Stupidity


Blowing It Out Your Exhaust

Oh yeah.

In a completely incredible New Flavour of Stupid, a company called Autoloc is selling kits that will allow you to turn your car into a flamethrower.† The basic idea is that you stick the ‘Autolocâ„¢ Advance Flame Control System’ up your exhaust pipe after which ‘this sizzling product can make up to 20 feet of flames shoot from your exhaust tips with a touch of a button!’

The Tetherd Cow Ahead Psychology Department suggests that this is the automotive equivalent of lighting your farts.‡

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†The Autolocâ„¢ website warns that the exhaust pipe flamethrower is ‘For Off Road Use Only!’ but the smell of snicker snicker snicker is at least as overpowering as the smell of napalm in the morning. Yeah, that car demonstrating the product really looks like an off-road vehicle…

‡I guess there’s your demographic right there.

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In Comments on the previous post about Julian Doyles forthcoming ‘Chemical Wedding’, JR made a remark that reminded me of a film that I saw quite some years ago – a cinematic treasure that I feel is my duty to introduce to all my devoted Acowlytes. Running with the tagline A Corpse is Bait in the Trap of Terror!, Michael Findlay’s Shriek of the Mutilated (1974) is a work that makes Plan 9 From Outer Space (a film widely held to be ‘the worst of all time’) look like Citizen Kane. Sure, there are many, many bad films – miles of wasted celluloid that is boring and incompetent and just plain unwatchable – but films like ‘Shriek’ fall into a very special category: Cinema that is so bad that it is entertaining.

I first saw SOTM sometime in the mid ’80s on late night tv, after I’d come home (relatively) early from a dull party and warmed up the tube to see what was on. A scene of a man attacking a woman with a broken gin bottle flickers into view, lots of slashing, lots of very fake-looking blood. Ho-hum. The man makes his way to the bathroom and fills up the tub, inexplicably climbing in fully clothed. Hmmm… I stay my hand from the off switch… Meanwhile, we find that the woman, lying ripped and bloodied on the kitchen floor is not dead. Slowly, painfully, she grabs the cord of the toaster, pulling it from the bench above and with her last remaining strength pushes it with agonizing effort down the corridor and into the bathroom, where she lobs it into the bath thereby electrocuting the man to death.

Awwright!!! I’m hooked! This couple has a toaster on a fifty-foot extension cord! With shameless disregard for the laws of reality like that at the fore, the film was plainly a work of genius! I fired the VHS into record (because my sixth sense told me I was watching a very rare event that might never repeat itself), rustled myself up some toasted cheese sandwiches and sat down for the most entertaining late-night movie fare of my life.

JR’s comment prompted me to see what I could find out about SOTM after all these years, and to my immense excitement I uncovered a YouTube vid of a trailer for the film. And, unlike most trailers of the modern era, it actually does capture a fairly true representation of the film you’re going to see, without giving away the best bits! So, without further ado, let’s crank up the Wurlitzer and give you a little taste of the kind of cinematic genius that they just don’t know how to deliver anymore (by the way, this is one of the very few film trailers where you can play ‘Spot the Armadillo’ – watch carefully, it’s cunningly disguised…):

“Sometimes… it almost sounds like… something human…”

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*Just one of countless memorable quotes from the film.

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A Very Scary Robot

Popular Mechanics website recently carried an article about the ‘fragility’ of the nascent robotics industry and the unlikeliness that we’ll be seeing robots making our martinis anytime soon. Colin Angle, the CEO of iRobot (a company that specializes in ‘home robotics’*) said in his keynote address at the RoboBusiness conference in Pittsburgh last month that ‘the killer app that will drive the industry hasn’t yet emerged‘.

When he says ‘killer app’ I don’t think he’s talking about the heavily armed SWORDS† robots that the US military deployed in Iraq in 2007 and then immediately undeployed when the robotic gun ‘started moving when it was not intended to move‘… Before it could shoot when it was not intended to shoot, one speculates.

You all know my thoughts on robots. I’m thinking that we still have a ways to go even with trusting them to dust the china before we start handing out the AK47s. Not that the US Military (nor indeed the voting majority of the democracy that is the United States of America) seems to require much in the way of actual intelligence (artificial or otherwise) in that respect.

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*When they say home robotics, they evidently mean vacuum cleaners at this point in time…

†Special Weapons Observation Reconnaissance Detection System. Well whaddya want? It’s the military – they’re not known for their literary acumen.

Image swiped from the unmatchably geek-cool Modern Mechanix. Go there now and marvel at the treasures.

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Microsoft, in their desperation to get the drop on Apple’s ability to spin gold out of new gadgetry innovation, are frantically searching for something, anything, in an effort to increase their cool factor. They are not good at this. Maybe you remember Zune? Or The Surface? Well, Zune was just a case of imitation I guess, but it doesn’t take a genius to see that no-one aside from Tom Cruise is going think that a table is a better interface for a computer than it is a thing to stop your coffee falling on the floor.

Mr Gates’ wizards’ latest Next Big Thing is called MySong*

Here, let the Ian Simon, Dan Morris and Sumit Basu, the brains behind MySong at their lab at Microsoft Research, tell you all about it:

MySong automatically chooses chords to accompany a vocal melody, allowing a user with no musical training to rapidly create accompanied music. MySong is a creative tool for folks who like to sing but would never get a chance to experiment with creating real original music.

OK, so that’s a big ask: you sing, MySong plays along. If someone told me that some software dudes had accomplished that feat, I’d be mighty impressed. But, you guessed it – in the manner of most things Microsoft, it kinda sorta of works. Only kinda sorta. That might be sufferable† when it’s software that deals with word-processing or spreadsheets or operating systems, but when it comes to music, ‘kinda-sorta’ is nothing short of disastrous.

Check out this video tour of the features of MySong, including someone using it to make an accompaniment for her rendition of The Way You Look Tonight.

Old Blue Eyes she ain’t. And that’s part of the reason that MySong is destined to be a Surface-class turkey. The inventors of MySong continue with their spruik:

Come on, you know who you are… you sing in the car, or in the shower, or you go to karaoke clubs, or you just once in a while find yourself singing along with catchy commercial jingles.

Yes. Apparently, this invention is being pitched at people who can’t sing, and who, very sensibly, restrict their efforts to places where no-one else can hear them. In the YouTube example above, the woman crooner dishes out an out-of-tune vocal line, and MySong responds by providing a suitably toneless accompaniment. Perfect! But what the hell are you going to do with that??? My brain just makes little fizzing noises when I try to work out whether the Microsoft thinktank has actually thought this one through.

Let’s just do a bit of psychological reverse engineering. If someone is an average-to-bad singer, what’s the thing that they’d really like to see in a piece of software of this kind? I’d guess it’d be something that made them sound like Frank, or Dean, or Celine, or Aretha or maybe even Elvis, swinging onstage to the beat of a thirty-piece Big Band – something they could play around to their friends and say ‘Hey, this is me! I could be doing Vegas!’

Instead, with MySong they end up with a terrible recording of their out-of-tune moaning backed with clunky tuneless noodling on synthetic instruments that they would only dare play in the shower or in the car. Sum advance: zero.‡ Or possibly negative, if you factor in psychological damage.

True enough, it’s only early days for MySong, and maybe it might turn into something one day. But hey Bill, here’s a tip: when your boffins come to you with this kind of project, you ask them if it’s Vegas-worthy. If they say no, send ’em back to their cubicle. For God’s sake don’t let them go public with it!

Persevere through the YouTube vid if you can, faithful Acowlytes. It has some real clunkers. For example, here’s a screen shot of some of the controls you can set on MySong:

MySong is Jazzy & Happy

Man oh man. In a Microsoft Music World there’d be a button for everything. Happy, jazzy, jivey, jolly! No thinking required!

But here’s a how it should really be:

MySong is actually crappy

I’m sure the technical feat that Messrs Simon, Morris & Basu have accomplished is of some magnitude, but all their toil amounts to further fuel for the fire of what I shall now call The Reverend’s Rule: Just because you can get a computer to do something, doesn’t necessarily mean that you should.

ADDENDUM: In a curious piece of synchronicity, the dudes at Celemony, the genii behind the awesome pitch tracking/correction software Melodyne, have announced their new software Direct Note Access. To explain briefly: Melodyne allowed you to take a musical recording of a single monophonic instrument – a violin, or a trumpet, or a voice, for instance – and gain control over every note, so that you could pitch correct errors, or even create harmony melodies by arranging the first recording as a second part. Now, DNA allows you to do the same thing with polyphonic recordings. That is, you can take a recording of a guitar strumming chords, and then unravel the recording to gain control over each individual note of the chord. It is nothing short of astonishing. Check it out.

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*Apple’s insistence on calling all its products “i” something is irritating enough, but Microsoft’s ‘My’ prefix is so pathetic as to be almost a cry for help. I wonder what Freud would make about this all blatant ego-technocentricity? Aside from anything else, aren’t they just plain embarrassed to be so obviously unoriginal?

†Although, quite honestly, I really don’t know how anyone can put up with the clunky retarded piece of techno-obfuscation that is Windows. Having to recently field a number of Windows ‘issues’ for Violet Towne, I am completely convinced that the only reason it exists is some kind of plot to keep IT nerds employed.

‡Well, zero for punter, $$$ for Microsoft. Hmmm. I guess that wouldn’t be the first time they’ve palmed off something of useless utility onto someone who didn’t actually want it.

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The thing about the internet being ubiquitous is that anyone can get their hands on it. Including dumb people. Since I started posting about my correspondences with the inimitable Peter Popoff, I have had a string of comments left on those posts by numerous (different) people who, for some reason, think that it’s Peter Popoff writing those posts. Like this one from ‘freerayder’:

I am here now. I might test your authenticity.

Or this from Arturo Trevino:

Rev,peterPopoff I am Arturo Trevino
I.see you in T.V.time 4.30.am.I have all.the letter that you seing me.I not in the hosue but can you pary.Ray.a laver and kneey paunch.hi is in mi state cecilio,need a lever to hi live in ut state can you pary me that harm will gat butter.thank you,Art.

There have been others but I deleted them before I realised that it was going to become some kind of trend. Now, I’m prepared to believe that some of these people (like Arturo) are just plain mad, but a couple (whose comments, as I say, I wish I’d kept for you) are just plain dumb. They are writing comments on my posts about Peter Popoff because they think I AM Peter Popoff. Usually (sadly) asking me to pray for them.

Let me just state it clearly: I am not, nor have I ever been, Prophet Peter Popoff.

So Arturo & friends: stop writing to me about your kneey paunch, because I’m not going to pary that harm will gat butter. Furthermore, don’t bother writing to Peter Popoff about it either, because he’ll achieve exactly the same result as I could except he’ll take all your money first.

My dear Acowlytes! I apologize for my somewhat lengthy absence of late. My excuse, I think, is a pretty good one – Violet Towne and I were married in a simple and, I like to think, moving ceremony a few weekends back. There was much carousing with friends and family and I believe that a good time was had by all (certainly from my perspective anyway). Since then there has been a bit of holidaying and not a lot of sitting at computers, and hence an almost complete lack of Cow.

Not that The Cow was ever far from my thoughts as we trekked around the southern coast of Victoria on our honeymoon. Simple Graphics Man was up to his old tricks at many of our stops, and there were some great photo opportunities which I’ll share with you in due course.

And there was Scientology. Yes, no matter where you go, the lunatics will find some way to reach into your life. I’ve been meaning to do a Scientology piece for a little while now, and whilst this will not be it, I must share with you my thoughts on the recent Tom Cruise embarrassment that managed to filter into my attention as I was waiting in the queue in a great little fish & chip shop in the coastal town of Apollo Bay.

If you didn’t manage to catch it, seriously, go take a look. The Tomster could have done no worse if he’d put on a clown suit and declared himself the reincarnation of Bozo.

It wasn’t till I arrived home and scrutinized the video on YouTube that I realised how much in the error of my ways I was. I think that I have been mistaken all this time… Tom Cruise, and Scientology itself, are actually in the service of The Cow! Scoff not, faithful Cowpokes! I didn’t spot it immediately either…

Tom's Medal

OMG!!! I immediately searched for other clues that Tom and his Thetan-zapping buddies might be doing the Work of the Church of the Tetherd Cow. Well, for a start, there is the excellent science-fiction art-direction…

Flash Gordon Eat Yer Heart Out

…persuasive evidence in itself. But if there was truly any Cow agenda operating well it might manifest itself in, oh, a wedding ceremony, say. Is there, maybe, a Scientology Wedding ceremony?

Aha! There is! Scrolling down through the incomprehensible juvenile drivel lengthy ritual that Katie and Tom presumably endured when they got hitched, we uncover the following poignant observation:

Now, (groom’s name),
girls need clothes
And food and
Tender happiness and frills
A pan, a comb,
perhaps a cat
All caprice if you will
But still
They need them.
Do you then
Provide?
Do you?†

“Perhaps a cat”!!!!!???? Scientology requires the Groom to provide a cat? Whoa! Need I draw anyone a picture?! Violet Towne is such a lucky girl.

Tom Cruise, for actions undercover in the service of The Cow, we salute you!

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*“These are the times, now people. These are the times we will all remember.” You betcha Tom. We’ll all remember.

†I kid you not. This is really in the Scientology Wedding Ceremony.

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