BOOBOOBOOBOOBOOBOO

Happy Halloween! Thumbtack holes and all.

[Purple marker, by Ben Leddy, from the family archives. Used with permission.]

Teachers, students, humanity

From an essay by Liberal Studies professor Lynn Crosbie on teachers and students:

I realized that students were potentially terrifying, and potentially terrified — that one of the largest obstacles between teachers and students is a failure to recognize each others' humanity.

Reminding me of what I sometimes find myself saying in my classes: "I'm just trying to be a person."

Your first assignment: Read this (GlobeCampus Report)

"Collage"

For reals? It seems so.

Cambridge University parking sign has spelling error (Telegraph)

People, it's bad (Hi and Lois)

People, it's bad. The economy, yes, of course. But also today's Hi and Lois. You'll have to follow the link for this one — I won't have it here.

Is Hi working on a train? That would account for the changing cityscape behind him. The window changes position from panel to panel, true, but his desk may be on wheels.

In the first two panels, Hi's chair seems to be at about the height of a baby's high chair, but that makes a sort of sense if Hi is speaking to Trixie. The baby vibe might also explain why Hi becomes smaller in the second panel.

But there's no reasonable (or far-fetched) explanation for Hi's missing collar, or the missing piece of paper, or that telephone — or that "telephone." Here, from the family archives, is how to draw a telephone:

[Pencil and stick-on letters, by Ben Leddy or Rachel Leddy. Used with permission.]

Related reading
All Hi and Lois posts

Invisible-ink cigarette card

Reading Ask H&FJ recently, I was reminded of the browser's paradise that is the New York Public Library Digital Gallery (which I first looked into when it debuted in 2005). Here's one small item:

[Cigarette card, W.A. & A.C. Churchman, c. 1903–1907.]

The verso reads:

Invisible Ink for Writing Despatches.

Most scouts will be glad to know of a method of ensuring secrecy in the event of despatches falling into the enemy's hands. If the message is written in the juice of an onion and allowed to dry, it is then invisible to all unacquainted with the secret. When the despatch is warmed over a fire the writing stands out quite clearly.

I like the idea of writing with a metaphorical inkwell in hand. Yes, that's an onion in the scout's non-writing hand, and a penknife and piece of onion on the ground.

In kidhood, under the influence of Clifford Hicks' novel Alvin's Secret Code, I wrote several despatches with lemon juice and toothpicks. HTML makes invisible writing even simpler — and there's no onion smell! See?

Block that transition

"These are tough times not only for orangutans but for humans."

Public Radio International's The World this afternoon, segueing from endangered orangutans to AC/DC's new album, a "veritable banana for you if you're starving for good news."

. [dot]

Would you like a book about the dot? Would I? I plan to find out (but via the library!):

Despite the humble origins of its name (Anglo Saxon for "the speck at the head of a boil"), the dot has been one of the most versatile players in the history of written communication, to the point that it has become virtually indispensable. Now, in On the Dot, Alexander and Nicholas Humez offer a wide ranging, entertaining account of this much overlooked and minuscule linguistic sign.

The Humez brothers shed light on the dot in all its various forms. As a mark of punctuation, they show, it plays many roles — as sentence stopper, a constituent of the colon (a clause stopper), and the ellipsis (dot dot dot). In musical notation, it denotes "and a half." In computerese, it has several different functions (as in dot com, the marker between a file name and its extension, and in some slightly more arcane uses in programming languages). The dot also plays a number of roles in mathematics, including the notation of world currency (such as dollars dot cents), in Morse code (dots and dashes), and in the raised dots of Braille. And as the authors connect all these dots, they take readers on an engaging tour of the highways and byways of language, ranging from the history of the question mark and its lesser known offshoots the point d'ironie and the interrobang, to acronyms and backronyms, power point bullets and asterisks, emoticons and the "at-sign."

If you're wondering, Wikipedia explains the irony mark, the interrobang, and backronyms.

Mad Men and Frank O'Hara (not again)

What a tease: "Meditations in an Emergency," tonight's episode of Mad Men, made no reference to Frank O'Hara's poetry. Instead, O'Hara's title served as a nothing more than a metaphor for the anxieties of the Cuban Missile Crisis. (The emergency of O'Hara's 1954 poem seems to be love, or life itself.)

I wonder whether the prominent use of O'Hara's "Mayakovsky" in the season's first episode ("For Those Who Think Young") was designed to elicit a lit crit sort of interest in the series. If so, it worked, at least on me. I watched every episode, followed every stilted conversation, often wanting to tell these people to turn some lights on. (I know, the show is "dark.")

Here's a brief passage from Frank O'Hara's prose-poem "Meditations in an Emergency," presenting the poet as sunny anti-pastoralist:

One need never leave the confines of New York to get all the greenery one wishes—I can't even enjoy a blade of grass unless I know there's a subway handy, or a record store or some other sign that people do not totally regret life.

Related posts
Frank O'Hara and Mad Men
Frank O'Hara and Mad Men again

"Uncle Barney Frank"

At Talking Points Memo, Josh Marshall is wondering why Sarah Palin is referring to Barney Frank as "Uncle Barney Frank." The context:

McCain's running mate, Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin, said Saturday that an Obama presidency combined with Democratic control of Congress would lead to bigger government.

"Now they do this in other countries where the people are not free — government as part of the family, taking care of us, making decisions for us," she said during a rally in Sioux City, Iowa. "I don't know what to think of having in my family Uncle Barney Frank or others to make decisions for me."

My guess is that this odd bit of phrasing is a barely veiled swipe at sexual orientation. If the gummint is going to be our family, Frank would be an uncle, our gay uncle. It would seem beyond Palin's version of reality to imagine a gay man as a father or grandfather.

How low can they go? I don't think we've found out.

*

A further thought, two hours later: perhaps uncle is meant to suggest "Uncle Joe," Joseph Stalin, or "Uncle Ho," Ho Chi Minh.

Interstice

[Hi and Lois, October 25, 2008.]

I sometimes wonder whether the panels of Hi and Lois strips are a matter of piecework. (I've read that eight people "animate" the strip, whatever that means.) Composition by piecework is a plausible explanation of the odd continuity problems that vex the Flagstons, as in today's strip.

Or could it be that Hi and Lois is asking us to think about what happens in the strip's interstice? Are we to understand that while Hi ties, Lois makes the bed, rearranges the furniture, and adds depth to the headboard?

Nah, I didn't really think so either.

Related reading
All Hi and Lois posts