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I'm liking this return to old-school blogging, the type where I just find something interesting on the Web—or better yet, have someone find it for me—and point you to it. I'm also loving Steven Garrity's idea for a distributed punch in the face system:

The system allows you to enter the name/location of a person who needs to be punched in the face, somewhere in the world (a known spammer, for example).

Then, you see if there is anyone near you that needs to be punched in the face. Punch them.

It's violence 2.0.

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From the Modern Drunkard Magazine's Wingman's Handbook (thanks to Karl for pointing it out):

There's much more to the task than distracting the [cock-blocker] while the [flight leader] makes his move. Wingman skills have been honed and passed down since someone decided women should be allowed into bars. Strategies have evolved and tactics have been polished to the point that the wingman has become a super-specialized warrior in the eternal Battle of the Sexes.

The handbook is an invaluable guide to that most noble and self-sacrificing job. Wingmen, I salute you.

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From a column by Rick Moranis in the New York Times:

I have thirty-nine pairs of golf, tennis, squash, running, walking, hiking, casual and formal shoes, ice skates and rollerblades.

I'm wearing slippers.

He goes on to count TVs, phones, stamps, and dental floss. It's a short but very entertaining column.

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I was going to post a rambling introspection about why I haven't been blogging much recently despite my abundant free time—in brief: I'm unemployed, waiting for word back from Google about a possible job there; considering other places to apply—but instead I think you'd be more entertained by a link to some Robot Chicken.

Actually, this is more for posterity than anything else since I assume you've already seen it.

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From rejected 'Love Is...' comics:

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No, the title isn't a reference to Alan Carr or Graham Norton. It refers to a quote by biologist J.B.S. Haldane, that the world is "not only queerer than we suppose, but queerer than we can suppose." It is also the title of a talk by Richard Dawkins, given at Oxford in July last year.

Clearly this talk was given at a time when Dawkins' was consolidating and preparing his thoughts for The God Delusion. For the benefit of those who are put off by the title of that book, neither the talk nor the book carry the degree of negativity that you might suppose. Both are, as anyone who has read Dawkins before will expect, more about promoting a scientific world view than it about denigrating a non-scientific one.

The central point of the talk is the proposition that our view of the universe is dependent on our position within it, specific that we exist on a medium scale neither small enough to innately comprehend quantum effects nor large enough to grasp galactic scales. That therefore we are naturally unable to grasp the nuances of the oddness of the universe.

Anyone else who likes to play a game of "Where's Douglas?" when listening to or reading Dawkins will note that the game is becoming increasingly easy. To be fair, if I had been friends with Douglas Adams I'd go on about it the whole time too.

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Continuing the theme from the last post--and after having looked at quite a few TNG videos on YouTube (honestly I felt a tear while watching the intro sequence for the first time in how many years)--check out this little gem:

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Empire's news page has a poll about the best Indiana Jones movie. As you can see, they have the wrong results posted with it. Clearly, to any sensible viewer, The Last Crusade is better than the other two put together.

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Somewhere in the discussion of the demise of Top of the Pops I came across a link to Nirvana's performance of Smells Like Teen Spirit on the show.

Top of the Pops didn't allow bands to perform their music live, instead forcing them to sing and mime to pre-recorded music. So Kurt Cobain completely took the piss with his singing, while the whole band mimed their instrument-playing as badly as they could. Cobain doesn't even pretend to play a whole chunk of the song. Krist Novoselic spends most of the performance swinging his bass around his head. It's hard to tell from the YouTube video but apparently the bass didn't even have any strings on it. Stick it to the man!

By the way, this is my 500^th post to Soylent Red.

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Happy Thursday. I just wanted to let you know that I've joined a cult and I want you to join too. If you're reading this sentence it means that the previous one didn't have you running from the computer screaming in terror. That's a good start.

It's not really a cult, though. More of a collective. Mass suicide is frowned upon, and there are no turquoise shell suits. Before I get too far I want to note that some of you already know all about this collective and appear not to have joined. Shame on you.

Anyway, here's the deal. This bloke named Danny Wallace started a collective for no reason. He was bored and that's the sort of thing he does when he's bored. But once people had joined his collective they kind of expected that there was some point to the whole thing. There wasn't, so Danny had to come up with a point to it all.

What he came up with was Random Acts of Kindness. Every Friday (called Good Fridays) members of the collective, now calling themselvesᾰexcuse me, ourselvesᾰthe Karma Army, do something random to make someone's day/week/life better. It could be something as simple as giving your seat to someone on a train (actually you should probably be doing this already), or buying a stranger a cup of coffee. Or it could be something bigger. It's up to you.

In Danny's words:

People are essentially good. I know that now, beyond any shadow of a doubt, no matter what I read or see on TV.

Thing is, there's this strange social barrier that every country now seems to have. We may see people struggling in the street with something heavy, and, fair enough, part of our brain will always make us want to go over and help. But somehow, being nice has gone from being second nature, to being fifth or sixth. We don't go and help, because we're afraid of being seen as weird, or eccentric, or as a potential mugger, or as an American tourist trying to find a new best friend (I don't know which is more terrifying). Instead, we walk off, and we simply forget about it.

But my joinees - my proud and noble followers - have shown me that it's possible to break that barrier down. And not just possible, but easy. If you feel you've an excuse for doing something nice, no matter how vague or silly, then it becomes far, far easier. If you can treat it almost as a joke, almost like you're playing a cheeky prank on someone, you can be nice with almost no embarrassment whatsoever. It's like a live version Candid Camera, but one in which the victim actually benefits.

There are now over 12,000 joinees all over the world. And there's a book about it of course (Join Me by Danny Wallace, surprisingly enough). If nothing else the book is well worth the read.

If you think this sounds like a good idea, you can find out how to join from the official website.

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