Marco McClean's Comments

Maybe it's addressed in the BBC video that for some reason won't play for me right now but, if it takes the gloves --or condoms, or rubber bands, or whatever-- only two weeks to melt into a puddle of nutritious liquid, what keeps them intact in the warehouse, during shipping and on the shelf for weeks or months or years while they're waiting to be used?
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I miss the old concentric connectors that only plug in one way. We didn't have to go to D-shaped rectangles. They could've standardized all connectors for width and length and maybe texture --at, say, an inch or two wide and an inch or two deep-- and if the device itself is smaller than that, then build it inside the connector. But whatever it is, it should be cheap, shoot mist or sparks or misty sparks, smell like pennyroyal and cure all disease.
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It interests me that the order green, yellow, orange, red, indicates increasing danger and increasing alertness required, when that's the /decreasing/ order of energy of quanta. Though beyond a war-spaceship's red alert is violet alert, and that's right, because violet is on the energetic end of the visible spectrum. But maybe it's also consistent with the yellow-through-red danger order convention because, if the octaves of light work like octaves of sound, infrared should look like violet to a species that can see infrared, the way a C note an octave down (or up) is heard as a C note.
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Speaking of rackets, I have a battery-powered high-voltage electric fly-swatting badminton racket that uses somewhat the same principle to cure AIDS, autism /and/ COVID-19 by electrifying seventeen molecules of water vapor in the air into hydrogen peroxide. $1.99 in Chinatown in 2008, before there even /was/ any COVID-19. And you can hit a (very slow) fly with it, and also knock over potted plants or a lamp, dang. And play badminton and shock the shuttlecock at the same time, so /it/ can fly away across the net and cure autism and warts by remote, way over there.
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If I were to become picky: If the G stands for graphics, then shouldn't it be the hard guh sound as in graphics? Insisting that the only right way is the inventor's preference is like people who insist you say VEE-gun; when the V in stands for vegetables, it's VEJ-un, and a VEE-gun Vegan would be a person from the star Vega (pronounced VEE-guh), and a fan of the Chevy Vega would be a VAY-gun. And if people want to say a thing their own stupid way --vegetable VEE-gun-- that's fine, too as long as we're all just playing, or just eating, or just flying one of the crappiest cars ever into interstellar space. (Their aluminum engine blocks tended to crack.) (Or al-yoo-MIN-yum in the UK.)
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When I was in third grade I had to do a report on a country and include a map. I never had a problem writing, but writing about a specific real thing has never been my forte. I did nothing on the project until the night before it was due, then panicked. My mother said, "What country?" I said, "/I/ don't know." She opened a box of old books --there were always boxes because we were always moving-- she pulled out a book about Asia, opened it, said, "How about Burma?", tore out a few brightly-colored maps and said, "There." I said, "You-- you can't-- That's-- You tore a /book/! [sputter, so on]." She said, "It's /our/ book. We can do what we want with it," in the same tone of voice as when I was horrified about going up into the choir loft to sit with the choir because all the pews were full in church and she pulled me by the hand and said for everyone to hear, "We're just as good as they are and we'll sit where we please." And in ten minutes I'd pasted the maps to big sheets of brown paper and made up a bunch of nonsense about Burma around them. Done. And later when the teacher said, "You were supposed to draw the map yourself," I said, "Oh. But did you ever say that? You just said it had to have a map," and I pointed and said, "Map." And she said, "I want to talk to your mother." Fine. My mother ate teachers and officials for breakfast, as did my grandmother, who two years before that had got a judge fired for sting-closing her restaurant because of a bogus liquor license offense. (A detective had sent his date, a slightly under-age girl, to pick up their drinks.)
If it's a magazine or a newspaper I tear out what I want or take a picture of it. With a borrowed book I'm careful how I even hold it; I say the page number aloud and shut the book and so just remember the number. If it's my book and it's complicated, with a lot of stories or places I want to remember later, to use on the radio, or if it's a play script, I scribble notes all over it in pen and tear the corners of pages and twist them sticking out in special directions to indicate the use order. And I enjoy defiling it, and enjoy seeing it later and remembering all the fun work. It was a book but it's also art now, and personal history.
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Whenever someone uses forms of the word /gift/ instead of forms of the word /give/ my fingers tend to tense into a claw shape. Paul /gifted/ Erma a punch in the nose. /Gift/ me one a' dem Polish-dogs. Etc. "What you should /gift/" is all wrong. But you go ahead and live the way you like and say what you say. I know there are other people in the world besides myself, and nobody died and made me king.
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No. I would be surprised if there are five people in all the world who read the Princess Bride first and /then/ saw the movie and didn't go /Oh, my God, that was horrible, they ruined it./ Mandy Patinkin is engaging and sympathetic, whoever he plays, but that isn't enough. Billy Crystal is a delightful individual, sure. But that film is an abomination. Wally What's-his-name as the Sicilian, with that stupid crackly whiny voice? Jesus, och, feh. Cary Elwes? What! *breathe* *peace* *breathe*
When they go to make movies out of Kurt Vonnegut or Ray Bradbury books it's very hard, for obvious reasons, and you can give them a pass because they tried and you can manage to enjoy it. But The Princess Bride was a brilliant book practically written for film by a pro screenplay writer who also wrote the screenplay; it's impossible to screw it up, so of course they did.
Rob Reiner made some very good movies in his time, Bert Rigby, You're A Fool, for example. I don't know what happened with Princess Bride; everyone involved in the movie seemed to think things went well. Maybe it's time to try again --except now they'd probably use uncanny-valley CGI puppet people and put all the money into rendering the characters' hair.
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In the Swiss police van one, what is the copper-colored arrangement to the left, under the pet fence? Is that a hillbilly still to make alcohol, or a shop-vac, or what? And I think it's sweet that the shoulders-tense cop is holding hands with the guy in the Hamburglar mask and bleach-distressed jeans. The van itself would never do in America. It's too flimsy; it looks like it's made out of a sodapop can. The first night, the first coffee-crazed teenager they arrested for skateboarding would kick all the doors and windows out and ruin it.
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Profile for Marco McClean

  • Member Since 2012/08/04



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