Pages

Friday, February 29, 2008

Bazooka Beak

It’s… a whole lot of pink weirdness.


I’ve mentioned on this blog before my fascination with Birdo, a character in the Super Mario games that I’ve known since the days when my wee hands could hardly work a video game controller. Fortunately, Birdo was the first boss of the first level of Super Mario Bros. 2, which meant that even a novice could gaze upon her egg-spitting proboscis in wonder. My tendency to prefer the “underdog girl” made me interested in this weirdo dinosaur, who, it turns out, wasn’t initially even designed for the Mario games, was initially conceived of as a cross-dressing male, was eventually retconned into full-on female gender, and now speaks in latter-day games with unintelligible quacks. (In Birdo’s defense, you try making words with a mouth permanently warped into an “o.”) I even once compared Birdo to my friend Sanam. I can’t remember the criteria for the comparison, exactly, but I think Birdo beat Sanam, for some reason. (It makes sense, in retrospect.)

Today, I realized that I’m not the only one with a thing for Birdo and that some people’s obsession with this… thing… runs a lot closer to crazy than it does with me. Case in point: A post this morning on Kotaku titled “Scary Fetish Birdo Makes Me Cry.”


Congratulations, fetish weirdos. You discovered the only thing creepier than being sexually attracted to Birdo: making a means to act upon that attraction.

[ Source: 4chan via Ectoplasmosis via GayGamer via Kotaku ]

Our Eldest SUV

Today I mis-read the model of a vehicle as a Chevrolet SONORA as a Chevrolet SONDRA. They look remarkably similar when depicted in block font and viewed from a distance.

Thursday, February 28, 2008

Soon You'll Be a Figment

I've been trying to find a good way to post this image for months, but no good occasion has yet arisen. Thus, you're looking at it now, for utterly no reason.

giraffe_mirror

And you can't un-look at it.

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Anthropomorphic Pottymouth

Some time back, I went nostalgic and fired up Animal Crossing, a old Nintendo title involving ditch-digging and weed-pulling that nonetheless held my attention for a good few months. (There's also a guitar-playing dog involved. It's hard to explain.) In the game, the player is a villager living in a commune of talking, clothes-wearing animals, all of whom demand the player's attention at least once a day. They get upset if the player neglect to speak to them at least once every twenty-four hours. (They're kind of bitches that way.) Needless to say, the residents of my humble burg were quite upset that I hadn't bothered to say hi in thirty-six months.

animalcrossin

Also, I'd forgotten until then that certain more impressionable villagers occasionally ask the player to teach them new words. Case in point: Rosie, a blue cat whom I'd apparently taught to say "cocktease," a phrase that she has apparently been using rather recklessly these past two-and-a-half years.

It's true what the people promoting this game said: It is just like more enjoyable version of real life.

Monday, February 25, 2008

Omnisexual Venn Diagram

It's a narrow cross-section.


[ From Spencer... the Flickr song chart pool ]

Sunday, February 24, 2008

Sword Fights and Grammatical Errors

Oh One-Eye, so valiantly dueling with Vaguely Effeminate But Still Totally Imposing. And then maybe Lady Armor shows up. Or maybe Guy Who Fights With a Big Metal Ball For Some Reason.

Memories.

I have previously spoken of my affinity for a bygone game called Samurai Shodown. Feudal Japan. Swords. People yelling things in other languages. There’s a dog in it somewhere. That’s all that my eleven-year-old brain needed to be happy. That all my brain needs to be happy now, come to think of it. The thing about this game is that it spells “showdown” without the “w.” To this day, whenever I have to write or type the word myself, I have to stop and remember whether it actually uses the “w” or not.


Go easy on me. I'm sure there's a good number of kids my age who legitimately thought combat was spelled with a "k" for similar reasons.

I never understood why “Shodown” ever came to be an acceptable substitute for “shodown” until recently. Apparently, those translating the game from Japanese to English found the original title, Samurai Spirits, uninspired and wanted to change it. However, doing so with the substitution of the spelling of “showdown” cause a problem in that it would have added an extra letter space to the design of the opening title screen. Thus, the “w” was dropped.

Yesterday, I was passing downtime with unbridled video game nostalgia and stumbled upon another game — this one unfamiliar — and realized that it also pitted residents of feudal Japan against each other in deadly combat and also did so under a title with an obvious grammatical error. Can I introduce Ninja Master’s?


Yes, the grocer's apostrophe existed even in feudal Japan.

So what, then, should that possessive noun be attached to? Ninja Master’s Fight? Ninja Master’s Putting Challenge? Ninja Master’s Make-Out Party for Other Ninja Masters, Especially Ones That Are Boys, Especially If They're Also on the Soccer Team?

Without having played the game, I can't really answer that.

Too Many Dinty Moores

I had planned to add another entry to the list of people unfortunate enough to qualify for membership in the “ha ha — this person’s name” club when Spencer explained his annoyance with the name of Dinty Moore, an author he had to read in his creative nonfiction class. Clearly, anyone who shares a name with a canned Hormel product has quite a burden to bear. However, the relationship is a bit more involved than I originally thought.


Ultimately, the name Dinty Moore originated in the long-running comic strip Bringing Up Father, known more commonly as Maggie and Jiggs. Creator George McManus included in the strip a tavern-owner character named Dinty Moore in honor of his real-life friend Peter Moore, who then apparently latched onto McManus’s coattails by legally changing his first name to “Dinty” and establishing a chain of restaurants called Dinty Moore’s sometime in the 1920s. (This real-life restaurateur Dinty Moore, however, did not become into the essayist Dinty Moore, however.) Later, in the 30s, Minneapolis meat retailer C.F. Witt and Sons registered the Dinty Moore name for a canned, cured meat product. (No clue how they pulled this off, seeing as how at least the main Dinty Moore restaurant in midtown Manhattan stayed operational until the 1970s and one would imagine that two different brands of Dinty Moore edibles would constitute some sort of trademark violation.) In 1935, Hormel Foods — current-day king of prefabricated meat-like substances and purveyor of Spam — bought the Dinty Moore name from Witt and slapped it on its own beef stew, a product which a 2001 New York Times article on the subject notes as having a reputation for an abnormally long shelf life. (The blog Memoirs of a Gouda describes it as “vile hatred in food form.”) Hormel continues to market the product today and even invented a cartoon lumberjack character — named, of course, Dinty Moore — to help in this effort, though he was eventually abandoned.

Now, to get back to the writer: He, quite simply, seems to have been named for the original comic strip character, according to his Wikipedia profile, though the fact that he wasn’t born until 1955 makes him the youngest of all the above Dinty Moores. I would think that his parents probably had awareness that the name was used in reference to people and things other than the original cartoon tavern owner. And what kind of a namesake is that, anyway? And for this latter Dinty Moore to have embarked upon a writing career, I feel, has probably resulted in more than a few comparisons between his prose style and the long-lives-but-ultimately-indigestible stew that shares his name.

In an entry at book blog Critical Mass, Dinty the writer himself comments on the strangeness of his name, saying that the original comic strip Dinty “was a wiry, mustachioed, cigar-smoking scoundrel in spats and a bowler hat who pulled the main character — Jiggs — away from his wife and daughter and off to visit the taverns. Dinty Moore represented every Irish-American stereotype of the time: buckets of beer, fatty corned beef, back room card games, coarse language, and unreliability.” Moore, whose further musings on names was apparently published in a summer 2007 issue of The Southern Review, also notes that though he’s been known as “Dinty” to all family and friends his entire life, his Christian name is “William,” because a priest refused to baptize him otherwise. He even attempted to write as Bill Moore for a period, but ultimately reverted back to “Dinty.”

Thus, while I’m halfway tempted to categorize this post under “Ha Ha — This Person’s Name Is Needlessly Complicated And, Ultimately, Fairly Silly,” I think I’ll just stick with the usual post tag. Although given that I’ve now listed six different Dinty Moores — the comic character, the restaurateur, the restaurant itself, the canned beef, the Hormel cartoon lumberjack, and the writer who initially inspired this post — I’m no longer sure whose name, exactly, I’m mocking. At the very least, the writer is the number one Google hit for a search of his name, so he at least has that.

And, you know, a writing career.

EDIT: There’s also apparently and F.W. “Dinty” Moore” Trophy awarded to the top goaltender in the Ontario Hockey League. And another Dinty Moore from Ventura served in the Navy during World War II.

Pop culture names, previously: