Old dog. New trick. Rollover!
I've been bored with everything recently, especially myself, but instead of spending the evening wallowing, I taught myself how to code a rollover of a photo. You young punks who are laughing because a rollover is coding 101 and you knew how to do it when you were 12-years old can all kiss my ass. It's a minor miracle that I figured it out and I am in short supply of minor miracles, so I'll take it.
One of Agatha Christie's most popular titles is And Then There Were None. It's been reprinted hundreds of times, made into plays, movies and even a point-and-click online game in 2005—more than 60 years after its publication!
And Then There Were None is NOT the original title of this book. It was once titled Ten Little Indians. But we live in a more enlightened time, so they gave it an innocuous title.
Actually...Ten Little Indians wasn't the original title, either. Hover your pointer over the image (or, if you've got an iPhone, tap it) to reveal the true original, utterly shocking title.
Good God in heaven! What was she thinking?! That's a first edition that I saw at the recent Park Avenue Armory bookfair. Yours for only $12,000. The rollover functionality doesn't work on some mobile devices. Get thee to a desktop and prepare for an outrage!
Look at this poor bastard. Is he dead? Sleeping? Drunk? Comatose?
He could be any of the above. He's a commuter. This is an excellent depiction of what the grind of a long commute does to a human being. I know there are a lot worse things in this world, but it really does wear you down as the years peel away.
I rarely post pics of my kids. First of all, I think it's an unfair intrusion into their lives—this isn't Facebook, after all, which is a closed environment—but aside from that, I never wanted this to be a daddy blog. I'm not judging. There's nothing wrong with daddy blogs but that's just not me. Writing about my kids feels forced. And we all know how forced writing reads. But this, I couldn't resist.
Over the weekend we went to a community, suburban family fun outing. I am such a fish-out-of-water at these affairs. All the dads are sports-minded. Some of them are athletically inclined. I've always felt kind of separated. Removed. Anyway, there was a face painter there and my little one had hearts painted on her cheeks.
How cute is that? Later in the afternoon she was standing in the wrong place at the wrong time and one of the dads, a clumsy oaf of a human being, a monstrous mound of flesh, stupidity and dull, hit her in the thigh with a softball. Hard. He was showing off his "fast pitch" softball skills and the ball sailed wildly off course. I wanted to smash his face in. My little angel cried and her tears made the paint run. As though her little heart were weeping.
One of Agatha Christie's most popular titles is And Then There Were None. It's been reprinted hundreds of times, made into plays, movies and even a point-and-click online game in 2005—more than 60 years after its publication!
And Then There Were None is NOT the original title of this book. It was once titled Ten Little Indians. But we live in a more enlightened time, so they gave it an innocuous title.
Actually...Ten Little Indians wasn't the original title, either. Hover your pointer over the image (or, if you've got an iPhone, tap it) to reveal the true original, utterly shocking title.
Good God in heaven! What was she thinking?! That's a first edition that I saw at the recent Park Avenue Armory bookfair. Yours for only $12,000. The rollover functionality doesn't work on some mobile devices. Get thee to a desktop and prepare for an outrage!
* * *
Look at this poor bastard. Is he dead? Sleeping? Drunk? Comatose?
* * *
I rarely post pics of my kids. First of all, I think it's an unfair intrusion into their lives—this isn't Facebook, after all, which is a closed environment—but aside from that, I never wanted this to be a daddy blog. I'm not judging. There's nothing wrong with daddy blogs but that's just not me. Writing about my kids feels forced. And we all know how forced writing reads. But this, I couldn't resist.
Over the weekend we went to a community, suburban family fun outing. I am such a fish-out-of-water at these affairs. All the dads are sports-minded. Some of them are athletically inclined. I've always felt kind of separated. Removed. Anyway, there was a face painter there and my little one had hearts painted on her cheeks.
posted by The Unbearable Banishment at
12:12 PM
34 Comments:
Hmmm... Poor oul Agatha, or Mary Westmacott, depending on which handle you prefer, a poor wee upper class richie rich girl who never experienced poverty. Perhaps her journey into esoterism tainted her with bad taste. Either that or her mammies blood ties to protestant Belfast orchestrated her use of bigotry?
Only saying...
Brave little girl. I hope you hid your anger from her, because wanting vengeance for accidents is not the best example for children. Would you say the problem with commuting is the monotony - the same journey over and over again?
The book was published in 1939. That was a different time/place but, my God, did they really have absolutely no awareness whatsoever outside their own little vacuum? And this would extend to the editor, the publisher or anyone else connected with bringing this insult to life.
She was standing in the wrong spot but she was in plain site. The accident could easily have been avoided if he had been more aware, the turd. No, I didn't not vent my spleen. It's good that I didn't. The entire community/ neighborhood was there. I would have forever been labeled a kook. I mean, much more so than I already am.
Commuting is a grind for so many reasons, on so many different levels. And my monthly pass just went up again. I pay $390/month for the privilege. Pow. Right in the kisser.
Your little one is Adorable! It seems totally fitting that those lovely hearts would run when her tears fell....! What a Jerk that guy was.....OY!
Commuting----I used to do it----A hundred years ago.....! it is, as you said! And, this is the cost of living out of the city....I cannot believe how expensive it is...! So, it's costly on so very many levels, isn't it?
1939----SOMEONE should have known better!!! I always knew the play as "TEN LITTLE INDIANS"......I wonder who finally looked at that Original name and the cover..(HELP) and went....BIG BIG OOPS! It just says how out of touch so very many people were even in 1939.
I had a book which had the original rhyme in it. And a few years later the rhyme appeared in another book, as Ten Little Indians.
I am impressed with your coding!
She's a little too adorable, I'm afraid. I'm hoping she gets less adorable so that the boys stay AWAY. No boys!
I bitch and moan about commuting because I can, but if I were offered a job in New Jersey that would prevent me from being in the city, I'd probably turn it down. It's worth the price I pay.
In a way, isn't it good that we see what society was once like? It gives us a benchmark for how far we've come and serves as a warning against a return to dark days.
The coding gave me a major headache. And in hindsight, it seems so simple. Isn't that always the way?
I don't understand coding...Codeine on the other hand.
Give the little one a hug from Ireland. :¬)
Best EVER play on words in my comments section. Ever! Congrats and thank you. Irish hug duly delivered.
:)
I don't think you can look at the way things were 74 years ago, the natural ignorance of people who hadn't yet been exposed to the waves of immigrants from all over the British Empire, and judge them by the standards that we consider absolutely normal today. It's something like historical myopia. It wasn't hateful to call Mr. Patel a wog, it was simply a handy reference, like calling Irish people Paddy or Mick.It seems hateful now but it was more a case of the British (and Irish) working classes finding an easy way to describe each other.I don't think you should get your knickers in a twist about it.
it does seem bizarre - those words that we now feel compelled to hide in a (nicely done) photo rollover were so very common. in my little redneck corner of ohio, as a child, use of the word 'nigger' was quite common - it might get you an oral admonishment at school, but not expulsion, as it likely would today.
reflection of the times? yes. but elitist bullshit. we've moved onto other words these days, but it's still there...
i hope the asshole who pegged your daughther in the leg at least had the decency to apologize to her. i'd have completely lost my shit and gotten in his face... and possibly thrown a ball (or a bat) at the back of his head. i am out of estrogen these days...
I can NOT believe that title. Well done on the scrolly thingy.
Look at this poor bastard. Is he dead? Sleeping? Drunk? Comatose? HA! I want to poke him. I'm cruel.
Poor little baby...I hope you bought her an ice cream, Daddy :)
It's difficult not to sit in judgment but, in the end, you are correct, of course. Hindsight is always 20/20. I don't suppose there was any malice intended, but that doesn't make it any less outrageous to see today, so many years after the fact. You should see the illustration. It's a group of black Sambo jungle characters sitting in the a circle. They all have spears and big lips. One is sitting cross-legged eating watermelon. It's just shows how far we've come.
Thank you for my rollover props! I'm so proud of myself.
I can remember hearing that word batted around in the northern quadrant of our state as well. Not so much anymore, of course, but when I was a kid I had friends who used it.
The guy who hit my sweet potato with a baseball did come up after the fact and see if she was okay. He's an unlikable guy and that makes it hard to forgive. I saw the whole scenario unfold and when she was hit I ran to her. Outrage and violence didn't enter my mind until later that night when I was lying in bed, too late to do anything about it.
The scroll thingy was hard enough for me. Somewhere out there is a genius who wrote the code that allows the pic to flip once you pass your cursor over it. Now, THAT'S some coding skill.
Sleeping Beauty was not dead. I have no idea how he's able to sleep in that position. He's almost falling out of the seat and his knuckles are resting on the floor. I can never sleep in transport. I'm wide awake on flights. It's a big disadvantage.
I think the title was pinched from an old English Nursery Rhyme - I have a vague recollection of my Grandma reciting it but I was born early 60s so just when it was being realised that wasn't the way to go, but given it was originally published in the 30s I doubt anyone bothered - remember this was the age when the USA Army was still fully segregated on racial grounds remember.
I actually do know it at Ten Little Indians - I'm sure there was a film adaptation of that name made. Years since I read any of hers, as a teenager I read some old copies lying in my Mum's book cupboard, can't remember if that was one of them or not
congrats on the rollover/coding skill! i am in awe, sugar! i have to transfer a photo album from my iphone to some new site (t-mobile) that is going to be storing phone pics. *sigh* i hate feeling so damn stupid!
anyway, good for you for not losing it on the field. we all have 20/20 hindsight after the fact as parents, it's what keeps us for screwing up in real time! none of us want to be that guy! xoxoxox
I didn't think she originated the title although I couldn't imagine where she got it from. Ten Little Indians sounds a hell of a lot less offensive than Ten Little Niggers, although if you ask a Navajo or Cherokee, they might disagree. We really have come a long way!
Thanks! I'm kind of proud of myself. During the learning process I was cursing like a truck driver but I finally figured it out. It gave me a bloody headache, I can tell you that.
She was hit with that ball a few days ago and I'm still fantasizing about getting my hands around his neck. Moron.
Damn your rollover! Damn my iPad! I will have to be patient until I am back in front of an old skool PC in order to see you in your glory!
It doesn't work on your iPad if you tap the image? I'm surprised because it works fine on my iPhone. Curse you, Steve Jobs and your aversion to Flash! Wait until you SEE this. It's a whoop. I'm glad I didn't drop any hints in the text.
Me too. I'm scared of public napping. You never know who's going to drop something in your mouth.
It's an impossibility to sleep on the plane because the air stewards never shut the hell up.
You got something against daddy blogs? if it wasn't for my daddy blog i wouldn't write a fucking thing, seems i don't anyway but that's not the point, i'd have probably checked on my kid and then bee-lined to said asshole and broke all the fingers on his pitching hand as i told him he was a shite pitcher anyway, of course you are a bit more civilised than myself and i am mostly a degenerate...
I have nothing against daddy blogs at all, sir! Unlike most, yous is written with panache and flair. You should post more frequently. I've attempted to do posts about my kids but when I proof read them, they come off as dull and stereotypical, so I never hit publish.
I've had numerous, and I mean NUMEROUS, revenge fantasies. At the time of the accident, the only thing in my head was to comfort her and dry her tears. I kept thinking that as bad as the pitch was, at least she didn't get hit in the temple. That could have happened, too.
Wait? are you calling me a daddy blogger? haha, don't worry the summer will be filled with sex and drugs and rock and roll posts, promise... funny how as a parent once you see the child is okay how suddenly the worst case scenario starts, i was in Chicago this weekend and Nick Disaster got sick, nothing major mind you and yet i still wanted to get on a plane and fly home even though i'm sure his grandmother was perfectly capable (i survived, sort of) funny how that works...
Am I reducing you to a cheap stereotype? I should say not! Oh, brother! How many daddy bloggers can dole out the stories you can? Not many, is my guess. This ain't you: "And then I went to college. And then I met a girl. And then I got a job. And then we had a child. And then we bought a house. And then we had another child. And then I got a promotion." Bla bla.
Good lord, I have a lot of catching up to do here.
I had no idea about the original title of that book. I've read every one of Agatha Christie's books, and knew that this one was once called "Ten Little Indians" but didn't know about the other title...
Your daughter is adorable, and I would have happily taken a bat to the knees of the asshole who beaned her.
It's nice to see you again! The original title of that book is not something that's discussed in polite society, as you can well imagine. Fortunately for you and other readers, this is most certainly NOT a part of polite society.
I've had many subsequent fantasies of doing terrible things with a bat to that guy but at the time, all I could think about was tending to her injury. A few feat higher and it would have hit her in the head!
I didn't even know what it was to code a rollover of a photo, in fact, I'd never heard the term and had no idea what you were talking about until I put my cursor on the photo. So I am supremely impressed with your knowledge and skill.
I've been thinking about boredom recently, mostly because I've been it, and having believed that only boring people got bored I had to examine the whole thing. And I've come to the conclusion that boredom is caused by being curtailed in some way. In my case it's not having the space to move about freely, I need to be able to move to think, and thus, do my stuff, so I feel constantly stifled. No, I'm over dramatising: I feel constantly limited. Anyway, you found a good way out of your boredom, well done.
Also, most impressed that you didn't nut the showoff who hurt your girl.
I've heard that old chestnut before many times—only boring people get bored—but I don't believe it. I think being bored is part of the human condition. I don't care who you are or what your circumstances are, you simply cannot avoid periods of boredom. We owe it to the people around us to work through the boredom in healthy ways and not resort to destructive behaviors. I started blogging simply because I was BORED and didn't know what to do with the empty hours during my insufferable commute. I found a way out this time but, believe me, I've failed miserably in the past. I've done some pretty stupid things that I thought would make me feel alive.
Your photos are getting better and better. Each series seems to have more artistic merit than the previous. And I'm not just blowing smoke up your bum. It's true. Stick with that. Who knows where it'll take you. It'll drown out the boredom! That's for sure!
Poor darling - what an oaf!
I have to admit - much as I adore babies and yearn for the days when 'it' was mine all mine, there were long hours of yawning, jaw shattering boredom.
I just quoted this beauty from Chekhov to someone:
Any idiot can face a crisis. It is the day-to-day living that wears you out.
Ain't that the TRUTH?
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