It’s my birthday this week. I’m too old to take birthdays too seriously these days, but there is a certain frisson added to the event by the memory of my new age taking so long to bed in, in 2012. Because of the brain attack suffered two weeks later, y’see?
Nerd Bait’s Prof Paul pointed me to an interesting article the other day. But before we get to that, here’s a track he wrote that has apparently been generating a lot of hits in Japan:
We’re not entirely sure whether this is because we’re getting hits from real people, or a Japanese robot. Nor are we quite sure which which would be cooler. (Spoiler: the answer’s at the bottom of the page….)
Longsufferinggirlfriendoftheblogbeth has this great trick for helping a person suffering a bout of hiccups.
‘What did you have for lunch yesterday?’ she’ll ask.
Then, ‘What about the day before that?’
‘And the day before that?’
It really works. Although, I’m told, it loses efficacy with multiple treatments.
Go on. Try it. You don’t have to be suffering from hiccups.
[Another brilliant anti-hiccup strategy? Signing up for the apoplectic Tiny Letter here.]
I’ve mentioned more than once on the blog that I’ve come to believe that one of the big mistakes made by my younger self was to think that everyone else was basically the same as me.
While that might have been a trifle solipsistic, it’s also kind of true. The genetic difference between individual humans today is miniscule — about 0.1%, on average. To a bonobo or chimpanzee, 1.2%. 1.6% to gorillas.
[Don’t miss out on apoplectic.me’s more personal and whimsical (!) little brother —
sign up for the tiny letter here.]
People love lists, right? Well, according to Rob Fleming, Nick Hornby’s representative in High Fidelity, a certain type of bloke does, anyway. So much so, that Hornby himself was able to get 31 Songs published. That’s a list of 31 songs, natch, with each chapter being a fairly lengthy entry about one of the songs; either why it’s good, its personal resonance, or some other facet of the particular song. It’s pretty good.
These days, list shows are ubiquitous. For example, consider the cheap-o, low-brow filler populated by talking heads with no particular knowledge of their subject, like BBC America’s execrable The Brit List. We saw their 20 sexiest Brits show. Which, as Beth pointed out, had to be filled out by a car. And a candy bar. Amusing middle-aged yet skinny men with good hair from the ’90s didn’t get a look-in, oddly enough. I’m talking about the Guardian’s head music writer, Alexis Petridis, of course. (See blogs passim.)