Ntuple Indemnity

I went to a Stampede Breakfast this morning. They served the best flapjacks I’ve had since, well, the last Stampede Breakfast I attended. They were of the golden, moderately crispy, CD-ROM-size variety (i.e. a diameter of 5.25″ plus or minus a negligible irregularity), and didn’t congeal into messy flattened blocks of flour upon immediate contact with maple syrup.

The entertainment itself was passable, though it hardly attracted my attention, other than that one band playing a country hoedown cover of “Johnny B. Goode”. Nobody got pied.

It’s not exactly a well-hidden fact that for several years – since around 1999, I reckon – my handle on various messageboards and services such as ICQ was “IronParrot”. In fact, it is still my active handle on Entmoot, which is the only messageboard from that era that has survived the winds of change without descending into unbearable oblivion like some boards I know.

So it must be a rather cosmic coincidence that pretty much the only Google search result for that name that isn’t me is actually the Xanga site of someone I knew in junior high. I do wonder from whence she decided to take on that handle, since I am at least somewhat certain that she didn’t know I used it. It must be something to do with memetics, one of those words that triggers me to immediately open LeXpert and discover that MEME is only playable in SOWPODS, while MEMETICS has yet to make an appearance in any dictionary despite over 72,000 Google hits.

The real reason I used that name has nothing to do with the fact that The Maltese Falcon is a favourite of mine in both literature and film, despite the apparent connection.

There is perhaps nothing more irritating than people who point out the spelling mistakes of linguistic policemen such as myself and accuse me of “hypocracy”. Well, okay, there is something more irritating – say, when I stow my vast, largely un-inventoried DVD collection away in a special “do not borrow” cupboard, and visiting relatives make straight for said cupboard. But there isn’t much else.

Here’s some real hypocrisy for you: I’m writing an entry in a completely pointless online journal with no sense of purpose or audience. You see, I don’t think very highly of these so-called “blogs”, the personal ones of absolutely no interest to anyone other than a) prying friends, b) prying former friends and 3) people intending to run a smear campaign against the author in the next election. Ever notice how politicians don’t write these things? They would make them too accountable.

And before you ask, yes, the A-B-3 thing was intentional. I actually talk like that in real life. But if you’re reading this, you probably already know that. Why? Because if you’re reading this, you’re either a) me, b) a dork, or 3) … someone else.

But I digress. My point is, all writing worth mentioning should have a sense of audience. The whole blog revolution may be blinding people to the fact that nobody actually cares about their lives of woe and misery, unless it happens to involve musical numbers or war in Iraq. It’s not unlike how the self-publishing revolution is blinding a lot of people to the fact that real editors won’t pick up their books because their writing sucks.

I don’t think I’ll cover the angle of how the next generation is going to be even more functionally illiterate than this one, because of that wonderful thing called the Internet, or rather, linguistic apathy thereupon. I might turn green and start breaking stuff. For starters, I’ll break open a bag of chips.

On an only slightly related note, has anybody noticed that the Hulk has the most elastic underpants ever? Now that’s a missed gratuitous licensing opportunity if I ever saw one.

To answer a few introductory questions, without going through the trouble of making a completely separate FAQ, which I probably should do at some point or another anyhow: No, this is not a story-of-my-life diary thing – I already have one of those in physical form. Yes, I plan to receive hate mail, and relish in the prospect. No, my film and lit reviews (should they occur at all) will likely not be as comprehensive as those I used to write several websites ago. Yes, the title of this site is an obvious reference to Casablanca. No, you won’t find a shred of Nick-related gossip worth spreading, with the possible exception of the occasional less-than-impressive Scrabble moments, so don’t even bother. Yes, I realize that everything on this site is purely my opinion and should therefore be taken as nothing less than gospel truth.

This site is likely a temporary creation, and I will nomadically move around to newer sites with snappier, more standards-compliant designs (i.e. 100% stylesheets, 0% tables) and completely different foci at some point or other. You will likely quote me on this later and laugh, because I am apt to put this off.

But for now? Read on.