Frighten yourself with ask.com!

One of the Evil Mad Scientists discovered that it is possible to use ask.com's search string suggestor to frighten yourself. Just type in an innocuous start to a question, and Ask will suggest umpteen possible ways for it to finish, chosen from the input of Ask's impressive cohort of users-too-dumb-to-just-use-Google.

This looked to me like a rich vein of entertainment waiting to be mined, so I had at it with a number of bland and innocent sentence-starters.

Ask, and ye shall be frightened.

What is a metaphor? A metaphor is a tree in a golden forest.

(Coincidentally, that's also the meaning of life.)

Ask, and ye shall be frightened.

Who is God? I'm betting on either Jeeves or the Vice President.

There's evidence pointing both ways.

Ask, and ye shall be frightened.

Apparently, people really miss Jeeves.

Ask, and ye shall be frightened.

Only the third-last one there actually worries me. But it's a biggie.

Ask, and ye shall be frightened.

Hey, it's Metaphor Guy again!

And now I'm envisaging a freshly re-fertile woman sitting, hopefully, in a hot tub.

(I'm not sure where the frozen cheese fits in.)

Ask, and ye shall be frightened.

After you leave home at 16, kid, this list contains a bunch of great suggestions for what to do with your life!

Ask, and ye shall be frightened.

Look! It's the ask.com Magic 8-Ball!

Ask, and ye shall be frightened.

I'm hoping this is just one really worried girl, and not a whole flock of 'em.

Ask, and ye shall be frightened.

OK, now it's starting to get depressing.

Ask, and ye shall be frightened.

I don't see why John Cena's marital status has anything to do with your plans to give him your bronchitis and pneumonia.

Ask, and ye shall be frightened.

I think we've found the Words That Start All Questions From A Stoner...

Ask, and ye shall be frightened.

...but now we're back in Scarytown.

(The Evil Mad Scientists are now running a competition for the best/worst ask.com suggestions!)

God Hates... Server Not Found

It is a black day for freedom of speech.

The destruction of the Library of Alexandria; the burning of "degenerate" books by the Nazis... and now this.

I shudder even to say it, but... The Westboro Baptist Church's globally renowned site, godhatesfags.com, has been taken down.

(I'm not kidding about the "renowned" part. Godhatesfags.com currently has a Google PageRank of 5. That's only one point lower than mine. And I'm fantastic.)

Wikipedia currently says that this terrible development is the fault of one "Iridius Izzarne of Seattle Washington", who complained to The Planet, Fred Phelps' Web hosts, about an Acceptable Use Policy violation.

If that's true (I'm going to go out on a limb and say that the complainant's name, at least, is not entirely kosher...), then the only part of it that surprises me is that it took this long.

The Planet's Acceptable Use Policy (PDF) prohibits any "data or content...which...constitutes a violation of any federal, state, local or international law".

Godhatesfags.com is one big hate-speech violation. The "international" part of the AUP makes this an open and shut case.

How long have The Planet been hosting Phelps' sites? Surely other people have complained?

(And yes, it is sites, plural. The similarly entertaining godhatesireland.com, godhatescanada.com and godhatessweden.com, Phelps' other sites which make clear his opinions about God's opinions about what Fred reckons are the most homo-friendly parts of the world, are also now down.)

This shouldn't be much of an obstacle for the Phelps', of course. There are plenty of hosting companies that'd be happy to take them on, either out of a fanatical devotion to free speech or because they already host a zillion spam servers and just don't give a shit as long as the cheques don't bounce.

I also presume that a family of lawyers like the Phelps' won't actually be dumb enough to complain about this horrible infringement of their free speech. Freedom of speech does not guarantee you the right to have your speech broadcast by any private entity.

(Ten thousand points go to anybody who can get Phelps to declare that this is all part of the Jewish banker/Muslim paedophile/Catholic sodomite conspiracy.)

Phelps, whose continued existence at the age of 77 testifies to the fact that neither God nor Satan wants Fred to get any closer to them, remains an absolute pearler of a test case for one's personal commitment to free speech. He's a stinking pustulent bubo on the buttocks of society, but he's got the same right to his beliefs, and right to state them in any even slightly decorous way, as everybody else.

I've got to say, though, that I wouldn't mind at all if Fred Phelps was just a gedankenexperiment.

Henge it yourself

I'd heard about the indomitable Wally Wallington before, but this clip...

...particularly caught my attention today, because only yesterday I took delivery of my copy of Moving Heavy Things.

Moving Heavy Things is a slim, short, wide volume that looks like a childrens' picture book. Although right sort of child would find it fascinating, it's actually a practical guide for adults who find themselves having to move whitegoods up stairs (or down them, which it turns out is often actually worse...), a boat up a beach, a barrel off a truck, or a piano just about anywhere.

With preparation, care, and imagination, Wally's living proof of the fact that it can be quite easy to perform feats that look, at first, as if they'd require assistance from aliens, a pissed-off Bruce Banner, or thousands of slaves.

Moving Heavy Things also has excellent illustrations. I highly recommend it.

(I have the feeling that Wally might make a good drinking buddy for Zawi Hawass, who's nominally the Secretary General of Egypt's Supreme Council of Antiquities, but whose day job actually seems to involve nothing but swatting pyramidiots on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper.)

Two teachers and a porn clerk

Many blogs let you look into the life of someone else. Sometimes that life is quite interesting. And sometimes that life is described with a combination of honesty and prurience which, I'm not ashamed to say, particularly appeals to me.

I can't quite pin down what it is, besides Not Safe For Workitude of one kind or another, that leads me to particularly enjoy these blogs over others. I mean, Random Acts Of Reality seems to contain all of the same ingredients, and I like it a lot, but it doesn't quite make it into the same category as these three:

I Am a Japanese School Teacher (first article here).

The Tard Blog, another tale of education against all odds (and also the quickest-to-read of the three, in case you'd like to try to get something else done today).

And the incomparable True Porn Clerk Stories.

About a trillion people already know about these, but I think there's a reasonable chance that even dedicated Net dorks aficionadoes haven't seen all three of them.

(If they're all new to you, you can of course completely kiss your productivity goodbye.)

Rugose squamous pathos

If you, like me, are a cynical depressive type, you should probably not read about the latest adventures of the luckless Mr Tehn.

Oh, sure, in Lovecraft books people who look like him are always rising from the too-deep mines by night to claim the sanity of mortal men, or getting up to NSFW hi-jinks with Japanese schoolgirls.

But that's all just racist nonsense that completely ignores the very real plight of the tentacled abomination in today's world.

Poor Mr Tehn.

At least, if this previous strip is to be believed, he has a cat.

(Now, those Schlorbians - they have a ball.)

(And please allow me to repeat my strong recommendation of Tim Kreider's two books.)

New frontiers in pseudoscience

High-tech dowsing rods have a storied history.

Their reason for being is simple enough. You can't really make a lot of money by selling the regular kind of dowsing rod or divining pendulum, you see, since anybody can make their own from coat-hanger wire, a stick, or any old thing on the end of a string.

(Pendulum enthusiasts often seem to believe that their pendulum needs a bob made from some exotic mineral or other, but there's not a lot of money to be made there, either.)

But you sure can make a lot of money if you make a special technomalogical box with some lights on it and an antenna sticking out which does, in essence, the same thing as a dowsing rod.

Which is nothing, of course. But plenty of people believe in dowsing, despite the repeated failure of dowsers to actually detect any darn thing in controlled tests.

But people insist on continuing to believe in dowsing, especially if it's dressed up with modern trappings. So other people are pleased to make decorated dowsing rods and sell them, or just their special expertise, for enormous prices.

There've been a few high-tech dowsing doodads over the years. The Quadro Tracker, the DKL LifeGuard, various and sundry other "Locator" devices; the list goes on. Several of these devices have been purchased - or, at least, the their promotors hired at great expense - by business and governmental entities. Not once have these things actually managed to find human life signs under rubble (in the case of the LifeGuard) or... well, just about anything (in the case of the Quadro Tracker), but hope springs eternal.

South African ex-cop Danie Krugel's incredible human-locator, though, is a significant step forward in the modern scam artists' constant struggle to further improve their money-to-effort ratio.

You just give him anything from the body of a lost person - a bit of hair, say, with or without the roots that contain the actual DNA - and his magic box will locate said person, by means of super-scientific quantum GPS DNA resonance. Apparently his box can also find oil or, um, bacteria.

Many dowsers and pendulumists believe they can do their thing over a mere map, without having to actually go to the place where people are trying to find oil or water or the Lost Treasure of the Aztecs or whatever. Danie Krugel is running the same sort of operation; he's not leaving the house if you don't provide a camera crew (and, I suspect, a substantial fee...).

And, apparently, the money rolls in!

Some terribly cynical people have reached the conclusion that Mr Krugel's magic box is a bit of a rip-off. Ben Goldacre just commented on it; he's less than impressed with some recent uncritical coverage of it in the UK papers. Apparently Mr Krugel has located "traces" of the missing child Madeleine McCann "on a resort beach", and in so doing catapulted himself into the same exalted category as those "psychics" who make money by stringing along grief-stricken families and annoying the police. (Sometimes they manage to parley this sort of thing into considerable celebrity.)

This South African blogger is also less than entirely impressed by Mr Krugel. Here's her post about Krugel's performance on a South African show, mentioned in glowing terms on the above-linked Canada Free Press article.

In brief, he actually achieved such amazing feats as saying that the body of a girl abducted by a now-dead paedophile was somewhere close to the paedophile's house - the location of which was public knowledge. They went there, they "narrowed it down", they dug up an old dumping ground and found 101 kinds of random junk including some little bits of bone that almost certainly had nothing to do with the missing girl, they handed those bits of bone over to the distraught parents, then they declared victory and went home.

Every now and then, a psychic says a missing person is dead (and often that the body is "near water", a claim that could mean it's just about anywhere except the middle of the Kalahari...), but that person later turns up alive and well.

Even that, though, seldom seems to dent the psychic's popularity.

The vendors of techno-dowsing gear often make more definite claims about their equipment, which can lead to problems when it clearly fails to, say, find people trapped under rubble.

Danie Krugel's playing it smart, by hybridising psychic-detective claims with techno-gibberish. People who'd never think of retaining the services of a psychic may be more kindly disposed to his "scientific" equivalent.

(A few days later, Ben Goldacre wrote a Guardian column about Krugel, who did not distinguish himself in a phone interview. And the day after that, the Observer apologised, more or less, for printing such abject bullshit.)

UPDATE: A couple of years after I wrote the above, it came to light that a different version of these idiotic electro-dowsing-rod things has been sold, at the usual outrageous prices, to the Iraqi government. They use them to detect bombs at security checkpoints. Or, you know, to not detect bombs at security checkpoints.

Yet more on Firepower

I only now got around to reading Gerard Ryle's latest Sydney Morning Herald article about "troubled" gasoline-improving-pill company Firepower, and its "colourful" directors.

The piece is pretty much just an updated recap of the sordid saga documented in previous articles, but more and more of the Firepower principals' background is coming out, and it's entertaining stuff. The nonexistent contracts, fake tests, string of previous financially questionable fuel-saving companies and guys linked to Nicolae Ceausescu and Halliburton, we already knew about. But there's more.

Kitchen renovations and standover men! Child-sex allegations! And, less excitingly, the continuing slow turning of the gears of the Australian Securities and Investments Commission, which may finally see these swindlers thrown in jail.

Don't count on it, though. For every "high flying" rip-off artist that actually sees the inside of a comfortable minimum security prison for a few months, there are ten who just declare bankruptcy yet again and then head off in a "borrowed" private jet to their next important meeting.

Three alarming links

While reading Tim Kreider's commentary for his most recent (Not Safe For Work, if your work is not awesome) comic, I was intrigued by his passing mention of a torture device called the "tongue screw".

That device is, for some reason, not listed on Occasional Hell's well-known (and probably also NSFW) Infernal Device site.

But it didn't take me long to find this page (probably SFW), which both shows you the device, and summarises its strange connection to modern Mennonite culture.

Some people will look at the three above-linked pages, shudder, and try to forget them.

Other people will still be reading four hours later.

Even if it does get them fired.

(Once you've lost your job, you will of course have more time to read Tim Kreider's excellent books.)