Urine Atlanta!

Actually, I just flew out of Atlanta, and you very probably aren’t there. (I’m guessing you are in Albany, Ouray, or Graz, beloved reader.) I had a great time visiting old and new friends at the GT BrainLab and FIDO team. A special shout-out to Sky the border collie, one of the coolest dogs ever. Sky is the beginning of a new generation of assistance dogs for disabled people, more helpful and flexible than ever before.

 But I’ll write aplenty about the work related stuff elsewhere (already have, in fact) and so my blog allows an escape to silliness. Here we have an ad for a culinary school that was on the MARTA car. Now, I’m not a culinary expert. I’ve never been to cooking school. My little brother is a far better cook than I ever could be. But, I do have a lot of experience eating. And I’m not sure I’d be dazzled by a gourmet feast centered on potatoes, topped with potato chips, with some sauce. Oh! I see! The potatoes have little green things. And the potato chips are nicely placed on top, with classy-looking squirts of sauce and even a sleeve with a white coat. Wait! Is that a wedge of some yellow fruit, and some twin green veggie blobs? Wow!!! That pittance wouldn’t stuff an anorexic midget baby gnat with a stapled stomach.

American kids sometimes tell each other about a chemical placed in pools that changes color when you pee. Good trick to get them to behave, except that it’s very easy to disprove and then the kid gets the wild notion that adults sometimes lie. Atlanta has taken this to a new level. For the first time in my life, I saw a sign on warning of urine detection devices, or UDDs:

These signs were in and around the N3 MARTA elevator in Midtown Atlanta. Upon entering the elevator, two of my five senses immediately informed me that the UDD system was not discouraging elevator peeers at all. Hoo-wee! Either the sensors don’t work, or (more likely) do not lead to any arrests. How could they? There’s a camera in there. Great; you get a guy’s back and then he leaves. Unless he *really* had to go bad, the cops have maybe 20 seconds to respond before the doors open and the peeer (but not his golden gift) is long gone. So, just like the threat that the pool will turn red if you pee in it, this is meaningless. What we need is not just a UDD, but a system that takes action accordingly. 

I propose the Public Indecency Sensor and System for Offenders (PISSOFF). PISSOFF does rank somewhere on my list of clever inventions that I have freely given to an unresponsive and ungrateful society through this blog, like the Urban Hop Maneuver, my extended German grammar, Sound of Music lyrics for hunters, and cat helicopter. Wait, the cat helicopter is private. Anyway.

I hereby offer these novel suggestions to the Atlanta City Council. Politicians should recognize that there probably will not be many voters who enthusiastically defend peeers, or encourage peeers to rally with their peeing peers. It’s a safe way to be tough on crime without offending anyone important. Even the ACLU wouldn’t take this case. Editorials that begin with “I peed in a public elevator, and was mistreated” wouldn’t elicit much sympathy. I doubt meetings for a new group called “Mothers Of Public peeERS” would ever run out of chairs. If they tried a civil disobedience campaign, getting peacefully arrested for violating an unjust law, most Atlantans would *not* think them on par with Martin Luther King. The Facebook group “Peeers in Elevators and Escalators” would not have escalating membership. So crack down on 'em!

If the UDD detects urine….

1. Automatic door locks: Lock the doors until cops arrive.
2. Automatic community service: Also drop wet towels from an overhead bin. The violator may not leave until thoroughly cleaning the elevator.
3. Camsharing: The peeer’s face is immediately displayed on video screens all over town, including monitors all over the M3 midtown MARTA station. Buy billboard space too. Add text reading: “This man is now urinating in the M3 Midtown MARTA elevator!!” Expert’s tip: if you put the system in other elevators, then adapt the text so it’s easier to catch them. 
4. Shock grid: The UDD electrifies the bottom of the elevator. For my non-engineer readers, electricity will travel along a stream of salty water far better than shoes, socks, plastic elevator walls, etc. This means that any innocent people in the elevator would be safe, and probably terribly amused. For my non-male readers, you probably guessed that shocking the source of urine would really hurt. Yes. I’m wincing at the thought. Actually, at very low voltage, fence-tinkling leads to a pleasant tingling sensation. I think the statute of limitations is over so I can talk about this now, although I’m still banned from Fred’s Low-Voltage Electric Fence shop.
5. Urine recycling: The UDD activates a small pump leading to an overhead cistern, which sprays the violator with the preceding violator’s urine. Cruel or unusual? Not much different from what he’s doing to hundreds of future elevator riders. Just a difference in height.     
6. Yellow badge of shame: The elevator also sprays the violator with a fluorescent yellow stinky sulfur compound that lingers for weeks. If the cops don’t bust him, his crack dealer will.
7. Flies: release the urinal flies that have been collected from German airports. (See prior posts.) I have scientifically proven that these flies can cling to the insides of urinals despite great pressure, almost like they’re painted there. So they’d just stick on the violator forever. I’ll be in a German airport soon, so I’ll keep an eye (and something else) out for them sticky urinal flies.

I’m also intrigued by the sensor engineering. The UDD is probably not urine specific, just a cheap system to detect liquids. So you might get false positives from hemophiliacs, snails, wet surfers, janitors, or NFL head coaches dripping Gatorade after winning a Superbowl. Or people who vomit, spill drinks, spit, melt, have ebola, drop a full fishtank, enjoy walking in the rain, happen to be moving a leaky waterbed or broken air conditioner, are sweating profusely on a hot and humid Atlanta day, or are crying really really a lot. Or have pets who urinate. Hm. The last one kills it. I don’t think public urination is illegal for dogs, because they have great lawyers. Damn. It would have been a good idea otherwise. I’ll move on.

The Hobbbbbbit

In a hole in a ground there is Professor Jonathan Ronald Reuel Tolkein. 'Tis a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell: it is a grave-hole, and that means comfort is of little concern.


In the dawn of the third millenium of the Second Age of Only Men, many wizened scholars decried the differences between the movie adaptation of "The Hobbit" and Tolkein's original vision. Amidst other extensions, some sages noted that the role of the Necromancer seems expanded well beyond the original tomes. Indeed, a letter in Tolkein's own hand explained that the Necromancer was "hardly more than to provide a reason for Gandalf going away and leaving Bilbo and the dwarves to fend for themselves, which was necessary for the tale" (source: J.R.R. Tolkien. The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien. Edited by Christopher Tolkien and Humphrey Carpenter. New York: Houghton Mifflin, 1981, pg. 346).


Why have no Men seen fit to simply ask Professor Tolkein what he intended, or his views of the movie adaptations? Well, I'm a Professor and a professional researcher, just like he was. And, just like his kid, Chris Tolkein, I devoted my life to studying my father's writings. Since Dad was the Necromancer, I dug up some of his musty old books, learned a few basic necromancer spells, and got ol' Johnny Ronnie talking again. In this interview, he fleshed out his decaying vision with great rigour.

"Professor, what did you think of the films based on your work?"
Edith? Edith, is that you? How I miss you, my love-

"No, this is Morgul Winyamo, son of Morgul Tinuviel, son of Bob."
Bollix!

"So you remember my dad?"
Regrettably. Terribly pompous man, an amateur writer lacking discretion, taste, or audience. He was most petulant in his insistence that his skill was comparable to mine, much like CS Lewis. 

"Was it true that you intended the Necromancer to play quite a minor role?"
Indeed not. My original vision actually featured an entire trilogy with him and Radagast, with more rabbit sleighs and bird droppings. You see, the Hobbit was intended as a tale for my children, and hence adaptations alluring to that age group are most fitting. Thorin's rejection of Bilbo, leading to the subsequent reconciliation and hug, was deemed trite and highly uncharacteristic of dwarf and hobbit alike, but only by viewers over twelve. 

"This leads to another common criticism. How did you feel about the use of CGI in The Hobbit?"
Most regrettably, my access to IMAX theaters is decidedly limited down here. Indeed, might you be so kind as to help me find my way out of here?

"If you answer more questions."
Very well. I must say the CGI is splendid, very close to what I had hoped. When I wrote my books, my primary concern was that the pixellation technology at the time would render any adaptation rather weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable. 

"Ah, you're quoting the great bard!"
No, that was Hamlet. Bard was a grim and ineloquent man. Anyway, I particularly enjoyed the CGI in the end of the second Hobbit film. Most prescient of Peter Jackson to recognize that, although the half-hour of special effects was not quite so thoroughly detailed in my book, it is indeed what I hoped would ensue. 

"And the adaptation of the party meeting Beorn?"

Well, the original scene in my book, like so many others that were modified, was meant largely to develop characters and background. As mentioned, I always considered these ends far less important than visual effects, extended action scenes, and dialogue that children would consider original. And hence I shall again praise this adaptation. Say, my good man, would you at least send down some pipe-weed?

"Sorry, but since you're breathing again, you only have so much oxygen."

Then, mayhaps, you could ask the eagles to rescue me? They provided a fine escape in my books.

"They're endangered now."

Might you contact the cemetery owner, then? I should have ample funds after the films.

"You didn't get any money from them."

Bloody hell. Those greedy chaps are worse than the Sackville-Bagginses. Might we enter into a literary collaboration? A new Tolkein book might fill both our coffers.

"That would be plagiarism. You don't control your own work any more." 

Perhaps I might ghostwrite, if you'd pardon the pun? I could finish my unfinished tales and extend the Silllllllmarillllllllllion with more CGI. Were Disney to purchase my new works, we would most surely have wondrously profitable films, blending my genre with Star Wars. Imagine the visual effects of a lightsaber battle between Luke and Azog, or Smaug vs. X-Wings. Might you speculate as to whether George Lucas would be willing to claim that added CGI constitutes a meaningful retelling of his original vision?

Ring in the New Year

Recent years have seen a dramatic rise in sales of "promise rings," also called "pre-engagement rings". These rings, based loosely on the Irish Claddagh ring, reflect a couple's commitment to become engaged at some point. Engagement still means that the couple intends to get married.

Backtracking, how would couples convey their interest in a possible future promise ring? Hence, Zales has recently introduced the "pre-promise ring". This ring reflects that couples are considering committing to a promise ring, but are not yet ready for the big step of saying that they commit to later commit to later get married.

Extensive research has indicated various romantic stages that may build up to the pre-promise ring. Howard Jewelers and Hallmark have introduced the "Hoo-woo-oo-oo" ring, based on Eddie Murphy's observation that a critical relationship development is eliciting that sound from your woman.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lSXRp-JvyGM

Kay Jewelers, capitalizing on their "Every Kiss begins with Kay" slogan, has introduced the "First Kiss" ring. This ring shall be expected by any respectable lady before she first kisses any gentleman. This provides a preliminary indicator of his value and willingness to sacrifice for her. As usual, the two months' salary guide is recommended when pondering the ring's value.

Jared Diamond has countered with their new slogan, "Every Job begins with J". This conveys a successful hand or blow job. This ring would presumably occur after the K ring, at least in dignified couples. Particularly hopeful gentlemen may wish to consider bringing a K ring and J ring on the first date; however, the J ring should be kept hidden at first.

Tiffany has introduced the "Tiff ring". This ring conveys that the burgeoning couple has survived their first tiff. The timing of this ring, relative to the three preceding rings, says everything.

What of the well-established "Purity ring", reflecting that a woman commits to remain pure until marriage? This is still required, and should be placed on a baby at birth. New rings must be purchased as needed as the child grows. All such rings include a thin membrane that is designed to be savagely punctured by the Hoo-woo-oo-oo ring.

New genetic engineering research has inspired titllating adumbrations of the "F-ring". Contrary to vulgar assumptions, this refers to the "Finger ring". Contrary to vulgar assumptions, this has nothing to do with the verb form of "finger", but reflects a man's commitment to pay for his wife to get additional fingers to host more rings.

Sales have been poor for the "Divorce promise ring". This ring is meant to convey that the couple commits to get divorced sometime. The poor Zales have been blamed on legal ramifications, and the husband's unwillingness to spend two months' salary on such a ring.

Sales have been even worse for the Mosaica Masturbation ring. This ring, often confused with the Purity ring, conveys the owner's decision to remain solo for an unspecified time. Market analysts have concluded that, like the Divorce promise ring, a critical concern is buyers' low motivation. Emerging efforts have focused on encouraging people to buy these rings for themselves, reflecting eagerness to get an alternate ring, with sales much higher among women.

An unfortunate number of people continue to rely on the notorious "I-ring", or Invisible Ring. This ring generates no revenue and reflects that a couple is sufficiently comfortable with their communication and commitment that extensive rings or other baubles are unnecessary. Strong efforts to vilify such ringbearers by the diamond and card industries have been largely successful, but have not caught on with certain demographics, such as amputees, low-maintenance women, prisoners, the homeless, and the hopeless. Further market research will hopefully identify opportunities to eliminate such subversive elements and their possible threat to capitalist society.

Pupstaged

The weekend Aufsteierer festival just ended here in Graz. They do this every year. They shut down the city center and have a weekend celebration of their Styrian-ness. The locals wear lederhosen and dirndls and erect several dozen huts selling local food, wine, beer, hats, and other craft. Oh, and Sturm. They sell a lot of Sturm. aka "Youngwine" or "inadequately fermented proto-wine" that is dangerously easy to drink. They love warning tourists not to drink it too fast. Thanks, I said; I lived here for over 2 years.

Capitalizing on recent events, I made a protest sign urging Obama not to bomb Styria. I spent at least ten hours yesterday (Sunday) walking around the city center with my protest sign. I figured that the more observant and intelligent locals would be amused, and stupid curmudgeons wouldn't get the joke and be offended. Worked perfectly. I was even accosted in public by an old woman who bitched at me for "don't make politic here" because "this is our festival". Learning from other snotty people, I pretended I spoke no German and forced her into wonderfully catachretic convolutions to explain why it was morally wrong. I asked her if she knew the difference between Syria and Styria. Yes, she said. I switched to German and asked if she was sure: Bist du sicher? Note that using the informal tense on an older person is highly insulting. She began explaining this to me and I simply pointed to the sign, repeating again that it has nothing to do with politics. This amused me greatly. It didn't amuse her, but nothing would.

During my third hour of meandering with a protest sign in one hand and Sturm in the other, I ran in to some buddies of mine who work at the Steak Boutique. Like many locals, they were walking around with their dog. Their dog is named Kirby, short for kuerbis, or pumpkin. Good name, although not nearly as good as Flash Marvin. Unlike other locals, they dressed their dog in lederhosen. I was thoroughly upstaged. Nobody noticed my protest sign any more, instead losing themselves in utter shock and fascination at the "Hund mit Lederhosen." Everyone stopped and pointed. Everyone wanted a picture. Ah ha ha ha! Ho ho ho! Ji ji ji! (This is how they laugh here.) Ein Hund mit Lederhosen!

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!!!!!!! You guys have been wearing lederhosen for hundreds of years. You're amazingly dog-friendly. You are great engineers and craftsmen. WTF is so novel and kreativ about a dog with pants?! Rich old bats in Santa Monica walk dogs with pants routinely. You can find dog-pants for sale all over the internet. None of you locals ever thought of this before? Have you ever heard of doghouses, dog chew-toys, dog collars, or dog shit? I became much less jealous after realizing that the li'l pumpkin was one hell of a chick magnet. I also felt increasingly sorry for Kirby, who obviously disliked his pants despite the attention they got him. They weren't even capitalizing on the opportunity. Kirby's pants had little pockets that were just the right size for business cards. If you're gonna be silly, why not be tacky too? I mean, look at the asshole in the blue shirt.

Obama: Bomb Styria!!

It looks like the US is not going to bomb Styria. Mr. President, I am in Styria, risking my life to explore some of your faulty intelligence. Yes, I remember, you have to pretend you didn't personally ask me to come scout here, but we both know.

Here is what I learned:

1) I confirmed their chemical weapons stockpiles. They are truly horrific. I just got back from a public plaza called "Hauptplatz" where well over 1400 people were afflicted with some wicked concoction that dramatically affects the central nervous system, causing motor deficits, confusion, vomiting, headache, and the illusion of wit. They call it schilcher Sturm. The unleashed it on innocent civilians, many as young as 16 (or so their fake IDs say).

2) They do too have oil!!! They deny it. But it's called kuerbiskernoil. They seem to have it on the scale of trillions of barrels, and consume it casually. This alone justifies bombing them.

3) The media says the Turks will support an attack. I think your geography is a bit off, Mr. President; there are a few countries between here and Turkei. But they have established many bases here called "Doener kebab stands." Many Turks speak the local language and are resentful of perceived racism. They have already begun distributing their low-grade chemical weapons to the civilians. These weapons, called "Iskender Kebabs," cause lethargy, high cholesterol, and severe gastrointestinal distress. 

4) They are racist against black people!! Their streetcars have signs that warn that Schwartzfahren, or "black travelling," is illegal. I asked if the rule applies to people who are half-black, thinking of course of you, sir, my president. Nobody knows. To be safe, if you ride any streetcars here, you should maybe put your legs and an arm out the window, ensuring that at most half of you is inside the streetcar at any time. 

5) They are meddling in our internal affairs. They established a museum to some local guy who became the governor of California. His last name translates as "black plowman." I guess he is not allowed to ride the local streetcars either. Actually, he doesn't look very black. Liar!

6) I saw no evidence of any serious air defenses. Besides, we have Tomahawks and they don't. 

7) We would get them by surprise. I am pretty sure they are not expecting an attack from the US. They seem totally unprepared for any naval attack and don't even worry about their navy. This might have something to do with the size of their coastline. And if they say it is not nice to sneak attack people, remind them that about 75 years ago, they [CENSORED]

8) I'm not a legal expert but I think that Styria cannot invoke article 5 of NATO since Styria is not technically a country in NATO. 

9) Some citizens are eager to rebel. The whole region of Styria (which they call Steiermark) used to be owned by Steyr, which is about 2 hours north of here (or five by train). They are all marked men.

10) It would really distract people from that whole NSA - Prism thing. 

In summary, Mr. President, most of your intelligence about Styria is wrong. It is almost like you are thinking of a totally different part of the world. Please Kerry on with your war hawkery. Better yet, the locals seem to be in the middle of an election. Maybe you could sneak in some of our boys and take Styria without bloodshed. I think the ex-governor of California is available and he speaks the local language (with a very bad accent). I don't think he would win, but maybe you send him to terminate some other candidates, or just disguise him as a small old woman with glasses. 

I want a medal for this, Mr. President. 

Markt man

I had a good gallivant around Austria. I returned to Graz and caught up with some old friends named gluehwein and feuerzangenbowle. No longer sure the latter is my friend, but I’ll warm up after another few days. Oh, I also saw many human friends, who I do miss. Then Steyr, and then Baden, near Vienna. Even the little villages have their Christkindlmarkt, or baby Jesus market. Yet, as I mentioned last time, not even Vienna had a market for baby Krampus, even though the Austrians believe in Krampus about as fervently as Jesus. I proposed Krampuskindlmarkt on Facebook and then, after the enthusiastic reaction of at least one very drunk person (who probably misunderstood me), I tried to encourage the locals to actually implement it. I mean, it would take less effort than a booth in Christkindlmarkt, since you don’t have to worry about quality. It would be a great way to unload badly made gluehwein, rotten bread, poorly crafted (ideally dangerous) wooden toys, old clothing, badwill, stress, and every Austrian’s latent desire to terrify children. Why Krampus, if they don’t like scaring kids?

Christmas market in Vienna.

Santa Claus is typically fat and jolly. So Krampus must be even bigger so he can intimidate and overwhelm Santa. We need a really scary Krampus with the muscle, temerity, personality, and language skills to not just beat up Santa but ensure that fat fuck never puts on a suit again. Ideally, someone who once played football for the Graz Giants and gloats about bench pressing on FB. And if he smells bad and has poor fashion sense and terrifies children just being himself, why, all the better. Yeah. You know who. No, Clemens. Not you.

Austrians also have bowling. Sort of. Actually, a weird 9 pin variant with smaller bowling balls. You only get one try to knock down pins, and they are connected with strings to facilitate resetting. Otherwise, pretty similar to western bowling. I went out with the g.tec team in Steyr and our team won. I had declared that the winning team gets a hug from Christoph Guger, but he refused, so I transferred it to Gerv instead. 

Austrian bowling near Schiedelberg.

I made Mexican food for the gtec office in Schiedelberg. I didn't really bring any enchilada sauce, or any Mexican ingredients, so had to make do with whatever I could buy at the local Inter-Spar. I put out a decent buffet, with tortillas, taco shells, fresh guac, sour cream, taco sauce, 2 kinds of shredded cheese, lettuce, ground beef, and chicken. And nothing spicy. They seemed happy. I'll have to remember the enchilada sauce next time.

Mexikanisch essen.

Flies of fancy

Marble columns. String quartets. Black graduation gowns. Flies. Urinals. Some things convey class more than others. I was recently back in Graz, a charming city as always, and went to a graduation ceremony to see my homey Teo get elevated to doctordom. Their ceremony was in a pretty nice room, with all the fancy accoutrements noted before. I'm a little annoyed. I got a PhD too. I got none of the fanciness at my ceremony. And this was before the era of budget cuts. I guess modern UCSD graduates get flies and urine, and have to like it.

Of course, since I flew through Munich for the first time in 8 months, you know why I was thinking of flies and urinals. I couldn't wait to see if my old friends were still hanging out in the Munich airport urinals, right at the aiming point, just taunting me to piss them off. I was ready. And I thought they might be extra tired, too, since the fucking inefficient Germans cut off the corridor between the H and G concourses, forcing all of us international travelers to exit and then go through the security checkpoint again. This tired me out too, but it was presumably worse for the urinal flies, since we all know they have triple the hassle removing their shoes. Yet the tenacious little buggers held on tight, through a full assault of processed coffee and wine, without even batting one of their very many eyes. They should consider guarding Buckingham Palace.

Germanic regality is also somewhat offset by their signs in bathrooms. You can leave a room with marble columns and string quartets and black robes, walk down the hall, and there's a bathroom with a taped paper picture of a guy brushing his teeth with a toilet brush. Perhaps he is confused by the lack of spaces in the title. Yes, that really is one long word.

This sign is very common in Austria, which makes me wonder if it really is a problem for them. I mean, they do drink quite a lot. Perhaps, if they sobered up, they would realize that designing toilets like smart people would greatly reduce the need for toilet brushes. Their toilets make you poop onto a plain porcelain plateau rather than water, which I once noted is more like dumping the kids on the diving board than dropping them off at the pool.

Another problem with such a high porcelain shelf is the greater risk of urine splatter. Hence another common toilet sign....

Dude. No. Men pee standing up. This sign is in an office with 15 engineers. This means almost all men. Yet you walk in and the toilet seat is down. Dude. Dude? Dude!!

Lest I come off as overly nationalist, I shall supercilicize my own country. During the workshop tour through the Great Plains, I noticed a lot of shops along the freeway for fireworks, Mexican food, and porn. All of these are associated with the underside of society, and lead to explosions in their own way. It is sort of understandable given the appropriateness of "Great Plains." They are great. They are plain. On and on. There seemed to be a disproportionate number of nasty smells, too, little stretches with eau de skunk, sewage, or smoke. I brought a nutmeg with me, which I would scrape whenever we hit a noisome streak. it worked, but now I associate nutmeg with all that is foul instead of Christmasy.

Speaking of Christmas, it is that time here in Austria too. Had my gluehwein and saw a few different Christmas markets. They call some Christkindlmarkt, which means "Baby Jesus Market." I doubt I am the first to wonder if they sell Jesuses, but I bet I am the first to propose Krampuskindlmarkt, or "Baby Krampus Market." It could be like a foul, fucked up version of Christkindlmarkt, with rotten gluehwein and rude staff dressed up like Krampus and burnt pastries and nasty-scented incense and poorly made crafts that break on you.

Yes, Austria, I missed you too.