In Praise of Spleen Vents

Slate has a great column on The Lost Art of the Rant. Be sure to check out some of the links in the article for great spleen vents. As a now frequent public transportation rider, Mister Ginger particularly recommends NYC Subway Rant.

Note to Self: Drink Morning Coffee BEFORE Walking Dog

In the couple of weeks that we’ve had a dog, I’ve found myself on more than one occasion explaining something to the dog in considerable detail. Yes, I know that while dogs can learn to recognize commands, generally single word commands, they don’t really understand us.

So the other morning I’m out walking the dog at the butt-crack of dawn, and we come upon a woman walking two dogs.

I should mention at this point that having gotten Bailey from a shelter, we’re still not certain how she will react in various situations, particularly when other dogs are involved. Sometimes she lunges, sometimes she cowers, sometimes she’s indifferent.

This particular morning, she seemed mildly curious, so I let her edge toward the dogs (both of whom where smaller than her, but not tiny). I was trying, with a soothing voice, to encourage her with, “just say hello . . . just say hello.”

After a few moments of silence, the woman walking the other dogs says, “Oh, um, good morning.” I was in such a just-woke-up-fog that I didn’t realize until a few minutes later that the lady thought I was talking to her, not my dog.

The Math is Simple

Shaved Head + Sunny Day + Long Walk = Sunburn

Overexcited Bozo

Some guy is all excited that his book chapter got in print. Ooooo, good for him. It’s not like he wrote a whole book. And hardcover at that! Now that’s something to be excited about.

Outhouse

The bathroom in my building is on the corner of the building, is completely uninsulated (cinder block walls), and has only a small, electric wall heater (no vents from the central heat). It's really little better than an outhouse.

And, as you may know, today was the first day in a while that the temperature has been above 0.

Yeah, no one lingers in the men's.

Does the World Really Need This?

The AP reports that a "doctor" in North Carolina has developed a donut that contains caffeine.

Each piece of pastry is the equivalent of about two cups of coffee.

I simply do not understand.

That Explains It

Monday, 22 January, is the most depressing day of the year according to the Samaritans.

As part of a campaign to raise the awareness of the charity, Dr. Cliff Arnall of Cardiff University first defined blue Monday. He devised the mathematical equation:

[W + (D-d)] x TQ
    M x NA

The model was broken down using six immediately identifiable factors: weather (W), debt (d), time since Christmas (T), time since failing our new year's resolutions (Q), low motivational levels (M) and the feeling of a need to take action (Na).

The equation calculates that Monday 22 January is officially the worst day of the year. (Recruiter Magazine)

Yup

Great

History reveals nearly two thirds of this area's measurable snows, sub-freezing and sub-zero temperatures have occurred beyond January 10.
-- Chicago Tribune, January 10, 2007

Disarray

So here’s the latest thing that’s thrown my mental life into disarray. Casual Fridays: Can you tell me the "best" email sign-off? Thanks!

A few months ago I made the conscious decision to switch the closing of my emails from “Cordially,” which I’ve used since college, to “Best.” Now I find out that “Best,” as an email signoff, is considered brusque.

Brusque!?!

I thought is was a good shorthand for “All the Best” or “Best Wishes” or even “With every best wish.” But no, it’s brusque. Crap!

According to the chart, “Thanks” is largely innocuous, and thus right for any situation.

Ugh!

I’m thinking of switching to something obscure like “Valediction.”

At least I’ve never been a “Cheers” douchebag.

That's My Kind of Headline

Most people who know me realize that I have a lot in common with Marvin the Paranoid Android from the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

Well, it appears that the Chicago Tribune has hired either Marvin or me to write headlines for them: Miserable week ahead: Rainy, windy, chilly--snow, too

What?!!?

Has it really been that blog since I've come here to vent my spleen?!? Well, that deserves a spleen vent!!!

Cheese whiz!

And then when I do try and post—last night—I get an error message. Fantabulous!

How Bad Do I Look?

All day people kept asking me if I was ok. They said I didn’t look well. Maybe I should get some sleep.

They Cannot Be Serious

Cat Hammock

Fun Facts

Count on Wired to carry the kind of cheerful facts and stats that ye olde Spleen Venter loves to toss out at cocktail parties. First up is an article entitled “One Million Ways to Die,” which includes “a handy ranking of the various dangers confronting America, based on the number of mortalities in each category throughout the 11-year period spanning 1995 through 2005 (extrapolated from best available data).”

S E V E R E Driving off the road: 254,419 Falling: 146,542 Accidental poisoning: 140,327

H I G H Dying from work: 59,730 Walking down the street: 52,000. Accidentally drowning: 38,302

E L E V A T E D Killed by the flu: 19,415 Dying from a hernia: 16,742

G U A R D E D Accidental firing of a gun: 8,536 Electrocution: 5,171

L O W Being shot by law enforcement: 3,949 Terrorism: 3147 Carbon monoxide in products: 1,554

---

Next, from the August 2006 issue, “Deadly Poisons, Ingested or Inhaled.” It’s a list of the top ten most deadly poisons. The list includes botulinum, anthrax, cyanide, and something called compound 1080 (sounds like a band that really sucks). My favorite line from the article accompanies the entry for strychnine.

it gets style points for causing one of the most horrific deaths of all: Every muscle in your body spasms violently until you die from exhaustion.

Wow!

Think of this post as the antidote to Slate.com's Weekend Cocktail Chatter, "a quick and easy guide to help you fake your way through overly cultured cocktail parties this weekend."

Or not.

Burick Update

The side-view mirror on the driver's side is now cracked straight down the middle.

Double Spleen Vent

I just found this post from June buried in the drafts folder - doh!

And I see that the link no longer works - double doh!

But I think there's enough information here for the joke to still work - yea!

Is This My Problem?
Intermittent explosive disorder affects 1 in 20. I frikin’ hope not. For all our sakes.

My Spleen: Soon to be Frozen?

The local paper reports “The Old Farmer's Almanac, which boasts an 80 percent accuracy rate for the annual weather guide it has been publishing since 1792, is predicting a colder and snowier winter for most of the U.S. this year . . . temperatures will be as much as 8 degrees below the 30-year average, with the coldest weather coming in February.”

Heavy sigh

And I Thought Things Were Bad at My Job

At least no actual dead bodies have shown up: “A man's body floated up near where a crew was filming a scene for the crime show ‘CSI: Miami,’ authorities said.” Who wants to go on location now? Yikes!

Venting My Spleen for Pomonkey

As you may know, my life-partner lady-friend, Pomonkey, is having a tough time at work. So here’s a spleen vent just for her.

To Pomonkey’s coworkers:
What the heck is wrong with you? Can I get you to just do your frikin’ job?!?! How difficult is that? Stop with the excuse making, pull yourselves together, shut yer yappers and do your jobs!!!

Wouldn’t That Make Me A Bit Of A Dandy?

Today’s Wall Street Journal reports (suckscription only) on the latest trend in men’s fashion: “shorts -- dressy and tailored -- with suit jackets, sport coats, dress shirts and even ties.”

Why on earth am I going to wear a tie with shorts?!? Free the knees yet bind the neck meat? Yeah, I don’t think so.

I’m with Tony Green (whoever that is): “Shorts with a suit jacket would make me feel a little too Little Lord Fauntleroy.”

The great thing about a blog is that if this does really catch on I can come back here and eat my friggin’ words.