More from the artisanal mailbag

Okay, it's been a while since I bitched about the overuse of the word artisanal (see my artisanal whining page if you miss this sort of thing), so today I'm going to pick a few out from the pictures that I keep in a handcrafted folder on my computer desktop.

First we have perfume, which is likely handmade in some 3rd world chemical plant. The ad gets bonus irritant points for using handcrafted and artisan in the same sentence:

"We could fill these bottles with donkey piss, and people would still buy them. So let's do it."

This picture was sent by a reader living in China, to show that the word is now planet-wide, regardless of economic system.

"It sounds better if you use the word twice. As least that's what I think the English-as-a-2nd-language teacher said"

Next, from the United Kingdom, we have this place:

Is the trench digger artisanal? Or the power generator? Or the guy who takes your credit card when you order one?

Of course, no artisanal posting would be complete without something that grows in the dirt, was picked by someone making minimum wage, packaged by a machine, and had a label slapped on it.

Here in the U.S even a piece of paper is now artisanal:

If you're going to buy artisanal paper, you probably want a printer equal to the task:

"Handcrafted by mass-production assembly line machines in a Chinese sweatshop"

Lastly, it's important to remember that artisanal things can boldly go where no one has gone before:

"We canna go any faster, Captain! We're all out of handcrafted anti-matter!"

Thursday afternoon

Dr. Grumpy: "Have you been using anything for the shoulder pain?"

Mr. Strain: "My friend gave me a cream she bought, and I've been rubbing it on the area. I don't remember the name. It's like Ben-Gay, but gayer. I mean stronger."

Faces in the crowd

Evolution does interesting things, with unintended consequences.

Obviously, a key feature for the survival of any species is the ability to differentiate between friend and foe. If you don't recognize a predator coming toward you, or don't realize the hot girl in the cave next door is one of your own kind, you're unlikely to pass your genes on to the next generation.

As a result we're hardwired to recognize other human faces. We may have left the caves way behind us, but the basic programming is still in place, and damn near impossible to override.

Anyone recognize this picture?

How long did it take you to see a face? Likely 1 second or less.

It's an area of Mars called Cydonia, photographed by the Viking 1 probe in 1976. Scientists at the time dismissed it as a coincidence of light and shadow, but that didn't stop a number of writers (particularly Erich Von Däniken) from including it in horseshit pseudoscience. It got great publicity in non-scientific circles as "proof" of life on Mars, or as evidence that extraterrestrials had previously visited our backwater solar system.

The area in question, of course, is still on Mars, and been imaged many times since then. Here's a shot from 2000: Doesn't look much like a face anymore, huh?

This is called pareidolia, and is, in my opinion, a fascinating phenomenon.

We see faces in clouds:

In cars:

Pretty much anywhere:

Of course, with particularly famous faces, such as Jesus, Mary, or Elvis, this gets even weirder. Even before the internet age the news had occasional stories about figures (usually religious) being seen on toast, tortillas, trees, ceiling stains, and shadows on walls. With the advent of the web, however these sorts of things attract considerable attention quickly. Our continuing fascination with them is an ironic commentary on an ancient survival mechanism that keeps us from becoming something else's dinner.

It's also led to a rather bizarre cottage industry where you can now modify your toaster to put Jesus, or other famous faces, on your breakfast.

So my point here is that when you see a face on anything, whether it's bread, woodgrain, or a cloud, to just marvel at it. It's the way your fascinating brain functions to make sense out of random patterns, and keep you from becoming lion poop.

And beyond that, it's nothing.

The end.

Never mind

I'm walking a forgetful elderly lady up front after an appointment, and notice on the info sheet that today is her birthday.

Dr. Grumpy: "Happy birthday!"

Mrs. Taubeta: "Oh, is it someone's birthday?"

Dr. Grumpy: "It's your birthday."

Mrs. Taubeta: "I have a birthday coming up, too!" (looks at Mary) "Well, have a happy one!"

Mary: "It's your birthday."

Mrs. Taubeta: "Really? My birthday is next week, too! What a coincidence."

Dr. Grumpy (giving up): "Well, I hope you have a happy one."

Mrs. Taubeta: "Thank you. And to you, too. I'm sorry you have to work on your birthday."

Soap Opera

Dr. Grumpy: "Any seizures recently?"

Miss Scorned: "I don't think you've had any?"

Mr. Ictal: "Yeah, about 2 weeks ago. Remember? I was sleeping, and pissed the bed."

Miss Scorned: "I don't remember... YOU BASTARD! YOU'VE BEEN SLEEPING AT DIANA'S AGAIN!!!"

Mr. Ictal: "No! I mean, I must have been on a, uh, business trip or something..."

Miss Scorned: "YOU'RE A FUCKING GARDENER! YOU DON'T GO ON BUSINESS TRIPS!"

Mr. Ictal: "You're right, I..."

Miss Scorned: "I AM SO OUT OF HERE!" (grabs purse, leaves)

Long pause

Mr. Ictal: "So, anyway, I had one seizure, about 2 weeks ago. Hey, can you download a bus schedule? I'm going to need a ride home."

Dining out

This past Friday night Mrs. Grumpy was out with a friend. So, in the tradition of single dads everywhere, I took the kids out for a gourmet meal at Costco.

This is a surprisingly complex task that involves juggling orders for hot dogs, pizza, chicken bakes, ice cream, churros, and drinks in your head, while sending the kids on a seek-and-destroy mission to find an open table and hope they don't kill an old man eating a hot dog and hide his body under a 50 lbs. bag of dog food in the process.

I found myself in line behind a lady who was torturing the poor 16 year-old kid working the counter, and got to hear this:

Ms. Food: "I can't decide between the pizza or a hot dog."

Counter Guy: "Okay, do you want someone to go ahead of you?"

Ms. Food: "No... Which one has more calories?"

Counter Guy: "Um, not sure... I can look it up."

Ms. Food: "Well, I want something low-calorie."

Counter Guy: "Well, the salad has fewer than either of them."

Ms. Food: "Okay... I'll take a hot dog, with a piece of cheese pizza."

Happy New Year!

Wishing all a happy Rosh Hashanah.

Patient quote of the day

"When it's really dark outside, and I've closed all the window shades, and all the lights are out, then things look really dark to me. Especially if I close my eyes."

Today's criminal tip

When trying to use a stolen credit card, don't hand it to the guy you just stole it from.

Thank you, Don!

Behavior

The twins, for whatever reason, are both running for student council this year. Elections are next week.

Last night they had to attend a mandatory "election rules" class. So, while Mrs. Grumpy picked up Frank from jail the bus stop, I took Craig and Marie to the meeting.

(There were some touchy issues. Craig's Hair, his running mate, had threatened to leave the ticket in a dispute over the newest member of his entourage, Craig's Cast, recently receiving more attention. The situation was defused by an agreement that Craig's Cast will be removed in 4 weeks. Craig's hair has now agreed to stay onboard for another 20 years, after which it will have the option of leaving at its own discretion and be replaced by Craig's Cheap Rug.)

Anyway, all kids were required to shake hands with the people they're running against, and then the following points were covered:

1. Keep it positive.

2. No negative statements. Give people a reason to vote for you, NOT a reason to vote against your opponent.

3. Don't make promises you know you can't keep.

4. Stick to the real issues (I have no idea what "real issues" there are in student council).

5. Be honest.

6. No screaming, blaming, or finger-pointing.

7. Be a good sport.

8. All campaign posters must be removed by the end of the day after the election.


I know I've touched on this before. And listening to the talk, I wonder: Why can't we do this on a national level? What the hell kind of world is it where grown-ups behave worse than kids? Aren't we supposed to be the ones setting a good example?

I still like my idea of a reality show called "Modern Sandbox:" Politicians who espouse screaming and yelling at the opposition will be dropped into a desert with an equal number of equally stubborn people from the other side, under circumstances where their mutual survival depends on finding ways to work together and be polite. Advertising revenue and T-shirt sales will go toward the national debt.

Serious WTF*ckery

Words fail me.

Dedication

Dr. Grumpy: "How you doing? You look tired."

Mrs. Colostrum: "It was a long night."

Dr. Grumpy: "Aren't you supposed to have your baby soon?"

Mrs. Colostrum: "Yeah, I delivered her this morning."

Dr. Grumpy: "THIS MORNING?"

Mrs. Colostrum: "Yeah, at Local Hospital next door."

Dr. Grumpy: "And they discharged you already?!!!"

Mrs. Colostrum: "Oh, no." (opens jacket, shows hospital gown underneath) "I just hate to miss scheduled appointments, so I walked over to your office. They think I'm at the gift shop."

Today's contest

Okay, folks, since Dr. Killpatient gave me the idea...

A catalog pushing Halloween-themed nursing scrubs was lying around the hospital yesterday, with this picture on the cover:

So let's see what captions you guys can come up with. I'll toss out a few:


"Dr. Grumpy is sending a patient to the ER!"

"Dr. No Bullshit is on vacation again!"

"Shipping charges on Halloween scrubs are how much?!!!"

Mary's desk

Mary: "Dr. Grumpy's office, this is Mary."

Mr. Bling: "Yeah, this is Mr. Bling, and I need to make an appointment to see Dr. Grumpy."

Mary: "Mr. Bling, you sent us a letter 2 weeks ago saying you were firing Dr. Grumpy, and wrote a number of unkind things about him."

Mr. Bling: "Yeah, I know. But I decided it's too much of a pain to find another neurologist."

Mary: "I'm sorry, sir, but our policy is that once a patient has dismissed us, we won't take them back. It's just not good for the doctor-patient relationship after that."

Mr. Bling: "That's bullshit! I need a neurologist, and you're refusing to see me! I don't have time to find another one."

Mary: "Sir, you should have thought of that before you fired Dr. Grumpy."

Mr. Bling: "See, it's reasons like this that I fired you guys in the first place."

Hangs up.