Peony Jones’ Neighborhood

There really hasn't been much to see on this Vox of mine for many years. I wish I could keep it up, because it's pretty, but because Vox lacks some basic functionality I seem to need a lot (better connection with other services, a proper posting interface, ability to cross-post, ability to dig into its innards better), I never really stick around for very long. I do pop in here once in a while, especially when someone I know is actively here. But then I change my mind.

So in the interest of not leading you astray, I say don't leave a message here. Find me elsewhere (this is a good starting spot). I leave you with my last proper post here, for my own personal reference if nothing else.

I've started up a little Google Maps project, putting together a map of the places I need to go at least once, sometime. If you're the curious sort, you can see the actual map complete with points and some nascent notes here.

In an attempt to purge nonessentials from e's pantry, I've taken aim at a large coffee sampler which was gifted last year. I've never been a fan of coffee; in fact, it's only since this summer's 6AM mornings that I've acquired a taste for the terrifically awful punch in the esophagus once reserved only for cigarettes. My lack of coffee experience, therefore, has left me with a rather reckless approach to the stuff.

Last night I was drawn to the redundancy of an "Almond Amaretto" brew, which turned out, in retrospect, to be quite awful. After draining the pot in an hour, I passed out from not sleeping the previous evening. This morning I awoke feeling like I spent last night binging at some high school party full of girls who refused to drink beer. I've yet to shake the ugly almond taste from my mouth, but at least I don't feel hungover from Boone's and Zima.

Went to bed at 4AM. Woke up at 6AM and spent 3 hours tending to email. Though I despise every aspect of email management, I concede the unique (and considerable) satisfaction associated with slash-and-burning massive amounts of my inbox in one sitting. Of course, the trouble with email is that it never ends -- the boomeranging nightmare of those who compulsively reply to every message is one of the most evil faces born of technology.

My paramount social grievance as of late is when people preface their arguments with self-aggrandizing qualifications in order to elevate their perceived authority. This formulaic approach can be manifested by the logic, "As somebody who [is an expert at X], I [think Y]."

For example (via Google):

• "As somebody who loves language, I am sincerely grateful to him for reintroducing that marvellous [sic] word into common usage."
• "As somebody who loves baseball, I wish we could put this issue to bed once and for all: Pete Rose should never, ever, ever be allowed into the Hall Of Fame."
• "As somebody who enjoys writing, I found Upadhyay's comments illuminating and encouraging."
• "As somebody who enjoys watching politics, I’d rather see a more interesting race."
• "As somebody who hates shaving with a vengeance, I can sort of understand why some people have beards."

I'm not quite sure why this has dominated my awareness recently. And I'm not entirely confident I've never done it, myself. Perhaps it's just a matter of repetition in the content I've been reading that's driving nails through my eyeballs. But the force and immediacy with which it inspires my fists of rage has been rather interesting to experience. It has outweighed my other grammar-nazi pet peeves (e.g. "begs the question," "alot," "your") with a velocity none have enjoyed before.

The inspiration hit this weekend: PIE FIGHT CLUB.

The first rule of pie fight club is that nobody can talk about their diets at pie fight club.

The second rule of pie fight club is that pies are only thrown into our mouths.

*

Seriously -- it is my new dream to gather together a small group of people and conduct blind taste tests of pies from Marie Callender, Coco's and Nation's. It would be like wine tasting -- we'd say things like "this crust has a rich, buttery finish, with overtones of vanilla" -- only with pies. And we'd have pie fight club once a month. Perhaps we'd take a month off in the summer to debate which ideological ice cream is better: Ben & Jerry's or Star-Spangled Ice Cream.

I have got to work on this.

What song or lyrics are stuck in your head at the moment?  What album is it from?
Submitted by Lox Ly. 

I have no idea what album it's from, but for some reason, I have "Rosanna" by Toto stuck in my head. It just spontaneously arose. Here I was, minding my business and waiting for my e-mail to download, when all of a sudden I was singing under my breath:

All I wanna do is TAKE and never ever have to COM-PRO-MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISE

Rosanna, Rosanna

I didn't KNOW you were looking for more than I could ever GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE

I opened the browser and lo! This question appeared. And then the soundtrack shifted down into the bridge, all quiet ...

Not quite a year since you went away (Or is it?)

Rosanna, yeah

Now she's gone and I have to say

(tinkly piano portion)

Meet you all the way! Yeah-hah, girl. Rosanna. Yeah.

What is your browser's default home page set to?
Submitted by Kelev T. Cat.

At work, it's set to news.yahoo.com. Yeah, it's boring, but there are VERY GOOD REASONS for this:

1. I can get to the comics easily.

2. I can get to the odd news section easily.

3. If I am actually looking at another, more amusing site and I hear the pitter-patter of little coworkers' feet, I can quickly CTRL-N and bring up a respectable-looking window. (NB: alt-tab does not have the same effect.)

At home, it's set to news.google.com. I have no idea why.

I generally dislike setting my home page to anything other than a news-type site. Setting it on my own weblog feels egomaniacal, and setting it on someone else's takes away the fun of visiting them later. I have maybe 15 blogs I like to read, and I save them all as incentives for getting through boring bits of work.

Phil Zuckerman’s “Invitation to the Sociology of Religion” is an introductory text designed to be built upon with future readings. Because of this, his book is not very challenging in its contents or composition, nor offers much opportunity for provocative thought with its claims and arguments; rather, the book serves as a high-level overview of “the ways in which religion is affected by various aspects of society and, simultaneously, the ways in which various aspects of society are in turn affected by religion” (15). While Zuckerman might have purposefully designed this piece to be inviting in its straightforwardness, I found the efficacy of his simplicity lost in the book’s verbosity.

Invitation to the Sociology of Religion

While Zuckerman’s statements are neither incorrect nor invalid, the author’s writing is both garrulous and distracting. In some ways, I’m almost impressed at Zuckerman’s ability to fill 129 pages full of text that likely could have been communicated effectively in a fraction of that length. Looking at the table of contents, I would be surprised if this entire book could not be compressed to a half-dozen PowerPoint slides. By that, I mean that Zuckerman’s “main points” are often drowned within a vast sea of ambling anecdotes and loquacious tales (much like this post, no?). Example: At the top of page 51, five pages into Chapter 3, Zuckerman writes “All of this can be summed up as follows: we generally acquire and absorb our religion from other people, usually those to whom we are personally close or are significantly attached.” Despite his one-sentance summation, the author continues for an additional 10 pages.  Although I agree with Zuckerman’s perceptions on the social influences on religion, I found his composition to be wearisome.