DOLLOP
dol·lop (dlp) n.
A large lump or portion of a solid matter: a dollop of ice cream.
A small quantity or splash of a liquid: a dollop of whiskey.
A modicum; a bit: not a dollop of truth to the story.
(courtesy of the one and only dictionary.com...but you are free to look it up in the Encyclopedia Brittanica, if you wish.)
At any rate, how does a dollop get to be both a liquid and a solid? Is it some sort of phase transition or some sort of duckbilled platypus (the classical analog for an electron)? Furthermore, I'm no physicist or anything, but how exactly does a dollop go from being a large lump of solid to a small quantity of liquid?
This is as confusing as that time we talked about ducks and decorated sheds in cultures and traditions. I bet a post-modern architect is beneath all of this dollop nonsense as well.
This blog entry contains not even a dollop of sense. I learned something today, please to explain.
30 March 2006
27 March 2006
Yawping Ad Nauseum
This is a picture that you will not find on the Wabash College homepage. In the very least, I would have never guessed during the months that lead up to my first year, that an activity anything like Chapel Sing existed at Wabash.
Before coming to A&M, I had never humped it and yelled with 44,000 before, but I had certainly humped it and yelled with 24 in a match of competitive screaming with the other pledge classes my freshman year.
In the month or so leading up to homecoming and Chapel Sing, you could walk across campus at night with the sounds of the school fight song being evacuated from the young and naive lungs of our new freshmen -- each house delivering the same fight song with its own cadence and own spirit.
With the scarlet, green, and white house colors that adorned our faces, we were asked to look fierce and yell loud. I, for one, looked absolutely ridiculous and scared shitless; but I most certainly loved every minute of it.
Before coming to A&M, I had never humped it and yelled with 44,000 before, but I had certainly humped it and yelled with 24 in a match of competitive screaming with the other pledge classes my freshman year.
In the month or so leading up to homecoming and Chapel Sing, you could walk across campus at night with the sounds of the school fight song being evacuated from the young and naive lungs of our new freshmen -- each house delivering the same fight song with its own cadence and own spirit.
With the scarlet, green, and white house colors that adorned our faces, we were asked to look fierce and yell loud. I, for one, looked absolutely ridiculous and scared shitless; but I most certainly loved every minute of it.
25 March 2006
Bat Sh** Crazy
"Your solution, although brave, is not supported by logic."
Perhaps more debilitating words have been written as remarks on the margins of graded problem sets, but none can challenge the succint directness of that particularly phrase. Of course, this fate is better that writing a solution which is neither brave nor supported by logic, as is often the case -- for this remark was written on the problem set of one of my fellow graduate students last semester.
I seem to think about that a lot during an exam, especially when I have no idea how to approach any of the problems that appear on the exam. I wish I could get some bravery points though while writing an incorrect solution. At least that would boost my confidence a little bit.
At any rate, my Thursday night statistical mechanics exam went resoundingly well. And what a change of pace that is! Needless to say, I felt really great after the exam and went out to the Fox and Hound to celebrate -- as opposed to the commiserating that occurred after the Monday night E&M debacle.
The more I think about the Pokrovsky-ism that adorns the first line of this particular entry, the more I realize the potential broader application of the phrase. The ability for a person to take on the task of seeing through an illogical solution really shows their mettle -- and perhaps their gluttony for punishment.
Looking back on some of the solutions I have attempted in response to life's great problems, I wonder how brave I really was. For instance, how crazy or respectable could it possibly be that I made the choice to come down here for graduate school in physics? I don't think this was an opportunity that I made the conscious effort to create -- it was one that materialized outside of my willing cognizance. Making the decision to come down here required no bravery at all. It did require a knowing resignation to the fact that I am undeserving and am a largely lucky individual.
Sometimes though, a correct solution in physics, along with the best things in life, requires a lucky discovery. Perhaps though, a certain bravery exists in waiting that discovery out.
Perhaps more debilitating words have been written as remarks on the margins of graded problem sets, but none can challenge the succint directness of that particularly phrase. Of course, this fate is better that writing a solution which is neither brave nor supported by logic, as is often the case -- for this remark was written on the problem set of one of my fellow graduate students last semester.
I seem to think about that a lot during an exam, especially when I have no idea how to approach any of the problems that appear on the exam. I wish I could get some bravery points though while writing an incorrect solution. At least that would boost my confidence a little bit.
At any rate, my Thursday night statistical mechanics exam went resoundingly well. And what a change of pace that is! Needless to say, I felt really great after the exam and went out to the Fox and Hound to celebrate -- as opposed to the commiserating that occurred after the Monday night E&M debacle.
The more I think about the Pokrovsky-ism that adorns the first line of this particular entry, the more I realize the potential broader application of the phrase. The ability for a person to take on the task of seeing through an illogical solution really shows their mettle -- and perhaps their gluttony for punishment.
Looking back on some of the solutions I have attempted in response to life's great problems, I wonder how brave I really was. For instance, how crazy or respectable could it possibly be that I made the choice to come down here for graduate school in physics? I don't think this was an opportunity that I made the conscious effort to create -- it was one that materialized outside of my willing cognizance. Making the decision to come down here required no bravery at all. It did require a knowing resignation to the fact that I am undeserving and am a largely lucky individual.
Sometimes though, a correct solution in physics, along with the best things in life, requires a lucky discovery. Perhaps though, a certain bravery exists in waiting that discovery out.
21 March 2006
No Style Points
!. When did exams during the day become so passe? They're like the Encylopedia Brittanica of 2006. I hope next year pants go out of style. Those things itch like crazy.
2. Also, when did "Your gynecologist" jokes become the new "Your mom" jokes.
3.
I'm a tool and read the most current issue of Details Magazine. Supposedly, Vin Diesel wants to make a trilogy of movies on the life of Hannibal -- movies where the hero "will speak Punic, a language no one has heard in 2,000 years."
And that didn't come from the Random Vin Diesel Fact Generator.
Judging by this picture though, I'm afraid that Vin Diesel's dopey smile managed to eat my dopey smile whole. He lead a rich and full life.
4. After March Monday's Midnight E&M Exam, I went to the Fox and Hound with another graduate student. After a few beers, he made the scathing observation that a girl who just walked into the bar clearly had fake boobs, fake hair, and a fake tan. That ladies and gentlemen is the Tri-Faketa -- a dubious distinction at best and a recognition of one's commitment to Sparkle Motion.
5. Nothing is going out of style faster than logic. Some family of supposed Baptists have been protesting the funerals of American soldiers who have died in Iraq. Their message is that God is punishing soldiers who defend a nation that harbors homosexuals.
Every now and then I see a bumper sticker that says, "Support Our Troops. Support Our President." And I've always wondered what other mutually exclusive things could you juxtapose together. My personal favorite is "Support Our Troops. Support Fried Rice," which seems to be in the very least a statement which promotes good nutrition for the soldiers. They get more support from fried rice than they get from the president, I suppose. I might be biased though since I grew up on the stuff. And perhaps I'm guilty of the prevalent Midwestern Half-Filipino bias that is running rampant in this country.
At any rate, I suppose these fellows protesting funerals would have a bumper sticker along the lines of, "You don't have to be Pro-Khomeni to be Anti-American." I think that's a difficult line to walk though, what with the sharp discontinuities in sense and all.
6. Pomeranians.
7. Voice Inflection.
I'd like to show you my private accountant.
I'd like to show you my private accountant.
I would like to wear a little green visor, a button-down shirt with those band things around the elbows, and a good pair of suspenders though. And yes, I would like to fill it up with petroleum distillate and re-vulcanize your tires, post-haste.
8. I would like to see a problem where you are asked to find the potential everywhere for a a potato of time-dependent charge inside of a grounded conducting cylinder which is cut in half by an oscillating infinite plane -- standing on the infinite plane are two conducting monkeys which are jumping up and down because they are right quick mad. For extra credit, stick your head in a microwave or jab a pencil in your eye.
9. I woke up the other night during the middle of an awesome thunderstorm. A flash of lightning woke me up, but the resultant thunder-crash was so loud and so immediate after the lightning strike that my first conclusion was that the waste-water facility next door to me managed to somehow violently explode -- bringing down the largest shit-storm to hit College Station ever. I thought the ground was shaking, but that could have just been my imagination.
Now that I think of it, waking up covered in the entire town's sewage does sound gross.
10. Baseball is America's pastime.
2. Also, when did "Your gynecologist" jokes become the new "Your mom" jokes.
3.
I'm a tool and read the most current issue of Details Magazine. Supposedly, Vin Diesel wants to make a trilogy of movies on the life of Hannibal -- movies where the hero "will speak Punic, a language no one has heard in 2,000 years."And that didn't come from the Random Vin Diesel Fact Generator.
Judging by this picture though, I'm afraid that Vin Diesel's dopey smile managed to eat my dopey smile whole. He lead a rich and full life.
4. After March Monday's Midnight E&M Exam, I went to the Fox and Hound with another graduate student. After a few beers, he made the scathing observation that a girl who just walked into the bar clearly had fake boobs, fake hair, and a fake tan. That ladies and gentlemen is the Tri-Faketa -- a dubious distinction at best and a recognition of one's commitment to Sparkle Motion.
5. Nothing is going out of style faster than logic. Some family of supposed Baptists have been protesting the funerals of American soldiers who have died in Iraq. Their message is that God is punishing soldiers who defend a nation that harbors homosexuals.
Every now and then I see a bumper sticker that says, "Support Our Troops. Support Our President." And I've always wondered what other mutually exclusive things could you juxtapose together. My personal favorite is "Support Our Troops. Support Fried Rice," which seems to be in the very least a statement which promotes good nutrition for the soldiers. They get more support from fried rice than they get from the president, I suppose. I might be biased though since I grew up on the stuff. And perhaps I'm guilty of the prevalent Midwestern Half-Filipino bias that is running rampant in this country.
At any rate, I suppose these fellows protesting funerals would have a bumper sticker along the lines of, "You don't have to be Pro-Khomeni to be Anti-American." I think that's a difficult line to walk though, what with the sharp discontinuities in sense and all.
6. Pomeranians.
7. Voice Inflection.
I'd like to show you my private accountant.
I'd like to show you my private accountant.
I would like to wear a little green visor, a button-down shirt with those band things around the elbows, and a good pair of suspenders though. And yes, I would like to fill it up with petroleum distillate and re-vulcanize your tires, post-haste.
8. I would like to see a problem where you are asked to find the potential everywhere for a a potato of time-dependent charge inside of a grounded conducting cylinder which is cut in half by an oscillating infinite plane -- standing on the infinite plane are two conducting monkeys which are jumping up and down because they are right quick mad. For extra credit, stick your head in a microwave or jab a pencil in your eye.
9. I woke up the other night during the middle of an awesome thunderstorm. A flash of lightning woke me up, but the resultant thunder-crash was so loud and so immediate after the lightning strike that my first conclusion was that the waste-water facility next door to me managed to somehow violently explode -- bringing down the largest shit-storm to hit College Station ever. I thought the ground was shaking, but that could have just been my imagination.
Now that I think of it, waking up covered in the entire town's sewage does sound gross.
10. Baseball is America's pastime.
13 March 2006
Lazy Park Days
Istamby was a man of the city.
He would often think to himself about the nature of personality. Strangers were the greatest curiousity of all, and Istamby spent a great amount of time sitting on park benches and watched the walking strangers of the city pass by him. Each stranger could be broadly defined through interests -- superficial ones such as fashion, sports, and entertainment. Each stranger could be more narrowly defined through personality -- the quick-tempered, the lazy, and the humorous. Istamby liked to target a person as they passed through the park and then go about pigeonholing the stranger into the smallest of pigeonholes -- until there was nothing left, in his mind, by which he could identify that particular park passer-by. Istamby would target a person and then follow him through the park and observe. He would follow him through the park until the person transgressed the park boundaries. At that specific moment, that specific stranger could no longer be the subject of Istamby's favorite pastime.
Speaking of pastime's, Istamby's father loved baseball. And Istamby's mother loved to dote on her one and only son. Istamby was born Miguel, but Istamby's father quickly noted (and quickly resented) that Istamby was of the idyllic and pensive sort. Perhaps this was a result of sitting by the tube while just a toddler, watching Sesame Street and some Mr. Roger's Neighborhood while snacking on the lumpia that always seemed to be around the house. Istamby's father would yell, "Istamby Buong Maghapon," whenever he caught the young boy dozing off or staring intently on the activity outside or in the television. "Why don't you want to take part? There is more to life than watching." Over time though, as young Istamby entered the awkward and rebellious phases of adolescence, the two parents came to agree that his role as an observer most assuredly trumped the risks of having a son who spent his time idly gallavanting about, getting into lots of trouble and being troublesome towards young girls. At least they could agree on that.
Istamby would walk out to the park everyday. He did not have a strict schedule to follow, but he would normally be out in the park by two in the afternoon. At that time, he would take out his lunch bag and unwrap the two lumpia that his mother would carefully assemble and place at his bedroom door every morning. Lumpia, as you might expect, is not a morning food. But, for Istamby, it was definitely a food that enhanced the meditative and contemplative process. Istamby liked his lumpia to be cooked early in the day, so that when he was ready to eat them, they would be slightly cold and soggy. This really managed to seal in the true flavor of the lumpia. Istamby would wait for the first suitable target of the day to enter the bounds of the park. When that moment happened to occur, Istamby would then take the first bite out of the lumpia. His digesto-meditative state proved to be full and satisfying at times only when the subject of observation was of particular interest.
As one would expect, after some time had passed with this activity, Istamby found that not many new people would come into the park on a daily basis. Many of the faces would begin to become familiar in a way. But Istamby would merely add to their story, and soon these strangers felt like old friends -- or at least according to Istamby's view of friendship. At times, Istamby would feel compelled to approach one of the park-goers. But, as often accompanies the ability towards astute observation, Istamby found conversation to be especially troublesome.
When Istamby was a schoolboy, all the children would eat their lunch at their desk. This was because the private Catholic grade school that he attended failed to be equipped with a lunchroom. Lunchtime would come, and the children would go to their lockers in the hallway to retrieve their packed lunches. Occassionally, some of the mothers would volunteer to organize a hot lunch, and fresh and hot pizzas would be delivered to the classroom, much to the children's delight. Istamby liked school mostly because of the teachers. He didn't get along so well with the other children -- though this was not at all his fault. Strangely, Istamby felt intimidated by his peers but thoroughly felt at home with the kindly nuns and layperson teachers.
Istamby sat in the park one day and noticed a girl. He drew a blank but continued observing anyway. She passed and left the park's confines -- leaving Istamby a dudgeon mess. "Completely uncharacteristic," mused Istamby as he continued to while away his afternoon in the park's sunny environ, "and yet, strangely compelling and absolutely necessary."
A kindly, old woman walked into the park and offered up some fresh lemon square snack to the boyish Istamby. "You sit here everyday young boy. You watch and muse yet yearn for nothing." Istamby smiled graciously for the kind gift and nodded approvingly in response to the seeming harsh criticism.
"Perhaps this is true, but I contend that I do in fact live for something of value -- although you may not agree."
"Your father would not approve of this behavior of yours. He loved you dearly though, in despite of your awful shortcomings."
"I've had a full day of sitting here. I'm going home to cook up some lumpia. You should join me, and we can discuss this further."
(Note: I had the idea for this character while on spring break. He's not too much unlike a Korean boy that I was classmates with in grade school. I definitely don't have time to develop the ideas here more, but I like the start that I've gotten off to.)
He would often think to himself about the nature of personality. Strangers were the greatest curiousity of all, and Istamby spent a great amount of time sitting on park benches and watched the walking strangers of the city pass by him. Each stranger could be broadly defined through interests -- superficial ones such as fashion, sports, and entertainment. Each stranger could be more narrowly defined through personality -- the quick-tempered, the lazy, and the humorous. Istamby liked to target a person as they passed through the park and then go about pigeonholing the stranger into the smallest of pigeonholes -- until there was nothing left, in his mind, by which he could identify that particular park passer-by. Istamby would target a person and then follow him through the park and observe. He would follow him through the park until the person transgressed the park boundaries. At that specific moment, that specific stranger could no longer be the subject of Istamby's favorite pastime.
Speaking of pastime's, Istamby's father loved baseball. And Istamby's mother loved to dote on her one and only son. Istamby was born Miguel, but Istamby's father quickly noted (and quickly resented) that Istamby was of the idyllic and pensive sort. Perhaps this was a result of sitting by the tube while just a toddler, watching Sesame Street and some Mr. Roger's Neighborhood while snacking on the lumpia that always seemed to be around the house. Istamby's father would yell, "Istamby Buong Maghapon," whenever he caught the young boy dozing off or staring intently on the activity outside or in the television. "Why don't you want to take part? There is more to life than watching." Over time though, as young Istamby entered the awkward and rebellious phases of adolescence, the two parents came to agree that his role as an observer most assuredly trumped the risks of having a son who spent his time idly gallavanting about, getting into lots of trouble and being troublesome towards young girls. At least they could agree on that.
Istamby would walk out to the park everyday. He did not have a strict schedule to follow, but he would normally be out in the park by two in the afternoon. At that time, he would take out his lunch bag and unwrap the two lumpia that his mother would carefully assemble and place at his bedroom door every morning. Lumpia, as you might expect, is not a morning food. But, for Istamby, it was definitely a food that enhanced the meditative and contemplative process. Istamby liked his lumpia to be cooked early in the day, so that when he was ready to eat them, they would be slightly cold and soggy. This really managed to seal in the true flavor of the lumpia. Istamby would wait for the first suitable target of the day to enter the bounds of the park. When that moment happened to occur, Istamby would then take the first bite out of the lumpia. His digesto-meditative state proved to be full and satisfying at times only when the subject of observation was of particular interest.
As one would expect, after some time had passed with this activity, Istamby found that not many new people would come into the park on a daily basis. Many of the faces would begin to become familiar in a way. But Istamby would merely add to their story, and soon these strangers felt like old friends -- or at least according to Istamby's view of friendship. At times, Istamby would feel compelled to approach one of the park-goers. But, as often accompanies the ability towards astute observation, Istamby found conversation to be especially troublesome.
When Istamby was a schoolboy, all the children would eat their lunch at their desk. This was because the private Catholic grade school that he attended failed to be equipped with a lunchroom. Lunchtime would come, and the children would go to their lockers in the hallway to retrieve their packed lunches. Occassionally, some of the mothers would volunteer to organize a hot lunch, and fresh and hot pizzas would be delivered to the classroom, much to the children's delight. Istamby liked school mostly because of the teachers. He didn't get along so well with the other children -- though this was not at all his fault. Strangely, Istamby felt intimidated by his peers but thoroughly felt at home with the kindly nuns and layperson teachers.
Istamby sat in the park one day and noticed a girl. He drew a blank but continued observing anyway. She passed and left the park's confines -- leaving Istamby a dudgeon mess. "Completely uncharacteristic," mused Istamby as he continued to while away his afternoon in the park's sunny environ, "and yet, strangely compelling and absolutely necessary."
A kindly, old woman walked into the park and offered up some fresh lemon square snack to the boyish Istamby. "You sit here everyday young boy. You watch and muse yet yearn for nothing." Istamby smiled graciously for the kind gift and nodded approvingly in response to the seeming harsh criticism.
"Perhaps this is true, but I contend that I do in fact live for something of value -- although you may not agree."
"Your father would not approve of this behavior of yours. He loved you dearly though, in despite of your awful shortcomings."
"I've had a full day of sitting here. I'm going home to cook up some lumpia. You should join me, and we can discuss this further."
(Note: I had the idea for this character while on spring break. He's not too much unlike a Korean boy that I was classmates with in grade school. I definitely don't have time to develop the ideas here more, but I like the start that I've gotten off to.)
11 March 2006
Koalas Gone WILD!!!
1. I have two midterms the week following spring break. The classical electrodynamics midterm will begin promptly on Monday the 20th at 7 pm. Not to be outdone, I have a statistical mechanics problem set due the same day, to be followed by my second midterm on Thursday beginning promptly at 6 pm.
Evening exams are wonderful, because then I still have the pleasure of sitting in on the lectures for both of those classes on their respective dates.
My koala friend will have to party twice as hard this year to make up for my party-deficient spring break.
2. Dictionary.com's word of the day for Saturday, March 11:
crapulous \KRAP-yuh-lus\, adjective:
1. Suffering the effects of, or derived from, or suggestive of gross intemperance, especially in drinking; as, a crapulous stomach.
2. Marked by gross intemperance, especially in drinking; as, a crapulous old reprobate.
I always thought crapulous was a word made up by not-so-creative teenagers (such as myself when I was a budding, young, barely legal teen).
3. The Gordone Awards Competition:
I was naive enough to think that I would have plenty of time over spring break to write a new, original piece of creative fiction for this English Department sponsored writing competition.
I could use some help in picking a submission from the small-ish body of work that I've compiled and posted on this blog. I could also use some help in revising said piece. So, any suggestions or insults would be greatly appreciated.
4. Earlier this week I woke up after 3 hrs of sleep thinking, "It's ok, I can go back to sleep because I conformally mapped my sleep patterns." Conformal mapping is a very useful tool where you map points from a two-dimensional space onto a complex plane, thereby making some complicated geometry easier to manage.
I hate it when I wake up in a cold sweat thinking about a physics problem. That's bullshit.
5. If I don't start learning physics faster, the next course I take might be called "automotive mechanics." And then I wouldn't have to worry about being assigned problem sets which are illustrative of nothing at all and which contain a numerous amount of onerous pathologies.
6. I came home from class yesterday and fell asleep by 5 pm. I woke up for about an hour around midnight, went back to sleep, and didn't wake up again until 11 am. It was awesome. Everything I could have ever hoped for, considering my physics consumption of late.
7. Thank God for my physics friends. Although my idea of a good time usually does not include poring over a single problem set with ten other physics students on a Wednesday evening for over ten hours straight -- it is often an illustrative and enligtening experience.
01 March 2006
Who Got the Best of Jobu?
Because of my infatuation with concatenation and truncation, Jobu is perhaps my favorite nickname for myself.
And so, here is the first annual list of "The Best of Jobu":
1. No Jobu compilation would be complete without paying homage to the famed Voodoo character from the critically acclaimed, box-office smash Major League.
This movie about the Tribe from Cleveland, those lovable losers who formally played in "The Mistake by the Lake," made Jobu a permanent fixture on the pop culture radar -- influencing the course of human history inalterably forever. In the words of that inimitable, aging pitcher from the aforementioned movie, Eddie Harris, "Hey Bartender, Jobu needs a refill!"
2.
Jobu is the greatest southern rock act out of New Jersey that you've never heard of. Click here for more Jobu music.
3. Are you in the market for heavy-duty gimbals, super telephoto flash brackets, or double bubble levels? Are you a rugged individualists on the go, continually looking for the world's most perfect nature or sports action photograph? Well look no further than the Canadian photography engineering firm Jobu Design.
4. So I lied when I claimed to "make an excellent handbag." But I sure as hell sell an excellent handbag. At Jobu Handbags, you can not only purchase some of the world's most exclusive and elegant ladies' handbags, you can become utterly confused with foreign currency exchange rates while fighting to understand the true value of the British Pound.
5. Zum Gluck!
It's Meggle Time baby! Try Meggle's new JoBu Erdbeer for a delightfully delcious, creamy strawberry trinksnack. Now only 299 Kilojoules per serving!
6. Jobu Dudley? What a n00b. Apparently if Branecki and I ever successfully mated, the product would be some sort of video game nut.
7. Try my not-so-secret anymore recipe for sausage and peppers. No, don't do that. Sausage and peppers sound gross -- no matter how kind this supposed Mr. and Mrs. Jobu sound.
8. Extra Heavy, XXX Strong Forged Shank. Deep Throat Bend. Cutting Point. Anti-corrosion Black Chrome. Titles for full-length, feature pornographic films? Nope. Owner Jobu Big Game Hooks are ideal for chunking and trolling. So target and rig that huge as fuck tuna all you want big boy.
9. Catch Your Dream.
Jobu University. They'll deceptively weed your mind of roughly ill-smelling ideas -- or so Google's Beta translator claims.
10. Although our techniques are based on centuries old knowledge, it is our application of that knowledge that sets JOBU SHIN KAN Hoku apart.
That's all for this year's top ten in Jobu.
Zum Gluck! Remember the 3 R's. Reduce. Reuse. Recycle.
And so, here is the first annual list of "The Best of Jobu":
1. No Jobu compilation would be complete without paying homage to the famed Voodoo character from the critically acclaimed, box-office smash Major League.
This movie about the Tribe from Cleveland, those lovable losers who formally played in "The Mistake by the Lake," made Jobu a permanent fixture on the pop culture radar -- influencing the course of human history inalterably forever. In the words of that inimitable, aging pitcher from the aforementioned movie, Eddie Harris, "Hey Bartender, Jobu needs a refill!"2.
Jobu is the greatest southern rock act out of New Jersey that you've never heard of. Click here for more Jobu music. 3. Are you in the market for heavy-duty gimbals, super telephoto flash brackets, or double bubble levels? Are you a rugged individualists on the go, continually looking for the world's most perfect nature or sports action photograph? Well look no further than the Canadian photography engineering firm Jobu Design.
4. So I lied when I claimed to "make an excellent handbag." But I sure as hell sell an excellent handbag. At Jobu Handbags, you can not only purchase some of the world's most exclusive and elegant ladies' handbags, you can become utterly confused with foreign currency exchange rates while fighting to understand the true value of the British Pound.
5. Zum Gluck!
It's Meggle Time baby! Try Meggle's new JoBu Erdbeer for a delightfully delcious, creamy strawberry trinksnack. Now only 299 Kilojoules per serving!6. Jobu Dudley? What a n00b. Apparently if Branecki and I ever successfully mated, the product would be some sort of video game nut.
7. Try my not-so-secret anymore recipe for sausage and peppers. No, don't do that. Sausage and peppers sound gross -- no matter how kind this supposed Mr. and Mrs. Jobu sound.
8. Extra Heavy, XXX Strong Forged Shank. Deep Throat Bend. Cutting Point. Anti-corrosion Black Chrome. Titles for full-length, feature pornographic films? Nope. Owner Jobu Big Game Hooks are ideal for chunking and trolling. So target and rig that huge as fuck tuna all you want big boy.
9. Catch Your Dream.
Jobu University. They'll deceptively weed your mind of roughly ill-smelling ideas -- or so Google's Beta translator claims. 10. Although our techniques are based on centuries old knowledge, it is our application of that knowledge that sets JOBU SHIN KAN Hoku apart.
That's all for this year's top ten in Jobu.
Zum Gluck! Remember the 3 R's. Reduce. Reuse. Recycle.
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