Contemporary Inanity

Tidbit -- Feb. 28

On this date in 1939, an editor for Merriam-Webster found a fictitious entry in the dictionary.  Since he evidently had no sense of humor, he investigated and ultimately excised the word from the next edition.

The offending word was "Dord", which was defined as "density" as pertains to Physics or Chemistry.  The way the story goes, someone a few years before had submitted a slip of paper that said "D. or d. -- Density", alluding to an abbreviated form of the word.  Someone read the slip as "Dord" and slipped the word in, right in between "dorcopsis" and "dore".  It lasted about 7 or 8 years before it was discovered.

Dord is a good word, but not as good as chumbolone.  That's a word that should make the next edition of the dictionary!

Sagacious Speculation of the Cycle -- Feb. 27

I'm going to debut a new irregularly (duh!) recurring feature called Sagacious Speculation of the Cycle.  It'll be something profound (or more likely, inane) that will, with any luck, make you think.

Today's speculation?  You know all those big financial institutions (cf. Citi, Morgan Stanley, AIG, etc.) that are "too big to fail"?  What if they have already failed?  Frank Rich discussed the possibility last week as part of a larger topic, so I'm not exactly covering new ground here, but take AIG.  Please.  The Federal Government has already, through the Fed and the Treasury Department, invested over $100 billion in this insurance behemoth, on the grounds that allowing the firm to fail would bring down many other firms in its wake.  I believe the proper term is "interconnectedness".  Anyway, AIG has already clearly failed.  We have invested about 80% of what the company is worth.  Do we have 80% of the voting stock?  Of course not, and AIG is asking for more money.

It has already failed, people.  We are now shoveling good money after bad.  By this time, AIG should be solely owned by the Federal Government, but it isn't, because we are all a bunch of chumbolones.  It's a mess, and it's a lot worse than anyone will own up to.  I'll have more speculation on "too big to fail" very soon.

Tidbit -- Feb. 27

On this date in 1964, the Italian Government asked for help in their efforts from stopping the fall of the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

I've got a great idea.  Take all the people who hold the tower up every day and use their free labor to completely stabilize the tower.

It's a win-win situation, isn't it?

Tidbit -- Feb. 26

On this date in 1995, Barings Bank, the oldest merchant bank in the U. K., collapsed because of bad investment decisions made by one of its traders, Nick Leeson.  The damaging loss that precipitated the collapse totaled $1.4 billion.  

How quaint!

Leeson was the head of the Singapore trading floor and the person in charge of settling the trades at the end of the day.  What a fantastic idea!  

Barings never let things like ethics stand in the way of making a profit.  They floated the bond scheme that allowed Napoleon to sell Louisiana to the US at a time when France and the U. K. weren't exactly on friendly terms.  Patriotism is for chumbolones!  Money is where it's at!

Wordcloud

This is pretty cool.  There's a website called wordle.net that helps you create wordclouds of your blog. Here is my wordcloud.

I love how chumbolone is so prominent in mine.  Use chumbolone as much as possible -- we must spread the word!

Tidbit -- Feb. 25

On this date in 1945, Turkey declared war on Germany.

Thanks, guys.  We couldn't have defeated the Third Reich without you.  

Are you a chumbolone?

John Kass is my favorite city beat columnist, even though the city he covers is 400 miles from where I live.  He's a modern-day Mike Royko, except he's a bit more conservative and he's a White Sox fan.  One of his ongoing bits is the word chumbolone, which means fool, kind of.  I'll let him explain.

The other night, my young assistant Wings and I were standing on the loading dock, panicking on deadline without a thought in our big fat heads as usual, when a strange woman walked up with a question.

"How do you pronounce that word you use, 'chumbolone?' " said the woman, who was from New York.

 Ah, chumbolone. It's one of the finest, most expressive words in the language, and every child should be skilled in its usage.

Readers have been asking me about it for years. I began using chumbolone after one of the Chicago mob's favorite cops, Anthony "Twan" (Passiafume) Doyle, the convicted messenger boy for the Chinatown crew, testified in the Family Secrets trial.

Doyle explained that during all those prison visits with the bosses, he never really heard a thing they said. All he did was nod in agreement to placate his superiors, nodding foolishly, just like us taxpayers, nodding as President Obama tells us that from now on the federal government won't waste our money.

Yes, Doyle testified, he did nod and nod, but "I didn't know what [the boss] was talking about. I don't wanna look like a chumbolone, an idiot, stupid."

So with legions of readers begging for the pronunciation key, it's time to settle this issue once and for all:

Chumbolone is pronounced "chum-buh-LOAN."

I think that it can be said that I am one of the biggest chumbolones in the nation.  While everyone else was living it up, taking out two, three, four mortgages or more, buying all kinds of things they didn't need and couldn't afford and putting it all on their credit cards, I foolishly lived within my means.

I figured, since I cannot afford a house, I'd continue to rent.  Not only do I not have a credit card, I am completely debt-free!  If I couldn't pay cash for it, I wouldn't buy it.  I live within walking distance to work, so I don't need a car.  No car means no insurance payments, and, yes, no car payments.

I realize that my zeal for thrift makes me rather odd in American life, but my lifestyle suits me.  Free and clear, no strings attached and not a thing can be taken away.  Everything I possess I own as well.

Apparently, that selfsame zeal for paying my own way makes me a chumbolone. 

I wasn't out creating financial instruments that are impossible to understand and regulate and making scads of money while pushing the entire world's economy into a tailspin.  I wasn't straight stealing from people and philanthropic organizations while living high and mighty on my yacht in the Mediterranean.  I wasn't creating fake banks on tiny Caribbean islands while robbing other people blind and helping launder cash for international criminal cartels.

I wasn't even buying a far bigger house than I could afford, then refinancing so I could take the vacation of my dreams, then refinancing again so I could build a pool, then refinancing again so I could buy a cabin and a boat.

Nope, I rented and paid cash. 

Between the Fed and TARP, the Federal Government has spent over $1,000,000,000,000 (a trillion dollars) bailing out various financial institutions.  The auto companies are receiving billions of dollars, and the mortgage bailout is going to cost about $75 billion.

As someone who lived within his means, I'm eligible for none of that.  That makes me a big, fat chumbolone.

Tidbit -- Feb. 24

Happy Mardi Gras, from un homme gras!

Late in the evening on this date in 1942, the Battle of Los Angeles commenced.  It was either an exercise in mass hysteria or a daring nighttime by the Empire of Japan.  I'm guessing you know what side of the ledger my opinion falls.

Over 1200 anti-aircraft shells were fired at figments of peoples' imaginations, because sombody saw some "aircraft".  Earlier in the day, a Japanese Sub fired some shots at an oil facility near Santa Barbara, so there was some justification for vigilance, but not for seeing things that couldn't possibly be there.

There were recriminations from politicians and newspaper men, but no formal inquiry.  Three people died and lots of property was damaged for nothing.  Of course, many people claimed later that these were genuine UFO sightings, whatever that means.

Given the fact that people were being moved into internment camps because of the way they looked, this kind of hysteria is somewhat understandable, but, looking back on it, it's pretty stupid, or, what's the word, oh yeah, inane.

Tidbit -- Feb. 22

First, my apologies for missing two days in a row.  It was a combination of lack of time, screwy internet access, and little desire to write about things that happened.  This will be short, too, but will have a nice, long Youtube clip.

On this date in 1980, USA 4 - USSR 3.

Graffiti killer!

We got some new furnishings in our men's room -- dividers for the urinals went in first, along with a new urinal.  Fo course, with fresh dividers comes a wide open canvas for a graffiti artist a spot for some jag-off with delusions of grandeur and a felt tip marker to write his name.  

Seriously, what motivates these low-intelligence idiots?  I'm not talking about actual artists who use graffiti as a tool to make people think, I'm talking about idiots who think that they're cool because they wrote their name (or tag) somewhere.  You know what?  You were a nerdy asshole before you wrote you name on someone else's property and you're still a nerdy asshole afterward.  I hope my honesty isn't a blow to your self-esteem (an erroneous appraisal, according to The Devil's Dictionary).

Anyway, our GM's husband, who did the original installation, came in today to clean off the work of the insecure asshole.  He had a miracle solvent with him, and it took him all of 5 minutes to erase immortality.  What special mix of chemicals did he use?

Suntan lotion.

He grabbed it out of his golf bag on a lark after he read something about it on The Google.

That's right punks, your bid at immortality can be foiled by suntan lotion.  Not so tough now, are you?