Today is Eleven Eleven Eleven. 11/11/11. November 11, 2011. This article was purposefully published at 11:11am this morning. I don’t know why I’m so obsessed with all these ones standing in unison, but I am, and shall likely always be, enchanted:
The number one is considered “calming” and “essential” in Chinese numerology and that makes me question if all those ones in today’s date should be taken collectively or singularly. I prefer to atone to the individual digit and take all the delights that come from pronouncing all those ordered ones.
Not too long ago, we addressed the question of whether art could be quantified. What I would like to consider is if all we need to do to consider something art is to merely apply the label art to it. Having already seen the curious art of Caleb Larsen, I thought I had seen it all when it came to art that didn’t really seem like art to me. I was ill prepared for the shock I would receive when I came across a web site created by Nate Hill called White Power Milk.
A couple of days ago, the Cambridge University Press sent me a fresh copy of their latest book by Steve Stewart-Williams: Darwin, God and the Meaning of Life: How Evolutionary Theory Undermines Everything You Thought You Knew.
We know “Panopticonic” is not really a word. “Panopticonic” is really a “word” I invented for my Boles Network Blog by the same name. When I started the Panopticonic blog, “Panopticonic” appeared nowhere on the internet and that word failed to return any results in a Google search. I do so love it so, though, when I get a Google Alert in my Inbox showing me that — “Panopticonic” — is being colloquially employed as a “real world” in a real publication like Salon Magazine.
One of the most annoying things in an allegedly literate human world is when a person invents a word for a word that already has meaning and context and then tries to press that definition into others in everyday use. I’m not talking about words like “Memeingful” or “RelationShaping” or even the colossal “Panopticonic” — all of which have base value in an original colloquial expression — no, I’m talking about “words” like “Blubeekuss” that are made up to be a synonym for “bra.”
This morning, I was editing a file in Google Docs, when I was asked by
the Google Spellcheck — if I meant “CUNT” instead of “CUNY” — and that
was quite a wild wake up call at 4:30am.
I was walking home from the train this evening and I heard a woman speaking with someone on her mobile phone. She was talking about some restaurant and how much she enjoyed their food. She then proclaimed that they had absolutely delicious “fill-ehh mean-yawn.” I shuddered right there on the street. A complete and full ripple through my body. I was completely and utterly disgusted. What is wrong with me?