Too hot. Too too hot. Shouldn't the humidity have had the decency to break by this hour?

A discovery: turning on the fan above the stove (which is located right by the ceiling) helps cool the apartment, presumably by sucking out some of the hot air.

Things I don't understand about American politics:

1. Why do presidential candidates' families need to be so visible? Why are
people entitled, or even required, to give a speech at a party convention
just because they happen to be related to a candidate?

2. A lot of the commentary I'm seeing about the Republican convention says
they're trying to shift to the centre, but there's concern that the more
right-wing neocons will feel alienated. Why are they concerned about that?
Who else do they think the neocons are going to vote for? It seems to me
that if all the parties are to the left of you, you don't really have any
choice but to vote for the right-most party.

3. There seem to be some people saying that John Kerry was not entitled to
protest the Vietnam war. But it's a fact of public record that he was in
the Vietnam war. If fighting in combat in a war doesn't give a person the
right to protest that war, by those people's standards, what does?

A Tourist's Guide to Glengarry by Ian Mcgillis.

A nine-year-old boy tries to write a book by writing down everything that happens in one day. However, the day he chooses turns out to be one of the most eventful days of his life. I love this book because everything that happens is perfectly realistic and captures the perpetual confusion of being nine. Quite often, books where children have adventures give the protagonists an excessive amount of freedom and insight. This book does not fall into that trap, and is the better for it. The only thing the protagonist can do that I couldn't at age nine is wander freely around his neighbourhood at any time of the day or night, but that's perfectly plausible for his era and his location. A really sweet story, and a quick read at just over 200 pages.

If you threw a party, and invited everyone you knew, you would see the biggest gift would be from me and the card attached would say "Thank you for being a friend."

- Theme from The Golden Girls

When I was a kid, I thought this was a plausible situation. But as an adult I look at it and wonder under what circumstances a grown adult would be giving a party for themselves where everyone brings gifts. Birthdays, maybe, maybe not. Strange

It's too hot and my air conditioning is broken! (Fun fact: every possible way you can reasonably typo the word broken ends up looking Scandinavian). I've been diligently cooling my apartment the best I can using The Power of Science! (TM), but the people downstairs don't seem to be doing the same thing. I can feel the heat radiating up from the floor! GAH, stupid convection!

This morning, I heard parts of that American Republican Convention thing on the radio. Maybe it's just me, maybe it's because I've never been to a party convention, maybe it's because I was hearing the audio without seeing the images, but it sounded an awful lot like what I'd imagine frat boys at a football game sound like.

Is that really what people want in a political party?

From the Brilliant Ideas That Will Never Work file:

People who intentionally infect others with HIV should, as part of their punishment, be required to get I AM HIV POSITIVE tattooed on or near their genitals, in such a way that it can easily be read and is not obscured by body hair.

I was reading an article directed towards clinicians about desensitization
treatments for panic-inducing specific phobias. One thing they mentioned is
that you put a definite time-limit on the exposure. Agreeing to the time
limit ahead of time with the patient is supposed to make the patient more
receptive to the exposure.

They gave the example of agreeing with the patient that the you-know-what
would stay in the terrarium, and the terrarium would only be in the room for
five minutes. As a patient, this would not be at all comforting, because a)
that means that there is a you-know-what in the OTHER room (what if it
escapes???), and b) the clinician is PERFECTLY FINE with the fact that
there's a you-know-what in a terrarium in their office ALL DAY, and
therefore can't possibly be sympathetic to how distressed I might be
feeling. This also implies that the clinician takes care of it and keeps it
alive, which makes the clinician EVIL and TAINTED because they are actively
contributing to the well-being of a you-know-what.

I think I need desensitization therapy desensitization therapy before I can
undertake phobia desensitization therapy.

As a follow-up to my recent post about childhood misconceptions, I recently rediscovered IUsedToBelieve.com. It's always good for a giggle.

I've noticed a lot of recent books have "A note about the type" in the back,
discussing the fonts used and their history. Is that a recent thing or have
I just been reading the wrong books?

I saw a house with Greek letters on it. Here. In Toronto. I didn't think
those existed north of the border. Scary.

From the Headlines That Don't Sound Quite Newsworthy file:

Newmarket Girls Approached by Man

A mixed blessing of living by myself is that when I buy a nice basket of
lovely ripe juicy Ontario peaches, there's nothing to stop me from eating
them all in one day.

They need to invent an international signal for "Sorry, downstairs!" For
when you accidentally drop something heavy on the floor of your apartment.

Someone should invent an online Quizilla-like quiz that determines your GAF
score

From the Ridiculously Petty Things That Amuse Me file:

Brazilian volleyball players' bras say "BRA" on them.

I'm sorry, but those Greek soldier guys in the medal ceremony are SO doing a
silly walk!

Kings of Infinite Space by James Hynes

This is a rather strange book because it is essentially a horror/zombie
movie. I've never read a zombie movie in a book before, and I really don't
think it's the best medium for this genre. However, it isn't a genre I'm
overly fond of either, so I'm not exactly qualified to comment on this.

The Body by Hanif Kureishi

A rather experimental sort of book about an older man who gets his brain
transplanted into a younger body. It is very short - only about 150 pages -
and because of that it doesn't go as deep as I'd want it to. The
protagonist basically lists what happens after he gets his new body and
hardly mentions his thoughts and feelings, as though it wasn't really
happening to him (which, I suppose, in a way it wasn't), and the book ends
just as things start getting interesting. I think this was a case of the
author writing less than he could have for fear of rambling on and on, but
it makes the book less interesting than it could have been.