Thursday, October 20, 2005
Stooge Device of Choice
In recent blog entries by folks I regularly stalk, a common topic of comments or commentary on blogs came up. Outer Life is wavering between cutting them out or letting the unwashed masses in. Bleak Mouse is is in favor of letting the rabble opine on his blog entries and he's trying to persuade Searchblog to open herself up for comments. Mr. Mouse went so far as to comment on a Searchblog entry on a comment he concocted of his own blog entry. Confusing? Yes, it is dizzying. But it's all well worth it.But, isn't that what good commenting is? Shouldn't it reflect an understanding of what a blogger is trying to say and then express a take on that topic? Some folks had mentioned on Outer Life's entry that commentary is, well, basically deadwood, dreck. They don't bother reading the comments as they add nothing or, in some cases, actually take away from the blogger's initial entry. There is some truth to that; sometimes commenters miss the boat completely on what the topic discussed was. I know that I have on occassion been at the dock while the ship's cruising out to sea. But, that's where commentary comes in to help you get on board. My mis-interpreting comments have been challenged by other readers of the same blog. Alerted by this, I go back and re-read the entry and see where I may have gone wrong on the path to enlightenment. In most cases when this has happened, the correcting comment was right and I've benefited from it by getting the point of what the original blog entry was about.
Are some comments just plain stupid? Absolutely! I've re-read some of my own comments on other folks' blogs and am thoroughly embarassed. Luckily for me, these other folks have been brought up right and their manners reflect a forgiving and an understanding nature. Comments at this site tend to be limited; most are by fellow bloggers loyal and kind to each other's entries. I truly appreciate each and every one of their additions to my blog. Their commentary tends to make my original entry much more interesting. The entry, rather than sitting on a diner stool, eating by itself, is now in a booth, playfully razzed by other occupants.
Which brings me to Ball Pein (or Pean or Peen) Hammers. Cowtown Pattie was recently discussing NPR Radio and somehow BP Hammers became involved. Always an interesting stopover, is Miss Pattie, and this entry got me to thinking about blog topics and commentary. An interesting entry is obviously a sure-fire way to get people talking. NPR & BP Hammers worked well with CP, getting people, including yours truly, all worked up about various things one can do nothing about but to reminisce.
Borrowing her tool (CP, I will return the hammer as soon as I've finished with it) for a moment, let me pose a question to you, this blog's reader.
If you were a Stooge (but your choices were limited to Curly, Larry, or Shemp), which of the following items would you like to be hit with?
O.K., the deal is, you will be hit with one of these items, you just have to pick the one that most appeals to your sense of decorum and level of acceptable pain.
1) Ball Pein Hammer
2) Radiator
3) Large Mallet
4) Shovel
5) Cookware
6) Cymbals
7) Wet Sock
Personally, I go for the radiator. The old cast iron and inundated style will certainly leave me with wavy hair, a look I've been trying to attain for a while.
This question will probably invite commentary from men, seeking the optimal item to be hit upside the head with. We are given choices; we will pick a choice.
The multi-thought-juggling side of our species will probably not be evaluating the choices as much as evaluating the idea of posing such a dumb question to begin with.
But Womens! Don't you see? The problems of NPR already been discussed. This entry concerns simple matters, simple choices, namely getting hit about the head. Hoepfully this entry will put that topic to rest. Permanently.
What thing you would most like to be grabbed with (ex. would be tongs) will be addressed at a later time. I'm sure you'll need a bit of time to recuperate.
CP, the hammer's all yours now.
Comments:
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In stooge-world, the ball peen hammer is superior because the weight is away from the hand, resulting in humorous ricochets.
I just did a controlled experiment with all of the above (sequentially, not simultaneously) in the basement, with myself as Curly. (“Soitenly!”) The clear winner is/are the cymbals, which perfectly recreate the sound and ambiance of my former pothead days: wang-ang-ang-ang-ang …
# opined by 
: 1:35 PM, October 20, 2005
: 1:35 PM, October 20, 2005
In the words of the infamous Maxwell Edison: do not gag me with a spoon, I much prefer a silver hammer!
Since Maxwell isn't a choice, I choose to be Moe, slapped with wet socks, to which might be queried thusly:
"Alright, take it easy, son ... I just want to ask you a question. Which would you rather have, a shoe full of dollar bills, or two socks of fives?"
Bad choice if you select the socks, huh?
Since Maxwell isn't a choice, I choose to be Moe, slapped with wet socks, to which might be queried thusly:
"Alright, take it easy, son ... I just want to ask you a question. Which would you rather have, a shoe full of dollar bills, or two socks of fives?"
Bad choice if you select the socks, huh?
Again with the ball-peen hammer, eh? Why I oughtta... (wup - wrong slapstick team!) Be curious to see the track-back on this item.
“After I found myself addressing Searchie in a comment to my own blog entry, I decided that the most plausible hypothesis is that I have invented her unconsciously, and there does seem to be a good deal of evidence to back this interpretation up. If I could figure out how I manage to write her blog, then I could add a comments section;”
You know, you are the second person within the past three weeks who has hypothesized that I don’t exist at all, or exist as the online incarnation of a range of intriguing possibilities.
Or perhaps … perhaps … I am whatever you wish me to be. Doesn’t everyone need someone like that in his or her life?
You know, you are the second person within the past three weeks who has hypothesized that I don’t exist at all, or exist as the online incarnation of a range of intriguing possibilities.
Or perhaps … perhaps … I am whatever you wish me to be. Doesn’t everyone need someone like that in his or her life?
# opined by : 5:56 PM, October 20, 2005
: 5:56 PM, October 20, 2005
I think Bleak has hit the nail on the head - although what quite with I'm not yet sure: we don't exist! There are no commenters, really - we're just your toy soldiers answering back.
Which always made playtime so much more fun. But don't you all find your "soldiers" to be so much more literate these days? when I was a boy all they seemed able to do was scream "Aiiieeeeee!!!", or a muffled "Aaaaargh" as their throats were slit commando-style from behind?
As for your game of "Dead Man's Fall", I'll take the Cymbals, please, Darko. Except in reality it usually turns out to be a spade to the face, i've found.
Which always made playtime so much more fun. But don't you all find your "soldiers" to be so much more literate these days? when I was a boy all they seemed able to do was scream "Aiiieeeeee!!!", or a muffled "Aaaaargh" as their throats were slit commando-style from behind?
As for your game of "Dead Man's Fall", I'll take the Cymbals, please, Darko. Except in reality it usually turns out to be a spade to the face, i've found.
You had General Lee? That is so. cool.
We only had Naahzis, who were not gentlemen: "For you, Tommy, ze war is ofer" gets so tiresome after a while.
We only had Naahzis, who were not gentlemen: "For you, Tommy, ze war is ofer" gets so tiresome after a while.
The writer of OUTER LIFE is royally disingenuous, in his plea for Commenters on Comments, as he has deleted a comment of mine for reasons I can't fathom, and then when I asked him why, he reacted by deleting five thoughtful comments I had made in the past, none of which were in any way offensive, and then blacklisted me. The man has his own program, and I applaud him for that, and continue to read him. But his pose as a sensitive soul is apparently a fragile artifice, that can't tolerate certain kinds of feedback; which kinds I don't know, since he bleeped me for no sane reason, and probably therefore is doing it to selected others. So watch out what you say to the Sad Man, Mr. Outer LIfe.
# opined by : 4:01 AM, October 21, 2005
: 4:01 AM, October 21, 2005
Mr. M Shy, I can't speak for Outer Life's Comment Policy and am quite surprised to read what you've gone through. He seems to have a laissez faire attitude about the comments; I've read quite a few that were not of the fawning variety, i.e., they were giving him a bit of the steam.
But,
I can speak for my policy. As long as you're not here selling some service or goods or pushing the positive aspects of Nazism, your comment will have a permanent station here.
I get the warm and fuzzies and the burps and giggles when I read most of the comments posted here. If I could, I'd give all my commenters a big hug, but I know that may embarass them, so I'll withhold any sign of affection. A thank you for coming and leaving a thought behind (that's not a taut backside) will have to do.
But,
I can speak for my policy. As long as you're not here selling some service or goods or pushing the positive aspects of Nazism, your comment will have a permanent station here.
I get the warm and fuzzies and the burps and giggles when I read most of the comments posted here. If I could, I'd give all my commenters a big hug, but I know that may embarass them, so I'll withhold any sign of affection. A thank you for coming and leaving a thought behind (that's not a taut backside) will have to do.
FCB: Spekaing of hitting the nail on the head, I think you have as well. We don't exist. We are all creations of Mr. B. Mouse. Why, it seems he has even created dialogue for us. I'm very glad that he has also created some women in his world. Without Cowtown Pattie and Searchie we concoctions would be left to our own devices and that would mean our imaginary lives would be an eternal loop of prison movies inspirations.
Personally, I wish Mr. Mouse had made me a bit taller and with a touch more of hair. on the head, I mean.
WP: Don't know what it is about Ball Peen (Pein, Pean) Hammers. It's my favorite tool name. As a kid, I heard it as Ball Peeing Hammer. Shows how far from the gutter I've come, I guess.
Mr. B. Mouse: When that amusement park you've got between your ears becomes a tangible reality, I'm signing up for season tickets!
Personally, I wish Mr. Mouse had made me a bit taller and with a touch more of hair. on the head, I mean.
WP: Don't know what it is about Ball Peen (Pein, Pean) Hammers. It's my favorite tool name. As a kid, I heard it as Ball Peeing Hammer. Shows how far from the gutter I've come, I guess.
Mr. B. Mouse: When that amusement park you've got between your ears becomes a tangible reality, I'm signing up for season tickets!
"Spekaing" I know it's a typo but I like it a lot. Sounds as if someone very sinister is pronouncing "speaking".
# opined by : 9:18 AM, October 21, 2005
: 9:18 AM, October 21, 2005
I’ve always found that female/male commingling can create quite a heady brew, which never fails to intrigue.
# opined by : 10:07 AM, October 21, 2005
: 10:07 AM, October 21, 2005
Seems Mr. B. Mouse and The Lady Amanuensis de Searchblogue (accent grave or aigu?) are re-defining what intellectual stimulation is. Me? I'm happy enough sitting in the stands swivelling my head from side to side.
Madame? I believe the ball's on your side of the court. We await your volley.
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Madame? I believe the ball's on your side of the court. We await your volley.
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