Posts Tagged ‘history’

The Farts of Chairman Mao

Friday, May 9th, 2008

My farts are socialist farts. They have to be fragrant.

Mao Tse-Tung

The current generation is woefully unaware of who Mao Tse-Tung was. 70 million people died from starvation and warfare under his command, which makes Stalin’s Gulag Archipelago blanche in comparison. Even if that number refuses to stick in Americans’ heads, I at least pray that people learn that, well, Mao was kind of a dick, too. I recommend Mao: The Unknown Story (Chang & Halliday) for detail on the man’s background. It takes no time at all for the authors to show that he was 1/3 sociopath, 1/3 lazy, 1/3 blockhead. With a bonus 1% dedicated to scatalogical.

Pout-Pout: Miniature Golf & Austin

Sunday, April 6th, 2008

A friend commented to me that she was going miniature golfing at Peter Pan, which is Austin’s dumpiest, raddest, boozin’-after-9-est place to partake in the activity. I used to be a hardcore golfer as a kid, so I felt a little reminiscent. Mini golf is one of the most fun G-rated destinations available. So why have I not played in 10 years?

As I mentally flipped through every joint in Austin I’ve ever visited to play since 1991, I was immediately horrified. They’ve all shut down. Every. Single. One.

  • One of the last places I ever visited to mini golf was on the edge of town, McNeil Dr. Well, back when McNeil Dr. was the edge of town. It was classy and upscale, as North Austin commanded. Clearly not classy and upscale enough, though, because I can’t find even remains of the property in Google Maps.
  • Celebration Station was a behemoth of kiddie fun, like a multistory warehouse of arcade machines. It rivaled the size of its next-door neighbour, Sam’s Club. Any business that is about the same size as a freakin’ bulk purchasing chain means freakin’ business! Driving through I-35 near present-day Austin-Bergstrom International Airport, a beautiful golf course—waterfall present, naturally—was plainly visible. It felt like an oasis in Austin’s least pleasant part of town, the Motor Mile. At some point the property was bought out and leveled. This is what it looks like now. Neither hotel was there originally.
  • Although slightly less classy than the McNeil course, there was a Putt-Putt franchise off the 290-I35 intersection, lodged behind Highland Mall. It, too, had a waterfall (what’s with waterfalls as the sole status symbol of putt-putt courses?), plus intricate props and three 18-hole courses. It too was shut down, paved over, etc. etc. etc. I’m almost certain this is what has replaced the main shop, with office space filling out the course itself. Note that the Artarama sign in front is almost certainly Putt-Putt’s original highway sign. The head was a ball, the body was a tee.
  • Not every mini golf spot was bulldozed and converted into the antithesis of fun. The Putt-Putt course on Burnet Rd. is very much still there. Dirty, graffitied, and untouched for years, it is otherwise intact. Anyone for midnight mini golf?
  • There was also a golf course next to Bill Miller’s BBQ, which was also on Burnet. I may or may not have gottten a chance to play there before it went under. It dropped out early, so memories are hazy.

Five failed miniature golf courses in less than ten years! Only two were under the management of the Putt-Putt franchise, which has cut corners in recent years to stay afloat. But what of the other three? It’s an inexplicable phenomenon, and I’m sure Austin is not the only city feeling it. This leaves Kiddie Acres (by its name, the place would make me feel a little out of place just going there to golf) and Peter Pan as the only two Austin landmark mini golf courses. Both have always been rather run-down, which have only added to their charm.

Is such a dwindling art recoverable? I doubt it; any calls to action or recommendations I could make would be drowned out by those made by other people. If you feel strongly, pressure the people at Putt-Putt to return to Austin and let them know they would be much appreciated. In the meantime, make sure to spend your hard-earned dollars at Peter Pan Golf (beer to drink at said location: optional) to offset the killer property taxes they must be paying.

If you need me, I’ll be drinking malt liquor underneath the Artarama sign.

2,041

Thursday, March 6th, 2008

I love riddles, but the one that aggravates me the most is also one of the oldest, dating from 1650 or earlier:

As I was going to St Ives
I met a man with seven wives
And every wife had seven sacks
And every sack had seven cats
And every cat had seven kits
Kits, cats, sacks, wives
How many were going to St Ives?

The sucker’s answer is 2,401 or 2,402, depending on whether you include the narrator. This response is typically followed by a clever smirk by the riddler, because the actual answer is one: everyone is coming from St Ives except the narrator. Furthermore, the narrator is not the group of listed items, so in some circles the answer dwindles to zero.

This riddle plays the language game so much that it’s unfair for the victim not to be able to play it back. What is the context of meet? There is no preposition from or to detailing the travels of the narrator’s polygamous friend. Just as the victim is mocked for believing everyone is travelling together, the questioner should be chided for assuming the two characters are travelling in opposite directions.

It’s generally just a horrible Mother Goose rhyme to read to your five year-old. The ambiguity of it will make his face implode. Stick to the tried-and-true questions with no loopholes: how many angels can dance on the head of a pin?

Animath

Friday, December 28th, 2007

A friend identified a print error identifying 17913 A.D. as the year Marie Antoinette was beheaded. It must be a typo, he noted, because likely there will be no such person named that almost 11,600 years into the future. The truth of that is hard to deny. Still, I suggested the opposite is true with regards to prior fiction. Deep down I know that somewhere, somehow, there is a mecha anime series that combines the Earth of 17913 A.D. with a futuristic heroine named Marie Antoinette. Think Firefly meets Xenogears.

The volume of animated content Japan churns out every year makes this series’ existence reasonable. Indeed, the Japanese are so accomplished in their art that I would just as well expect an anime for any tangible object in any conceivable future. To put this closer to terms that can be published in the Journal of Pure and Applied Algebra,

For any time T and object X such that (for present time T0) T – T0 > 0 and X is in T, there exists an anime A.

(See also: Rule 34 of the Internet.)

Sic Semper Tyrannus

Thursday, December 13th, 2007

My current nonfiction book is Manhunt: The 12-Day Chase for Lincoln’s Killer, which is a refreshingly original spin on American history. More interesting than the book itself is the accompanying cover.America of 1865 had no time to build up reputable schools of art study, and had no need to import Europeans for simple newspaper illustrations. The countless pictures preserved from that era were all drawn by Americans with a bit of natural talent and little else: perspectives are wrong, body positions are bizarre, and there’s that ‘not quite right’ feeling when studying them. The image used as the cover for Manhunt is such an illustration, and the inappropriate expression on poor Mr. Lincoln’s face is priceless. As a Deringer bullet entered his skull, the President likely didn’t wear an expression that read, ‘Sigh…I do not need this.’

The rest of his body is just as amusing, though the edition cited in the link obscures everything below the chest. A gun blast perpendicular to the head is powerful, but it’s not powerful enough to dislocate your arm and twist it 90°. Even if it were (Magic Bullet Theory, anyone?), it just makes Lincoln’s expression that much more incomprehensible.

‘Gosh, it’ll be off to the hospital for me, I guess. Oh, Booth, what will I do with you?’

And We Lost Everything

Monday, October 15th, 2007

A lesser-known name for the American Civil War is the War of Northern Aggression.

One friend commented that a great way to make people do a double-take is to use that term in conversation. It doesn’t matter that you’re not a Confederate sympathiser. The goal is the irony! Try making it a game: players earn points inversely proportional to their location’s geographic latitude. Brownsville, Texas = 0; Bangor, Maine = 99.

Neetshee

Tuesday, October 9th, 2007

I’m willing to forgive some people’s confusion between you’re and your…even though it makes you look like a 2nd grade C-student.

But I’ll nail your ears to the floor if I hear you pronounce Friedrich Nietzsche ‘Free-drich Neet-shee.’ It’s ‘Free-drich Neet-sha.’ Do you really think a German (a German advocating the vision of the superman, no less) would have had a dorky, non-Teutonic name like Neetshee?

I could almost see Neetshee being the name of a Chinese dude in the 12th of 11 overly racist and censored Merrie Melodies cartoons made prior to 1945.