirely. --RWP]
Here's a passage from Lewis Carroll's Through the Looking Glass that may help you decide, if you were wondering, whether to pursue a career as a computer programmer:
`You are sad,' the Knight said in an anxious tone: `let me sing you a song to comfort you.'
`Is it very long?' Alice asked, for she had heard a good deal of poetry that day.
`It's long,' said the Knight, `but it's very, very beautiful. Everybody that hears me sing it -- either it brings the tears into their eyes, or else --'
`Or else what?' said Alice, for the Knight had made a sudden pause.
`Or else it doesn't, you know. The name of the song is called "Haddocks' Eyes".'
`Oh, that's the name of the song, is it?' Alice said, trying to feel interested.
`No, you don't understand,' the Knight said, looking a little vexed. `That's what the name is called. The name really is "The Aged Aged Man".'
`Then I ought to have said "That's what the song is called"?' Alice corrected herself.
`No, you oughtn't: that's quite another thing! The song is called "Ways and Means": but that's only what it's called, you know!'
`Well, what is the song, then?' said Alice, who was by this time completely bewildered.
`I was coming to that,' the Knight said. `The song really is "A-sitting On a Gate": and the tune's my own invention.'
If reading that had your head spinning like Linda Blair's in The Exorcist, perhaps you should not consider computer programming for your life's work. But if you understood the passage perfectly, if you were drawn to the "else" discussion as a moth to the flame, if you had no trouble separating the song, the name of the song, what the song is called, and what the name of the song is called, not to mention the tune, from one another, and if the last few minutes brought a twinkle to your eyes and a chuckle to your throat, then you obviously have a grasp of symbolic representation that just may be your key to fame, fortune, and success in the programming world! Or, as COBOL and FORTRAN programmers used to say, else.
Showing posts with label Lewis Carroll. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lewis Carroll. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 10, 2018
Friday, April 17, 2015
A - You’re Adorable; B - You’re so Beautiful; C - You’re a Cutie full of Charms; D - All of the above; E - None of the above
The time has come the walrus said to give you the answers to the quiz in my previous post. Here goes:
1. C. Ginkgo Biloba is a tree.
2. C. Garcinia Cambogia is a tree.
3. Both A and C. “By the Shores of Gitchee Gumee” is both a line from a famous poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and a satirical novel by Tama Janowitz about the Slivenowiczes, a trailer park trash family, etc.
4. It should be obvious that Hiawatha wore a toupee to keep his wigwam.
5. A, B, and C are all written in trochaic tetrameter. A is from “The Song of Hiawatha” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow; B is from “San Francisco” (a parody by James Linen, circa 1865) ; C is from “Hiawatha’s Photographing” (an 1869 parody by Lewis Carroll, who introduced it with an entire paragraph written in trochaic tetrameter without the line breaks a poem would have: “In an age of imitation, I can claim no special merit for this slight attempt at doing what is known to be so easy. Any fairly practised writer, with the slightest ear for rhythm, could compose, for hours together, in the easy running metre of ‘The Song of Hiawatha.’ Having, then, distinctly stated that I challenge no attention in the following little poem to its merely verbal jingle, I must beg the candid reader to confine his criticism to its treatment of the subject.”)
The following is from yet another parody of Longfellow’s poem entitled “The Modern Hiawatha” and attributed to George A. Strong:
He killed the noble Mudjokivis.
Of the skin he made him mittens,
Made them with the fur side inside,
Made them with the skin side outside.
He, to get the warm side inside,
Put the inside skin side outside.
He, to get the cold side outside,
Put the warm side fur side inside.
That’s why he put the fur side inside,
Why he put the skin side outside,
Why he turned them inside outside.
6. The correct answer is “None of the above” because the actor is Sean Penn, the English explorer is William Penn, and Phnom Penh is a city in Cambodia, not Cambogia. It is always wiser to read carefully and not assume that I made a typographical error and meant Cambodia. The fact that “None of the above” was not one of the choices is irrelevant. You were not told that the list was exhaustive.
7. False. It is true that most geckos cannot blink, but they often lick their eyes to keep them clean and moist. As far as I know, this is not true of the ginkgo, which is -- all together, class -- a tree.
Thank you for participating or not participating. There was no theme, trick, or ulterior motive to my quiz. I presented it to you only because April Fools Day somehow slipped past us uncelebrated. Better late than never.
1. C. Ginkgo Biloba is a tree.
2. C. Garcinia Cambogia is a tree.
3. Both A and C. “By the Shores of Gitchee Gumee” is both a line from a famous poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and a satirical novel by Tama Janowitz about the Slivenowiczes, a trailer park trash family, etc.
4. It should be obvious that Hiawatha wore a toupee to keep his wigwam.
5. A, B, and C are all written in trochaic tetrameter. A is from “The Song of Hiawatha” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow; B is from “San Francisco” (a parody by James Linen, circa 1865) ; C is from “Hiawatha’s Photographing” (an 1869 parody by Lewis Carroll, who introduced it with an entire paragraph written in trochaic tetrameter without the line breaks a poem would have: “In an age of imitation, I can claim no special merit for this slight attempt at doing what is known to be so easy. Any fairly practised writer, with the slightest ear for rhythm, could compose, for hours together, in the easy running metre of ‘The Song of Hiawatha.’ Having, then, distinctly stated that I challenge no attention in the following little poem to its merely verbal jingle, I must beg the candid reader to confine his criticism to its treatment of the subject.”)
The following is from yet another parody of Longfellow’s poem entitled “The Modern Hiawatha” and attributed to George A. Strong:
He killed the noble Mudjokivis.
Of the skin he made him mittens,
Made them with the fur side inside,
Made them with the skin side outside.
He, to get the warm side inside,
Put the inside skin side outside.
He, to get the cold side outside,
Put the warm side fur side inside.
That’s why he put the fur side inside,
Why he put the skin side outside,
Why he turned them inside outside.
6. The correct answer is “None of the above” because the actor is Sean Penn, the English explorer is William Penn, and Phnom Penh is a city in Cambodia, not Cambogia. It is always wiser to read carefully and not assume that I made a typographical error and meant Cambodia. The fact that “None of the above” was not one of the choices is irrelevant. You were not told that the list was exhaustive.
7. False. It is true that most geckos cannot blink, but they often lick their eyes to keep them clean and moist. As far as I know, this is not true of the ginkgo, which is -- all together, class -- a tree.
Thank you for participating or not participating. There was no theme, trick, or ulterior motive to my quiz. I presented it to you only because April Fools Day somehow slipped past us uncelebrated. Better late than never.
Friday, April 6, 2012
A do-it-yourself meditation for Good Friday with a little help from Lewis Carroll
If you know where you want to go, it matters a great deal.
Quo vadis?
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Poems that really make you think, or 2010 (and maybe even rhymeswithplague) as Father William
The following is from Wikipedia, the online encyclopedia:
“You Are Old, Father William” is a poem by Lewis Carroll that appears in his book Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (1865). It is recited by Alice in Chapter 5, “Advice from a Caterpillar" (Chapter 3 in the original manuscript, Alice’s Adventures Under Ground). Alice informs the caterpillar that she has previously tried to repeat “How Doth the Little Busy Bee” and has had it all come wrong as “How Doth the Little Crocodile". The caterpillar asks her to repeat “You are old, Father William”, and she recites.
Like most poems in Alice, the poem is a parody of a poem then well-known to children, of Robert Southey’s didactic poem “The Old Man’s Comforts and How He Gained Them”, originally published in 1799. Like the other poems parodied by Lewis Carroll in Alice, this original poem is now mostly forgotten, and only the parody is remembered. Carroll’s parody “undermines the pious didacticism of Southey’s original and gives Father William an eccentric vitality that rebounds upon his idiot questioner”. Martin Gardner calls it “one of the undisputed masterpieces of nonsense verse”.
[End of Wikipedia passage]
Here’s the poem:
You Are Old, Father William
by Lewis Carroll
“You are old, Father William,” the young man said,
“And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head --
Do you think, at your age, it is right?”
“In my youth," Father William replied to his son,
“I feared it might injure the brain;
But now that I’m perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again.”
“You are old," said the youth, “As I mentioned before,
And have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door -—
Pray, what is the reason of that?”
“In my youth,” said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,
“I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment —- one shilling the box -—
Allow me to sell you a couple?”
“You are old,” said the youth, “And your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak -—
Pray, how did you manage to do it?”
“In my youth," said his father, “I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life.”
“You are old,” said the youth, “one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose -—
What made you so awfully clever?”
“I have answered three questions, and that is enough,
Said his father; “don’t give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I’ll kick you down stairs!”
Call me odd if you like, but I do not think of this as only a nonsense poem. Of course it makes us laugh, but I also view it as a parable that can benefit us all, if we have ears to hear.
If ever a year stood on its head, turned a back-somersault in at the door, finished the goose, or balanced an eel on the end of its nose, it has been 2010. And, yes, I am thinking specifically of the British and American elections as well as the current state of the British and American economies.
Only some of those phrases, however, apply to your correspondent. As for other phrases in the poem, such as “old,” “hair become very white,” “grown uncommonly fat,” and “awfully clever” -- well, the jury is still out. But even if the jury returns an unfavorable verdict, your correspondent remains absolutely convinced that he possesses an eccentric vitality that rebounds upon his idiot questioners. In his defense, however, and as an indication of his great humility, please note that he does not say, “he and he alone.”
Lewis Carroll (pen name of Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, 1832 - 1898)
“The chief difficulty Alice found at first was in managing her flamingo.”
WhenFather William rhymeswithplague 2010 is long forgotten, past victories or defeats have faded into obscurity, and the triumphs and tragedies of everyday living have worked themselves into the fabric of our respective lives, may we all find in 2011 less difficulty in managing our flamingo.
“You Are Old, Father William” is a poem by Lewis Carroll that appears in his book Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (1865). It is recited by Alice in Chapter 5, “Advice from a Caterpillar" (Chapter 3 in the original manuscript, Alice’s Adventures Under Ground). Alice informs the caterpillar that she has previously tried to repeat “How Doth the Little Busy Bee” and has had it all come wrong as “How Doth the Little Crocodile". The caterpillar asks her to repeat “You are old, Father William”, and she recites.
Like most poems in Alice, the poem is a parody of a poem then well-known to children, of Robert Southey’s didactic poem “The Old Man’s Comforts and How He Gained Them”, originally published in 1799. Like the other poems parodied by Lewis Carroll in Alice, this original poem is now mostly forgotten, and only the parody is remembered. Carroll’s parody “undermines the pious didacticism of Southey’s original and gives Father William an eccentric vitality that rebounds upon his idiot questioner”. Martin Gardner calls it “one of the undisputed masterpieces of nonsense verse”.
[End of Wikipedia passage]
Here’s the poem:
You Are Old, Father William
by Lewis Carroll
“You are old, Father William,” the young man said,
“And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head --
Do you think, at your age, it is right?”
“In my youth," Father William replied to his son,
“I feared it might injure the brain;
But now that I’m perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again.”
“You are old," said the youth, “As I mentioned before,
And have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door -—
Pray, what is the reason of that?”
“In my youth,” said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,
“I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment —- one shilling the box -—
Allow me to sell you a couple?”
“You are old,” said the youth, “And your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak -—
Pray, how did you manage to do it?”
“In my youth," said his father, “I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life.”
“You are old,” said the youth, “one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose -—
What made you so awfully clever?”
“I have answered three questions, and that is enough,
Said his father; “don’t give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I’ll kick you down stairs!”
Call me odd if you like, but I do not think of this as only a nonsense poem. Of course it makes us laugh, but I also view it as a parable that can benefit us all, if we have ears to hear.
If ever a year stood on its head, turned a back-somersault in at the door, finished the goose, or balanced an eel on the end of its nose, it has been 2010. And, yes, I am thinking specifically of the British and American elections as well as the current state of the British and American economies.
Only some of those phrases, however, apply to your correspondent. As for other phrases in the poem, such as “old,” “hair become very white,” “grown uncommonly fat,” and “awfully clever” -- well, the jury is still out. But even if the jury returns an unfavorable verdict, your correspondent remains absolutely convinced that he possesses an eccentric vitality that rebounds upon his idiot questioners. In his defense, however, and as an indication of his great humility, please note that he does not say, “he and he alone.”
When
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Today is a day like all other days, except you are there
If Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart were alive today, he would be celebrating his 254th birthday.
If Lewis Carroll (born Charles Dodgson -- doesn't everyone have a nom de plume?) were alive today, he would be celebrating his 145th birthday.
If Jackson Pollock were alive today, he would be celebrating his 98th birthday.
If Jesus Christ were alive today...oh, wait, he is.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Mica, mica, parva stella... (How insanity begins)
I certainly don’t want to bore you, nor do I want, heaven forbid, to become so enamored of my own posts that I wind up talking to myself, but in order to understand this post you must first read every last word of this February 5th post, including the comments. Sorry, but it can’t be helped. After that, we can continue.
I’ll wait.
There now, wasn’t that a fascinating read? I hope you learned a lot of new facts -- well, perhaps not new exactly, but new to you -- such as (a) Charlemagne (742-814) is considered to have been the father of Europe, and (b) the full name of the current Prince of Wales is not, as Princess Diana would have had us believe, Charles Arthur Philip George.
Anyway.
Fast-forward (now there’s an anachronistic term if I ever heard one) three months. After a three-month interlude of absolute quiet on that particular post, jinksy (a blogger from England who has 80, count ’em, 80 followers) posted a comment in which she described Carolina in Nederland thusly: “She’s a star. Which just goes to show she is from another planet, for sure...” (Ruth Hull Chatlien, you will remember, had suggested that Carolina’s father might be from Neptune).
My mind working the way it does, I immediately thought of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.
You know, “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” and all that. Just about everybody knows that Mozart wrote “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”
Except he didn’t. You can search Wikipedia’s article on Mozart until the cows come home (Jeannelle, are you listening?) and you will find nary a mention of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”
According to this Wikipedia article, “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” is one of the most popular English nursery rhymes. It combines the tune of the melody “Ah! Vous dirai-je, Maman”, known in France since the 1760s, with an early nineteenth-century English poem, “The Star” by Jane Taylor. The poem, which is in couplet form, was first published in 1806 in Rhymes for the Nursery [Editor’s note. Not to be confused with Rhymeswithplague for the Nursery. -- RWP], a collection of poems by Taylor and her sister Ann. It is often sung to the tune of the French melody “Ah! vous dirai-je, Maman” (earliest known publication 1761) [Editor’s note. Anything a Wikipedia article says twice is true. --RWP]. The English lyrics have five stanzas, although only the first is widely known.
So what did Mozart do? The article states that Mozart wrote twelve variations for piano on the melody. His composition is called, predictably enough, Variations on “Ah vous dirai-je, Maman”, now catalogued as K. 265/300e in the Köchel-Verzeichnis. It sounds an awful lot like “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” and now you know why.
Isn’t that special?
I know a woman whose name is Jane Taylor, but I’m pretty sure she wasn’t alive in 1806. One of my neighbors is named Richard Burton but his wife is named Sarah, not Elizabeth Taylor. I wonder if Jane and Elizabeth are related. The person who grooms Jethro is named Karen Carpenter. Remember her? I even know someone named Jane Grey. Lady Jane Grey (not the same person) was queen of England for nine whole days in 1553 before being beheaded by Queen Mary in 1554, but not, apparently, before writing “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” using the nom de plume Jane Taylor with her sister Ann, who lived until 1806, if I read Wikipedia correctly. After a while, all those Wikipedia articles start to run together. People named a drink after Queen Mary; it’s made with vodka and tomato juice. I guess they had their reasons. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Andy Rooney wrote this paragraph. For the record, I don’t know anyone named Andy Rooney except that old guy on 60 Minutes.
(The Execution of Lady Jane Grey by French Romantic painter Paul Delaoche, 1833.) I enjoy reading about the history of the British monarchy. You can read all about Lady Jane Grey here, including the fact that Jane refused to name her husband Dudley as king, but offered to make him Duke of Clarence instead. I don’t think it was this Dudley, however, and I thought Clarence was that angel who got his wings at the end of It’s A Wonderful Life.
But, I can almost hear you asking, why does it say “Mica, mica, parva stella” up there in the title of this post? Well, Mica, mica, parva stella is the first line of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” in Latin, and you can find that version in the Wikipedia article along with the French words of “Ah, vous dirai-je, Maman” and Lewis Carroll’s well-known parody from Through The Looking Glass that he put into the mouth of the Mad Hatter, “Twinkle, twinkle, little bat, How I wonder what you’re at, Up above the world so high, Like a tea-tray in the sky.”
Any similarity between the Mad Hatter and any blogger you know, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
And by the way, jinksy could benefit from a remedial course in astronomy. For your and her information, a star is not a planet and a planet is not a star. In our atmosphere, stars seem to twinkle. Planets do not. Outside of our atmosphere, neither stars nor planets twinkle. Not that I’ve ever been there.
(Image by Shutterstock)Incidentally, and also for your information, reading a post that includes “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” in Latin, an 1833 painting of the 1554 execution of Lady Jane Grey, a reference to the planets in our solar system, and a link to Dudley Do-Right is how insanity begins.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Humpty Dumpty, Babe Ruth, and six degrees of separation
The drawing on the left is an illustration made by John Tenniel in 1871 for the original edition of Lewis Carroll's Through the Looking Glass. Here are a few lines from Chapter 6:“There’s glory for you!” [said Humpty Dumpty].
“I don’t know what you mean by ‘glory,’” Alice said.
Humpty Dumpty smiled contemptuously. “Of course you don’t -- till I tell you. I meant ‘there’s a nice knock-down argument for you!’”
“But ‘glory’ doesn’t mean ‘a nice knock-down argument,’” Alice objected.
“When I use a word,” Humpty Dumpty said in rather a scornful tone, “it means just what I choose it to mean -- neither more nor less.”
“The question is,” said Alice, “whether you can make words mean different things.”
“The question is,” said Humpty Dumpty, “which is to be master -- that’s all.”
(End of quotation)
This famous literary conversation came to mind recently when I happened to google “Babe Ruth.” I know what you’re thinking, and you're wrong.
Steeee-rike one.
I wasn’t looking for Babe Ruth, the baseball player:
According to Wikipedia, George Herman Ruth, Jr. (February 6, 1895 – August 16, 1948), also popularly known as “Babe”, “The Bambino”, and “The Sultan of Swat”, was an American Major League baseball player from 1914–1935. He is one of the greatest sports heroes of American culture and has been named the greatest baseball player in history in various surveys and rankings. His home run hitting prowess and charismatic personality made him a larger than life figure in the “Roaring Twenties”. He was the first player to hit 60 home runs in one season (1927), a record which stood for 34 years until broken by Roger Maris in 1961. Ruth’s lifetime total of 714 home runs at his retirement in 1935 was a record for 39 years, until broken by Hank Aaron in 1974.You’ll need to guess again.
You’re still wrong. Steee-rike two.
I wasn’t looking for Baby Ruth, the candy bar either:
Baby Ruth is a candy bar made of chocolate-covered peanuts, caramel, and nougat, though the nougat found in it is more like fudge than is found in many other American candy bars. The bar was a staple of the Chicago-based Curtiss Candy Company for some seven decades. Curtiss was later purchased by Nabisco, and after a series of mergers and acquisitions, the candy bar is currently produced by Nestlé. The creators of Baby Ruth, the candy bar, claim it was named for the daughter of President Grover Cleveland, not for Babe Ruth, the baseball player. But the creators launched their candy bar in 1921, at the height of the popularity of Babe Ruth, the baseball player, twenty-five years after Grover Cleveland stopped being president, and many years after his daughter had died. In the original flavor, U.S. edition, the ingredients listed by weight in decreasing order were sugar, roasted peanuts, corn syrup, partially hydrogenated palm kernel and coconut oil, nonfat milk, cocoa, High-fructose corn syrup and less than 1% of glycerin, whey (from milk), dextrose, salt, monoglycerides, soy lecithin, soybean oil, natural and artificial flavors, carrageenan, TBHQ and citric acid (to preserve freshness), caramel color.No, I was looking for something else. What I was looking for -- and this may come as a shock to some of you (do I hear Steee-rike three?) -- was Babe Ruth, the British rock band from the seventies:
Here’s how Babe Ruth, the British rock band, looked in 1975. The members, from left to right, were Alan Shacklock, Dave Hewitt, Jenny Haan, Ed Spevock, and Steve Gurl.Babe Ruth, the British rock band, hasn’t even existed for a couple of decades, but back when it did, one of their albums went gold in Canada. They were more successful in the U.S. and Canada than in the U.K., and I’m wondering whether any of you readers in Canada or the U.K. or even here in the States remember this band. (I must admit that I had never heard of them, but then rock music was never my thing.)
Here comes a second shock: Alan Shacklock and Dave Hewitt are both friends of mine.
At some point the Shacklocks and the Hewitts moved to Atlanta. Alan and his wife, Lee, joined our church in the early nineties and so did Dave and his wife, Mary. Mary sang soprano in the choir.
Here’s shock number three: Alan, who once produced an album for Meat Loaf, directed our church choir for more than a year. I will wait while you pick yourself up off the floor.
He didn’t look anything at all like he did in 1975. For one thing, he didn’t have any hair. None at all. His head was shaved. Dave Hewitt looked more like his 1975 self, except that he was older and his hair was quite a bit shorter. Dave played bass guitar. Alan played one of those electronic keyboard synthesizer thingies. Alan even had a title while he was at our church: Director of the Celebrative Arts. A few years later he moved to Nashville, Tennessee, where he now divides his time between producing recordings once again and teaching guitar in the music department at Belmont College.
Alice was wrong and Humpty Dumpty was right. You can make words mean different things. The proof is Babe Ruth.
Now if I could just find a connection between Meat Loaf and Kevin Bacon, I might decide there’s something to that “six degrees of separation” nonsense after all.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Two! Two! Two awards in one!
I’m probably one of the few people old enough to remember a commercial for some kind of product that was supposed to do away with bad breath and taste like candy at the same time. I forget the name of the actual product, but the commercial went, “It’s two, two, two mints in one” and then one person would say, “It’s a breath mint!” and another person would say, “No, it’s a candy mint!” and, wouldn't you just know it (shades of Madison Avenue), it turned out to be both! A candy mint AND a breath mint! Two! Two! Two mints in one!
That old commercial came to mind this week when I received not one but two blog awards from Jeannelle in Iowa, author of a blog called
Midlife by Farmlight.
It’s the only blog I know of with a post that begins, “I was scraping cow manure in the barn a few minutes ago and...” or a post with minute-by-minute photographs -- detailed photographs -- of the birth of a calf, a post about how to tell the difference between male and female rows of corn, a post explaining what “rogue” corn is, a post about the author’s summer fling -- I believe she called it a “tryst” -- with a John Deere riding lawn mower, or where you can see pictures of stained glass windows from a Lutheran church built in the 1870’s while receiving an ongoing education in the Latin names of wildflowers of the midwestern prairie. Midlife by Farmlight is one of my favorite blogs, and I’m honored to have received these awards from Jeannelle.
The first one is the Brillante [sic] Weblog award and looks like this:
The second one is the Thinking Blogger award and looks like this:
I have nothing prepared [dropping sheets of paper], but I want to thank my agent, my hair stylist, my chauffeur, all you wonderful people sitting out there in the dark -- oh, wait, that last part was Gloria Swanson in Sunset Boulevard, which was named the Best Picture of 1950 by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. One story of why the Academy Award is called an Oscar is that Bette Davis said the rear view reminded her of her ex-husband Oscar and the name stuck (this story is not the officially authorized version). When Sally Field received her Oscar for Best Actress for her role in Norma Rae she exclaimed, “You like me! You really like me!” I know how she felt. For those of you have been asleep for the past 80 years, here’s what Oscar looks like:
Not to be outdone, the Television Academy of Arts and Sciences promptly came up with its own flashy award. Here’s an Emmy® statuette like the one Susan Lucci of All My Children fame finally won after nineteen years of trying:
So there are Tonys, Grammys, People’s Choice Awards, Golden Globes, CMA (Country Music Association) Awards, more awards than you can shake a stick at. But I no longer care about any of those. Who needs an Oscar? Who needs an Emmy? I have received Two! Two! Two blog awards in one!
If ever a week were brillig, if ever there were a time when slithy toves ought to gyre and gimble in the wabe, if ever the borogroves had a right to be mimsy, if ever the mome raths could outgrabe with impunity, this is that week and time.
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! I'm chortling in my joy!
My deepest apologies to Lewis Carroll.
I must think for a little while before naming the next recipients. I’ll try to be brillante.
That old commercial came to mind this week when I received not one but two blog awards from Jeannelle in Iowa, author of a blog called
Midlife by Farmlight.
It’s the only blog I know of with a post that begins, “I was scraping cow manure in the barn a few minutes ago and...” or a post with minute-by-minute photographs -- detailed photographs -- of the birth of a calf, a post about how to tell the difference between male and female rows of corn, a post explaining what “rogue” corn is, a post about the author’s summer fling -- I believe she called it a “tryst” -- with a John Deere riding lawn mower, or where you can see pictures of stained glass windows from a Lutheran church built in the 1870’s while receiving an ongoing education in the Latin names of wildflowers of the midwestern prairie. Midlife by Farmlight is one of my favorite blogs, and I’m honored to have received these awards from Jeannelle.
The first one is the Brillante [sic] Weblog award and looks like this:
The second one is the Thinking Blogger award and looks like this:
I have nothing prepared [dropping sheets of paper], but I want to thank my agent, my hair stylist, my chauffeur, all you wonderful people sitting out there in the dark -- oh, wait, that last part was Gloria Swanson in Sunset Boulevard, which was named the Best Picture of 1950 by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. One story of why the Academy Award is called an Oscar is that Bette Davis said the rear view reminded her of her ex-husband Oscar and the name stuck (this story is not the officially authorized version). When Sally Field received her Oscar for Best Actress for her role in Norma Rae she exclaimed, “You like me! You really like me!” I know how she felt. For those of you have been asleep for the past 80 years, here’s what Oscar looks like:
Not to be outdone, the Television Academy of Arts and Sciences promptly came up with its own flashy award. Here’s an Emmy® statuette like the one Susan Lucci of All My Children fame finally won after nineteen years of trying:
So there are Tonys, Grammys, People’s Choice Awards, Golden Globes, CMA (Country Music Association) Awards, more awards than you can shake a stick at. But I no longer care about any of those. Who needs an Oscar? Who needs an Emmy? I have received Two! Two! Two blog awards in one!
If ever a week were brillig, if ever there were a time when slithy toves ought to gyre and gimble in the wabe, if ever the borogroves had a right to be mimsy, if ever the mome raths could outgrabe with impunity, this is that week and time.
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! I'm chortling in my joy!
My deepest apologies to Lewis Carroll.
I must think for a little while before naming the next recipients. I’ll try to be brillante.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
A programming aptitude test
Here's a passage from Lewis Carroll's Through the Looking Glass that may help you decide, if you were wondering, whether to pursue a career as a computer programmer:
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`You are sad,' the Knight said in an anxious tone: `let me sing you a song to comfort you.'
`Is it very long?' Alice asked, for she had heard a good deal of poetry that day.
`It's long,' said the Knight, `but it's very, very beautiful. Everybody that hears me sing it -- either it brings the tears into their eyes, or else --'
`Or else what?' said Alice, for the Knight had made a sudden pause.
`Or else it doesn't, you know. The name of the song is called "Haddocks' Eyes".'
`Oh, that's the name of the song, is it?' Alice said, trying to feel interested.
`No, you don't understand,' the Knight said, looking a little vexed. `That's what the name is called. The name really is "The Aged Aged Man".'
`Then I ought to have said "That's what the song is called"?' Alice corrected herself.
`No, you oughtn't: that's quite another thing! The song is called "Ways and Means": but that's only what it's called, you know!'
`Well, what is the song, then?' said Alice, who was by this time completely bewildered.
`I was coming to that,' the Knight said. `The song really is "A-sitting On a Gate": and the tune's my own invention.'
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If reading that had your head spinning like Linda Blair's in The Exorcist, perhaps you should not consider computer programming for your life's work. But if you understood the passage perfectly, if you were drawn to the "else" discussion as a moth to the flame, if you had no trouble separating the song, the name of the song, what the song is called, and what the name of the song is called, not to mention the tune, from one another, and if the last few minutes brought a twinkle to your eyes and a chuckle to your throat, then you obviously have a grasp of symbolic representation that just may be your key to fame, fortune, and success in the programming world! Or, as COBOL and FORTRAN programmers used to say, else.
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`You are sad,' the Knight said in an anxious tone: `let me sing you a song to comfort you.'
`Is it very long?' Alice asked, for she had heard a good deal of poetry that day.
`It's long,' said the Knight, `but it's very, very beautiful. Everybody that hears me sing it -- either it brings the tears into their eyes, or else --'
`Or else what?' said Alice, for the Knight had made a sudden pause.
`Or else it doesn't, you know. The name of the song is called "Haddocks' Eyes".'
`Oh, that's the name of the song, is it?' Alice said, trying to feel interested.
`No, you don't understand,' the Knight said, looking a little vexed. `That's what the name is called. The name really is "The Aged Aged Man".'
`Then I ought to have said "That's what the song is called"?' Alice corrected herself.
`No, you oughtn't: that's quite another thing! The song is called "Ways and Means": but that's only what it's called, you know!'
`Well, what is the song, then?' said Alice, who was by this time completely bewildered.
`I was coming to that,' the Knight said. `The song really is "A-sitting On a Gate": and the tune's my own invention.'
-------------------------------------------------
If reading that had your head spinning like Linda Blair's in The Exorcist, perhaps you should not consider computer programming for your life's work. But if you understood the passage perfectly, if you were drawn to the "else" discussion as a moth to the flame, if you had no trouble separating the song, the name of the song, what the song is called, and what the name of the song is called, not to mention the tune, from one another, and if the last few minutes brought a twinkle to your eyes and a chuckle to your throat, then you obviously have a grasp of symbolic representation that just may be your key to fame, fortune, and success in the programming world! Or, as COBOL and FORTRAN programmers used to say, else.
Friday, September 28, 2007
And so it begins...
Today is Friday, September 28, 2007. I have finally decided to begin my very own blog, and not a minute too soon, either. At sixty-six-and-one-half years old, I may soon be entering the second half of my life. FYI, as they say, the Dow Jones Industrial Average closed today at 13885.63, the Nasdaq Composite Index closed at 2701.50, the Standard & Poor 500 closed at 1526.75, the Amex closed at 2410.19, and the Russell 2000 closed at 805.45. A passage from Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures In Wonderland comes to mind:
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'What do you know about this business?' the King said to Alice.
'Nothing,' said Alice.
'Nothing whatever?' persisted the King.
'Nothing whatever,' said Alice.
'That's very important,' the King said, turning to the jury. They were just beginning to write this down on their slates, when the White Rabbit interrupted: 'Unimportant, your Majesty means, of course,' he said in a very respectful tone, but frowning and making faces at him as he spoke.
'Unimportant, of course, I meant,' the King hastily said, and went on to himself in an undertone, 'important--unimportant--unimportant--important--' as if he were trying which word sounded best.
Some of the jury wrote it down 'important,' and some 'unimportant.' Alice could see this, as she was near enough to look over their slates; 'but it doesn't matter a bit,' she thought to herself.
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As it happens, I know nothing about either the stock market or the world of blogging. Nothing whatever. However, may it please the court, some things are very important to me, and some things are very unimportant. It is my hope that you, the jury, will enjoy the journey on which we are about to embark. I'll try my best not to bore you along the way. I rest my case.
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'What do you know about this business?' the King said to Alice.
'Nothing,' said Alice.
'Nothing whatever?' persisted the King.
'Nothing whatever,' said Alice.
'That's very important,' the King said, turning to the jury. They were just beginning to write this down on their slates, when the White Rabbit interrupted: 'Unimportant, your Majesty means, of course,' he said in a very respectful tone, but frowning and making faces at him as he spoke.
'Unimportant, of course, I meant,' the King hastily said, and went on to himself in an undertone, 'important--unimportant--unimportant--important--' as if he were trying which word sounded best.
Some of the jury wrote it down 'important,' and some 'unimportant.' Alice could see this, as she was near enough to look over their slates; 'but it doesn't matter a bit,' she thought to herself.
--------------------------------------------
As it happens, I know nothing about either the stock market or the world of blogging. Nothing whatever. However, may it please the court, some things are very important to me, and some things are very unimportant. It is my hope that you, the jury, will enjoy the journey on which we are about to embark. I'll try my best not to bore you along the way. I rest my case.
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