Random Musings

Dirt on Your Hands aka something important I forgot about life

Somewhere along the line, we changed our minds about getting dirt on our hands. When you’re a kid, dirt is just something that happens on your way to dinner. It gets on your hands the way aches get in your bones as an adult. You don’t plan for it or think about it. It doesn’t stop your day unless fate is working against you, like your mom telling you to wash up or your back flaring up so bad you can’t get the recycling bin all the way down the driveway. Dirt happened. Your knees would get covered, too, jeans worn to white threads threatening to hole and sneakers equal parts rubber and mud. But it was the hands that did it. Caked dirt, dirt…
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Beware the “Myster Shopper” email scam

My email filters are usually pretty good at catching nonsense like this. Yours probably are, too. This one got through, however, so I thought I’d toss it out there, even if only so that other people Googling to see if it’s legit will have more information to go on. The scam starts with an email, such as this one I just got titled “Welcome to Mystery Shoppers” From info_tech01@email.utah.edu JOB DESCRIPTION: 1. You will receive funds for the task. 2. You will receive instructions for the task you via email in the location and details of the task. 3. You must complete the task as quickly as possible and quietly. 4. You will be asked to visit the business location for doing good business restaurants, shopping…
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Puddles Pity Party is the greatest show on Earth

Last night, I watched a gigantic clown chew gum and sing “Under Pressure” while forcing an audience member to eat pastries. It was the greatest. I’m talking about Puddles of Puddles Pity Party, and if you don’t remember the name, you’ll probably remember the sight of him from his viral collaboration with Postmodern Jukebox:   Yeah, that guy. Toweringly tall, decked out in black and white garb, and projecting an air of detached sadness as he eases through a pop song with a disturbingly powerful voice. Based on stuff like this and his Sia cover with the same group of quasi-retro hipsters, it would be easy to assume that Puddles is a gimmick, and one with a limited shelf life. One you’d only be able…
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The Myth of the Assimilating Immigrant, Speaking English, and Eroding Americana

Discussions about immigration are funny. They tend to focus on the same small handful of heartfelt pleas; arguments about losing our culture, griping that immigrants don’t learn the language (“the language” being English), and the idea that immigrants of the past used to come here and work hard to assimilate themselves into American culture. As we’re about to discover, that last part is largely a myth. First, a word on the language. The United States has no official language. Never has. As immigration has increased from non-European countries, there have also been increasing calls for a national language, thus far to no avail. Some individual states do, 32 of them in all, but not the United States itself. Our documents are written in English, and…
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