The Ten Apple Commandments

With the pending announcment of the Apple Tablet--the worst-kept secret in computing--shouldn't we expect a gray-templed Steve Jobs to descend from the mountain to deliver a new Ten Commandments? Here's what they might look like.

1. I am Apple, your Lord and God. You shall have none other than iPods before me. You shall not misrepresent the brand or fashion false representations of the brand. Unless it’s a really cool Touch commercial that we really should have thought of first and then we’ll take it.

2. You shall not take the OS’s name in vain; “Snow Leopard” is a fine name for an OS, thank you.

3. Remember the Time Machine and keep it running at all times.

4. Honor your father and your mother; after all, they humored you when you begged for an Apple II for Christmas to play Cranston Manor back in ’82.

5. You shall not jailbreak.

6. You shall not port unauthorized Windows applications to a shell OS.

7. You shall not violate DRM without first paying extra in iTunes.

8. You shall not tell your neighbor that your unibody MacBookPro still has the open Apple logo on the Command key.

9. You shall not connect your AirPort to your neighbor’s wireless network.

10. You shall not covet your neighbor’s 3GS iPhone; we’ll be introducing the next version soon enough and he won’t get a subsidized price like you will anyway.

What do you mean, honey? Of COURSE I love our kids.

Perhaps you saw these commercials during yesterday's football-ganza.

They're from Jared--you know, the Galleria of Jewelry. It appears to be some kind of bracelet that the enterprising husband can customize with baubles, spacers, gems, and charms. The charms shown on the commercial include a suitcase, perhaps if your wife is an avid traveler. There's also a stroller, which I can only assume is to represent the wonderful child(ren) you've had with your wife.

So you design this bracelet, you select all these charms that signify important moments in your life with the woman you love, and Jared puts it in a box for you to give to her. The name of this line of charm jewelry in that box?


As in, the mythological first woman who opened the box (jar, actually, but who's quibbling with modern colloquialisms?) that had contained all the world's ills, thus releasing them to wreak havoc on humanity. So now that, and a kinda cheap looking bracelet. Jared must not expect a lot of literate wives to get these or see the commercial and ask for one.

Something tells me, though, that this is meant to be a gift outlet for the creatively-bulletless American male. Brother, you better have a back-up plan in case your wife remembers any of her Greek history from college.



One of the best gags of Who Framed Roger Rabbit?, by the way. The fact that he can't hear any version of "shave and a hair-cut," whether spoken or percussed or hummed, without belting out the finale of the jingle. Predates Cartman's fixation on "Come Sail Away" by years and years.

ANYWAY, that's not why I'm writing today. I'm writing to tell you that, should any minor earthquake, small-engine plane crash, water main explosion, or ill-timed sneeze occur tomorrow, this might be my final blog post.

I'm getting a free straight-razor shave at Overture in conjunction with their coming production of Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street.

Rob Thomas from 77 Square got one last weekend, and for the first time in roughly 100 shaves, the barber made an errant slice.


The barber is Stephen Baraboo, who recently opened Thorps barber shop on Atwood. I took note of this place last week during a run to Alchemy for a birthday party, and it looks cool. (Were I not hooked in to Blues on Willy, I'd consider it)

I'm not the most hirsute fella you've ever seen, so I'm hoping a shave of this nature isn't made more challenging by mediocre scruff. I'm going to be on 50+ hours of no-shaving, and I probably won't look much hairier than Shaggy's chin. My friend, who'll be dulling the razor before me, is a friggin' bear. We'll look like Lurch and Cousin It walking in.

Mostly, I kid. I'm not really concerned, nor do I think the barber's got a habit of dropping the razor. I feel pretty bad for him that it happened on-camera (watch the video though, it's fascinating to see such a small slip result in a cut like that). It's funny, because I don't have any interest at all in Sweeney Todd. But damned if I don't want to get a Bluephie's meat pie afterwards.

ILLin' like a villain: Old acquaintances edition

Welcome back to ILLin' like a villain, which took some well-deserved time off for the holidays. Unfortunately, the silly requests have tapered off a bit, so I'll have to make hay with these!

The Book of Ceremonial Magic: The Secret Tradition in Goetia
by Arthur Edward Waite

-I was sure I read the subtitle as "The Secret Tradition in Goetta," which would have been a decidedly non-magical tome. ::shudder::

Alaska Seafood Industry Room and Board Job Guide
by Kwasi Malezi

-Not sure what's more interesting about this request: that the inmates don't have cable and yet are drawn to the Deadliest Catch mystique, or that the author (by virtue of his name alone) appears to be African. I've never seen an African person on Deadliest Catch.

The Guide to Becoming the Sensuous Black Woman
by Miss T.

-I betcha I know what that 'T' stands for... Did I mention that I work in an all-male facility?

A Rookie's Guide to Buying or Selling a Pool Table
by Mose Duane

-Look for a request next week for the companion volume, "And Cramming It Into a 9'x12'."

Christmas with an Asian baby

So I've got this niece. She's a sweetie and a half. This is her first Christmas. She's my first niece. It's a pretty good deal for everyone. Even the dogs like her. Monty! Quit blinking!

I actually just found out that I'm gonna get to be The Godfather for the little bean. She wants to know where my jowls (a la Marlon Brando) are. I tell her, Even Marlon Brando was thin once. Wait a year or two.

Anyway, I'm going to indoctrinate her proper-like. Her parents had her give me a Munchkin Fresh Feeding set that includes a grinder to chop up any food items, and a little netted pacifier thing to pack full of grilled Belgian endive and pork loin with fennel and cardamom for her to enjoy. I also have the Top Chef: America game for the Wii. She approves.

Who's gonna be the cutest little culinarily literate Asian Michael Corleone ever?

ILLin' like a villain, subconscious Shakespeare edition

I just realized why I was getting the "tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow" soliliquy from Macbeth stuck in my head for the last week or two. Two men, whose last names are Pace and Petty, were adjacent in the Interlibrary Loan file until today.

Earthworms Buyer's Guide and Directory, by Patrick H. Shields (Earthworm Guy is back!)

Forbidden Knowledge, by Stephen K. Donaldson (No. You can't have it.)

How to Build a 1933-34 Ford Street Rod, by Jay Storer (Pretty sure the cells aren't big enough for that, but hey.)

And a late addition, just turned in, verbatim as on the slip:

High, by Brain O'Dea (Now, I'd never heard of Brian O'Dea before, so it is in fact a legit book, but look at the layering of this silliness. The title is High; the erroneously-spelled first name is Brain [as in, this is your brain on drugs]; and the last name is O'Dea. O'DEA. D.E.A. You can't make this stuff up, people!)

ILLin' like a villain: Zwarte Piet edition

In an unblinkingly colonial and insensitive tradition, the Dutch believe that St. Nick travels with a young black companion named (uncreatively) Black Peter. St. Nick gets the credit for the goodies, Peter carries the switch by which the bad kids will be punished in their sleep.

Growing up with this as their childhood tradition is why the Dutch need pot and hookers.

Happy St. Nick's! Put out your shoes, and settle in barefoot for this week's brief glimpse into the interlibrary loan habits of Wisconsin's finest inmates.

Paper Pop Up, by Dorothy Wood. (Forget the actual content of the book. These jokes write themselves, kids.)

Someone Else's Puddin', by Samuel Hair. (The hip-hop community has officially run out of slang.)

Bodyslick, by John Sibley (Urban lit authors have officially run out of material. Take some time, read the description. I'll wait here. Tell me if you could ever take this book seriously.)

ILLin' like a villain, jive turkey edition

Written on Wednesday, posted to the FUUUUUTUUUUUURRRRRRE! Thus, it's brief. The time machine has a weight limit.

Untitled Technothriller, by Herold [sic] Coyle (Pretty sure this turned out to be They Are Soldiers, but one would think that a savvy reader might have scrutinized this incomplete Bowker Books in Print listing a little more closely.)

Dream Garages, by Kris Palmer (Guys will fantasize about anything in here.)

Don't Blame It on Rio: The Real Reason Men Go to Brazil for Sex, by Jewel Woods (Answer: It's the sex.)

ILLin' like a villain

Herein you will find a new Friday feature on RTWNMYP (gotta love that initialism). Very simply, it will be a recounting of some of the more interesting Interlibrary Loan requests received in the preceding week. It might not always be laugh-out-loud funny, but it should be fairly amusing. I'll go back a couple weeks just to give you a good first taste.

Pot Pies: Yumminess in a Dish (Can't really argue with the concept, I guess.)

Raising Earthworms for Profit (Step 1: Gather earthworms. Step 2: ??? Step 3: Profit!)

Persimmons: And Other Lesbian Erotica (Sadly, this title doesn't exist. Poor guy.)

How to Potty Train Your Parrot in 14 Days (This book, amazingly, does exist.)

Lew Burke's Dog Training (Patron's note: "I'm not really sure. I believe it deals with social behavior though". As opposed to, say, management or accounting.)

Thong on Fire (Coming soon to Masterpiece Theater.)

A full calendar of food adventures

Saturday: Heirloom tomato tasting at Fresco in Madison, featuring free-flowing Prosecco and awesome BBTs (the 'L' replaced by basil).

Tonight: Sesquicentennial celebration at Stone Cellar in Appleton, featuring Russian wild boar, the Oktoberfest beer premiere, a new Pumpkin Spice Ale, and (hopefully) a throwback brew from an archived recipe of the Adler Brau days.

Photo narratives are soon to follow. In the meantime, another totally appropriate doodle from Drew:

Red Robin to Hawaii: "Ohhhh, me so solly!"

You know Red Robin. They're the purveyors of gigundor burgers and bottomless steak fries. They trumpet their Whiskey River BBQ burger. Burger excess--to an embarrassing level--is kind of their thing.

Something dawned on me this morning. I happened to see a commercial for Red Robin, and it featured the Banzai Burger. It's teriyaki-marinated, topped with a thick pineapple slice in addition to the usual accoutrements.

Now, I know that there are some superficial similarities and connections between Hawaii and Japan. Islands, in the Pacific, cultural exchange, volcanic activity, and OH YEAH JAPAN BOMBED HAWAII IN AN AIRBORNE VARIANT OF A BANZAI ATTACK.

I know it was, like, a thousand years ago, but
jeez. Not too surprisingly, they have no Hawaii locations.

Sorry, South Carolina, but Clemson's a public school

The fine folks at Clemson University have found, via a surely expensive study, that double-dipping a chip in a bowl of dip does indeed result in an increase in bacteriological contamination.

And yes, this was inspired by the Seinfeld episode.

Let me say that I'm as interested in being healthy as the next guy. I don't want to get sick. I don't want your cold, or your cough, or your flu.

But jumping Christ, did anyone think to do a study of the number of germs that depart one's hand when reaching into that bowl of chips in the first place? I mean, come on! Let's say the bowl is full of nacho cheese Doritos. How many people wash the cheese off their fingers?

(i'll wait for all respondents)


Okay, now how many people do you think lick the cheese off?

Yeah. That's right. So please. Spare me the righteous indignation about stuffing an entire chip into one's mouth rather than "double-dipping." You're reaching into the same bowl fifteen other peoples' hands have already been in, before you even get to the dip.

Family, this one's for you

Anyone who likes headscratcher cornball jokes will probably appreciate this, too.

I take every contextual opportunity I can to tell the "Steve" joke. I busted it out at Daily Kos yesterday, and got a nice reply from the author of the diary in which I posted it . 

You can read the joke, and the reply, here.

If you feel like wading through the other comments in the thread, you can see the reaction to the same joke over at from June of last year by going here. My post went up at 05:16:33, so you can scroll to there to start.

God, it's a funny joke. I crack up just thinking about it. And personally, I think I told it better than the two other sites at which it was told by someone else.