threats not always effective ...

German police excuse angry computer user for outburst

BERLIN — A German man who startled his neighbours when he hurled his computer out of the window in the middle of the night, was let off for disturbing the peace by police who sympathised with his technical frustrations.

Police in the northern city of Hanover said they would not press charges after responding to calls made by residents in an apartment block who were woken by a loud crash in the early hours of Saturday.

Officers found the street and pavement covered in electronic parts and discovered who the culprit was.

Asked what had driven him to the night-time outburst, the 51-year-old man said he had simply got annoyed with his computer.

“Who hasn’t felt like doing that?” said a police spokesman.

While escaping any official sanction the man was made to clear up the debris.

Reuters Life!

observant pig

Vintage Canada sucks

We need petitions, grand consciousness-raising campaigns and aggressive, pithy lobbying to force the publishing industry to cease and desist putting descriptive blurbs of books WITHIN other books. Particularly descriptions of books following a f t e r the one in which it appears.

Because, before reading the anticipated book now in my possession and merely from glancing at a page describing the books in the series, I now know Jamie and Isabel "hook up." Nay, the damage is worse. That they are going to have a baby. A boy! no less. [If you know the book to which I refer and this bit of information ruins the series for you too, suck it up and blame the publishers. wankers]

Not only is that bit of information making this book worthless, but the means by which it was delivered makes that scenario seem predictable, and the book a titch revolting. The "blurb" has summarized the book as if its only salient point was this miniscule but potentially interesting revelation which would have - I anticipated - been delivered within the book with vast subtlety and not as a key plot point.

This exposé might, just, have ruined the entire series for me. If not made me dismiss the author as a common panderer.

Not only shall my (and one presumes others') disappointment ruin the purveyors of tea and scones and sunblock (for these books are meant to be read on sunny days in the park) but seems obviously of interest to the publishing industry as it shall impact sales negatively.

do you not agree?

Books: Astrid and Veronika, by Linda Olsson; NOT currently reading The Right Attitude to Rain, by Alexander McCall Smith. wanker.

pink gin report

Had some pink gin with assistance from friendly bartender: gin (not sapphire, bleck), tonic water, angostura bitters.

Very tasty. Refreshing. Not overly sweet. A drink for all-and-sundry.

reified?

Verbal battle of the sexes all hot air, study finds; Despite 'cultural myth,' men talk just as much as women, researchers say
The Ottawa Citizen
Friday, July 6, 2007, A1
Byline: Tom Spears
Source: The Ottawa Citizen

Women aren't chattier than men after all, say psychologists who recorded 400 students of both genders over a seven-year period.

The professors from Texas and Arizona strapped voice recorders onto student volunteers, taping for 30-second intervals every few minutes. Students never knew when the machines were recording. Seven years of data beginning in 1998 show men have almost as much to say as women, falling just a few sentences short each day.

There was one big difference, but it lay within each gender: men spoke as few as 500 words a day, or as many as 47,000. If you sleep eight hours a day, that's 49 words per minute the rest of the time— nearly one per second, all day.

That works out to the English edition of War and Peace (560,000 words) every 12 days.

And women varied by a similar amount, found a team of researchers from the University of Arizona, University of Texas at Austin and Washington University in St. Louis, Missouri.

Estimates in psychology books say women may average 20,000 words in daily conversation, while men use only 7,000. This figure has circulated widely and become "a cultural myth," the team reported yesterday in the journal Science. Yet it was never tested, until now.

Their main finding: Women in the study spoke a daily average of 16,215 words, versus an average of 15,669 words for men. The difference is considered insignificant, especially because individuals showed a huge variation — often 8,000 to 10,000 words above or below the average.

But is there more to the story of men and women than simply counting words?

You bet, says Linda Duxbury, a Carleton University professor at the Sprott School of Business. She studies gender differences in communication.

"Men-to-men conversations are not voluminous. Women-to-women conversations are hugely voluminous," she said. But when sexes mix, there are huge shifts in who does how much of the talking.

Women talk about feelings and relationships, use more adjectives and colour, and talk less about facts than men do, she says. "The kind of things women talk about, men don't want to listen to."

Like the dentist's drill, talk about relationships seems to go on and on for male listeners.

"Women talking to women talk a lot more," Ms. Duxbury said. But in a mixed setting, "women self-censor while men interrupt a lot. In a mixed setting, men see conversation as a competition. ... They will interrupt, they will talk over (others) and get air space, because if you get more air space, you're a winner.

"The research shows men do 98 per cent of interruptions," she said. "Women will give up and men will persist. In a mixed setting, women tend to be quieter.

"Then they'll go around and talk to their (female) friends and they'll talk more."

pink drinks

"Pink Pink Pink Pink Pink Pink Pink ...." — Nick Drake

So what is a good pink drink, to quench one's thirst, fulfill whimsy, bring a smile to a dreary day?

I have always been found of a classic dry Kir — a hint of cassis can make an iffy white wine palatable. A good one is truly lip smacking and festive.

Wednesday I had such a one, maybe the most delicious one tasted (in Canada, at least; Restaurant Perraudin in Paris still wins for most surprising and most tasty, made with a red Burgundy as it is ... Sadly, I could not really enjoy it the first time I tasted it as my companion was not inclined to being companionable and all food tasted as dust to me on that visit ... ).

In Canada I've found Kirs generally grotesque, overly sweetened things despite my request for "dry Kirs." That, or the request is met with bafflement by professional bar tenders. However, the newly 'opened' Standard on Elgin Street in Ottawa surprised me. It's previous incarnation as Mash was a typical disappointment, with more style (and not much of that) than substance. If the Kir is anything by which to gauge the Standard's menu (though I doubt it is) it shall be a wonderful addition to my neighbourhood.

Either way, I am sure if they offer a palatable steak frites to go with that Kir I shall become a regular.

num.

Pink gin is another oddity. I've never had any but just this evening have discovered I have the makings for it in my cupboard. Women are forever ordering it in 1940s British war movies which made it sound like some sort of liqueur masquerading as gin. Maybe like Sloe gin?

However, it appears Pink Gin is merely gin with the addition of Angostura Bitters, something I always have on hand. Wikipedia says the drink was concocted in the 19thC by British sailors as a way to make Angostura Bitters, which were apocryphally seen as a cure for seasickness, more palatable. (Rather similar to my theory about cricket, colonial climes, quinine and G&Ts ... )

If you've never had Angostura bitters, I highly recommend them. They are warm and spicy with hints of cloves, adding great punch to a Shandy or Ginger beer. The Pink Gin recipe calling for tonic, two parts gin, four dashes bitters sounds smashing; crisp, refreshing while spicy. num.

Other pink fun stuff. I always have on hand a cheap and always surprisingly popular bottle of Rosé d'Anjou — it makes me smile as the Musketeers were almost poisoned by some similar and then, later, went off to have a grand picnic at the Siege of La Rochelle. The wine reminds me of grand carefree adventure in service of a noble, greater good and the promise of love. Of course, also big hats with feathers and swirling cloaks.

" ... D’Artagnan, on his return, sent the twelve bottles of wine to the refreshment room of the Guards, with strict orders that great care should be taken of it; and then, on the day appointed, as the dinner was fixed for midday D’Artagnan sent Planchet at nine in the morning to assist in preparing everything for the entertainment.

Planchet, very proud of being raised to the dignity of maitre d’hotêl, thought he would make all ready, like an intelligent man; and with this view called in the assistance of the lackey of one of his master’s guests, named Fourreau, and the false soldier who had tried to kill D’Artagnan and who, belonging to no corps, had entered into the service of D’Artagnan, or rather of Planchet, after D’Artagnan had saved his life.

The hour of the banquet being come, the two guards arrived, took their places, and the dishes were arranged on the table. Planchet waited, towel on arm; Fourreau uncorked the bottles; and Brisemont, which was the name of the convalescent, poured the wine, which was a little shaken by its journey, carefully into decanters. Of this wine, the first bottle being a little thick at the bottom, Brisemont poured the lees into a glass, and D’Artagnan desired him to drink it, for the poor devil had not yet recovered his strength.

The guests having eaten the soup, were about to lift the first glass of wine to their lips, when all at once the cannon sounded from Fort Louis and Fort Neuf. The Guardsmen, imagining this to be caused by some unexpected attack, either of the besieged or the English, sprang to their swords. D’Artagnan, not less forward than they, did likewise, and all ran out, in order to repair to their posts.

But scarcely were they out of the room before they were made aware of the cause of this noise. Cries of “Live the king! Live the cardinal!” resounded on every side, and the drums were beaten in all directions.

In short, the king, impatient, as has been said, had come by forced marches, and had that moment arrived with all his household and a reinforcement of ten thousand troops. His Musketeers proceeded and followed him. D’Artagnan, placed in line with his company, saluted with an expressive gesture his three friends, whose eyes soon discovered him, and M. de Tréville, who detected him at once.

The ceremony of reception over, the four friends were soon in one another’s arms.

“Pardieu!” cried D’Artagnan, “you could not have arrived in better time; the dinner cannot have had time to get cold! Can it, gentlemen?” added the young man, turning to the two Guards, whom he introduced to his friends.

“Ah, ah!” said Porthos, “it appears we are feasting!”

“I hope,” said Aramis, “there are no women at your dinner.”

“Is there any drinkable wine in your tavern?” asked Athos.

“Well, pardieu! there is yours, my dear friend,” replied D’Artagnan.

“Our wine!” said Athos, astonished.

“Yes, that you sent me.”

“We send you wine?”

“You know very well--the wine from the hills of Anjou.”

“Yes, I know what brand you are talking about.”

“The wine you prefer.”

“Well, in the absence of champagne and chambertin, you must content yourselves with that.”

“And so, connoisseurs in wine as we are, we have sent you some Anjou wine?” said Porthos.

“Not exactly, it is the wine that was sent by your order.”

“On our account?” said the three Musketeers.

“Did you send this wine, Aramis?” said Athos.

“No; and you, Porthos?”

“No; and you, Athos?”

“No!”

“If it was not you, it was your purveyor,” said D’Artagnan.

“Our purveyor!”

“Yes, your purveyor, Godeau--the purveyor of the Musketeers.”

“My faith! never mind where it comes from,” said Porthos, “let us taste it, and if it is good, let us drink it.”

“No,” said Athos; “don’t let us drink wine which comes from an unknown source.”

“You are right, Athos,” said D’Artagnan. “Did none of you charge your purveyor, Godeau, to send me some wine?”

“No! And yet you say he has sent you some as from us?”

“Here is his letter,” said D’Artagnan, and he presented the note to his comrades.

“This is not his writing!” said Athos. “I am acquainted with it; before we left Villeroy I settled the accounts of the regiment.”

“A false letter altogether,” said Porthos, “we have not been disciplined.”

“D’Artagnan,” said Aramis, in a reproachful tone, “how could you believe that we had made a disturbance?”

D’Artagnan grew pale, and a convulsive trembling shook all his limbs.

“Thou alarmest me!” said Athos, who never used thee and thou but upon very particular occasions, “what has happened?”

“Look you, my friends!” cried D’Artagnan, “a horrible suspicion crosses my mind! Can this be another vengeance of that woman?”

It was now Athos who turned pale. "

— The Three Musketeers, Alexandre Dumas