So I was marking all these essays and stuff…

And I got to thinking about the concept of teaching people how to write, and the inherent problems involved, and I started making notes and by the time all the marks were in, I had enough material for over half a dozen posts.

But they’re not funny. Some are explorations into possible lectures, others examine the continuing damage caused by the Five Paragraph Essay, and others are provisional class activities. And to top it off, they’re all about teaching.

So I started a new blog: “I Probably Don’t Like Teaching.”

I invite any who are interested to drop by “I Probably Don’t Like Teaching” and find out why.

So I’m not Rand or McNally

When visiting St. Catharines, be sure to visit the scenic Falls and Skylon Tower.

It seems I made a couple of mistakes in my last post. Most of these were the result of four glasses of wine and include a new spelling for “thinking” in which the semi-colon plays an important role.

The major mistake, however, had nothing to do with alcohol and can be blamed entirely on my well-deserved reputation as someone with little or no clue of where he is at any given moment.

It turns out I wasn’t in St. Catharines, as I so confidently stated.

I was in Niagara Falls.

So maybe there were some clues that I missed — but I just thought the constant sound of rushing water was the shower of a hygiene-obsessed neighbour.

My first drunk post

I’m drunk.

Well, I’ve had several glasses of wine, so I’m not entirely sober.

Sober’s a funny word. It’s actually from the Latin sobrius. “Se” means “without” and and “ebrius means drunk. The actual origins are unknown.

That’s probably because they were drunk when they came up with it.

In any event, I’m in St. Catherines (Ontario), and I’m staying the night and my host had several bottles of wine.

Some of these bottles are now gone. Well, the bottles are still here. The contents are gone. Where they’ve gone is a bit of a chemical mystery, but some of it has been turned into pee.

Call me Trgiaob

Not that Angel.

Somewhere out there is a man who believes I’m an angel. And I don’t mean one of those wimpy angels whom everyone knows is just some mortal Good Samaritan who does a good deed and then modestly walks away without giving his name. (“Oh, he was like an angel come just at the right moment to save me from that bus!“) No sir! In the unlikely event that I ever do a good deed, I bloody well want newspaper and TV coverage. And I’m going to make sure they spell my name right.

No, when I say he thought I was an angel, I’m talking about the real thing: a supernatural creature with magical powers.

Mythbusting the techno-savvy youth

Look, Bob. I can make the cursor move up and down!

I’m in a rush so I hope this makes sense, but I’ve got to do something other than write comments like, “I think you mean, ‘Children can be very suggestible,’ not ’salable.’” Or “I’m not entirely sure that Perez Hilton is a reliable source.”

Anyhow — I really like the show Mythbusters. Partly because I have a strong commitment to facts — such as whether a cannon made entirely out of duct tape can fire a cannon ball (it can) — but mostly because I like seeing things explode.

The dark side of cultural marketing

Cultural trinkets

While marketing is important, we should always keep in mind its cost to culture. News shows are cluttered with spots which amount to little more than promotions of consumer goods; snack food advertisement has been credited with the increase of obesity among children; and educational institutes have find themselves engaging in various degrees of product placement in return for funds.

But nowhere is the influence of marketing felt stronger than when the commodity being marketed is the culture itself. This can clearly be seen in the case studies of two separate cultures which, as a marketing device, turned to their own heritage.

Injustice Trial Moved

Because they are chronologically linked, but appear in reverse order on the blog, I’ve moved the Trial of Injustice posts to their own separate page: The Trial of Injustice.

Plus, I really don’t feel like they’re my best work and this way they’re kind of hidden.

Bring me a bowl of burning mold?!

I don't think this is what Blake had in mind.

Okay. I know that many people who visit this site do so because they were looking for something unrelated and, thanks to the democratic anarchy of Google, end up here instead. Searching the Internet can sometimes be like rooting through your kitchen cupboards for a can of beans and running across the entire cast of Gilligan’s Island.

Years ago, my old clippings and resume site received the greatest bulk of its traffic from people looking for “chicken art.”

I never knew whether they were looking for art created by chickens, or art with chickens as its subject matter. Either way, anyone doing the search would find my site within the first five hits.

Celebrating “Burying Celtic Musicians Week”

Is 104 F high? For a temperature, I mean.

For a human temperature.

Did you know that this week is Intersession Week?

What a dumb name. “Intersession Week.” As in “inter,” meaning “to bury,” and “session,” meaning “a Celtic music jam.”

The eighth week of the semester is called “Intersession Week” and there are no classes. Apparently because we’re supposed to bury Celtic musicians or something.

Honour, colour, and 1066

Not long ago, JohnnyB, an American, dared to complain (on this very blog) about my use of Canadian/British spelling — specifically, of the letter “u” in various words such as “colour” and “honour” (comment section of Getting rid of a mould infestation in four steps).

Granted, the English language is not one of the world’s more logical languages.

We’ll begin with box, and the plural is boxes.
But the plural of ox should be oxen, not oxes.
Then one fowl is goose, but two are called geese.
Yet the plural of moose should never be meese.

To add to the complications, when speaking metaphorically we often use the “wrong” form of the plural. For instance, we would say, “Those two dancers are bumbling around like a couple of oxes,” not “a couple of oxen.”

On the other hand, we wouldn’t say “those two are as clever as foxen,” rather than “foxes” — so it’s not like it’s a general rule or anything.