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I’m quite the connoisseur of Mongolian barbecue, and Engrish almost always makes me giggle. So you can imagine my delight to come across these instructions found at Kiro-Hitsuji, a purveyor of fine Mongolian cuisine in Japan. The highlight: “Spread the meat to the grill with fizzle to the sizzle. Wait ‘til the meat get smokin’ flava with da juice drippin’ to charcoal, then eat up with dippin’ to da bangin’ special soy sauce.” Ah, yeah! Who knew Genghis Khan was all gangsta an’ shit? Here’s a little free advice, should you ever find yourself working in an outsourced, overseas call center: If you are going to insist on pronouncing the word “content” (as in “downloaded content”) with the accent on the second syllable, don’t bother claiming that your name is “Steve.” Saw one of these at Wal-Mart today…Crayola, please step forward to collect your Ron Popeil Award for Bad Product Design:
The best part, just below the fold of their Total Tools page:
Look no further than your marketing department, folks… Overheard while on line this afternoon at Papa Murphy’s, picking up a pizza for dinner:
A small part of me died inside. (By the way, that cheesesteak pizza you see on the front page of the Papa Murphy’s site? Pretty good.) Whoever does the Flash development for the BBC ought to get a +5 to their Saving Throw vs. Pop Culture for this one…I give you the BBC’s Media Player:
In the last 24 hours, Jack Thompson was permanently disbarred, Jammie Thomas was granted a mistrial in the only file-sharing lawsuit the RIAA had actually won, and Slashdot users slammed Apple and were sympathetic towards Microsoft. Now, if you will pardon me, there’s a monkey making a mess out in the hallways of my office. And since it flew out of my ass, I suppose it’s on me to go round it up… From the San Jose Sharks’ RSS feed:
Either someone in the Sharks’ editorial office could use a lesson in geography, or I’m gonna get a kickass Cuban sandwich when I’m there for Opening Night in two weeks. From the Coolest Thing I’ve Seen All Day files: “Still Alive”, the song from the end credits of Portal, done as a typographical video: Whatever they have Jonathan Coulton do for Portal II (and really, if Valve doesn’t have JoCo write another end-credits song for Ellen McLain to sing at the end of Portal II, they should get out of the games business immediately), they could do a whole lot worse than to present it as something like this. I picked up Rock Band 2 today. We “B” Toyz had two copies left when I called them, and I hurried down and got one. Yay! I came home this evening after a great day out with some friends, dropped it into Ye Olde Xboxe, and set about starting a tour. One of the nice things about RB2 is that there is no longer a differentiation between “solo tours” and “band tours.” It all seems to be lumped into one single game mode. I approve of this. And this means my band needs a name. Awesome. The band name I used in RB1 was “Distinct Kicking Motion,” after a phrase used no less than eight times in the NHL Rulebook to describe one of the criteria for disallowing a goal, a rule change the NHL instituted in 1996, presumably to increase scoring, since that seems to be the intent behind most rule changes in sports. (Before then, if the puck went in off of a teammate’s skate, the goal didn’t count. Period.) So. Tap-tappity-tap (or, in this case, a fair amount of tedious cursoring around with the D-pad on the guitar, since that’s where I was logged in and so couldn’t use my Chatpad), and I hit Start to lock it in. And I get this: “Your intended band name is not what most would describe as “classy.” You can continue to use this name locally, but it will not be visible on Xbox LIVE unless you change it in the Band Profile.” The hell? I just went back and experimented for a moment (because I wanted to get the exact wording of the admonishment above), and I isolated the issue: “Kicking Motion”? No go. “Distinct Motion”? Nuh-uh. “Distinct Kicking”? Totally fine. The word “motion” apparently triggers the RB2 obscenity filters. Again, I say: the hell? I’ve got an e-mail in to Electronics Arts demanding an explanation as to how I developed this whore mouth all of a sudden. I’ll let The Four Of You know when I hear back. So, first off, I would like to thank the religious right for their vigilance, watching over the English language for my own safety and bitching and moaning enough that censorship like this has become part of the national discussion, so that I am protected from filthy, disgusting words like “motion.” Well done! And then, a message for all of those 12-year-old kids who think band names like “The Bung Felchers” and “Cöckgöbbler” are the pinnacle of hilarity, such that EA is pressured to add the filter in the first place: Fark every single one of you. Go back to Halo 3 and leave the rocking to responsible adults, huh? Through my pre-graduate public education, my school cafeterias, like most, were pretty hit and miss. All three were pretty much the same: the pizza tasted almost exactly like ass, but was wildly popular considering that the cafeteria had a monopoly on food distribution in our schools. The spaghetti was actually pretty good, and equally popular, but I credit that to two things: one, it’s pretty hard to screw up spaghetti, and two, I lived and went to school in two VERY Italian parts of Monterey, so the ladies who worked in our cafeterias had made spaghetti once or twice in their lives. Oddly, the turkey and gravy (and you know where this is going: cubes of what was almost assuredly turkey loaf, if not something canned, dumped unceremoniously on top of an food disher’s worth of instant potatoes) was almost universally reviled, but I rather liked it. (Yep. Food disher. Because when you’re a food geek, the phrase “ice cream scoop” Just Isn’t Pretentious Enough.) Anyhow, that was a way longer introduction than I intended to write for this bit, which is going to direct The Four Of You to an item about a Harrisonburg, Virginia school system that thought it would be a good idea to post pictures of the featured items in their cafeterias on the Web. Including:
Taco Patty? The HELL? Do I really want to know what is even IN a Taco Patty? And for that matter, why is the existence of a Taco Patty even NECESSARY? Is it really that friggin’ difficult or inconvenient to make massive amounts of taco meat? Tacos are a NATURAL for mass production, for God’s sake. And, in case you’ve always thought about going into food service, but wasn’t sure that you had the cooking chops for the gig:
Yes! Slice up some white bread, stick a cup of sauce next to it, and voila! Italian Dunkers! (It is, however, good to see Sandra Lee finding herself a side job…) |
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