Warning: Potentially offensive language follows. If you're anything like the CAP Alert guy, and rude language sends you into a frothing-at-the-mouth tizzy, you might want to stop reading now.

Eudora, the mail program I use, has a built-in "MoodWatch" feature that lets you know if an incoming or outgoing message contains offensive language.

I've long wondered about the person who programmed the filter; for example, it considers "fellatio" to be an offensive word, but not "cunnilingus". Similarly, "cocksucker" gets flagged as rude, but "carpetmuncher" doesn't. However, "Dick van Dyke" apparently has a rude last name (and if you don't capitalize it, both his first and last names are flagged as offensive), yet "Penis van Lesbian" passes without comment.

In fact, "penis" isn't flagged as offensive unless "vagina" also appears in the message (and vice-versa). "Ass" is offensive (even though it can also mean "donkey"), but "arse" (which only means the buttocks) is inoffensive — even though it does flag "arsehole" as obscene.

But the weirdest thing was when I received an email today that was flagged as offensive. I read the whole thing, and couldn't find a single offensive thing in it — not even a "damn" or "hell" (which, amusingly enough, aren't considered offensive by Eudora). So I copied the whole text of the email and pasted it into a new message (for Eudora highlights potentially offensive words as you type them).

The offensive phrase? Black velvet.

I'm completely mystified. What on earth is offensive about black velvet?

On the previous season of Angel, I was pretty sure that Angel's infant son Connor would follow the usual Fantasy/Science Fiction convention of miraculously growing to adulthood in a very short order. As the episodes dragged on, chock-full of the annoying wailing of the bantling, I began to worry that I'd been wrong.

Fortunately, though, one of the bad guys eventually whisked the brat away to a demon dimension, and he returned shortly as an adolescent.

Karen informs me that the same thing occurs on soap operas; a child will be born, is sent away to a boarding school, and the kid reaches the age of consent a month or two later.

If (heaven forbid) Karen and I ever sprog, we need to find the address of one of those boarding schools.

At the Coronation of Yoan and Eórann, the Trimarian Cooks' Guild presented His Majesty with a gift of his weight in rice, as tribute to his Korean heritage. Yoan, having fun with them, decreed that his Herald (a stout man, and tall) would stand in for him on the balance. Hilarity ensued, especially as the Guild didn't have nearly enough rice.

Recently, upon the Trimarian cooks' mailing list, someone was asserting that the gag had terribly offended His Majesty; rice was very important to Orientals, not a laughing matter, yadda yadda yadda. I found that a little hard to believe, since he'd been laughing about it afterwards. Karen responded to the poster asking if they were sure that he was offended, or if they were just assuming that he was. (I use the grammatically incorrect plural pronoun because I can't tell the poster's gender from his or her name.)

Somebody else leapt to the original poster's defense, saying that the original poster was the event's autocrat, and therefore was in a position to know, no reason to doubt their word, blah blah blah.

So I called Their Majesties and asked. I spoke directly to Her Majesty. No, he wasn't displeased or offended, she said; as a matter of fact, he was rather amused by it.

That's one of the problems with the SCA (well, in Trimaris, at any rate). Rumors fly around willy-nilly, but rather than actually speaking to the individuals involved, people accept the rumors as gospel truth; very rarely do people in the SCA ever take pains to hear both sides of a story before judging someone. For an organization that burbles about its commitment to courtesy and chivalry, many of its members are pretty damned quick to act unjustly.

This weekend, along with nearly a score of other hardy souls, I spent two long days learning from a gentleman who's spent years translating and interpreting a treatise from 1410 on various combat techniques.

We got a chance to learn and practice period wrestling, dagger, baton, short sword and long sword; and we learned techniques of armored combat, with sword, pole-axe and spear.

It threw into sharp focus how inauthentic SCA combat really is. Many of the unarmored swordfighting techniques found in Flos Duellatorum are prohibited by SCA rapier combat rules (such as deliberately disarming your opponent, binding his arms, throwing him, or — with certain blade types — grasping his blade). And swinging a sword, at least in Fiore dei Liberi's manual, was simply not done in armor. (Why? Because unlike in the SCA — where a good swing can count as a killing blow — in the real world, armor was proof against cutting swings, as well as nearly every thrust. The only way to kill an armored opponent was to stab an unprotected place: the face, under the arm — if you could thrust strongly enough to get through the mail worn under the plate armor — behind the knees, or the buttocks.) Nearly all of the armored sword techniques involved holding your sword with one hand on the hilt, and the other halfway up the blade, unless you were thrusting from a certain position. (I'm definitely going to have to check out other fighting treatises and Fechtbücher to see if they're similar.)

But the techniques we learned were absolutely astounding. They were elegant in their simplicity; sometimes brutal, sometimes comical (grab your opponent's elbow and push him backwards, then simply grab his near knee and pull — and down he goes).

SCA fencing would be several dozen orders of magnitude cooler if they did stuff like this, instead of crap like rubber band guns and "le poulet gauche"; judging from some of the comments made by the heavy-weapons fighters (such as their scheming to get some of the moves deemed legal), it seemed just as cool for their idiom.

It's just impossible to convey in words how sweet this stuff was; how magical it seemed to just move your hand a certain way, step backwards, and watch his sword or dagger fly out of his grip. All weekend, I was just shaking my head and smiling in wonderment at how simple the moves were, yet how fantastic were the results.

As usual, the media is falling all over itself to report an incidental remark made by a politician, and ignoring more important topics (such as the economy, the erosion of civil rights, and so forth). The current tempest, of course, revolves around Republican leader Trent Lott's praise of Strom Thurmond's 1948 presidential bid, an anti-civil-rights, pro-segregation, anti-miscegenation platform.

Republicans are whining that the Democrats have seized upon a minor thing and are trying to make a big issue out of it, and that they're attacking Lott's character rather than debating actual issues like national security — both of which are true, but it's not as if the Republicans are innocent of doing the same exact thing. (One would think that the party which makes a big deal about Christianity would remember that line about "He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her".)

Personally, I find the whole thing ridiculous. Lott made the comments by himself; he wasn't speaking in an official capacity for the Republican Party. Why, then, are other Republicans issuing statements about the issue? They didn't speak out on behalf of registered Republican Timothy McVeigh — not that they needed to. If an individual demonstrates that he is a moron, that's his business. The Republican response seems no different from the Democrats who leapt to Bill "Blue Dress" Clinton's defense after it was revealed that he'd stood in front of the camera, looked America right in the eye, wagged his finger angrily and lied to us, insisting that he had not had sexual relations with "that woman".

Personally, I find White House spokesman Ari Fleischer's statement on the matter somewhat disturbing:

"The president, as I said yesterday, understands and knows that America is a much richer and better nation as a result of the changes that have been made to our society involving integration and the improvement of relations between races"

This is so stilted and unnatural-sounding that it comes across as though it's something that had to be explained to Dubya. Surely the President of the United States isn't that much of an idiot.

One of the pages on Adweek's site is a list of what they feel were the best commercial spots of the 1990s. Some of them were pretty good, some of them didn't really excite me, and quite a few of them I never saw.

They didn't list one of my favorites: the Old El Paso commercial in which the perky young housewife laments in song, "One pound of hamburger left in the fridge; 'Mom, what's for dinner' is the question I hear."

There's nothing really special about the commercial until the woman's husband comes home, sees the Old El Paso cowboy lounging against the kitchen counter, and demands "What's he doing here?" Cut to the cowboy, who waggles his eyebrows at the camera and grins lasciviously, accompanied by a musically suggestive "Ting!" in the soundtrack.

I'm not sure what the message was supposed to be, but it came across as "Old El Paso: We'll feed your family, and cuckold you in your own home!"

I've noticed something about the Switch ads on Apple's Web site. There are two classes of people represented there.

First, you have the people who never actually mention having used a PC; mostly celebrities, like Yo-Yo Ma, Tony Hawk and De La Soul. They're just plain celebrity endorsements; there's no hint, either from the videos or their written stories, that they've ever even used a PC. A couple of "regular people" also don't even mention PCs, at least in the videos (Fabiola Torres, for example).

And then you have the real "switchers", people who mention how difficult they found the PC world, and how easy the Mac is by comparison.

(Okay, there's a third class: the Japanese Switchers. I have no idea which of the first two categories they fit into, since I don't speak Japanese, but Momoko Kikuchi makes the greatest facial expressions. I love the little perplexed/worried/pouting face she makes right before she coughs up a hairball.)

Anyway, the "real" switchers all have the same complaint: Windows is just too darned hard! It is? I guess these are the people who buy all of those "For Dummies" books. Now, don't get me wrong; I know plenty of Mac users who are quite intelligent, and who could easily master Windows if they wanted to. They simply prefer Macs.

I think the "Switch" campaign does a disservice to intelligent Mac users, because it paints a picture of the Mac as a Computer For Dummies. So with that in mind, I wrote some lyrics for John Murphy's "Spit" (the music they play in the background of the Switch ads):

Stemming from a conversation Karen and I had recently, here are some Christmas gifts which just scream "I have no clue about who you are or what you like."

• Scented candles
• A tie^*
• Toilet roll holder
• Socks^*
• Clothes hangers
• Toiletry travel case
• Kleenex box cozy

^* Except, of course, for those with personally appropriate designs. Assuming, of course, that the recipient wears ties.

Speaking of inappropriate, what's with all the American-flag-waving Santas this year? Feh.

There were three ravens sat on a tree,
Down a down, hey down, hey down.
There were three ravens sat on a tree,
With a down.
There were three ravens sat on a tree,
Most boring lyrics in history,
With a down derry derry derry down down.

Crapulence is a real word. Who'd've guessed?

Last night, for dinnertime entertainment, Karen and I bypassed the All Friends Network and The Friends Channel to watch some of the supplemental material on the Fellowship of the Ring DVDs. That segment on the moving forced perspective was sheer genius; it left me with a newfound admiration for Peter Jackson.

And though I hadn't been terribly hyped about the forthcoming second installment, it certainly whetted my appetite, and I now find myself sympathizing with Bob the Angry Flower's eager anticipation.

My boss' friend is visiting the office.

The only thing he can discuss is politics.

The only way he can discuss it is at the top of his lungs. And with a great deal of repetition. And, of course, in order to get a word in edgewise, my boss has to raise his voice as well. So they're literally standing four feet apart, shouting at each other in an uninterrupted torrent of politics.

It's not like they're trying to drown each other's view out, though; they're both preaching the same message to each other, getting so worked up that they're shouting louder and faster. Apparently nobody's taught them to use their "inside voices".

And this will continue until my boss decides to go home for the evening.

Wheeeee.

I originally wrote this for a comment on one of Karen's blog entries, but it turned into a long narrative, so I've moved the bulk of it here.

Darren asked, more or less, why people drink Moxie. I don't know about other people, but this is my story:

Way back when I was in high school, I'd get together with my friends quite frequently to play D&D. One time, upon discovering that there were no munchies in the house, we went en masse to the grocery store.

There we found the Moxie. It intrigued us, with its bright orange label and 50s-advertising cartoon man pointing accusingly at us. So what the heck, we bought a couple of bottles of it to supplement the Coke and Mountain Dew.

We tried it first. And we all immediately dumped out our glasses into the sink, because it was awful. The second bottle, and the remainder of the first, stayed in my fridge for weeks.

Cut to: Jeff, thirsty and broke. No money to buy soda, slightly over two liters of evil beverage taunting me in the fridge. Water, or Moxie? Water, or Moxie? (Crab juice, or Mountain Dew?) I hated drinking water, so I steeled myself and poured some Moxie.

Bleargh. Just as horrible as I'd remembered it. But it was sugary and caffeinated, so I forced it down. By the end of the second two-liter, I found I didn't really mind it anymore. Perhaps it had killed the taste buds which objected most strenuously to it; I don't know.

So I brought some more to the next D&D game, just as a joke. And my friends, who normally descended upon food and drink like a cloud of locusts (or a school of piranha) wouldn't touch it. For the first time ever, my soda lasted all the way through the game. And thus it became my customary beverage during D&D games, and I grew to actually enjoy the taste.

Now that I've moved to the South, closer to where Moxie is actually brewed (Atlanta, GA), it's difficult to find. Every once in a while, I'll make the trek across Tampa to Subs & Such, the sandwich shop that stocks sodas from around the world (such as Irn Bru and Afri-Cola) and pick up some Moxie (as well as the aforementioned drinks).

Now that I think about it, it's been a while since I did so.

Find out Which D&D Character Are You? (courtesy of Moira).

I got Chaotic Good Half-Elf Bard, which is ironic because I always considered the bard character class fairly useless.

(Ha! See, Karen? I'm not Lawful Good after all!)

In recent years, there has arisen a new Christmas tradition between Karen and me. She'll set the TV to TNT, where they show 24 hours of A Christmas Story; I will (inevitably, after that many viewings) begin to notice continuity errors, and she will grumble at me for daring to say anything "bad" about the Sacred Movie.

Stuff like Ralph's friend Schwartz coming out of the house two doors down from Ralph's, but Adult Narrator Ralph later saying that Schwartz lives three blocks away. Or Miss Shields being able to erase "The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog" and write "What I want for Christmas" in under four seconds, without the noise of chalk on chalkboard. Or the line of children waiting to see Santa mysteriously disappearing when Ralph is in Santa's lap, but then reappearing after he's been sent down the chute.

It's not that I look for such things, they just kind of jump out at me.

Well, some things I do consciously look for. For example, the Little Orphan Annie "secret code" — I've always been interested in codes and ciphers, so when "Pierre Andre" said to set the decoder pin to B-2, I took a good look at the close-ups of the decoder pin. The letters and numbers both ran sequentially, making it an easy substitution cipher. So if the first two numbers are 12 and 11, there's no way the message could be "Be sure to drink your Ovaltine", because the first two numbers translated to the letters "L" and "K", respectively.

Don't get me wrong, I think it's a great movie. The whole cast, but especially Peter Billingsley, did a fantastic job, and I don't really mind watching it over and over again once a year (though I do rag on Karen about it, since she rags on me for watching a DVD and then immediately playing it again with the commentary audio track.

Ye Mystic Krewe of Gasparilla is demanding that they be the only ones permitted to dress as pirates during the annual Gasparilla Parade in Tampa.

Never mind that other "krewes" have dressed as pirates for years. Never mind that other krewes are formed around the legends of other pirates, such as Grace O'Malley. Never mind that their members have invested quite a bit of money in their floats and costumes (one cost-unconscious kreweman in the article mentions that he's paid "several thousand dollars" for his pirate costume). Never mind that the parade is in honor of Jose Gaspar, the pirate!

Nah, never mind all that. Ye Mystic Krewe wants to distinguish themselves. Heaven forbid they should come up with something original! That would take effort! Much easier to just tell everyone else to stop doing what they've been doing.

Two tangential points: First of all, the word "ye" is not, and has never been, a definite article. It's the nominative second person formal singular/informal plural pronoun (but also, oddly, the objective second person plural pronoun). Þe is the archaic spelling of the definite article.

And secondly, several thousand dollars? For a costume? Hell, I'm definitely in the wrong business; I was able to make a complete authentic 18th-century naval uniform, including hat and shoes, for under $200. How can I get in on this obscene overcharging action?

I wonder how difficult it would be to make a trackball using a pool cue ball, the guts of a mouse, and basic hardware supplies? A spinner isn't that difficult to build...