Three Little Words

I’ll warn you now that I’ve finally actually read some Ayn Rand. I’ve been told by many people many times that I should read some of her stuff (hers and Vonnegut’s), that I’d enjoy it a lot. Well, I’m now halfway through Atlas Shrugged, and while I’m aware that that’s only half the picture, I’m really liking what I’ve found so far.

Part of it comes from the fact that it backs up a lot of what I tend to believe when I’m at my most pompous.

Yes, that’s an admission of some sort of guilt. I think. I sometimes get into these Machiavellian moods where I start passing judgement on people for no good reason, like a royal jackass. Turns out that Francisco D’Anconia is my kind of guy. And if I’m getting this right, ’Cisco is saying I shouldn’t necessarily feel so guilty for it.

(I know, it’s just a book, and one I haven’t actually finished at that. I’m not actually going full bore into Caesar mode.)

But it does make me think back to something I’ve pondered over for a while.

I’ve thought, on numerous occasions, that I’d like to teach a college course at some point so that I can make the following announcement:

“You will be required to write at least one paper. I will allow you to ask for whatever assistance you may need of me in the process of writing said papers. However, there is one specific question I will refuse to accept. I will not tell you what that question is, only that if you ask me that question, you will fail. You will forfeit your grade on that paper and any and all other papers, tests and projects you may complete or have completed in this class. In such a case, I will refuse any request to drop this class. By electing to continue take this class from this point, you have agreed to my terms, and will accept the consequences stated should you feel the need to ask that question.”

I don’t ever intend to tell the students, within the context of the class, what The Question is. For the point of this post to make sense though, I’ve sort of got to let the cat out of the bag. For those who want to guess, I’ll leave some space...





















“Does spelling count?”


I hate this question.

I understand that not everyone is going to win a spelling bee. I also know that in this day and age, spellcheck is a standard feature, and that failing that, anyone should be able to use a dictionary and proofread what they’ve written. My real problem with the question is basically that once you get to a certain stage in life — say, after the eighth grade — you should have at least learned that when you present something with your name on it, you try your damnedest to make sure you got it right. Period. College Students, by definition, ought to have figured this part out already. Refute this to me and lower yourself in my eyes, and I really don’t feel that this is an unfair statement to make.

Broken down, when someone who should know better asks The Question, they offend me in three stages:

1) They are completely unsure of their own ability to do something they have spent over half their life immersed in.

2) Given the choice between expected effort and demonstration of laziness, they actively choose to demonstrate laziness. Had they not asked the question, I could have forgiven poor spelling, but by asking, they are asking if I will accept — and are expecting that I would consider reasonable — a deliberate lack of effort.

3) They vocally acknowledge points one and two about themselves to the same person and/or persons they ask to judge the validity of their efforts.


There are plenty of other questions out there that could seem pointless, stupid or offensive, but when it comes down to it, I’m not sure I’ve ever heard another that so bluntly identifies a person’s disinterest in giving a reason to be taken seriously.


And really, if you were ever stepping into an elevator eighty stories above the ground, or going into heart surgery, or putting your child on a school bus, wouldn’t you rather know that the engineer, or doctor, or driver responsible would just assume that yes, spelling does in fact count?

V for Oops

So I‘m sitting around with an hour to kill before the season finale of Heroes, and I decide to catch up on some blog reading. My other options are Two And A Half Men, Dancing With the Stars and Deal or No Deal. Good God, TV swings from awful to incredible. Almost ironic how comic books on TV can start off as intelligent writing and then get even more so by comparison.

Appropriately enough, Dan's blog is full of comic book heroes this week. He's found a list of the “top 100 comics movies ever made” according to some editor that he rightfully disagrees with; you’ll find Dan’s blog here.

I must point out a single glaring omission from Dan’s rebuttal list. There may be other omissions that others point out, but the glaring one is the most important: V for Vendetta.

Permit me to regress into Robert Hamburger mode for a bit here: I know chicks who stated openly that Natalie Portman was hot even with her head shaved. The movie was filmed in three colors: black, white and fire. The hero of the story may or may not have actually been a hero, but he was 100% ninja; he never showed his face, and he flipped out and stabbed people. A lot. And he could have even eaten pizzas all day long in his secret underground lair. With Natalie Portman. Plus, like half of London asploded while the other half turned into something I think I saw once in a Pink Floyd video.

V wasn‘t just for Vendetta, it was for VAWESOME

Dan my friend, you have not remembered remembered the Fifth of Novembered. The remedy here is to add a Number 0.5 to your list, because Wolverine ain’t quite a ninja and even Rebecca Romijn naked and painted blue can’t hold a candle to Natalie Portman shaved like a cueball. And take League of Extraordinary Gentlemen off the list, because while Moore may be an utter nutjob, he still wrote both V and the League, and it just ain’t fair to lower his average with that crap.