Tin Speaker » Raspy Thoughts

Outstanding motion picture of the decade

hornblower — Sun, 10 Jan 2010 07:37:18 +0000

It’s really no contest. You will find no braver film, none more honest or more daring or more heartfelt, in this or any decade. Jaleel White proves that his revelatory Steve “Urkel” Urkel was no mere fluke, as his Michael here is both hero and villain, protagonist and antagonist, potatoe-salad eater and potatoe-salad … well, let’s just say you’ll have to see the movie! With Eddie Griffin as the wisecracking cousin or best friend or something, probably.

Dessert of the year 2009: the Kouign Amann

hornblower — Sun, 10 Jan 2010 07:24:41 +0000

God time

hornblower — Fri, 25 Dec 2009 08:05:41 +0000

Hey, so depending on where you are in the world it’s Christmas right now. As most of you already know, things can get pretty religious “up in this Tinspeaker bitch,” so if you’re uncomfortable with heavy Bible lifting, maybe you should just go back to one of my more heathen posts.

Let’s check up on Deuteronomy 23.

“¹He that is wounded in the stones, or hath his privy member cut off, shall not enter into the congregation of the LORD.”
Sorry, Lance.

“²A bastard shall not enter into the congregation of the LORD; even to his tenth generation shall he not enter into the congregation of the LORD.”
A heaven without Eva Perón? No, thanks.

“³An Ammonite or Moabite shall not enter into the congregation of the LORD; even to their tenth generation shall they not enter into the congregation of the LORD for ever.”
This is more like it. Ammonites certainly have no place in the kingdom of heaven. And, yeah, anyone who names himself after a bomb probably doesn’t belong at the right hand of God.

“²⁰Unto a stranger thou mayest lend upon usury; but unto thy brother thou shalt not lend upon usury: that the LORD thy God may bless thee in all that thou settest thine hand to in the land whither thou goest to possess it.”
Are you kidding me, Pope Clement V? Don’t ban usury outright, just ban it against your own brother. Too late now. The Jews already control all the money.

“²⁴When thou comest into thy neighbour’s vineyard, then thou mayest eat grapes thy fill at thine own pleasure; but thou shalt not put any in thy vessel.”
Speaking of Rothschilds! I’m about to get at some Château Lafite Rothschild grapes HARD BODY. For free. Mmm mmm.

“²⁵When thou comest into the standing corn of thy neighbour, then thou mayest pluck the ears with thine hand; but thou shalt not move a sickle unto thy neighbour’s standing corn.”
I’ve plucked mad ears in my day. Thanks, Deuteronomy 23:25 for giving me something to wave in stupid Farmer Hitchenweather’s face when he comes out waving the shotgun like a madman (not the good kind). Sorry, Hitchenweather. God’s orders.

Though this is a Christmas special, maybe we’ll check out some more bible chapters sometime in the future. God knows I’ve got nothing else to do these days.

What happened to Craigslist?

hornblower — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 22:30:34 +0000

Even though http://newyork.craigslist.org is still atop my Firefox “Most Visited” tab, before today I hadn’t been on the site in quite a while. And I have returned to find it twisted and altered almost unimaginably.

When you search for something, you can now sort the results: most recent, best match, low price, high price. This sort of thing has no place in craigslist, which supposedly prides itself on not changing anything, ever. It’s the kind of thing that makes me want to hit someone in the mouth.

The other thing is, where are all the scalpers? I was expecting at least a few dozen listings for Dirty Projectors tickets, and a good amount for Girls, too. The selection was weaker than Reader Zero’s triceps. Does no one have $50 to spend on the latest buzz band anymore? Is craigslist cracking down? Am I going to have to find I new way to make money next semester? Don’t like the way this is going.

Also, typing ‘craigslist’ is always hard for me, for some reason. I usually write ‘craiglsit’ or ‘craigslit’ first. What’s with that?

These are giraffes

hornblower — Sun, 27 Sep 2009 22:42:04 +0000

Switching things up today here at Tin Speaker. Instead of a hilarious dialogue or a hilarious advertisement, I’m just going to give you a picture I took of a couple of giraffes. Think of it as a Christmas present, because you’re not going to get a real Christmas present from me.

Delving deeper

hornblower — Mon, 10 Aug 2009 17:06:02 +0000

Yesterday I discussed the preponderance of New Yorker articles entitled “String Theory,” and how none of them actually concern string theory, the titles being, instead, rather tired puns — usually based on the string instruments. Well, it’s not all about the fine arts over at 4 Times Square. In case any of my fine readers’ appetites were whetted by the words “string” and “theory” next to each other in the previous post, only to find no physics in sight, here‘s an article that isn’t called “String Theory” (thankfully; that would be terribly boring) but is about same. It’s a pretty neat, short summary of the present state of string theory and theoretical physics, and you should read it, because God knows you of all people can’t tell a boson from a bison!

Explorations in the New Yorker online archive

hornblower — Sun, 09 Aug 2009 20:56:27 +0000

Have you ever read the abstracts of humor pieces from the New Yorker archive? Of course you haven’t done, you uncultured sot. Well, let me just point you in the right direction. Read this and tell me what you think.

Pretty funny, no? I thought so, too. I’m glad we agree on the matter.

I also found another interesting, related (if you clicked the link) little something. There have been, this decade, no less than four pieces, plus a blog entry, in the New Yorker with the title “String Theory.” Observe here. Talk about weak. This is supposed to be the top cultural magazine in the world (maybe? I don’t really know. I assume it is.) and they’re using the same trite pun for articles about Joanna Newsom, Jasper Johns and French ready-to-wear fashion.

Needless to say, none of the articles are actually about string theory.

Further Paula Abdul news

hornblower — Sat, 08 Aug 2009 04:41:34 +0000

Some have questioned Hornblower’s influence as a major tastemaker in the blogosphere. (Side note: Firefox recognizes neither “tastemaker” nor “blogosphere” as words. I’m switching to Chrome.) Even after past posts have influence the likes of The New Yorker, the doubters remained skeptical. But in the face of great evidence, even the most ardent non-believers must surely relent.

Recall, if you will, a recent post. I discuss a Paula Abdul Twitter post in which she said that her fans never “seize to amaze” her. Is the Twitter post in question still up there? No, sir. Ms Abdul, or perhaps her publicist, read my scathing commentary and rushed to change it. Now it’s grammatically correct, but awfully boring. Judge for yourself. Perhaps I should have kept my fool mouth closed, knowing the power I wield. But no, I cannot. I have this platform, and I am duty-bound to uphold my obligation to talk mad smack. Nothing shall give me pause. Except if maybe I got a job. Then I’d probably slow down a little bit.

Paula Abdul Update

hornblower — Thu, 06 Aug 2009 03:14:07 +0000

“You all never seize to amaze me.” — via @PaulaAbdul

Maybe there is something to this Twitter thing, if it allows for gems like that one. At least now we know that account truly is, as advertised, “The Real Paula Abdul.”

I’m sure she meant it as a compliment to her fans, but here’s how I interpret it: a pirate mother is complaining to her sons that nowadays they only seize merchant ships for their own benefit, whereas they used to do it to try to win their mother’s love and approval. A little bit of a Freudian, Oedipal element going on there. D.H. Lawrence would probably do great things with Paula’s ramblings. A Rocking-Horse Winner for our times, perhaps?

What did I do today?

hornblower — Tue, 21 Jul 2009 02:11:33 +0000

I wrote, friends. I wrote, and I write. I ate and I judged and I remain in your strictest confidence. Sometimes life’s pleasures are simple — just this evening, I marvelled at the beauty of using an ice cream scooper. After months of struggling not to deform my spoons in a mighty effort to use but simple silverware for purposes far beyond its intended function, the easy glide of the heavy tool through pistachio ice cream was a burden lifted, a gift bestowed.