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As a junior member of the Evil League of Evil, I'm pleased to say that one of the best of us, Tur-Mohel, has been made a charter member of the League! I can't say as I blame them. He had the best application video.

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"Who gives a **** about an Oxford comma?"

- Vampire Weekend
from 'Oxford Comma', off their self-titled album

Well, sadly... I do.

See, before I had a Bachelors of Science in Psychology, I planned to have a Bachelors of the Arts in English. Yeah, I was an English major. I changed majors when I realized that the major was essentially exhuming and misinterpreting the dead, but that's a different story.

The truth is, my love of English knows few bounds. I'm a bit of a writing geek (something that benefited me greatly writing up lab reports), and I'm not afraid to show it. Which brings me to the Oxford comma.

The Oxford comma, also known as the serial comma, could arguably be called the 'Star Trek vs. Star Wars' of the pathetic subset of the literary world. I emphasize the word arguably, because really, nobody can seem to agree on the correct usage of the thing. Physically speaking, it's identical to a regular comma (which anyone who reads anything I write will tell you I'm madly in love with). But in terms of placement and usage, the Oxford comma is a world apart.

Supporters of the Oxford comma, such as the students at Oxford University who started the Students for the Preservation of the Oxford Comma, believe the Oxford Comma should be standard practice. They're the veritable vanguard of generations past, dedicated to preserving the once proud comma for future generations of Anglophiles. They insist that the comma clarifies inconsistencies and simplifies reading. They're also supported by such heady organizations as the United States Government Printing Office, both the American Medical and American Psychological Association and, of course, Oxford University.

In the opposite corner stands, well, pretty much everyone else. London's The Times, The New York Times, The Economist, The Associated Press Stylebook and, of course, Oxford University.

Wait, didn't I mention Oxford University before? Yeah, I did. They're a little divided on the issue. And... well... so am I.

The dilemma behind the Oxford comma is this. Somewhere in legend there is a book dedication which reads as follows:

"To my parents, Ayn Rand and God."

What does this sentence mean? Does it mean that the book is dedicated to three people (parents, Rand, God) or that the book is dedicated to two people who the author views as their parents (Rand and God)? The lack of the comma makes it unclear. Thus, the Oxford comma was born. The Oxford exists to clarify this sentence (or not), and could be used to say "To my parents, Ayn Rand, and God." This would clarify that the author means three people. If it wasn't present, the author consciously considered the Oxford comma and instead meant for the sentence to indicate two people.

Confused yet? Welcome to the battle.

Personally, I can understand both sides. The example listed above is probably the most difficult one imaginable as there's really no good way to determine the author's intent without asking him or her. But since it's legend and not written record, asking the author is impossible.

But I have a theory. See, I think that the Oxford comma is discriminatory in the way that it assumes you're an idiot.

But you're not an idiot! You're a reasonable human being living in the 21st century! You've been reading since you were a child! The Oxford comma is unnecessary for you!

As such, you understand the written word. You're capable of reading a sentence and searching it for multiple meanings to understand what the author's getting at. The Oxford comma is not for you, then. The Oxford comma assumes that you're unable to process the multiple meanings of a sentence and instead tries to tell you, quite explicitly, what's being said. Not that there's anything wrong with that, mind you, but too many commas clutters a sentence. I'd know -- I'm a veritable pack rat of commas.

But brothers and sisters, I've come here today to propose a treaty between the Oxfordians and... uh... the Oxfordians. Or rather, the two warring factions.

I hereby propose the creation of and adherence to what I'll call 'The Unmistakable List'. Namely, the idea that certain lists absolutely do not need a comma, and some absolutely do. In this case, every sentence needs an Oxford comma unless it's an Unmistakable List, in which case it doesn't.

Let's compare two different sentences:

1. I enjoy many types of sandwiches, including ham, turkey and peanut butter and jelly.
2. My favorite fruits include apples, bananas and grapes.

In sentence one, the Oxford comma should be required in that one could make a case for doubting what constitutes the three listed sandwiches. Are they 1) ham, 2) turkey and 3) peanut butter and jelly, or 1) ham, 2) turkey and peanut butter and 3) jelly?

In this case, the author would be required to use a comma, making the sentence "I enjoy many types of sandwiches, including ham, turkey, and peanut butter and jelly". That way, the intent is clear to the reader.

In sentence two, the Oxford comma should not be used since the list is Unmistakable. The author is naming fruits and a comma after 'bananas' would be redundant and add nothing to the sentence. So the sentence stays as is.

Upon reflection, sentences utilizing the word 'and' near their end should definitely require the Oxford comma since they are definitely not Unmistakable. But as in the second example, it's not necessary. You're a grown adult, you can understand what's intended without the Oxford comma babysitting you and holding your hand.

I know the last thing the English language needs is the addition of another archaic rule regarding sentence composition. But in this case, in order to settle a debate which rages between several titans of publishing, I think an exception should be made.

So really, I'm for the Oxford comma. But in moderation. Give the reader the benefit of the doubt without the tyrannical absolutism of 'ALWAYS USE THE OXFORD COMMA'.

Anyone who read this is now a little smarter for it. I hope. Meanwhile, I've killed brain cells.

To paraphrase 'Kids in the Hall' member Scott Thompson, such a big fuss over such a little thing.

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Bonus credit -- read the following selection courtesy of Wikipedia and marvel at how much punctuation and a few tiny words can change the meaning of a sentence.

* They went to Oregon with Betty – a maid and a cook. (One person)
* They went to Oregon with Betty, who is a maid and a cook. (One person)
* They went to Oregon with Betty (a maid) and a cook. (Two people)
* They went to Oregon with Betty – a maid – and a cook. (Two people)
* They went to Oregon with the maid Betty and a cook. (Two people)
* They went to Oregon with Betty and a maid and a cook. (Three people)
* They went to Oregon with Betty, one maid and a cook. (Three people)
* They went to Oregon with a full staff: Betty; a maid; and a cook. (Three people)
* They went to Oregon with a maid, a cook, and Betty. (Three people)
* They went to Oregon with a maid, a cook and Betty. (Three people)

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I'd like to preface this entry with a bit of a disclaimer: I don't exactly know you, gentle reader. Namely, I'm not sure exactly who you are reading this, and as such, I'm not sure how much information I should give or withhold in order for you to understand this. So I'll instead provide you with a decent middle-ground so even the uninitiated can understand what's going on.

Portal is a video game released last Christmas in which players solve a series of puzzles under the promise of receiving cake upon completing all the puzzles. The cake is superfluous to the actual game and serves more as a MacGuffin than anything meaningful. But the ultimate goal of the game is to obtain the ever-elusive cake. Pictured below is the cake:



That should bring us up to speed.

So.

There are two types of nerds. The first type of nerd is the kind who is content simply with the existence of something they like. They're willing to read the comic book, watch the movie and play the video game. They're content knowing that if they'd like to relive the experience, they simply need to remember the event or maybe even go back and replay it.

The second type, though, is the more dangerous and more rewarding type of nerd.

The second type of nerd is not content experiencing. The second type must possess.

This can take a few different forms. If you've bought a tee-shirt, poster, action figure or any other memorabilia, you're the second type of nerd. You display your love via the possession of something related to your passion. Some are even more dedicated, and take it upon themselves to purchase or create something physical and tangible from the object of their love. Maybe a weapon used by a character, or a poster that appears in certain scenes. These are the best nerds, as they often have the best toys.

Unfortunately, I'm one of the second type of nerds. Which is why I baked a Portal cake.



You see, the cake is the Holy Grail of Portal. It's the raison d'être. It's why you brave life and limb. It's a delicious cake.

Thankfully, inside the game, the sentient computer which runs you through your tasks will, if you pay close enough attention, give you the recipe for the cake.

Hmm, this sounds like a nerdy challenge. So I did it.

The cake is a rich German chocolate cake (two layers) with coconut pecan frosting, whipped cream dollops and cherries on top. Which I baked using the recipe from the game. I used less dollops of cream and cherries, though, because I was slightly short on supplies.

For the record, everyone thought it was delicious. Even my uncle, who doesn't like chocolate cake, said it was good cake.

The cake is real, and it's pretty darn tasty.

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'Monsieur Pterodactyl Behaves Boorishly At The Dinner Party'
A digital illustration by A. Hudson, Dec. 2008

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One cup comedy, pitch black please!

Nothing tickles my fancy more than absolutely dark, morbid humor. It should be the same for you. So enjoy this video I found!

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Srsly. We can band together and end this before future generations get wise and start watching his reruns.

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Click above to start your article-relevant music!

So, it's official. As of today, at around noon...

I'm a college graduate.

I know, I know...



It's been a long time coming, and I'm glad that it's finally here. My senior year was, to put it lightly, 'interesting'. There were a ton (read: A TON) of set-backs with my Senior Project, combined with all sorts of behind-the-scenes stuff meaning that the last year has been relatively tough. But I turned in the final draft of my research write-up (findings: yes, there is classism at Westminster, it affects the mental health of the students there, and loneliness isn't necessarily the reason why) and got my senior project grade (B+).

So, I now officially enter the world of the work force. Getting jobs. Popping out kids. Saving up enough money to survive the economic nuclear meltdown going on to hopefully go to graduate school.

Good times.

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So, in the interest of SCIENCE!, I made a visual approximation of the day of the week known as 'Sunday'. I warn you, this video should not be taken lightly, nor watched during a period of peak excitement.



My thesis, you see, is that Sunday is the worst day of the week. Invariably, no matter how much fun you're having, everyone will eventually end up sitting around being bored on a Sunday. That's just how the day works.

When I'm President, we're going to outlaw Sundays. Or change their name to 'Fundays', and require municipal roller rinks be installed across our great nation.

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So mom's company fiesta-themed Christmas party (at the expensive house of her boss, none the less) was tonight and, as the man of the house, I got dragged along.

The good news is, the Mexican food was pretty solid, and there was a band (I'm a big fan of Mexican cultural music, so this is a bonus for me). Enjoy the video, and feel free to be as bummed as I was that a full mariachi band didn't show up.

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So I stumbled on to this page while surfing the internet yesterday. Someone with a similar sense of humor and love of mad science has made alphabet blocks for children. Well, mad scientist children. But who doesn't want their child to grow up to be a megalomaniac?



In case you don't feel like clicking through, here's a list of what's on the blocks:

A - Appendages
B - Bioengineering
C - Caffeine
D - Dirigible
E - Experiment
F - Freeze ray
G - Goggles
H - Henchmen
I - Invention
J - Jargon
K - Potassium
L - Laser
M - Maniacal
N - Nanotechnology
O - Organs
P - Peasants (with Pitchforks)
Q - Quantum physics
R - Robot
S - Self-experimentation
T - Tentacles
U - Underground Lair
V - Virus
W - Wrench
X - X-Ray
Y - You, the Mad Scientist of Tomorrow
Z - Zombies

All of which are vital vocabulary words and terms for anyone looking to one day dominate the Eastern seaboard.

Secretly, I really want some of these myself. I don't know how I'd get away with owning them, but they're pretty righteous, and I'm not prepared to knock up a girl so I can feel-good buy myself some wooden blocks. I'll have to figure out some other childish way to justify it.

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This is probably one of the more surreal things I've seen on the internet, and it's majestic.

Not only do David Bowie and Bing Crosby try a comedy skit (?) but then proceed to bust out a Christmas hit. So enjoy!

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So I turned the TV on this morning and this was what greeted me.

Let me tell you what's not cool.

It's a stressful time of the year, it being the holiday season and all. Some people might be under a decent amount of pressure, and might fear that they're going a little crazy sometimes.

For those people to turn on their TV to find loud carousel music and simply a colorful graphic saying it was time to not wear underwear? That might make them think they've really gone crazy.

What it ended up being was a two hour block on Boomerang of cartoons of characters that don't wear pants/underwear. Which is cool, because I got some Quick Draw McGraw, but still, I thought I was having a Berkowitz moment.

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I have no idea how to even begin creating a character for this game.

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Hey there. Saw you checkin' out my sweet toy raygun. So in childish response to Richard getting to play on sci-fi movie sets, I went and bought/made myself an awesome new toy.

One cup discount toy blaster, several parts things I had around the house, one-fourth of a stick of hot glue. A few spurts from a can of metallic silver, bronze and black spray paint as well as a heavy gloss overcoat and what've we got?

This bad boy which lights up and makes neat sounds and such. Pew pew, take THAT, space monsters!

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What's that, Richard? Speak up, pal. Oh, your job entails that you spent the last couple days aboard the set of a 1940's serial-style rocket ship playing with model rockets and goofing around?


Oh, what's that now? You didn't call your space nerd friend Austin to come accidentally barge in and spend the next five hours being difficult to remove?

Double-oh, you playing with toy rockets and lit fireworks off, and hanging out with people in space cadet costumes?

You're the worst best friend. In the universe.

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So, I just saw a commercial for a drug called Enbrel. One of the side effects that they shot through in their disclaimer?

FATAL EVENTS

Seriously, is there a worse possible side-effect to list than 'Fatal Events'? Holy crap! I mean, they listed it so casually. There's an optional drug you can take that will KILL YOU as a side-effect AND it's FDA approved?!

I'll see if I can find a copy of the commercial on the internet.

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A guy walks into a restaurant called Entropy. The waitress seats him and says, "Welcome to the Entropy restaurant, can I take your order?"

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A farmer wants to maximize the milk output of his dairy cattle.

To do this, he enlists several specialists to offer different options.

First, he consults with an economist. The economists suggests a new way of managing the farmer's finances, which will increase his fiscal return by 25%.

Next, he asks a biologist, who suggests a new type of food for the cattle. This would increase their milk output by 50%.

Then, he asks a chemist, who mentions an experimental growth hormone which would increase output by almost 75%.

Finally, the farmer decides to go out on a limb and ask a physicist. The physicist pulls out a pad and pencil and does some calculations, and eventually announces to the farmer that he can increase the dairy output of the cattle by almost 600%.

The farmer is ecstatic, and immediately demands to know how the physicist plans on accomplishing this.

The physicist proudly states, "First, assume a perfectly spherical cow."

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It's one thing to use clips of your movie as an anti-DVD piracy public service announcement.

It's another thing entirely when the movie you're using is the immortal Casablanca. Double entirely when the thesis of your PSA is that adultery is good and piracy is bad.



It's not the most recent PSA in the world, but someone finally uploaded it to YouTube so I could hate it all over again. Seriously, guys? What were you thinking with this one?

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Didja hear about the dyslexic who got into feminism while getting her physics degree?

She hosted ket burning parties.

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Three kingdoms in England all have a part of their kingdom on the shores of a large lake and are in constant competition over ownership of the island in the middle. Why, exactly, no one knows. However, one day it is agreed by the three kingdoms that all three will send all of their best knights and squires to the island for a knock-down, drag-out, winner-takes-all fight - Last man standing wins the island for his kingdom. The first kingdom sends out 50 knights with 3 squires each, and the squires busy themselves with readying their knights' weapons and armor while the knights relax in their tents.

The second kingdom sends out 40 knights with 4 squires each. The squires, as before busy themselves with preparation of the knights' equipment while the knights get some R n' R.

The third kingdom sends out one knight, with one squire. The knight readies his own weapons and armor while the squire walks out to the middle of the island with an iron pot in one hand and a noose in the other. He climbs the tallest tree on the island and hangs the pot from the tree using the noose. He then climbs back down and rests before the big battle tomorrow.

When the time to fight comes, the knights themselves are lazy bastards and send out their squires to do the real fighting. But when the dust clears, the only squire left is the squire of the third kingdom, the one who hung the pot from the tree! How did he win?

Well, that's easy. The squire of the high pot and noose is greater than the squires of the other two sides.

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It's almost done it's almost done it's almost done it's almost done it's almost done it's almost done it's almost done it's almost done it's almost done it's almost done it's almost done it's almost done it's almost done it's almost done it's almost done.

In a burst of frenzy, I wrote and polished the vast majority of my Senior thesis. The hard part is over.

YES!

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