Mark A. Rayner's Blog: Mark A. Rayner's Goodreads Blog, page 108

Foot Apparel for the Discerning and Fearless Lady

Despite his bulbous legs and intimidating appearance, customers liked Robby's warmth and genuine desire to make them happy. (He was programmed that way, but still.)

The only down side? Robby's occasional malfunctions ended up in a lot of foot amputations and limb rending.

Thus the stepladder and plastic sheeting.

Alltop enjoys a vigorous fitting. Photo via the tremendous Twisted Vintage.

The horrors of the dating scene

Alltop can't get The Skwib out of its head.

The banished words list: futility in the Age of Fail

The Phrase Freak heartily supports the efforts of Lake Superior State University to find those words that are most obnoxious, most odious, and clearly damaging to the glory that is the English language. However, this year's list is a little weak.

Many of the words on the list are related to the Internet, and therein, we see the true motivations of this banished words list. It is link bait. (And very effective link bait, too. I noticed they had more than 9,000 shares on Facebook and I myself shared the link on Twitter.) As I say, I agree with many of the words listed, "epic" in particular, but I would like to confine myself to the term "fail".

Fail is verb. A fine verb to describe something that is at the heart of the human condition. Without failure, there is no opportunity to learn. To live. So to turn it into a noun or adjective is not merely an linguistic excrescence, it's symptomatic of the meanness of our age. (Unlike the nominators in the banned word list, I don't want to turn this into a generational issue.)

"Fail" is used to describe everything from mistakes, bad judgment, slip ups to non-human server failure, for example Twitter's infamous "fail whale". (Pictured above with Homer instead of the whale.) In fact, anything that is less than a success is seen as a "fail". And this is all from the perspective of the person using the word too, so a "fail" from one, may be a "succeed" from another. (Yes, that would be the antonym in logic of this usage was extended.)

It's meant to be funny and ironic, but it's massively overused, though not on an epic scale. (Ahem.)

And instead of being funny, it tends to be mean, snide, snarky, and sometimes simply cruel. But it is now in such common parlance, that I fear this one may become a permanent fixture of our crude and roughshod culture.

You can find the banished words list here, and in yes, the usage of "fail" gets eight gob-smacks out of 10:

Alltop is full of succeed. The hilarious Homer fail whale is by Ed Wheeler, found here.

Taking a break for Christmas Carnage — see you in 2011

Time for a little blogging break. I'll be back in the New Year, and in the meantime, I hope you all have a nice little break yourself. If you're dying for more Skwib, perhaps you can avail yourself of the archives, or even better, why don't you treat yourself to one of my novels? You can buy Marvellous Hairy anywhere fine literature is sold online, and The Amadeus Net is available direct from the publisher, ENC Press.

And you may want to have a wee nip and listen to this Christmas classic too:

Click here to view the embedded video.

The snowy gif above is based on the brilliant photo by mikonT. Alltop had nothing to do with it.

Homicidal St. Nick

Click here to view the embedded video.

Weird Al imagines what might happen when the pressure of getting presents to every child on Earth finally gets to jolly old St. Nick, and he goes on a killing spree. (Santa, that is, not Weird Al, though eventually …)

Also available at YouTube here.

The Skwib is on Alltop's naughty list.

Druids, pagans protest naming of Christmas tree

Ottawa (The Skwib) — A group of pagans have appeared in front of Rideau Hall to protest the naming of a tree.

"In ancient Celtic practice, the evergreen tree is a symbol of rebirth, and should not be connected with a Christian religious holiday," Lugh Fripwhipple, spokesperson for the Gargantuan Organization Devoted to Lovers of Earth, Spirits and Society (GODLESS) told The Skwib.

"No it's not!" said Hragnor Bootflak, High Priest of the Society of Odin Devotees (SODs). "The evergreen is a sacrifice tree — you should hang sheep testicles off it, not candy canes!"

"Wait, wait," said Mamma Bulemia, Mistress of the Virgin Association of the Great, Inexpressible Nature Animists (VAGINA), "it's about the love that Mother Nature has for all of us. We shouldn't be putting them up at all!"

Randy Mylyk, a spokesperson for the Governor General (GG), said there had been a misunderstanding about the naming, but that did not please the protestors.

The trouble gegan with a CBC radio interview, when another Rideau Hall spokeswoman Lucie Brosseau had said: "At Rideau Hall, we will be putting up a holiday tree as we find it reflects the traditions of many cultures, and it is inclusive."

"We just want to represent the Christian holiday," another, as yet unnamed, GG spokesperson told The Skwib.

"I think all true worshipers, whether from GODLESS, SODs or VAGINA can agree that the decorating of an evergreen to celebrate a Christian holiday is contrary to the wishes of the spirit of the tree," Fripwhipple said. "We don't think the GG should have a tree at all."

Other religious groups were asked to comment, but wisely refused.

A similar protest erupted in Boston after the mayor decided to name their festive flora a Christmas tree, but the pagans were quickly silenced in a series of "conversions" by Rev. Jerry Falwell's crack "Grinch Gang".

Alltop likes the way those sheep's testicles hang. Inspired by the usual goofiness: Tradition Trumps Inclusiveness. This is from the deep, dark archives, December 2005!

More Christmas goofiness

I do hope this cogent observation only applies to women:

Now, this next item doesn't have the awesomeness of a monkey riding a goat, but it's darned Christmassy, not to mention goofy: "A man dressed as Santa Claus holds a flare as he wakeboards on a small lake in Hamburg, Germany on December 5, 2010. (REUTERS/Christian Charisius)"

Both of the above items are via the entertaining afternoonsnoozebutton. So have I given up blogging? Am I just ripping off afternoonsnoozebutton? Nay! I am also ripping off Retrograsm:

I'm also willing to link to other writers. If you haven't already checked out my fellow ENC author's short Christmas tale, A Claus to Remember, you can find it here. [pdf]

And lest you think I don't create any of my own content, perhaps you didn't see the flash fiction below, about a certain Magi and his need to explain "why the myrrh?" Well, there you go. Merry Frickin' Christmas already!

Alltop ONLY pulls content from other people, and nobody calls them on that! Note: much of this kind of crap can be found at my low-rent Tumblr blog, Monkey Joys.

It's nice to see Santa has shades of grey

Alltop got coal last year.

A Magi Explains About the Myrrh

Everyone keeps giving me shit about my gift to Jesus the Son of God and the Messiah, King of Kings.

"Isn't myrrh basically perfume for mummies?" these ass-clowns keep asking me. "Is that an appropriate gift for a BABY?"

Look, first off you have to realize that I planned to bring gold.

But Caspar called dibs on that. Fair enough, I thought, he is the "Keeper of the Treasure" or whatever those freaky Chaldeans call him. I don't know. Those people have some weird habits. Every heard of doing the Chaldean Donkey? But they have lots of gold, and Caspar is wealthier than Croesus.

So I thought, no problem. I'll give Him some nice Frankinsense. That stuff rocks. I would wear it every day if it didn't make me smell like a Babylonian prostitute. But then I found out that bastard Balthazar already had a pearl-encrusted, gilt box filled with the stuff.

"WTF Balthazar? I was going to give The Messiah Frankinsense." He just flipped me off. That Balthazar is an Indo-Parthian twat, and a show-off to boot. Pearl-encrusted, my ass. We said one gift.

I was happy to represent though. I mean, of the three magi sent from The East, I was the only one who was a real magi. I went to Zoroastrian High, did my undergraduate degree at Azura University and my doctorate at the prestigious Zoroaster School at the University of the Great Whore of Babylon (a party college, but the program is well respected.) Without me those tools, who are kings and members of the high caste, but who never finished their basic studies, wouldn't have even found Bethlehem. I mean, they couldn't even identify their own asses, let alone the Star.

Myrrh, for those in the know, is one of the most holy of essential oils, which is why those decadent Egyptians use it for their mummification rituals. And yes, it's a little bitter, but really, I have to object to the freakin' hymn:

Myrrh is mine, its bitter perfume

Breathes a life of gathering gloom;

Sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying,

Sealed in the stone cold tomb.

It's about salvation, not just death and dying. It's meant to represent that he was going to help us rise above death again. AND it's got freakin medicinal values. Suck on that gold!

But I must admit, I probably shouldn't have given it to him in a Lamb's Bladder. That was taking the symbolism too far.

A Magi Explains the Myrrh

Everyone keeps giving me shit about my gift to Jesus the Son of God and the Messiah, King of Kings.

"Isn't myrrh basically perfume for mummies?" these ass-clowns keep asking me. "Is that an appropriate gift for a BABY?"

Look, first off you have to realize that I planned to bring gold.

But Caspar called dibs on that. Fair enough, I thought, he is the "Keeper of the Treasure" or whatever those freaky Chaldeans call him. I don't know. Those people have some weird habits. Every heard of doing the Chaldean Donkey? But they have lots of gold, and Caspar is wealthier than Croesus.

So I thought, no problem. I'll give Him some nice Frankinsense. That stuff rocks. I would wear it every day if it didn't make me smell like a Babylonian prostitute. But then I found out that bastard Balthazar already had a pearl-encrusted, gilt box filled with the stuff.

"WTF Balthazar? I was going to give The Messiah Frankinsense." He just flipped me off. That Balthazar is an Indo-Parthian twat, and a show-off to boot. Pearl-encrusted, my ass. We said one gift.

I was happy to represent though. I mean, of the three magi sent from The East, I was the only one who was a real magi. I went to Zoroastrian High, did my undergraduate degree at Azura University and my doctorate at the prestigious Zoroaster School at the University of the Great Whore of Babylon (a party college, but the program is well respected.) Without me those tools, who are kings and members of the high caste, but who never finished their basic studies, wouldn't have even found Bethlehem. I mean, they couldn't even identify their own asses, let alone the Star.

Myrrh, for those in the know, is one of the most holy of essential oils, which is why those decadent Egyptians use it for their mummification rituals. And yes, it's a little bitter, but really, I have to object to the freakin' hymn:

Myrrh is mine, its bitter perfume

Breathes a life of gathering gloom;

Sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying,

Sealed in the stone cold tomb.

It's about salvation, not just death and dying. It's meant to represent that he was going to help us rise above death again. AND it's got freakin medicinal values. Suck on that gold!

But I must admit, I probably shouldn't have given it to him in a Lamb's Bladder. That was taking the symbolism too far.