S. Hamley Bildebrandt
“Morningstar is my hot stewardess.”Archive for April, 2010
A More Fitting Home
Since my largely unnoticed return to the blogosphere, I’ve discovered I take the most pleasure in my List of Awesome posts. They’re relevant enough to my life as a lover of both awesomeness and absurdity, but distant enough from my life for me to be able to write them consistently no matter what good or bad befalls me in the real-life-osphere (as the kids call the non-blog world these days). I decided the List of Awesome posts need their own home, so I started a separate blog just to house them. I’m pleased to announce the inception of A Compendium of Awesome Things. Check it out. There have been a few changes made here and there to some earlier posts, which I explain here. It’s more or less what I’ve been sporadically doing on this blog, but hopefully with a much greater level of consistency. I’m confident this will be the case. I’m already working on a multiple part series on espresso, which should be posted shortly.
List of Awesome, Part III: The Bhutan Edition
What’s so awesome about Bhutan? Better question: What’s not awesome about Bhutan? Even better question: What (or who)* is Bhutan?
Starting with the third question. Bhutan is a remote kingdom in the Himalayas, wedged uncomfortably between China to the North, India to the South, and Shangri La (though no one’s sure exactly where). Bhutan is a tiny country populated mostly by ethnic Bhutanese with a considerable Yeti population** in the bigger cities and a few thousand Sherpa in the mountains.*** Bhutan has a total population of less than a million people and is known for pretty much nothing. And that’s exactly how they like it. We’re pretty sure. No one’s sure enough about how to get there to actually ask them.
Now the second question. What’s not awesome about Bhutan? Not much. For starters, its name (pronounced boo-ton) sounds pretty close to button, and that’s just cute. Far less superficially, Bhutan is already doing pretty well in the awesomeness department by being a Himalayan civilization. People who manage to survive – in the Himalayas – and actually build stuff and create a functioning society take on a mythical status approaching that of the aforementioned Shangri La. Even more impressive is the fact that Bhutan is the only absolute monarchy left of the great, old Himalayan kingdoms and one of the only left in the world as a whole. It truly is a kingdom lost in time. They didn’t even have the Internet until a few years ago, which brings me to the next and most important reason Bhutan is truly awesome. In fact, this reason’s going to get its own paragraph.
Bam! Bhutan is the only country in the world to measure GNH, or Gross National Happiness. It’s true. Look it up. The King of Bhutan has made it a policy to increase the Gross National Happiness of Bhutan with sweeping government programs. We have no way to know for sure what this involves because, as I said before, it’s not exactly the easiest thing to find Bhutan.**** Presumably GNH programs involve government-subsidized marshmallows, free pony rides, water slides in every backyard, and ice cream sundaes for breakfast. What we do know for sure is that part of the GNH program is the introduction of the Internet to Bhutan, thus why the last reason led into this one.
Finally, there’s the Bhutanese flag. It pretty much sums up the magic and whimsy of this Little Himalayan Kingdom-that-Could. I mean look at it. If that’s not the cutest dragon you’ve ever seen on a national flag, I just don’t know what is. And what is he holding anyway? Pomegranates? Apples? Rocks? Steamed buns? I like to think those are government-subsidized marshmallows. And our little friend Button the dragon here is holding them out to us as a token of his friendship and the friendship of all the Bhutanese people. Let us eat the Marshmallow of Happiness with him and savour the awesomeness that is Bhutan.
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*or when? Bhutan is pretty much the Brigadoon of the Himalayas. It’s a valid question.
**Not a real creature, though it sounds like one.
***A real ethnic group, though it sounds like a mythical creature.
**** Legend says one can only find Bhutan if they already know how to get there. Others say Bhutan reveals itself only to those it wants to find it. Others say the king made a dark bargain long ago with Forces he scarcely understood to keep Bhutan safe from invasion, but as a price his land was cursed with eternal, supernatural seclusion. Yet others say the altitude and weather patterns of the Himalayas make it difficult to reach Bhutan by plane or train, and that the Bhutanese government has direct control over the tourist industry and intentionally places caps on the number of people able to visit their idyllic kingdom so as not to tarnish its natural beauty and rustic charm. But, let’s face it, that’s a bit far-fetched.
List of Awesome, Part II
“This time, it’s serial serious.”
A very long while ago, I began what was intended to be an ongoing series in tribute to something many studies conducted at prestigious universities have proven to the highest standards of scientific scrutiny: the fact that people love awesome. Sadly, as is often the case in life, I lost my way. But as the prodigal son, I have returned to the father’s home of blogging and even as I type he is killing the fatted calf of this blog post for me — and for you, dear reader — to feast upon. So come, allow him to place the signet ring of stretched metaphor on your finger and help yourself to a heaping portion of blog meat.
If you haven’t read the first post in the series yet. Read it here. It’s a good’ne. Which brings me to our first awesome item:
1) Antiquated British contractions
I’m a self-confessed Anglophile. I don’t know why. Perhaps I feel an affinity with the Mother Country because of shared heritage — namely pastiness, freckles and bitter, self-deprecating humour. Oh, and the way I spell humour. That too. Of the many things I love about England, their propensity for mashing the unlikeliest of words into a cumbersome contraction is very high on the list. Observe the following:
Ha’penny – Pronounced haypny, this is a contraction of half penny, which only sort of sounds similar. How they got there, I don’t know. Why anyone needs half a penny, I’m even less sure of. But the byzantine monetary system of the UK is an awesome thing for another post. As for the word byzantine, that’s already been covered here.
Ne’er/e’er/heav’n – These words are often (of’n?) featured in love poems and songs, apparently written by someone in a big hurry. Like the txtspk of the Elizabethan era, it’s how moody teenagers in Shakespeare’s day expressed things like ttyl and rotfl.
’twasn’t/’tweren’t – The fabled double contractions have baffled and intrigued linguists for generations. A curiosity to modern English speakers, I consider double contractions a challenge. How many apostrophes can I fit into one contraction? Ha’b'thday as a contraction of half birthday, for example. ‘twon’te’erbe for “It won’t ever be.” Or how about I’mno’sos’rethat’sag’d'dea for “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”
It might sound stupid. It might, rather than making communication easier, make it more difficult; but that’s the beauty of English. Our forebears wove absurdity into the very fabric of our language. And that’s awesome. ‘Strewth.
2) Microwave Ovens
The Future has, in many ways, been disappointing so far. Sure, in many ways we’ve far exceeded the hopes and expectations of past generations. The ability and popularity of mobile devices is largely an unforeseen phenomenon, for example. But in many more ways, we’ve been unable to live up to the Utopian dreams of yesteryear, when the silver screen was aglow with images of flying cars, floating cities, robots and spaceships. There is one item, however, that I feel has entirely lived up to the hype of the Future and even exceeded it: the microwave oven.
Microwave ovens might not make food well, but the manner in which they make it is very futuristic. If we traveled back in time and told people that one day, not too far from now, we’ll be able to place uncooked food in a metal box, press a button and, harnessing the power of invisible waves, be able to cook an entire meal in minutes; they’d never believe us. I hardly believe us. Even the fact that microwaves give off that otherworldly glow and emit a droning sci fi hum as they cook feels too futuristic to be true. And that’s awesome.
Still not convinced? Try calling microwave ovens “Photon Ovens” or “Instant Food Preparation Units” for a week and see how you feel then.
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I was hoping to have more time to finish this post, but alas! ‘Twill’vet’wait (It will have to wait)! Hopefully there will be more awesome to come. Soon. Until then, in the words of Ulrich Zwingli, “Peace out!”
Pads, i and otherwise
Need a reason to get on board the iPad bandwagon? Check this out: http://www.apple.com/ipad/apps-for-ipad/#elements
Need a reason to get on board the far-less-popular periodic table of the elements bandwagon? Check this out: http://www.apple.com/ipad/apps-for-ipad/#elements
Both bandwagons are filled with thick-rimmed glasses-wearing tech-savvy twenty-somethings, but one throws cooler parties than the other. The answer to “Which one?” depends on your answer to another question: How do you feel about Dungeons and Dragons?
P.S. – I’m down with the whole lower-case-”i”-before-an existing-word-as-a-name-for-a-product trend Apple is so fond of. Sure, it’ll probably sound really stupid in retrospect when we all tell our children about our iPods and iPhones and what not, but that’s what growing old is all about: sounding stupid to our kids. That and being able to blame all of our eccentricities on “the War.” Fortunately, thanks to our public school systems, our children and grandchildren will be too stupid to know there was no such War in our lifetimes. So, I am cool with the lower case “i.” The iPad, however: not cool. There’s another pad I can think of that women regularly carry around in their bags, and I doubt anyone wants to confuse it with an electronic devise in conversation. Perhaps a non-menstrual affiliation would alleviate just a small measure of the chuckling our progeny will inevitably respond with when we tell them what we used to carry in our pockets, bags and purses respectively. Then again, maybe not. But we can always blame it on the War.
