Entitlement

According to the BBC, some parent in Sweden has decided to prove that Americans don't have a monopoly on raising children with an outrageous sense of entitlement. He's complaining to Parliament that his eight-year-old should have the right to publicly snub other children when handing out birthday invitations at school.

I don't think he should stop there. Here are a few other rights that children in Sweden and their helicopter parents should immediately campaign for, perhaps before the UN Commission on Human Rights:

The right to go first on the swings, every time.
The right to eat paste.
The right to stay up as late as they want.
The right to replace vegetables with chocolate at any meal.
The right to an "A" grade regardless of test scores or homework completion.
The right to slap that one girl who's always so mean.

And finally, and perhaps most importantly, the right to remain frozen in childhood, supported by their parents, until that point in adulthood when their parents finally die, at which point the child's own children can proceed to do the same.
 

Filler, aka update 'n' rant

So the graduations both went well. The Bunster's surprised me by being quite age-appropriate and kind of cool. They all wore tee-shirts, black pants/skirts/shorts, Hawaiian-style floral leis, and little "grass skirts" made of what looked like sturdy construction paper. A few songs were sung ("Each of us is a flower, growing in life's garden," in case you weren't aware), the director made a quick speech, and each child received a fake diploma tied with a ribbon. And then were were done and it was time for the bounce-house, the hot dogs, some snow cones, and a bit of cake. Not simultaneously, of course.

The Bunster's older brother G.'s graduation also went well. Although the senior class was pretty large, J. was able to spot G. from the bleachers and got some pretty good photos and video, considering the distance. They had a party afterward (which the Bunster and I also missed, alas), which was low key yet fun. So that was good.

On a completely unrelated note, I read Luann (I know, shoot me now. I also read For Better or For Worse, and Cathy, so clearly my comic strip taste is suspect to say the least.) and something really bothered me today. Which, to be honest, I should say about this strip everyday, but anyway....

Luann's brother Brad is talking about his complete ignorance in the kitchen and appears to believe that antipasti, minestrone, risotto, and "a nice chianti" are French food. Leaving aside the Silence of the Lambs reference (what, he's going to eat his girlfriend's liver?), how has he managed to get to age 20-something and not know this? Did his parents just keep taking the kids to Chuck E. Cheese even when they hit their late teens? Did they simply never take them to a restaurant at all? Who gets to early adulthood without at least one trip to an Italian restaurant? I grew up in the midwest and we all knew this stuff (admittedly I have foodie parents, but still!).

And now I'm off to Chuck E. Cheese with the Bunster for a 5 year old's birthday party. I know...setting a great example for his future. At least his favorite foods include goat cheese and sushi.
 

Unclear on the concept

Am I the one who's missing something here, or are the guys over at B&H really showing what century they're stuck in?
Because it seems like you'd have to be really unclear on the concept of digital to spend all the money to print a 720-page full-color catalog, call it The Digital Photography SourceBook, and pay to mail it all the way from New York to California.

So I can't figure out why this thudded onto our porch this afternoon. Well, the thud I understand. And when I went to fetch the mail, I quickly understood the slightly peeved expression on the mailman's face, which seemed so inexplicable when I glimpsed him briefly though our front window.

What I can't figure out is why the guys over at B&H are sending this out.

You'd think they'd never heard of a little thing called the internet before. Except that that's where we found them in the first place.

If it were a catalog for film photo buffs, I could see catering to a customer base that includes people who really prefer the giant catalog. But anyone interested in 720 pages of digital photography equipment is probably going to be pretty comfortable with the overall concept of digital. Which would almost certainly include computers and web browsers.

If they're hoping we'll keep it until we need something...well, hoping that your inventory is sized better than the yellow pages for placement under a preschooler's bottom at Gramma's holiday table doesn't strike me as a particularly successful marketing strategy. Or are printing and mailing costs so low now that it's cheaper than e-commerce?

All we've ever bought from them was a pair of inexpensive computer speakers, so we're not exactly their bestest customers ever, either. At least I hope not, for their sakes.

And I really hope the mail carrier forgives us and we don't spend the next few weeks retrieving our mail from the shrubbery as payback for having to haul that useless catalog.
 

Snarky

Marc Siry called on bloggers to post our opinions on what he calls "name mockery." You know, changing the name of something, especially a brand, in order to mock it. Like Star-yucks, WinDoze, MicroSloth, etc.

And he's right, it is asinine. And childish. I vividly recall the "chicken a la barf" served at my elementary school's hot lunch. I've never even tried chicken a la king because I always flashback to that name and I just can't bring myself to order it.

Adults who use name mockery in lieu of actual criticism are just showing their level of immaturity. Same for acronym mockery, like Fix It Again, Tony for Fiat.

And yet, nearly all of us do this. Come on, haven't you ever used one of these? Maybe ironically, maybe rarely. But never?

Keep reading...

It's all part of snarking instead of offering cogent criticism. Or maybe the snark is intended to be the criticism, funny and a little mean-spirited, but certainly getting the point across. If I worked in the affected industries, I'd be checking sites like Television Without Pity and Go Fug Yourself to see what people were saying about my work. Since I don't, I read 'em for entertainment. If either site dropped the snark in favor of relevant critiques complete with ideas for improvement, I doubt they'd have a tenth of the readership.

The other reason for name mockery in place of real commentary is that the victim brand can't defend itself, as it could against real criticism. Starbucks could reply to a comment about the burnt flavor of their beans with information on how they're processed and what "true" coffee connoisseurs "should" be looking for. But what are they going to say to "Star-yucks?"

-- We are not yucky!
-- Are too!
-- Are not!
-- Are too!
-- Mom! He's calling us yucky!

Guess this just means we're all immature. Nyah nyah na nyah nyah...
 

Must...resist...stats...

I almost titled this entry "Why I Hate Marie." Except I don't, but you'll see what I mean in a minute.

It's been only a couple of days since I put Sitemeter on here after she mentioned it in a post and I'm already obsessed with it, too. I can see that someone in Pennsylvania searched for old prizer-painter on MSN and found my entry about the stove blowing up. That I'm being read in Egypt, Hawaii, and Michigan (no surprise, but now it's graphed, even). That someone looking for "stan drake"" juliet jones" on Google found this post and then left to see Stan Drake's site.

So much information! Why do I even need to know? And yet I check it. And check it. "Was the visit from Germany my cousin?" I wonder, "And do I know anyone in Missouri?" Ahhhhhh! Must! Stop! Now!

But I can't look away, now that it's here.

Thanks, Marie.
 

At least they didn't call it an iPod

We got a Macy's lingerie catalog the other day and I found this while flipping through it:



Because everything can be marketed better if you steal whatever's trendy and reapply it meaninglessly to your product...

What on earth is an iBra? I don't even want to hear about interactivity. J. wanted to know if it has a USB port or Bluetooth (ouch!). And, of course, I can't pass up wondering whether it becomes SCSI after too many washes.

p.s. no Meeze today, maybe soon, though.

Good News!

Last week, J got a call from his mechanic at the Mazda dealership. "Good news!" the guy said, "Your brakes are shot and various fluids need flushing. It'll be only a thousand dollars, on top of the $300+ for your 30K service."

No kidding, he started this with "Good news!"

Apparently, everything can be good. It just needs the right spin.

Keep reading...

So:

"Good news! People are dying and threatening death over a few stupid cartoons they haven't even seen."

"Good news! We're in an unwinnable war in the wrong country, while leaving our main enemy free to wreck further destruction for years."

"Good news! Our president has spawned a whole cottage industry of tee shirts and refrigerator magnets with cute phases along the lines of "Like a rock...only dumber."

Yeah, it didn't work with the car either. J took the car over to our regular mechanic, who did a great job for a lot less. He'd only taken it to the dealership in the first place because he thought the brake problem might be warranty work. If only the other problems were so easy to resolve when spinning doesn't work.

I'd originally intended to write something lighthearted about comics, or maybe agree with Marie that the correct response to an offensive cartoon is to return fire with your own cartoon. But I made the mistake of reading the news before writing.
 

Procrastination

It's 8:30 pm and I'm unpacking and doing laundry after a weekend trip out of town. Or at least, I was unpacking etc.

Now I'm sitting at the computer instead. I just read a few online comic strips and then came here. Because I want to be folding laundry at 10:30 pm? Or because someone is paying me to waste time and write this fascinating blog entry? Or is it that I hope the laundry will magically go away if I run out of time to do it?

And then I wonder...how many blogs have an entry with the title "procrastination." So I use Blogger's Blog Search and find that there are 78,625 posts matching procrastination. At least I didn't start reading them.

Keep reading...a little more procrastination won't hurt...

In my ongoing fight against procrastination, I've begun to realize an uncomfortable truth. It's like weight loss - I already know what I have to do, how to do it, when, where, why, etc. I'm just not doing it. (Obviously, I'm not talking about people who have hormonal/illness/drug-interaction issues. Bear with me, this is just an analogy.) So here I am, ignoring my laundry/exercycle and eating twinkies made of time instead of high fructose corn syrup.

Guilt-ridden as any yo-yo dieter after a mallomar binge, I begin convincing myself to hop out of this chair and get moving with the Spray 'N' Wash and the tedious hanging up of shirts. And then I have a revelation.

A few days ago, I watched the first ten or fifteen minutes of Martha Stewart's new show. Martha was trying to teach Marcia Cross (of Desperate Housewives) how to fold a shirt. Martha laid two impossibly flat, perfectly ironed tee shirts down, did something complicated with her hands for about a quarter second and held up a perfectly folded shirt. It was like watching a good close-up magician. Marcia was standing right next to her trying to follow along with the other shirt and ended up as baffled by the sleight-of-hand as I was.

And now I see it: Laundry should be left to the professionals. This is not something to do casually at home. It's an art, dammit.

Procrastination solved.