All travel disasters are not inevitable. You may visit Mexico City without gastric distress. You may safari through Tanzania without being mauled by a lion. But if you visit Paris, no matter how careful you are, you will ultimately end up visiting the Louvre. This last disaster happened to me on my most recent trip to France, and, having made it out alive, I hereby report on my discoveries from within that most terrifying of places.
Congratulations–You Just Won “Website Of The Year”
It’s that time of year when all mankind puts aside its differences and unites in a common pursuit: the making of “10 Best” lists. Cruelly, simple mathematics dictates that most of us will never be on one of these lists.
That’s why I’ve created the handy Automated “Yankee Fog Website of the Year” award.
Speaking of Awards
Nominations for the 2005 Bloggies are now open. Just in case, you know, you wanted to nominate Yankee Fog for “Best British Weblog” or “Best-kept-secret Weblog”. (The latter is for the weblog whose secret is best kept, not for the weblog that would best be kept secret.) You could also, if so inclined, nominate “The Truth About John Kerry” for “Best Non Weblog Content of A Weblog.” You know, if you wanted.
The mind of an award-show voter
For years, I have complained about the inability of any awards show to properly choose the best films of the year. I have attributed this failure to an inexplicable unwillingness on the part of awards-granting bodies to ask me what I think, and then do exactly what I say. I am pleased to announce that, this year, one such body actually is asking me what I think, although they still persist in asking their other members as well. In other words, I am now a voting member of BAFTA–the British Academy of Film and Television Arts and Sciences. And now that I’m doing it myself, I have stopped thinking of awards show voters as “those fools”, and started thinking of them as “those poor bastards.” This voting thing is hard–much harder than any awards voting I’ve done.
A delay
I’ll be out of town for a few days, and might or might not have Internet access. So, expect this week’s entry to be at least a little late.
Merry Christmas to those for whom it’s applicable, and happy Isaac Newton’s Birthday to everybody else.
Christmas in London
As every American knows, Christmas in London is a magical winter wonderland, with carolers on every corner singing in perfect harmony to a steady but manageable stream of cheerful shoppers. Everybody’s hands are tucked safely into large fluffy muffs, except for a sprinkling of coal-blackened orphans wearing fingerless gloves, the better to clutch their chimney-sweeping equipment, and as the day wears on, everybody hurries home to eat a fat, perfectly roast goose, leaving the snow-dusted streets empty but for twinkling lights and the occasional ghost.
In real life, Christmas in London can be divided into two parts: the painfully crowded shopping period before, and the utterly lifeless dead zone during.
Most disturbing Google search ever
As I’ve mentioned before, if somebody finds Yankee Fog as the result of a Google search, I can look in my logs to see what search term they were looking for.
Somebody just found Yankee Fog by looking for the phrase “Penguin are eating at my sanity”.
Friend, I don’t know who you are, or what you were looking for, or how, exactly, your search led you to Yankee Fog. But best of luck with those penguins.
Deep Fried Mars Bar Update
It turns out we’re not the only ones puzzled by the maddening paradox that is the deep fried Mars bar. According to BBC news, the respected medical journal The Lancet is publishing an article that goes in search of the truth. As Dr David Morrison, one of the investigators, says, “We live in Scotland but we’d never actually seen deep-fried Mars bars for sale. We thought they might be fictitious. But the Scottish diet is a major health issue and it’s important to know what the facts are. We can now confirm that there is no doubt, the deep-fried Mars bar is not just an urban myth.”
In fact, Dr. Morrison discovered that 22% of Scottish chippies sold the product. An additional 17% used to do so but no longer do–because, I am guessing, their original clientelle has all died off.
By the way: the BBC’s summary of the Lancet article was headlined Deep Fried Mars Bar Myth Dispelled. Yahoo reported on exactly the same Lancet article with the headline Deep Fried Mars Bar Taking Scotland By Storm. Apparently, the deep fried Mars bar is so powerful that it creates a quantum uncertainty field in which the same Lancet report can simultaneously perpetuate and dispel the myth of a fried-Mars-bar-mad Scotland.
Also, alert reader Dan Simon has corrected some embarrassing errors in my original Mars bar essay, as well as providing some interesting additional information. You can find his comments here if you scroll down to the bottom of the page.
OK, OK, OK
There are only two times when people have a hard time understanding what I’m saying. When I’m excited or happy about the subject at hand, I tend to speak too fast. When I’m unhappy or not excited, I tend to mumble and swallow my words. Other than that, I’m a regular Demosthenes (by which I mean, I speak like my mouth is full of marbles. (That last joke was included so that those of you who took Roman history can actually get some use out of it. Everybody else, feel free to ignore it and move on.)
Winston Churchill, Charles Darwin, and Michael Crawford
Two years ago, the BBC hit on a clever format for a reality show. First, they did a survey to find out the 100 Greatest Britons as chosen by modern-day residents of the UK. They then presented an hour-long show about each of the the top ten vote-getters, and, at the end, invited the audience to choose the absolute greatest Briton of all time.