So the ultimate exercise tool arrived yesterday, was assembled in five minutes, and immediately I could tell the Dreissegacker Brothers have made some major innovations in their rowing machines. Not only is it quieter, but the performance monitor is a big, big improvement, including a USB cable and a CD so I can drive a laptop with it, and in theory, via my Lenovo X60s WAN antenna, race virtually against other indoor rowers.
It comes with a smart card so I can save workout records, displays a force curve, and does all sorts of geeky things that only a sweaty geek can appreciate. I did a mere 15 minutes this morning, low and slow, and will work up over time to my usual 60 minute slug-fest while listening to thrash music.
Just post some Chinese characters from a China blog in a quoted post, and bang, up fills the spam queue with more Chinese character spam. There are interesting waves to blog spam. Last week it was mobile phone offers (if someone decides to kill of affiliate web marketing programs, then blog spammers lose all economic incentive to get click throughs. If someone captured one of these fine spammer and slowly sliced them from the soles of their feet upwards with a deli meatslicer set on the thinnest setting, one slice per night, on national television …. I’d watch.
Why isn’t there is great online dictionary? Wikipedia is a great online encyclopedia, but there just isn’t a great dictionary, at least, nothing on the order of the OED in terms of total coverage, but also, most important, that capability to explore randomly and discover cool new stuff. True, there is dictionary.com and ObjectGraph has a nice and convenient Ajax dictionary, but I want something that can quickly find words such as these:
Propinquity: proximity, nearness
Facinorous: atrociously wicked
Saponaceous: having the qualities of soap
Treuhand: German trust officer
Obnubliate: to obscure
Autochthonous: originating where found, indigenous
Fisc: the treasury of a kingdom
I’ve subscribed to the Word of the Day email list for ten years, and every so often it delivers a good one, and I’ve long been in the habit of maintaining a list on my Treo or Palm device of words I come across (such as the list above) that deserve a lookup. In prep school, in Mr. Ward’s English class, we played Word of the Day, and everyone was expected to come in armed with a submission that the rest of the class would discuss, consider, and vote to the exalted position of WOTD. I appealed to my classmate’s baser instincts (all 15 year-old’s sense of humors are centered in their groin) and introduced them to such schoolboy classics as smegma, merkin, coprolite, and meconium (cheesy substance found you-know-where; pubic wig; fossilized feces; and an infant’s first bowel movement). The last term was so wildly popular that it became, in shortened form, my nickname for a while: Mec. Classmates who arrived bearing good words such as sedulous (Persevering and constant in effort or application; assiduous) never stood a chance, so Mr. Ward had to ban medical terms and excuse me from further participation. That, and I was caught making up the definition to a word, tampion, which in reality is the plug stuck in the end of a cannon to keep dirt and water out of it, but which I provided a new definition for, being a ball of dirt and spit used by hibernating bears to keep ants and other insects from climbing inside of their bums while they slept. Lacking Google in 1974 to settle the argument, I was unable to prove this variation, and was banned from further participation. Then, this morning, I found the wonderful Uterine Fury Records which is so kind as to provide a cartoon strip of how a bear constructs and deploys a tampion.
But being of the habit of reading with a pen or pencil in my hand, I have a hard and fast rule of never glossing past a word I don’t know. Down it goes, into the flyleaf or the Treo list,to be retrieved later. Never to be used in conversation, but just filed away for future reference and the appropriately pompous sesquipedalian moment (given to the use of overly long words). Now I will never rise to the level of a William F. Buckley, the god of vocabulary, and I wouldn’t dare throw one of these tongue twisters into a conversation, let alone a written sentence, but it was kind of fun to fire off a letter to the editor of the Barnstable Patriot yesterday, the kind of grumpy-old-man screed one writes when someone threatens to erect a brothel next door to a church, and drop in the word eleemosynary (related to charity) just to let them know I had some big punches in my word arsenal.
My current favorite word, and a pretty one, is petrichor, which describes the way the world smells after it rains.
Yes, I read the dictionary cover to cover as a kid. And yes, I ate paste.