Recently in Misc Category

The story of Christmas. In Jamaican Creole. Via John Well's Phonetics Blog.

So I've been studying inferential statistics (give me a second while I add that to my list of "ways not to start a blog post"), and something odd has struck me. Statistics is witchcraft.

Allow me to elaborate. In the popular media, "statistics" are often banded about to show the sorry state of the world. 70% of children have sold drugs to other children! And other crazy statements (often with no mention of sample size or demographic). In the social sciences, statistics is viewed as this magical spell that you can cast over your numbers and see if they're "significant" or not.

I've always been more fond of hard science than of the social sciences, so I'd like to think that I can see through that shimmery exterior and see stats for what it really is - applied mathematics, a simple tool, systematic application of mathematical principles over a distribution of numbers. But then I realised that there was something mystical about it.

If I can digress, for the purposes of exegesis - when I was younger, I used to play D&D a fair bit. (D&D is Dungeons and Dragons, a fantasy tabletop roleplaying game.) If you know me in person you probably won't be surprised at this revelation. Now in D&D there are a number of magical spells that magic-using characters can cast. Many of them have rather mundane names, like Light, Magic Missile, or Teleport. Some are more exotic however, and are named after the (supposed) creator of the spell, for example Abi-Dalzim's Horrid Writing or Tasha's Uncontrollable Hideous Laughter.

Statistics does the same thing. Kendall tau rank Correlation Coefficient, anyone? Mauchly's test of Sphericity? Mordenkainen's Disjunction? Hotelling's Trace? Elminster's Evasion? Pearson Product-Moment Correlation Coefficient? Hornung's Random Dispatcher? Kolmogorov-Smirnov Test? Kahzid's Procurement? Huynh-Feldt Epsilon? Tenser's Transformation? Roy's Largest Root? Gunther's Kaleidoscopic Strike? Otiluke's Telekenetic Sphere? Malec-Keth's Flame Fist? Witchcraft, all of it!

I've long been a fan of Venetian Snares, a breakcore artist from Canada, real name Aaron Funk. He probably wouldn't like to be branded "breakcore", but pretty much anyone who listens to breakcore knows about Venetian Snares. If you don't know what breakcore is, there's a fairly good documentary on Google Video, about half an hour long, available here. Contains strong language. In the documentary, the breakcore artist Hrvatski (yes, that does mean Croatian in Croatian) characterises breakcore as "anti-dance music", "fragmented", "abstract", and "dance music you can't dance to". With regards Venetian Snares, Bong-Ra calls him a "crazy genius".

So, I was quite pleased to get a hold of Venetian Snares' 20th album, Detrimentalist. The record label claims it is "disgusting ejacutronic rave horn from Aaron Funk, a return to the energetic early days of Jungle." Recently, Snares has been doing more orchestral music than pure breakcore, as characterised by Rossz Csillag Alatt Született (2005) and My Downfall (Original Soundtrack) (2007). However, Detrimentalist is more like Cavalcade of Glee and Dadaist Happy Hardcore Pom Poms (2006); harder breakcore with acid and jungle elements. Thankfully, Detrimentalist is a lot better than Cavalcade..., `and is perhaps one of my favourite Snares albums to date.

Blasting open the album is Gentleman, a fast-paced breakcore sound in 7/4 which immediately sets the scene and lets you know who you're listening to. With a cut-up KRS-One sample, Snares simultaneous disses "fakecore" producers and establishes the album's stylistic mood. The second song, Koonut-Kaliffee also helps set the scene, a darker, brooding feel. With a dominating sample from Spock in an old Star Trek episode (Amok Time, in case you're interested). The track's name is a reference to a Vulcan marriage ritual. The slow, almost grinding progression of this track (it's in 4/4 (I think), so feels a lot less frantic than the first track) helps a deep sense of panic underlie the music.

One touches the other in order to feel each other's thoughts. In this way, our minds were locked together, so that at the proper time, we would both be drawn to Koonut-Kaliffee.

True to the record label's promises, the third and fourth tracks, Sajtban and Kyokushin are silly jungle-inspired breakcore pieces, replete with ridiculous synth-lines, 90s piano rave riffs, chipcore breakdowns, acid synth melodies, and inane samples. Eurocore MVP, in true junglist tradition, throws in some reggae samples, before punching a silly synth- and bass-line at is and then dropping into the compulsory cut-up Amen Break we've all come to expect and love.

Poo Yourself Jason, the sixth track, is probably the album's weakest. A sniffling little beat accompanies some IDM and 8bit distractions, and the whole thing reminds me of Snares' 2002 glitchcore album Winter in the Belly of a Snake. This is followed up by the bouncy 7/4 classic jungle-homage Circle Pit which I have mixed feelings - can't quite decide whether I love it or hate it. In so many ways, it's a classic jungle track, but it's been cut up and "Snaresified" - with lots of fun on the way. I'm just not sure whether it works as a piece of music. As an experimental foray, however, it's pretty damned good.

Track number eight, Flashforward is in competition with Poo Yourself Jason for the prize of the weakest track. Not because it's technically bad or not in-your-face enough - it's actually pretty good for that - but it's just not very enjoyable. I don't find hard acid with Amen samples and glitchcore breaks very listenable. It doesn't feel structured enough - I know this is an odd thing to ask for on a breakcore album, where structure is eschewed, but there's no common thread running through the track. I think a lot of Snares' tracks on Meathole (2005) suffered from this.

I like Bebikukorica Nigiri, because it reminds me of chiptune artists I'm fond of (like Oddioblender and Sabrepulse). The track is entirely 8bit noises, with the exception of a rolling breakcore drumbeat behind it. Not an instant classic, but it instantly finds its way into your heart. A warm track to come home to. The album finishes on track ten, Miss Balaton, which features ambient and orchestral elements. Slow, pondering, and wistful. Not panic-stricken like Koonut-Kaliffee, but melodic and considered. The drums eventually come in at 2:49, glitchy little beeps and chirps, serving as a support to the pensive ambience. The track reaches a climax before consuming itself in its own greed, leaving a gentle aftermath where the track fades out, and the listener can reflect on the album.

This album is loud and aggressive. It does what it sets out to do and doesn't let you have a rest. The tracks that aren't so good are thankfully buffered by better tracks sitting between them - this does unfortunately give it a bit of an up-down feel. I can see this album being in my regular circulation for quite a while. It offers a refreshing break from Venetian Snare's less inspiring breakcore efforts (and of the "fakecore" producers who set out to mimic his style), while still being hard and edgy enough to be considered "true" breakcore of its own right.

So yeah, my blog is broken. Not in an epic manner. Just the comments are being iffy - I know for sure that my spam filter went "nom nom nom" the other day and ate up at least one valuable comment. So if you've commented here before, and it's not appeared, please post it again! And if it keeps not appearing... Go away, spammers! You make the code upset.

Also, I realise that a lot of the page layout is weird and the links between articles don't all work either. And yeah, it isn't really that pretty at the moment. When I get the time I'm planning on looking into these things, fixing stuff and making it aesthetically nice. If anyone wants to be super-awesome and go well beyond the call of duty, they could help me out. Anyone know Movable Type fairly well? As I don't, which is perhaps behind some of the problems.

So last week I travelled down to London to take the GRE (Graduate Record Examination). The GRE is a standardised test that many universities in the US require you to take if you want to apply to them for postgraduate programs. I think the reasoning is that, by using a standardised test, they can judge how intelligent and skilled applicants are, especially as educational standards vary across the world.

The test has three parts: a verbal component, a quantitative component, and an analytic or writing component. The verbal part is basically just an extended vocabulary test. Thanks to my study of the Baha'i Writings, I'm familiar with several unusual words, such as exorbitant, laudatory, abrogate, and belligerent, and this had me in good stead for the test. However I must confess while studying for the test I wondered on many occasions exactly why knowing the words pusillanimous, salubrious, phlegmatic, and defalcate would assist me in my graduate career.

The quantitative component is basic, high-school level maths. Unfortunately, it had been 5 years since I did that, so I really needed to cram geometry formulae and algebraic tricks. The only maths I've done at uni has been simple calculations like f_n = (nc) ⁄ (2L) (the standing wave of an open tube), f = (c ⁄ 2π)√(A ⁄ VL) (Helmholtz's resonance), z = (x‾−μ) ⁄ (σ ⁄ √N) (the z-score of a given dataset). While this looks fairly complex, it's just a case of applying the formulae. No solving for x, no shifting around quadratic functions, and certainly no manipulation of geometric shapes. Pythagoras was welcomed back into my life with open arms. Finally, the writing section of the GRE asks you to write two essays - one presenting your opinion on an issue, and the other is to analyse and argument.

Anyway, this post's not meant to be about the exam. There's loads of stuff been written on that. The important thing is that I was going to London! One thing about London that is significant for Baha'is is that it is home to the gravesite of Shoghi Effendi, the Guardian of the Baha'i Faith from 1921 to 1957. In light of my upcoming pilgrimage, I thought it'd be a great idea to visit, especially as I've never been. It'd be a little "mini-pilgrimage" in preparation for the greater pilgrimage I'll be undertaking in January.

I checked the UK Baha'i Website for directions, and unfortunately, it turns out that the area is only open for visitors prior to 5pm, due to security issues. My GRE was at 12:30, and I anticipated it taking several hours. Add a 40 minute subway ride and then half-hour walk on top of that, and I realised I wouldn't be able to get there in time. Especially since I'd also made arrangements to meet up with people in the evening. So I discarded the idea.

I arrived in London at 7:30am (on a Megabus - not very comfortable for sleeping), and after getting a breakfast and studying a little, headed to the test centre. I got there at 10:30am, which was 2 hours early. "You're pretty early," the receptionist said. "Would you like to do the test early?" I jumped at the opportunity, and was finished by about 1:30pm. I was weighing up my options, and I figured, why not, let's go visit the gravesite. I knew what tube station it was near - Arnos Grove - but not how to get to the graveyard from the station, or even where in the graveyard it was. I knew that it was vaguely northwest of the station. And that's it. I jumped in a train and headed out.

Leaving the station, I headed west for a while, and then north. Along the way I was listening to a talk on my MP3 player by Adib Taherzadeh, about the nature of the soul. I found a lovely park and circumnavigated it. I found an old trail behind some houses, and some wild brambles (blackberries) growing. I wandered around the area for over 2 hours. (At this point, my soundtrack had changed to Universal Indicator's Innovation in the Dynamics of Acid, an unusual acid house mix album.)

I came very close to giving up. Given that it was, in essence, a spiritual search, I couldn't help but draw comparisons from the mystic writings of the Baha'i Faith. For instance, the story related in the Seven Valleys about Majnún, the celebrated Arabian and Persian lover, seeking his beloved Laylí. Majnún and Laylí are used to symbolise true love, and this story demonstrates that nothing will stop the lover in search of his beloved.

It is related that one day they came upon Majnún sifting the dust, and his tears flowing down. They said, "What doest thou?" He said, "I seek for Laylí." They cried, "Alas for thee! Laylí is of pure spirit, and thou seekest her in the dust!" He said, "I seek her everywhere; haply somewhere I shall find her."
Yea, although to the wise it be shameful to seek the Lord of Lords in the dust, yet this betokeneth intense ardor in searching. "Whoso seeketh out a thing with zeal shall find it."
Baha'u'llah, The Seven Valleys and the Four Valleys p6-7

Another passage I was reminded of after exploratory disappointment:

The steed of this Valley [the Valley of Search] is patience; without patience the wayfarer on this journey will reach nowhere and attain no goal. Nor should he ever be downhearted; if he strive for a hundred thousand years and yet fail to behold the beauty of the Friend, he should not falter.
ibid, p5

With that in mind, I pressed on, further and further. I started climbing a hill, and at the top, through a fence, I spied some graves. I've never been so happy to see graves! I found an entrance and walked around a bit. When I say "a bit", I mean I scoured through the whole place, seeking here and everywhere. Yet I couldn't find the gravesite of the Guardian. I knew from pictures that it had a large golden eagle on a pedestal (like in the picture), so it's fairly distinctive. I can't have just walked past it. Time then caught up with me, and I needed to head back to the tube station to get back into central London to meet my friend.

The rest of my day went very well, I had some delicious authentic Chinese food, I caught the bus at 11pm, and headed back to Edinburgh. When I got back, I consulted the relevant maps, and it turns out that I was actually in the wrong graveyard. Perhaps this is a lesson in being prepared? On the one hand, I was disappointed that I wasn't able to find the object of my search. On the other hand, I was happy to have had the opportunity - after all, I hadn't been planning on visiting. It was good exercise and the time spent walking allowed me to clear my head. One day I'll go to the Guardian's resting place. But that day is yet to come, it would seem.

I'm alive! This is just a quick update to all my readers (yes, all three of you!) that I'm still alive. Not been blogging recently due to a somewhat hectic summer. But I'm starting back at university soon, and university work makes me procrastinate on my blog, so expect some posts in the near future! I have a few drafts up my sleeve that I need to finish off, and several things on my mind that I'd like to talk about. I just need to put finger to key and actually write it. I'd also like to streamline this blog at some point, give it a nice design, sort out the categories into something more manageable.

Watch this space!

So, Canada apologises for forcibly separating hundreds of thousands of indigenous children from their families and sending them to abusive boarding schools (see also). About time, I say. It's about time that the state recognises historical human rights abuses for what they are. Yet I'm still left with a sour taste in my mouth. It strikes me as too little, too late. An apology is a great step forward, but it's just words. "Let deeds, not words, be your adorning," wrote Baha'u'llah (Hidden Words #5 from the Persian). So where are the compensation payments to the affected families? How is the Canadian state today trying to tackle institutional racism? What is being done to address the segregation and wealth gap between whites and natives? Where, in short, is the justice?

Events like this remind me of Australia's apology over a similar policy towards the indigenous people there (see also), and Norway's apology for their sterilisation of their Roma (Gypsy) population, which was ongoing from 1934 to 1977 (sorry, no links). No reparations were paid in these cases either.

And as far as I know, there has never been any apology for Russia's long-running abuse of indigenous Siberian peoples, which dates as far back as the 17th Century and as recently as the Soviet Era. The world is a tough place.

Pulp Fiction, as performed by the King's Men, via boingboing. Two scenes from Pulp fiction modified into Shakespearean language, replete with iambic pentameter!

You can see the original scenes in question here, between 1:02 and 1:29 (it's a little quiet so turn up your speakers), and here, between 4:19 and 5:38 (this one is louder, so remember to turn your volume down again). Warning, if you're not fond of strong language and gunshots, don't watch these videos.

Part of me likes this more than the original. Roll on the Royal Shakespeare Company, performing Tarantino's Tales of Travail: A Tragic Comedie in Three Parts. (I wanted to call it Commoners' Tales but a little googling revealed that that was the name of a slash fanfiction series...)

Also, I realise that a) this isn't purely Early Modern English in the Shakespearean sense - as the first commenter on the boingboing post notes, the hachis parmentier is named after Antoine-Augustin Parmentier, who wasn't born until at least 100 years after Shakespeare had died; and b) it isn't 100% iambic pentameter, it breaks occasionally (but so did Shakespeare!). Does that matter? It's a fine piece of translation, with an excellent rhyme at the end to signal the end of the scene.

I don't like Garfield. It's a boring comic with no depth, no emotion, and most of the time it isn't even funny. However, I fell in love with Garfield after seeing some edits with all of Garfield's speech removed.

Since Garfield is a cat, he never technically speaks, he only thinks (with a thought bubble, à la Snoopy). Removing this from the strips make the comic's interactions appear as they would to a disconnected observer. Garfield becomes a real cat, rather than a smart-assed anthropomorphic feline. In the words of MvCRage, "It adds yet another depressing layer to the pathetic existence that is Jon" (Garfield's owner).

That's not all, however. About a month ago the blog garfield minus garfield started making the rounds. This version removes Garfield entirely. In the words of the site itself,

Who would have guessed that when you remove Garfield from the Garfield comic strips, the result is an even better comic about schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, and the empty desperation of modern life? Friends, meet Jon Arbuckle. Let's laugh and learn with him on a journey deep into the tortured mind of an isolated young everyman as he fights a losing battle against loneliness in a quiet American suburb.

Along the same lines, and much older, is the Garfield randomiser, which doesn't modify the panels themselves, but rather the ordering of panels themselves. Think of it as a Garfield collage. There were some copyright issues with it, so google it to find some links and information. One of the best comics ever created (in my opinion) with the randomiser is the death of garfield.

This modification of existing art (or whatever you want to call comics) reminds me a lot of Marmaduke Explained and Dysfunctional Family Circus, and even those artists a few years ago who bought classic paintings and modified them with paint all over the shop, I can't remember their names. It's the visual equivalent of a remix, almost. And I really like the transposition of Garfield (the character) from a smug lasagna-loving cultural icon, into an ordinary housecat, and then into... nothing at all.

[Edit: Looks like The Comic Strip Doctor has written something about this, and mentions all the stuff I mentioned, and more! It's a great read, especially with the Garfield analysis towards the end.]

My blog publishing software Movable Type has a fairly good comment spam filter, it's caught thirteen spam attempts in the last 24 hours. Every so often, however, one will fall through the net, and it'll be brought to my attention as an "unapproved" comment that I need to moderate. And even less frequently, a spam comment will end up being published as a real comment.

That's not a big deal, right? It just means I have to click the "mark comment as spam" button, and everything's cool, right? Well, technically, yes. But what if the spam is non-harmful? Most spam is a bunch of random words, and some URIs thrown in. But what if the spam is coherent, and non-linking?

Case in point: check out the latest comment on my References and Transcription entry, by one "Attassusa". It looks fairly innocuous. How do I know it's spam? I don't know for sure, but there are a number of factors: the comment is fairly vacuous; the email address provided is a free Russian webmail service; the comment arrived at the same time as other, more definitely spam-like, comments.

So the question is now, do I keep this comment, as it is harmless (as far as I can tell), or do I delete it out of principle? There's always the chance that this is a) a real person, with unlucky timing, or b) a test of my spam defences by spambots, and by letting it stay I've opened the floodgates for unmitigated assault. Any ideas?