Todd Stadler's blog

it's not easy being green

According to CNN.com today, Tom Green is filing from divorce from Drew Barrymore.

His divorce petition cited the reason as irreconcilable differences.

I'll admit it wasn't her best film, but I think he would have a stronger case if he had instead blamed No Place to Hide, Doppelganger, Bad Girls, Mad Love, or anything else she made in the early 90's.

partially defatted fatty tissue, part 2

The other spam e-mail I got invited me to "Have A Ball Watching Squirrels Try To Outwit This Birdfeeder". By "This Birdfeeder", they mean this bird feeder.

You know how it goes - you want to feed the birds, but you do not want to feed the squirrels.

Why this is true is not the point. Perhaps you were abducted by squirrels when you were a wee child. Perhaps you resent that squirrels routinely appear in dull shades of gray and brown, while your feathered friends at least have the courtesy to show a flash of red now and then. Or maybe you loathe the squirrel for the same reason you loathe yourself - yet another stupid mammal that can't fly.

Whatever your particular hang-up is, you can be sure it will find satisfaction with this amazing invention. The way it works is simple! Actually, let's let the web site author speak for himself:

"The way it works is simple! When the squirrel slides down to invade this feeder it can't help putting it's weight on the lightly spring loaded top, causing it to close tight! The feeder then becomes a 6" ball making it too large for the squirrel to chew on!"

If you've ever seen a squirrel, you'll know that that's no lie - six inches is larger than most squirrels can fit in their mouth for geometric reasons. If you know squirrels for whom this is not a problem, you have bigger problems. But I digress.

Tell me, friend, have you ever seen a thwarted squirrel?

I can hear you asking, "But Todd, what if the squirrels become more clever (as they always do and I hate them for it as I remain no more clever than when I was ten) and realize that this spring-loaded acrylic ball can be used as a weapon against the birds, effectively turning it into some sort of bird guillotine in which the squirrel plays the executioner to the birds' Charles Darnay?"

That is a very long and literate question, but the reply is neither: "THIS DOES NOT HAPPEN!!!!"

If those exclamation points are not enough proof, consider this film noir tale of a squirrel who is surprised to not eat bird food and the bird who is not beheaded in the process. Even lofty science is not built on such solid evidence!

I urge you, friends, to purchase this most wonderful gift for all your friends this Christmas. I know I will be buying them for those I love. I assure you, however, that I personally do not profit from sales of the "Squirrel's Surprise".

Of course, if your friends are like mine, they will not be happy with simply surprising squirrels who are unable to decapitate birds.

No, they will want to spy on the birds, learning the intimate details of their lives. In their extreme envy of those creatures gifted with flight, they will want to eavesdrop on every avian syllable in the hopes of discovering what it is the birds know that we humans do not.

For these special friends, may I recommend some other fine products?

partially defatted fatty tissue, part 1

I recently received two spam e-mails recently that I rather enjoyed. That doesn't mean that spamming isn't, as George Bush would put it, evil. But it has its entertaining moments.

For instance, there is the first e-mail, which tells me of a most interesting web site, KidnappingMadeDifficult.com. Let me say, first of all, that this is not, as it may appear, a site that teaches potential kidnappers how to kidnap. That would be this site.

No, this site is in fact written by a man with a broken shift key and a mission. But it's more than that. It's also difficult to understand.

And irrefutable. I base this on the following sentence found on the main page: "THE KNOWLEDGE CONTAINED IN KIDNAPPING MADE DIFFICULT IS IRREFUTABLE."

Apparently, the aim of this web site is to convince parents to "BE DIFFERENT" by prioritizing their "CHILD'S SAFETY WHILE THEY'RE ALIVE AND IN [their] PRESENCE." If I understand correctly, it aims to do this by convincing parents that they should order background checks on people their child interacts with - especially those they least suspect!

It also happens to sell a book. It is a book like no other, as it is "the one and only kidnapping prevention and elimination Ebook written to date".

But this is not another dry didactic book about kidnapping prevention - no! As the web site itself says, "YOU WILL LAUGH, CRY AND TAKE OFFENSE TO SOME OF THE CONTENT". So thank goodness for that.

Not convinced? Here is a fact to consider from the section labelled "FACTS TO CONSIDER": "CHILD SAFETY ORGANIZATIONS & LAW ENFORCEMENT AGENCIES HAVE NEVER BROUGHT BACK TO LIFE A DEAD CHILD".

If the caps lock nature of that sentence alone does not sway you, remember that "Children daily are being ... found dead in the bushes".

Perhaps you find yourself convinced of the material's non-looniness, but cannot help wonder about the author. Who is he? What drives him?

Relax, my friend. The author "has emphasized an alternative lifestyle for himself and his children". "The concept of passive action is non-existent in his world"! He "has always prioritized ... distilled water." Clearly, he is a reliable friend.

So I urge you to go out and buy this book for all your friends for Christmas. I know I am buying it for mine. And I assure you that I make no money from your purchase.

I leave you with these words of the author: "screw the bull"!

blender contest update

I recently received an interestingly belated entry to the now two-months-old blender contest.

It was sent by my girlfriend's sister, Rachel. And it was sent nearly seven weeks after the results to the blender contest were announced. It is not insignificant to point out that those results contained not only the name of the winner, but the correct ordered list of blender settings.

Perhaps it comes as no surprise, then, that Rachel's entry was without flaw. That is, it looked exactly like the list I had already posted on the web.

It should be noted that she did include with her list a lengthy explanation of her particular ordering in which she claimed extensive knowledge of KitchenAid mixers.

And, more importantly, she pointed out that she is dating the Australian man who is the sole source of Tim Tams ("Australia's favourite chocolate biscuit") in my life. As such, she controls whether or not I get to taste of the sweet treat that I love so.

Less astute readers might not have noticed it, but I think Rachel is attempting to blackmail or hornswoggle me. Or both. She wants the fame and glory that surely accompany the winner of a Cockahoop contest, and will stop at nothing to achieve it.

But I am not so base a man to be felled simply by the threat of withholding Tim Tams. As long as I have the Big Kat or Junior Mints, I have no reason to sink to her level.

So let this messages serve as a warning to you would-be Cockahoop-contest-usurpers. Your name will be spread far and wide on this web page, but not as you want. Instead, it will look something like this:

Rachel is a dweeb.

yatta!

In honor of this week's (okay, memepool says last month's) stellar Japanese video meme (Windows Media format. Non-IE users, right click on link and choose "save link as"), I'd like to present today's journal entry in Japanese (for those browsers that support Unicode). Because I can.

naked baby photos

I recently discovered that Google allows one to search Usenet (newsgroup) archives all the way back to 1981, making it a bit like an internet Way-Back Machine.

It's interesting being able to read content - both banal and historical - that dates to well before the invention of the web, especially given that web pages themselves are quite ephemeral. Rarely can you view the way a website used to look or find content that was once on a page but has since moved.

But mainly I'm intrigued by my ability to read my old posts. I first started posting on newsgroups in the summer of 1993, after I graduated from high school. I was such a newbie dweeb back then, chock full of equal parts hubris and ignorance (it's okay - I can talk ill of myself back then because I've turned into such an upstanding specimen).

The whole experience is like finding a videotape of myself as a youth, and all the fascination and embarrassment that come with seeing how I've changed.

Of course, as this web site can attest, I'm still not above making a fool of myself on the internet for all to see. But in a more visually pleasing way.

what-a-hoop?

Of course, what the previous article failed to emphasize is the number of naughty searches that also end up in my referral logs.

This is apparently an unfortunate side effect of the name of my website. Which is, you know, ironic in the Alanis sort of way, as cock-a-hoop means awry, according to Merriam-Webster. And a fair number of people go awry in their searches for pictures of flesh. Trust me, that's irony.

Of course, a quick search of registered domain names reveals that I am one of precious few web sites containing certain, ahem, syllables that do not pander to more prurient natures.

In fact, were it not for the myriad owners and fans of cockapoos, cockatiels, and cockatoos, I might be rather alone, morally speaking, in an alphabetical listing of websites.

Of course, there is always my alphabetical neighbor, the Cockadoodle Country Store, and their fabulously pixellated Cockadoodle Kiddie Corner.

Finally, all my searching turned up the following wonderful URL, which I now pass on to you: http://www.birds-cockatoo-cockatiel- finch-parrot-macaw-bird.com/. I expect to see that domain name plastered all over billboards any day now. Or at the very least in my referral logs.

http://www.google.com/search?q=spock

I've been doing a lot of touching up around Cockahoop lately, mostly behind the scenes.

You know, firing most of our editorial staff due to the economic downturn and whatnot.

One of the many pointless (but fun) features I added was the ability to track how people get to Cockahoop. These "referral logs" tell me what links people followed to get here, among other things.

Checking referral logs is a time-honored tradition that proves just how messed up the internet, or people, can be. A large number of people, it seems, happen upon a given page not because they particularly wanted to see it, but because a search engine pointed them there.

Of itself, this is not so unusual. But often the phrase that the person was searching for and the content of the page they are lead to seem incongruous. My webpage here is no exception.

It seems that the more I write on this page, the more likely that any random search on the web will point somebody my way. It's like an infinite number of monkeys and typewriters, only we're not producing Shakespeare, just more and more gibberish.

Ah, but what humorous gibberish. Why, for instance, does Google think that my page is relevant to "sudden feeling" or "gingham tablecloth"? I guess I used those phrases a few times somewhere in all my journal entries, but surely someone else talked about them much more.

I also have to wonder why I seem to be one of so few people talking about "Qwest billing problems" and "wacky hats", or why I am deemed especially knowledgeable concerning "leatherbound photo albums", "fried snickers", "vice presidential mansion facts", "chicken costume"s, or the "degauss button".

Perhaps more puzzling is why the following phrases, as of this writing, cause Cockahoop to be listed first by Google among all possible websites, leading one to believe that it is a repository of information related to these phrases: "scary reindeer", "3rd degree blackbelt in kung fu", "slutty club wear", "Corin Tucker journal", and, of course, "Vegetarian Journal archives".

These results can be blamed easily enough on the vastness of the internet. With so much out there, it's hard for a search engine to find a truly relevant page. It's doing well enough just to find a given phrase anywhere.

But it's not the software that bugs me. It's the people.

Why, for example, do so many people come to my web page looking for a "kung fu home study program" or asking "did alyssa milano have breast implants"? What is wrong with our science education that so many people ask "how is diet coke related to genetics"?

What possible answers could someone have expected for asking Google so casually "what went down with SATs this weekend"? What does that even mean?

Is something rotten in Britain that someone would ask "Can a 16 year old work for nothing in the uk"? Should Tony Blair be alerted?

And have interpersonal discussions really become so disfavored that people now eschew their fellow man, choosing instead to ask Google "what makes a person attractive"?

But you know, I can accept that people are going to be like that. What I cannot accept is what I found in my referral logs today. And that is an advertisement.

Yes, in that one variable with which a browser usually tells me whether it's Netscape or Intnernet Explorer or Opera or whatever, I found instead text that told me of "100MB Linux web hosting account just 8 dollars per month unlimited bandwidth" and suggested that I "sign up today".

I mean, is this effective? Is it necessary? Should I shelve my dreams of making money with my creative talents and instead open up the first ad agency specializing in $HTTP_USER_AGENT messages?

People are dumb.

o' mice an' men

When I originally made plans for this past weekend, the biggest problem I had was which party or show to go to. But you know how plans go.

Little did I realize that due to interpersonal conflicts too strange or sad to explain, I would soon be called upon to make my debut in the Portland music scene, filling in on drums for my friend's cover band. Mind you, I found this out at 5pm the night of the show. Which started at 7pm.

Oh, I can be such a drama king. I had actually practiced with the band for a couple of hours in the week prior to the show. It's just that when those practices were held, it was understood that I was simply filling in for a drummer who would, in fact, be able to make it to the show.

And so I found myself on a stage in front of a hundred people or more, trying my best to faithfully evoke the Beatles, Stevie Wonder, and even Natalie Merchant.

It's odd that the second song I played in front of an audience in Portland was the Black Crowes' "Hard to Handle" (RealAudio format). That was also one of the first three songs I ever played in front of an audience, back in high school. Time is like a wheel, my friend.

Anyhow, the show went well enough, and I found myself heading to one of the aforementioned parties a little bit later and sweatier than I'd intended, but also one beer and $54 richer.

I think that's the most I've ever been paid for playing the drums. I guess that's not so odd, given that the only other (quasi-) money-making band I've been a member of had seven members. And there wasn't a whole lot of money to split between us in the first place.

To summarize: I play drums. The Black Crowes have their moments. Musicians don't make much money, usually. Thank you.

life in these united states

Sometimes life imitates those stories people send in to Reader's Digest for money.

Beeman and I were at a party talking to someone about the small town she grew up in. She mentioned that something in that town (as you can tell, I was paying close attention to the conversation) was named Burnside, which also happens to be the name of a road in Portland.

Apparently knowing more about the namesake of the road than I do, Beeman said, "I wonder if [that thing in your town] was also named after the general."

To which the girl replied, "Which one?"

And then there was an awkward pause, after which Beeman said, slowly, "Um... General Burnside?"

I didn't say it was funny. It's not like I roll on the floor after reading Reader's Digest, either. How much did you pay to read this, again?

moving gingerly into the future

Okay, I admit it, the Segway Human Transporter (aka HT aka Ginger aka IT (free registration required)) looks cool.

People zooming around as if on some Jetsonian hovercraft, all with the simplest of ease. It makes for a nice video (although I think the guy using it to zoom around inside his close-quarters office has issues). And the gee-whiz factor of having only two wheels is pretty high. Probably like the first time people saw a bicycle in action.

Which makes me think about why this thing is better than a bicycle. And I'm having a hard time convincing myself that it is.

Let's see. First, there's the cost. But let's assume that as they get more popular, HTs will cease to cost $3000 apiece.

Then there's the intricateness of it all. HTs may have all manner of redundant systems that are tested and tested again, but eventually, something will break. Maybe it'll break in a nice way, and you won't go crashing to the ground, but it'll still break.

When a bike breaks, the tools required are usually some allen wrenches, maybe a tire lever, and other stuff you can probably fit in a small bag. When an HT breaks, you'll need at least a masters degree in something scientific.

HTs are apparently able to go over both concrete and grass, although I have my doubts about one making its way over wet earth. Of course, bikes have been doing all that for years. In fact, people I know who ride mountain bikes would have me believe there are few places in this world they can't go. The HT's ability to ride through (some) water is similarly not unique. I also have to imagine that bikes deal better with curbs, gravel, and, if you're that kind of bike rider, going down the stairs.

I will say that the HTs are probably easier to ride up a steep hill. Mind you, nothing in the effusive literature generated thus far says much about this. Maybe its gear ratio can handle San Francisco's Russian Hill, maybe it can't. But bikes can handle it if their owners are up to it, and are clever enough to switch to a lower gear.

HTs seem to be capable of speeds up to twelve miles per hour. I personally have ridden a bike at thirty miles per hour (it was downhill, of course), and, awkward rider that I am, it freaked me out. But the point is that even the most amateur bicyclist can go faster than an HT.

And further. Bikes go as long as you do. HTs go for as long as their charge lasts. Sure, it's impressive what they'll do, given just a few hours of charging. But it's hard to beat human power for efficiency. After all, you were going to eat anyway.

Besides, any device that runs on electricity can't claim to eliminate our dependency on fossil fuels. At least not right now. The bulk of America's electrical power still comes from burning coal and oil (except in Oregon, where it comes from chopping up salmon into little bits). Clearly, electric vehicles in general and HTs specifically are far more efficient than regular automobiles. But that doesn't make it better than walking or riding a bike.

Bikes also have the advantage of being street-legal, and many cities have lanes dedicated to them. Not only has the HT been ruled "not a vehicle" by the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration, meaning it can't go on the streets, but it is also illegal to ride one on many cities' sidewalks, because it is a motorized vehicle. This makes Steve Jobs' claim that cities will be built around HTs more of a condition for its success than a prediction.

Of course, neither HTs nor bikes protect you from the cold, the rain, the impact of a large high-speed automobile, or the crush of humanity all around you. Nor do they carry around large amounts of cargo (or the large amounts of cargo any sales brochure might have convinced you that you will haul around) or your six children and their "tippy" cups.

In all these cases, cars are perceived as the best solution. I can't say I endorse such thinking, but even I find walking in the rain after so many hours to be depressing. I can't imagine moving three times faster through it will be that much more enjoyable, even with an umbrella.

Besides, we Americans really enjoy being sealed up in our own worlds where not only do we perceive that we are unimperilable, but we can sing along with our tunes cranked to high volumes, and for the most part be ignored by people six feet away.

If one really wanted to interact with the world around him, he wouldn't zoom through it on a scooter, he'd walk.

In short, I can't see myself changing the way I live for this invention. At least not now.

I suppose I'm just being overly cynical, but that's what people like me do when they're exposed to a year's worth of hype and marketing mystery.

Sure, it's a cool invention. But as with most cool inventions, the proof is in the five-years-later pudding.

my clever friends

I like going to parties as much as the next guy. But I have to say that I most enjoy going to parties whose invitations have subtle political/cultural humor in them. Witness the following e-mail from my friend Jerry:

Consumer confidence is at a ten year low. Our nation is desperately trying to pull itself out of these despondent times, and the only way up is to CONSUME!

Buck up!! What better way to stick it to the terrorists than to down a few glasses of fine wine? A party is the equation to success!

1. PURCHASE any red wine.
2. CONSUME said red wine.
3. EAT fine food.
4. Feel CONFIDENT in your new found PURCHASE/CONSUME state.

I'm just the enabler here... and I need your help! I implore you to join me for the first annual Holiday CONSUME party. The best way to endure freedom this holiday season is to CONSUME! Come on over to my house on Saturday, December 8, after PURCHASING any red wine - Merlot, Cabernet, Zinfandel, anything! Then, we can all CONSUME wine and CONSUME food until we have no more room for CONSUMING!

Mind you, once the ha-ha's get going, it's hard to stop:

Dearest Jeremy,

So there I was sitting at home, wondering "what can I do in these uncertain times to fight evil and those who evildo?" when I got your e-mail. Well, of course I was ecstatic! Here was a chance to enjoy my friends socially and yet also slap Osama bin Laden in the face - literally!

We'd be just like the Whos in Who-ville, we would stun Osama's Grinch by singing and having fun (and also by repeatedly bombing his adopted homeland with the largest conventional bombs made). For Osama wants nothing more than for us to have a bad time; therefore, having a good time is defeating the enemy. Brilliant!

However, I also must say I was mildly disappointed to find out that this party was not to be a CONSOMME party as I originally thought. Nothing pleases the pallet more than a nice clear soup made from well-seasoned stock. But as there was to be drinking of some sort, I let the thought pass.

Ah, well. I suppose you are doing the best you can. Although I cannot help but wonder if the economy would be more well-served by an SUV-tasting party, in which everyone buys and brings said type of vehicle. However, unemployed as I am, I will likely enjoy the wine-tasting kind of party more, as it is easier on the pocketbook and also serves to relieve me of my financial and emotional headaches, if only for one evening.

Yours Truly, Todd

And how:

Dear Sir,

I understand your plight with unfulfilled expectations. Why, just today I was all ready to read a juicy article about gorilla chefs in Columbia when, to my dismay, I realized the headline was instead "Columbian Guerilla Chief Invites President to Peace Talks".

Of course, I found it a little odd that this article wasn't featured in Food Day, but the Oregonian is a wacky bunch of lads always thinking outside of the box, so you never know, right?

Anywho, just for you, I may make some SUV CONSOMME for the party. I just got this great blender I've been wanting to try out.

Sincerely, Jeremy

I like friends.

photos from home

Although I visited home a while ago, I only recently got back some photographs from that trip.

Perhaps the most awaited photo was that of me at the Plano, TX Original Pancake House with "the big German". This is a German-style egg-batter pancake that is puffed up with air when it arrives. It is eaten with butter, powdered sugar, and lemon.

In itself, that is not unusual. It is the size of the pancake (hinted at in the name) that is impressive. It was actually too large for my plate. It took me two days to eat it all. Children trembled in terror at the sight of it.

Most importantly, my local Original Pancake House doesn't serve German-style pancakes that large. We can only get "Dutch babies". So you can imagine the amount of jealousy this photo will generate among my fellow Pancake House pilgrims. And when it comes down to it, isn't jealousy what it's all about?

But that was not the only big German to be found in the metroplex. For I also took this picture of my dad behind the screen door on our back porch.

It's a very "me" photo, in that it eschews recognizable content for pleasing repetition and texture. How artsy. How fartsy.

At least my dad need not worry for someone stalking him from seeing his photo on this page. Because we all know how often that happens otherwise.