Longest Continuous Text Message/Sentence I Have Ever Received:
Okay so I rented the movie Taken about a teenage girl who is abducted and sold for the sex trade while she is vacationing in europe with her friend her father happens to be on the phone with her because he’s annoyed she didn’t call him when she landed when at that same moment she’s taken oh and did i mention out of the two girls only she was a virgin oh and i forgot to mention her father was a retired cia mercenery and of course the one time your father happens to decide to stay awake and watch a movie with me giving me agita about you being in sf two girls alone so i decided to call and put our minds at ease and i get voicemail i love you and don’t be too friendly with strangers because your dad is not liam neelson and never worked for the cia so i’d have to send andrew to save you and by the way did i mention he’s having his mole removed in the morning or that two days ago his trainer mario while demonstrating a move on andrew fell on andrew’s ankle and now its sprained and is using a cane so i couldn’t send him to surgery so know that i love you be careful and i should stick to watching family guy
RALEIGH, N.C. - When Joseph Carnevale chopped up three stolen orange and white traffic barrels from a construction site to create a massive sculpture of a roadside monster thumbing a ride, the North Carolina college student said he saw it as a form of street art.
Raleigh, N.C., police just saw vandalism.
They dismantled the 10-foot “barrel monster” and arrested Carnevale. Hundreds of online supporters want the charges dropped and the publicity has turned the history major and part-time construction worker into a local celebrity.
'It was something I had to do' The college junior hadn’t spent much time planning when he set out the night of May 31 and snatched the barrels from the site near the North Carolina State University campus where he studies.
"I had the idea in class that morning, and it kind of grew in my head, until it was something I had to do," he said. He went back to his Raleigh apartment and in an hour and a half returned to the site to assemble the freshly painted pieces before driving away.
What emerged was a hulking figure that seemed to extend a thumb, seeking a ride from passing cars.
His apartment walls serve as a canvas, covered in various hues of paint, with images on the walls and doors of sharks, hollow skulls and even Gandhi. His 1997 Volkswagen Jetta is almost completely covered in hot-glued beer bottle caps.
Carnevale has made other street art pieces with stolen barrels, including an alligator and caricatures with small arms.
'It's been positive publicity for us' Hamlin Associates, the construction company whose barrels were turned into a monster, doesn’t want to press charges.
"We’ve had a fair amount of vandalism, but never anyone turn it into art," Company President Steven Hussey said. "I actually thought it was pretty neat."
Hussey said the value of the publicity his company has received is well above the $365 cost of the traffic barrels that Carnevale used.
"It’s been positive publicity for us," he said. "If we’d known he’d do that good of a work, we’d have given him the barrels."
Carnevale said he’s weighing Hussey’s offer to reconstruct the monster for the company’s offices in Climax, N.C., possibly for pay. Meanwhile, at least three Facebook support groups have formed to support Carnevale, including “Don’t Charge Joseph Carnevale,” boasting more than 800 members.
Carnevale said he’s not sure what he’ll do next, though he’s interested in creating a T-Rex sculpture out of barrels.
Thinking about Erich, regretting not being an anth major (sort of). SHITTY
also spelled Kisin
(Mayan: “Stinking One”), Mayan earthquake god and god of death, ruler of the subterranean land of the dead. He may possibly have been one aspect of a malevolent underworld deity who manifested himself under several names and guises (e.g., Ah Puch, Xibalba, and Yum Cimil). In pre-Conquest codices, or manuscripts, the god of death is frequently depicted with the god of war in scenes of human sacrifice. One aspect of the dualistic nature of the Mayan religion is symbolically portrayed in the existing codices, which show Cizin uprooting or destroying trees planted by Chac, the rain god. Cizin is often depicted on pottery and illustrated in the codices in the form of a dancing skeleton, holding a smoking cigarette. He is also known by his death collar, the most prominent feature of which consists of disembodied eyes dangling by their nerve cords. After the Spanish Conquest, Cizin became merged with the Christian devil.
My research with Fox Tree was to 1) learn to differentiate between God A and A’ (one is Kisin, the “Stinking One” or “Shit” god; the other is the “Fart” god)
2) Develop a statistical method of analyzing how frequently these gods are depicted signing their respective names in a database of all art and hieroglyphs attributed to these two Gods. So I would have gone through all of the photographs of the two gods available, and calculated a ratio of how many times each god signed their “name” out of how many times they appeared.
The reason why I was supposed to do this involved Erich’s long-term goal of legitimating the existence of Ancient Maya Sign Language (a language similar to that of North American Sign Language), which is not currently recognized as a language in Guatemala. What is important about these two gods is that their hand-signs are actually conserved—in areas of Mexico/Guatemala/other parts of Central America, when people say the word “shit” or “fart” in spanish, they will actually make the same hand signs. His point is that these signs are not merely gestural, as deniers of the legitimacy of a Maya sign language claim, but that they are rooted in the history of the language, and in fact prove its longevity.
We’d talked for some time about whether or not it’s possible that sign language pre-dated oral language, especially since the hand-signs retain their meaning across different Maya languages (Nahuatl, K’iche’, Q’anjob’al, etc)/were universally expressed. Obviously the sign language was used in trading and communication among the different groups, again, similarly to that of North American tribes.
He suspects that Mayans themselves do not formally recognize such signing as possessing anything beyond a generation-to-generation gestural capacity among the deaf because there are many rural villages who have large deaf populations (due to genetic drift issues, bottlenecking, etc), and given the economic situation, in many cases the deaf are treated as slaves and denied basic human rights. Because of the demands of a plantation-based agricultural economy, the Maya are already exploited by the ladino populations; so these deaf populations are living beneath the already substandard conditions of many Maya people. His goal is to promote respect for the language as religiously, culturally, and historically significant among the Maya, as a means of human rights advocacy.
I know some people have felt the wrath of my current depression and anger and everything else. Some people know why I’ve been like this but most don’t. It’s quite possibly one of the hardest things to ever admit. I know I’m going to lose friends and be looked at differently from now on after I say this but I feel that yelling it metaphorically from the rooftops will help me get over this embarrassment and shame. I’ve felt for a while that maybe this is what I deserved after the promiscuous life I’ve lived but no one deserves this. No one deserves this pain and this shame. To those who I’ve been with in the past, don’t worry, you are safe. Also, to the one person who I’ve been with since him, you knew before hand and we took precautions so I did everything I could. I was dating my ex for about 4 months when it was finally brought up. I thought I had a yeast infection but when none of the medications worked, he finally came clean. His ex cheated on him and got genital herpes. He had unprotected sex with her and never even got tested. Then, without telling me this, he has unprotected sex with me. I’m sorry to him for airing this out but I have to get this out for me. I can’t keep this in anymore. It’s been a really hard thing to cope with. While you spend hours at night on Myspace and Facebook I’m on herpes support groups. It’s funny how I was clean up until I met someone I really cared about. Like I said before, everyone before him, you guys are safe, no need to worry. I was tested and clean before him. To those who stop talking to me or feel the need to call me names, your presence will be missed but it’s not needed. I can survive this one my own. I really have no choice. There is no cure as of yet. To those of you who remain to support me, thank you. To those who’ve I’ve snapped on, I’m sorry. I’ve been having a hard time dealing with this. Now that this is out, I hope that I’ll be able to cope better. Herpes isn’t anything different from cancer or diabetes and it shouldn’t be feared or looked down upon. Even thought I feel dirty and distasteful because I have it, I shouldn’t. I got it from someone I had loved. Even still, it doesn’t make it any easier to live with. I hope in time I’ll be the same person again but I know that I’m forever changed. “Keep on calling me names, keep on, keep on. I’ll keep kicking the crap ‘till it’s gone.” - Fiona Apple
i was grumpy this past afternoon (monday) after a tiff with my family, so i left the house to run some errands. it was pouring down rain, so i stopped in at exodus to get something to eat and drink. bud light limes were two-for-one, so i had that along with a “Carlos Santana” wrap. in walks this adorable family—a single mom with ella, 4 and brady, 2. the mother remembered me from some earlier time when i was at exodus playing guitar, and she introduced me to ella as a good guitar-player. ella was so pleasant, polite, and well-spoken. she asked me to show her how to play guitar after i finished my “juice,” and so i grabbed the house acoustic and sat down with her. she asked so many pertinent questions—i.e. if the strings have “names like C and E”—that i decided to show her some chords. she noticed that when all the strings were played together, the chords sounded either happy or sad (major/minor), but when she picked one string of a chord at a time, it was "weird! like, happy-sad-happy." so i had to dig deep to go into chord construction, which is weird. in just 45 minutes, she was able to identify all six strings of the guitar and chords A, Am, B, Bm, C, Cm, D, Dm, E, Em, F, Fm, G, Gm. i even showed her major 7th chords, which she called ‘cowboy sad.’ we talked about how much she liked animals like cats and turtles and snakes and spiders—she told me she was bitten by a snake “as a kid,” but was fine because it was not venomous, and that she still catches them. she also told me that she can’t read “very many books yet” but can spell ‘donkey’ “most of the time.”
i asked her if she liked rock and roll music, and she heard me play some and said that it sounded “kind of pretty,” but that she preferred “princess music.” i struggled to pick out songs from the Little Mermaid, Cinderella, and SpongeBob, but she told me “with practice, it could be good.”
after the short break, and my second beer, she asked me if we could write a song. she related the lyrics to me, and told me that i should sing and decide on the chords, “out of only the ones we learned today.”
here are her lyrics:
Under the sea where the seashells laid
Lived an old mother octopus and her octopus, one
"Squirt!" said the one, and they squirted
Where the seashells laid
Over in the sea where the sea anemones were
Lived an old mother clownfish and her little clownfish, four
"Dart" said the mother, so they darted and they darted
Where the sea anemones were
Over in the ocean where the coral grew
Lived an old mother shark and her little sharks, two
"Grind," said the mother. "We grind," said the two
Where the coral grew
There was a thunderstorm and the waves were shaky
And the sea animals fell to the bottom of the sea
They were so cold because they were so far away from
"Oh no, we’ve got to get back to the surface!"
Gotta get back gotta get back gotta get back
To the top of the sea, you and me.
The clownfish, they swam and they swam to the top!
The octopus said, “Our tentacles! We’ve gotta get up!
Otherwise, our tentacles will freeze!”
The shark said, “We’ll be starving if we don’t eat.”
We gotta get up to the surface.
Gotta get back gotta get back gotta get back
To the top of the sea, you and me.
They swam and they swam and they swam, to the top.
14. Consider three individuals. One is lower class. One is middle class. One is upper class. The lower and upper class persons are most likely to spend money on “unnecessary stuff” — a fourth pair of shoes, the impulsive ice cream cone on a hot day. Of course they do so for different reasons. The middle class person is more likely to be frugal.
Another thought on money. In poor families it’s more common to give cold hard cash as a gift. In rich families to give cash as a gift is seen as unimaginative, even offensive. I think the intuitive explanation here is the right one — when you don’t have much money cash is more important than symbolism. “It’s the thought that matters” is an expensive principle. So, attitudes toward gift giving are probably an accurate reflection of class.
ben casnocha: 4. Pick-up artists believe women are attracted to men who display aggressiveness, narcissism, and general asshole characteristics. The pick-up community also concedes that you needn’t be an asshole all the time — just when you’re spitting game at women. But can you really turn off the alpha game once you’ve turned it on? Isn’t there a risk of asshole-tendencies, originally developed to help you on a Friday night, infiltrating your overall character during the week? I bet you hard core PUAs have weaker male friendships than their non-PUA counterparts.
The film is set during the Great Depression in the U.S. state of Kansas and it starred the real life father and daughter pairing of Ryan and Tatum O’Neal, as on-screen father and daughter Moses and Addie.
In September 1974, a television series called Paper Moon, based on the film, premiered on the ABC television network. The television version of Paper Moon starred Jodie Foster as Addie and Christopher Connelly (who had played Ryan O’Neal's brother in the TV series Peyton Place) as Moses Pray. However, it was not a ratings success and it went off the air a few months after it debuted, in January 1975.
The story follows con man Moses Pray (Ryan O’Neal) and young Addie Loggins (Tatum O’Neal), an orphaned daughter of a prostitute. Along the way, Moses manages to con the man who hit Addie’s mother with his car into giving him two hundred dollars, claiming it’s for Addie. Addie overhears this conversation and later demands the money from him. Because he spent the money, Addie soon learns how Moses makes his money - he finds recently widowed women and visits them pretending to be a Bible salesman who recently sold a Bible to the deceased husband. The widows then pay him for the book.
As they travel, Moses picks up a stripper named Miss Trixie Delight (Madeline Kahn) and her downtrodden african american maid Imogene (P.J. Johnson). Although Addie becomes friends with Imogene, she becomes jealous of how Moses begins to focus more and more of his attention to Miss Trixie.
At a hotel, Moses is able to find a bootlegger’s store of whiskey, steals it, and sells it back to the bootlegger. Unfortunately, the bootlegger’s brother is the sheriff, who quickly arrests Moses and Addie. Addie hides their money, steals back the key to their car, and the pair escape to Missouri, where the Kansas law can’t follow them. The sheriff finds them in Missouri however, and unable to arrest Moses, he beats and robs him. Humiliated, Moses sends Addie to her aunt’s house. Addie quickly misses Moses however and returns to him, reminding him that he still does owe her two hundred dollars. The film was shot in and around the St.Joseph (Missouri)/Kansas area.
It’s commencement day; the class of 2009 just graduated, and I came to campus to bid farewell. While doing so, I noticed your poster about the TB/HIV clinic in Xela still hanging on the bulletin board on PNE’s first floor, partially taped over with announcments. I decided not only to liberate it from the student event announcements, unpost it and bring it to the main office of the anthropology department. I posted a sign on it saying that you would collect it in the fall, so hopefully they will hang on to until then and you’ll be able to recover it.
It occurred to me that you probably should have written to the Ruhlman woman who congratulated you on your talk last month, thanking her for attending and for her compliments. It would have been good arse-kussing, had you done so.
But you would now have to be really bold to do this so late„„, UNLESS, you mail her an edited copy of the whole paper. Who knows what will come out of it, but you’ll find as you grow older that despite the long-held debate among astronomers and astrophysicists about whether the universe is a sphere, a disk, or a taurus, every field of study, vocation, and profession teaches you the odd truth that from any person’s personal perspective, the universe is not only oddly arse-shaped, but puckering up for you to smother kisses on it for the rest of your life in order to get anything done.
Anyhow, it is really depressing to be packing up my office once and for all, despite the awful time I’ve had with it over the last 3 years.
In other news, I will yet send you (and a bunch of other students) one last e-mail in the coming weeks: one that includes my long-awaited Sign Language Studies article: the one you read as a draft last semester when I was trying to convince you to do the research for that article on the Death god Kisin.
Anyhow, I’d say Adieu if I weren’t an antagonist of organized (especially judeo-christo-islamic) religion, not to mention a hater of the French race. (This does not really count as “racism,” because to be racist, I would actually have to the Frenchees are people-like beings — Hominids, if not fully modern HUMANS, rather than the croaking, tobacco smoking poisonous (but anti-Bush) frogs that we know them to be.)
==Prof. Erich F-T Department of Religious Studies Hamilton College 198 College Hill Road Clinton, NY 13323
Dear Erich, I was just thinking about you today, actually. And especially sad that I didn’t end up having the ability to be up at Wellesley this summer for commencement. Thank you so much for thinking to liberate (and subsequently liberating) my poster from the bulletin board. I will definitely be in there to grab it in the fall.
I would have loved to write to Barbara Ruhlman, but I don’t know her e-mail address. I am not sure where to look, I suppose the alumni website, in order to contact her? I suppose if I do mail her a copy of my paper (I have since edited mine, incorporating your comments and advice…if you would like to see a copy, let me know. I didn’t want to send you things when I know you have so much to do), I would preface the email’s lateness with an explanation about finding an appropriate means for contacting her or something.
I like your observations about the universe…especially given that paragraph’s juxtaposition with the one regarding Kisin. Sometimes I feel like I’d rather kick the universe’s ass than kiss it, but we do what we must to get by I guess. My response would be, then, that for each of us life is some compromise between kicking the universe’s ass and kissing it.
I really hope we keep in touch, despite the fact that you are leaving Wellesley College for good. I am looking forward to reading your article! I’m glad that you’ve been feeling better since the last time we emailed. Though recovering only to be fit enough to move out must be a depressing situation to be in. When I anticipate being in the New York area, I will of course email you…please let me know what your new email is when you learn of it! My permanent email is firstname.lastname@example.org Feel free to let me know if you’re ever in MA visiting your mom/other family members in the coming year and a half or so. I am headed to San Francisco this coming Thursday for two months. I am excited about what the summer will bring.
Anyway. I’m glad you didn’t say Adieu, for reasons beyond an aversion to French culture, or the fact that the French aren’t human but rather a type of Mustard; I hate the seeming-permanence of goodbyes.
Thanks for everything. Your office will be empty to me whether or not there is someone there next semester, or in the coming years.