Let's mosie (mosey? Oh god no the parentheticals have already started save yourselves before you get caught in a blog title factory it is just the worst)

Aherm. Title aside (because that shit's paratext or some business) (and Wikipedia's my hypotext for this) (Oh, what's that? Rob actually took a literature course that wasn't in French? And he remembers things from it? ALL IS LOST. CALL DETECTIVE HEART OF AMERICA.)

He's saving the day.

And of course, talking about paratext got me all a-thinkin' about business relating to the nature of discourse and the various forms therein. I would have used clearer terms, but, see, I didn't remember any of the terms until a few minutes ago, and I figured I'd share the vagaries. Yep. I just misused that word. And for that, I apologize.

It was Bakhtinian discourse of which I was thinking. What with the skaz and such. And the fact that he looks like the Scottish geologist or whatever from Prometheus. You know, the one who didn't say, "HEY, IT'S A SNAKE-LIKE THING. LET ME TAUNT IT." We hardly knew ye.

And then Rob decided to look at old blog posts. It's impressive how little he remembers from some of them. Whatever could be the cause of-

Oh.

Still, impressive. Meanwhile, I'm going to have another sip of bourbon. Delicious. Not the best ever. Not the bourbon I need, but maybe, just maybe, the bourbon I deserve

Watkins Select: The Batman of Bourbon.

 I just saw a penny on my desk move. I... well, I won't talk about what that might mean for me, but I will say that it starts with an X and ends with a Man.

Except... crap. No. Wait. Okay. Yes. There is at least one X-Man who is telekinetic. Most of the rest are X-Women. Buxom X-women in tight spandex. I mean, I guess if you're telekinetic, it doesn't ride up or otherwise get uncomfortable? Maybe?

I like to think that I'll have more pouches. He doesn't look quite prepared enough in the pouch department.

And like that, we've gone from literary theory to comic books. That's a good blog post by any standards, right?

I'm going to hope so, because I'm out.

Rob Needs To Tone Down The Google Image Searches

You know, I started this not knowing what to say.

That's not to say that I know what to say now, but I igure it's time to get back to an old muse.

No, not Grumpy Cat. That minx.

No, we're talking about bourbon and British television on Netflix. I mean, what else could possibly be done on a Saturday night? Going out? Doing things other than trying to be "productive?"


Get out of here, Tard!

But enough of that. I need to get some actual bourbon. It wouldn't be proper elsewise.

Ah, bourbon. You saucy vixen, you. (Get it? SAUCY? You know, like, "hitting the sauce?" Try to keep up. This is some complicated humor going on right here.) Unfortunately, I think I may have been ruined by my pop's (yeah, Dad, you get to be a "pop" tonight. Watch out for hopping children, now.) FANTASTIC taste in bourbon.

BELLIES BEWARE

I am just going bonkers on the images tonight, aren't I? Amn't I? I've never quite gotten that grammatical construction. It doesn't make a lot of sense. I blame the MLA. APA, don't think you're getting out unscathed.

He gives money to medical schools so we know how to do this EXTRA well. Take THAT, APA.

Well, now that I've wasted a solid page to say, oh, you know, effectively nothing, because I'm awesome like that, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to say something of some sort of substance.

For example. Because if you don't like Emma Stone, you don't like America.

Now that gif is making me laugh like gangbusters. Curse your incredibly expressive face, Emma Stone (and mostly the fact that it cannot be miiiiiine but not in a weird creepy serial killer way because that would be weird and could result in restraining orders and other judicial action. And that's terrible.)


No, not "Trouble." Terrible. It's an easy mistake to make, Professor Hill. Don't be so hard on yourself.

I... I think I've had more images than I've had actual text. I would say that this is somewhat surprising or some such, but let's face it, I haven't exactly been a pinnacle of verbosity as of late.

Okay, so the Mormon episode of South Park is on Netflix right now. I enjoyed it pretty well the first time that I saw it, and there was some decent sort of satire of the religion without being flat out malignant against the believers (okay, they're a little malignant). And, I mean, then there was The Book of Mormon, which had some catchy tunes, because the South Park folks can put together a mean musical (see: South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut, which was pretty freaking amazing). But South Park is not the issue here. You here me? SOUTH PARK IS NOT THE ISSUE HERE. Heck, Mormonism is NOT the issue.

MORMONISM IS NOT THE ISSUE HERE, DUDE.

Let's have a brief flashback, shall we? (Lord knows I get enough of those during the day, AM I RIGHT? Oh, I just made this weird, didn't I? Sorry about that.) March, 2011. I'm almost done with my time in France (for better or worse). There are good times past and good times to come, but those aren't the issue. My parents had come to visit, and we were ALL UP ON the Normandy area. It was a pretty good time. We took trains around some various places and saw various things, none of which are the issue here. Well, one of them is.

See, we're in the train station, which of course means there's a newsstand shop, where you can buy magazines and such. Some things are pretty universal. Like those little shops, for instance. Anyway, we're waiting for our train, and I take a look at this newsstand (like I do, because I don't actually want to BUY a magazine or newspaper, but headlines are all you need, right?)

Well, I see a headline that (literally) translated to "Who are the Mormons?" I did a quick Google search for the phrase (in French, of course), and while I couldn't find a picture of the actual headline, I did find several articles from at least one high profile French newspaper talking about how Mormons are trying to rule the world and how, no, "they aren't Amish," and then proceed to explain who the Amish are.

I get that there are some denominations that are pretty limited to the US. I get that these can seem a bit ridiculous to other countries.
But when I see a certain other group's HQ located next to a closed historical landmark, I have to wonder if they don't have their priorities mixed up.

We're on to you. Not in a lawyering way. That would just be ridiculous.

Power. Wisdom. Courage.

Yes, yes, I'm late. Sorry about that. Things got out of hand last night,  by which I mean I just didn't get home until late and had forgotten about it by that time (I had remembered earlier in the day and had been thinking about what I could write about. More on that later).

And by later, I mean now. Yeah. Once again, I've got nothing. Tell 'em, Ed.

He ain't got nuffin.

Strong work. Tell 'em, Batman.

Well, okay. You don't have to be rude about it.

My computer monitor is wobbling like Michael J. Fox right now. Too soon? Too soon. Also, I apparently type too hard, or, you know, more likely, the desk is just a crappy white plastic table. But it serves its purpose of holding up a computer monitor, random pairs of eyeglasses, and a bag of Harvest Cheddar Sun Chips.

Almost as good as Cheez-Its, which is like saying that Watson was almost as smart as Holmes. Or Franklin. This all depends on the Watson to which we're referring. The drug addicted one with questionable morality or the fictional character. NERD BURN.

However, speaking of fictional heroes, remember my post a few months back about how nobody wants to write non-edgy characters anymore? Of course you do, because you probably just clicked on the link to see that great picture of Neil Gaiman, because that man is amazing.

I've... I've got something in my eye.

Well, feast your eyes on this article from Cracked. Well, specifically number 2. I feel vaguely validated, even though there's no link to my blog in it (and why should there be? It's not like there was any thievery or any such, and it's not like there's enough exposure here to make him aware of this blog's presence.), because he works with the exact same premise.

I have reasonable hopes for the new Superman movie. I enjoyed 300, propaganda and all (since, you know, THAT'S WHAT IT IS IN UNIVERSE), and Watchmen grew on me. He can make a faithful and filmable comic book adaptation. But, as the article points out, it's going to go all origin story on us, and it's going to try to turn Superman into Batman.

Sorry, "The Goddamn Batman."

I haven't read much Superman over the last... ever, but there is one story that stands out, which, coincidentally, is the story from which Jor El's monologue in the trailer is taken. (Yes, they've already made an animated version, but I can still hope.) It doesn't deal with any origin stories, and, yes, there's a bit of grittiness, because Superman starts to die. And, hey, maybe that's the only way to portray Good characters these days. They have to die because they're too good for this sinful earth (or because it's hard to keep them Good without losing people's interest or making them sound moralizing or any of the other numerous faults volleyed at such characters), and in so doing, they get to show how Good they are, hopefully without becoming a Mary Sue.

Okay, maybe he's not THAT good.

Welcome to the FUTURE

Well, it's been a while. There are good reasons for this. Okay, maybe they're not good, and I'm sure they're not GREAT, but they're reasons.

And what are we without reason, So-crates?

Neil Patrick Harris is wearing overalls. No, I am not retracting this statement. That would be silly.

Anyhoo, yes, it's been a while. I've been in the middle of study week, testing, drinking after said test (because it was just awful), generally being exhausted, going to the lab, going home, making delicious chocolate mousse with far too many steps consolidated into one (seriously, Martha Stewart. One step should be, "Whisk egg yolks until frothy and pale," and NOT, "Whisk eggs while heating a corn starch, water, and sugar mix and also by the way melting some chocolate and then mix it all together and pour it into ramequins." Polysyndeton belongs in a 3 year-old's wish list to Santa, not in recipes), coming back to the lab, and also playing some trivia and such.



Still delicious, and decadent as FUCK. Some of you might find that inappropriate. You obviously didn't have the mousse.

There are a few things I would like to post about at some point. Tonight is not that night. One day, you might hear about the worst ways to break up with someone, the best and worst Christmas Eve services ever imagined, some chili, more cooking stuff, and probably a few more iNstaNces of Rob goiNg absolutely batshit iNsaNe.

However, rather than do all that, I figured I'd go back to my roots a bit.

See, for those of you who have been here since the beginning (or have trawled your way through the old entries) will remember that this was really started for a New Year's Resolution about baking (and sure, also traveling and enjoying life more). Well, I did make some New Year's Resolutions this year (and for some ungodly reason continue to capitalize "resolution"). None of them are about cooking this time, mostly because I don't know that I'll have time to keep up with it. I mean, I didn't manage to keep up with the "Bake something new once every two weeks" thing of 2011 once I got to Charleston. There's no way I'd keep up with things with BOARDS.

However, I find it prudent to give y'all some sort of idea of what's going to happen in 2013.

1.  I'm going to make it to the gym 3 times during the week and once during the weekend. So far, so good.

2. I'm going to post here at least once a week. It may very well be on Sunday nights after I should have gone to bed, but it'll happen.

3. I dunno. Spanish? Sure. Spanish.