Why I'm Still Single 37

Dear Followers of Braddy's Blog:

Please accept this small, admittedly poor-quality cartoon with my humble apologies. My life's a bit on the busy side right now, so I'm afraid this may be the only post I make for a little while. I'll return as soon as I can with more shenanigans and the like.

Love (I guess),

S.R. Braddy

Art Class: Day 2

Okay, so last week's hour was pretty much NOTHING I hadn't already learned from my independent study. This week, though, we got into some of the stuff I signed up to learn. We did a bit of perspective drawing and shading (two of my biggest problem areas), but we ALSO got into some new materials, including ink and vine charcoal.

I worked a lot more with value and shadow than I'm used to. It's all pretty much rubbish to look at right now, but I learned quite a bit.


We were given an object to sketch quickly using the ink. Can you tell what I picked? I can.*


Of my two ink pictures, I think I prefer this one - except I put it in the wrong place on the page. Layout's something I haven't really considered until now.


Vine charcoal I found difficult to work with, simply because it's not great at making definite lines. It's good for blending shadows, though. Too bad I suck at shadows.

*It's a pair of pliers. Hope you didn't cheat.

Movie of the Year: 2011

I generally don’t watch a lot of movies in the theater – my time is too valuable and my wallet too thin. However, this past year, I’ve seen quite a few. More surprising (considering how discerning my tastes are) I’ve enjoyed all of them. Kung Fu Panda 2 impressed me with a sincere heart and surprisingly well-crafted plot, while Rango won me over with quirky visuals. The Help mixed comedy and drama with great effect, and Cowboys and Aliens was about the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen.

However, none of the above movies, nor any of the other films I’ve seen this year, brought me nearly as much joy as last night’s cinematic masterpiece. I’m not kidding, and I’m not trying to be funny – the movie I saw last night is easily the most enjoyable movie I’ve seen all year.

Heaven help me, but I loved the @#%$ out of Shark Night 3D.


I have to thank the lovely Larissa for being born and celebrating by taking us all to watch this masterpiece of a motion picture. Shark Night 3D is one of the most insane, over-the-top stories I’ve ever witnessed, and I enjoyed every second of it. I’ma get into some pretty intensive SPOILERS here, so if you ever plan on seeing Shark Night 3D, you may want to come back to this review later.

And if you’re NOT planning on seeing Shark Night 3D, you should probably reconsider that decision.

Shark Night 3D delivers exactly what it sets out to do, which is, of course, show a bunch of people get eaten to bits by sharks. In 3D. And, you know, it’s night, so… yeah, you get just what it says on the tin. But the QUALITY of the nocturnal fish feedings is what makes the movie such a delight.

The plot’s about what you’d expect from a horror/exploitation flick: A group of college kids head off to their rich friend’s island mansion for some weekend fun times complete with beer pong and sexy thongs, when they suddenly find themselves savaged by vicious sharks inhabiting the lake. Of course, their cell phones don’t get signal in the middle of the lake, and since rich people don’t believe in landlines, the kids are on their own.

Now, if you’re a smart viewer, you’re probably asking where the sharks are coming from, and how the crap they’re getting to a lake so far inland. Ready for the spoiler? It turns out a cabal of local crazies – made up primarily of the inbred hick, the pervert convenience store owner, the corrupt sheriff, and the rich girl’s bitter ex-boyfriend – bring the sharks into the lake and strap cameras to their heads so they can get film of sharks eating people.

That’s right – the villains of the picture are making shark snuff films.

SHARK.

SNUFF.

FILMS.

If that’s not already an episode of CSI… well, it SHOULD be.

The shark kills themselves are just about as spectacularly ludicrous as the plot itself. There’s one scene in particular where the pretty-boy jock is racing away on his jet ski, only to have a shark jump clean out of the water and swallow him whole (to the cheering and laughter of the whole audience). It’s completely ridiculous – but I guarantee it’d scare the Fonz away from the water for the rest of his life.

In case you’re worried, let me assure you it’s not just the violence that’s nonsensically exaggerated. Nearly 50% of the shots feature prominent booty or cleavage shots of the girl in the cast, and… well, I’m pretty sure that they use their 3D effects to their fullest. Are these shots shameless and demeaning? Definitely. Are they sexy or appealing? Not even a little bit. But they ARE freakin’ hilarious.

Oh, and true to horror movie fashion, it’s pretty much just the prettiest and most virginal of the white people that survive to the movie’s end. As you’d expect, the sex-obsessed get killed off pretty thoroughly, but it’s really the film’s treatment of its token characters that surprised me most. Seriously, Shark Night 3D killed off its minority members faster than the KKK after Affirmative Action.

And I know I say this a lot, but that last sentence is the single most horrifying thing I’ve EVER written.

Now, if you do see Shark Night 3D, you MUST stay through to the end of the credits. It seems most movies have SOME kind of little tag at the end, whether it’s a blooper reel or just a horrifying little monkey. But Shark Night 3D doesn’t settle for anything so mundane. No, they have a RAP number performed by the members of the cast:

Yo, shark! You bit my girlfriend and now she’s dead
So I’m gonna run this spear through your mother-sharkin’ head!

(Sadly, the author of this blog was not able to remember the lyrics exactly; however, the line “mother-sharkin’” IS dropped, and it is AWESOME.)

Okay, so Shark Night 3D is not in any way a GOOD movie, but… wait, did you just faint from the shock of that revelation? Seriously? C’mon, pick yourself up off the floor. You look ridiculous.

No, if you want a quality flick that’ll enrich your soul and strengthen your mind, go see… anything else. Heck, I’m willing to bet you’d find more substance in Sex and the City 2. But for my money, those movies aren’t nearly as fun as Shark Night 3D.

Just be sure the theater’s empty when you watch the movie so people don’t get upset while you “Statler and Waldorf” it to death.

Braddy's Bubble

For those of you who don't know (or don't remember):






I frickin' HATE being touched.*

I don't know why I hate physical contact so much. I didn't have a problem with touching in high school - I was about as huggy as every other hormonally-imbalanced human youngling. I did have a rather disproportionate number of young men ask to spoon with me while I served my LDS mission, but I don't know if that necessarily correlates.

Now, I'm not nearly as anti-touch as I used to be (the above comic is a slight exaggeration of an actual occurence). My recovery's been slow - I can pat people friendly-like on the arm, and an occasional hug is appropriate depending on the situation. However, I still get nervous if people touch me too casually or for too long. So, yeah, don't do it.

The whole "I'm not touching you!" thing hasn't bugged me since I was, like, seven, so you can skip doing that, too.

Oddly enough, I have I have almost no boundaries on stage. I was "cured" after an unfortunate incident during an improv show regarding Jourdan Dixon and an obsession with belly buttons...


...that someone decided to immortalize on camera. Joy.

Anyway, I'm still pretty uptight about physical contact. Maybe I'm just insane, but I like to think I'm a romantic - I'm saving myself for marriage... or something.

Whatever. At least I don't punch people anymore.

*The above comic is a duplicate of one I drew a couple years ago. Since then, my skills in MS Paint have improved a little. I now have to acknowledge that punching women is never ever ever funny in any circumstance, so shame on you for laughing.

Art Class: Day 1

So I signed up for a drawing class, thinking my skills would progress a little better if I had a more disciplined learning environment for a while. We started off the class with contour drawings of another person in class - meaning that we drew one other person in the classroom without looking at all at our hands as we drew.

Here's what my partner came up with while drawing me:


Personally, I think it's a fantastic likeness!

Dream: The Meaning of a Kiss

I may regret posting this...

Last night's dream is one of the strangest I think I've had - although I'm not sure I can call it "strange" in the same sense as I refer to my dream of shooting up a casino with my buddy Chewbacca.

Like most of the dreams I seem to find worth mentioning, this dream featured a woman I've never met in waking life. I got the impression that the woman and I fought a lot, but, really, I barely knew her. She was definitely a pretty girl, but the dress she wore couldn't hide the fact that she hadn't shaved her legs in a couple of days - there were a couple of odd hairs poking out around her knees.

The girl sat me down on the floor and then knelt in front of me. "I have something I want to try," she said. "If two people sit very close to each other, with their faces almost touching, they'll be able to find out more about each other."

You can probably tell where this is going...

"You see," she said, "the longer two people can tolerate being next to each other, the more likely..."

She never finished the sentence. Here she was - a beautiful woman (with, admittedly, an obvious but minor physical imperfection) right in front of me, almost BEGGING to be kissed.

Give the people what they want, I always say.

Of course, that's the time the construction started outside my apartment, so I woke up before I got to see how the girl reacted to me kissing her out of the blue. Considering how long the kiss lasted before we got interrupted, though, I doubt she minded too much.

I've been thinking about this dream all day, and I've got two different theories about what it might mean:

1. The great apartment hunt of 2011 is still ongoing. We've already passed on a couple of pretty decent places with just a small thing or two wrong (like the unshaved legs on my dream girl), holding out for something just a little better. The dream could be telling me to find those slightly imperfect opportunities, forget about the little things that go wrong, and kiss them right on the mouth.
2. I haven't had a good snog in three years and it's time to DO something about that.

Either way, I think it's time I faced up to the fact that I've got some pretty dramatic changes coming my way.

Our Love is Apocalyptic

Love may not be forever, but ours has a really long half-life.

Social Graces and Button Clicks

Back in our grandparents' day, there existed a social expectation of reciprocity. Good manners demanded you to respond to letters you received in the mail or visit someone who had been to see you the week before. Even an invitation to a social function came with the expectation of a written RSVP.

In today's world of social media, it seems the same expectations still exist. Photo tags demand comments, comments demand responses, and all friendings and followings should be mutual (Google+ would beg to differ, but what do they know). Frankly, it can be difficult to keep up with all the responses and repostings that modern online etiquette demands.

Thank goodness for the Facebook "Like" button.


The "Like" button can indicate a variety of things - assent, satisfaction, and even pleasure. Most often, however, it fills the role of an expected response - "I appreciate that you acknowledged I have something to say."

The "Like" button also frees us from the chains of reciprocity. Once something is "Liked," no more action is needed. Someone may, if they choose, "Like" a post in return for the "Like" they received, but no such demand is made. And it's impossible to "Like" a "Like," for that would lead to a "Like" on a "Like" on a "Like," and that's the doorway to madness right there.

The Facebook "Like" button - one more way the internet helps you be less polite.

Braddy Reads Odd and the Frost Giants

I'm always intrigued by Neil Gaiman's work. He's a big name in the world of comic books, with some pretty big-name titles like Sandman under his belt. He's also one of the biggest fantasy writers out there, giving us both Stardust and American Gods. I recognize that he's written some darn good stuff, so I give everything he writes a try. I wind up hating almost all of it.

Except his children's literature. I LOVE that stuff.

I picked up Odd and the Frost Giants from the library while on my lunch break, and had the book finished by the end of the hour. Odd is about 100 pages long, with about as much plot to fit in there. It's about the simplest read I've indulged in since reading The Boxcar Children back in grade school.

Thing is, it was a pretty rewarding read.

Odd is a crippled boy living in a viking village. He happens to meet a trio of enchanted animals and offers to help them reclaim their kingdom from the frost giant that cast them out. Then... he does it. The end.

What impressed me most about this little book is just how much Gaiman is able to do in those quick 100 pages. Not a single plot element introduced in the first twenty pages or so is ignored - the story is tight and well crafted. True, the language is simple (it IS a children's book, after all), but I felt pretty well-rewarded for reading it.

So, yeah, if you ever have an hour to spare, pick up Odd and the Frost Giants.

Old Friends, Dear Friends

Oh, man. It's been a good day. I just got a message from an old friend of mine who's in town and wants to meet up. I haven't seen Sophia Jenkins in a LONG time - it's so nice to hear from her.


It'd be great to catch up with such a good friend after so long an absence. I mean, just look at this highly personal and emotional message she sent me:

Stephen I'm in town for the next week and I need to c u! I've been waiting so long for this.....I wrote you a secret message that I want u to see and my room number you just have to add this app to your profile to see it I didn't want anyone else to :) U can add it to your profile at [URL removed - it's much too personal and heartfelt to share] You better get ahold of me!!!

XOXOXOXOXO
..

I'm touched. Truly. And moved.

It's too bad she couldn't be bothered to actually spell out "see you," or I'd WANT to meet up with her again.

Braddy Reads Sleeping Freshmen Never Lie

After reading a rather large stack of "real literature," I felt it was time to kick back and read some lighter stuff before diving back in. I found a couple of books based on friends' suggestions and powered through them. Sometimes it's nice to be able to get through a book in a single week... or even less (more on that later).

A friend recommended David Lubar's Sleeping Freshmen Never Lie after reading it through and noticing certain similarities between the main character and your humble blogger. I wondered if I should be offended. Then I started reading... and knew I should be.

I kid, I kid. I'll admit to being a bit uncomfortable with the comparison, but most of that has to do with my discomfort with teenagers (they scare the living $#@% out of me). And Sleeping Freshmen Never Lie has A LOT of teenagers in it.

The story's pretty predictable: Scott Hudson starts high school, dreads being unpopular, gets beat up and crushes on the unattainable girl, starts to make friends with people he feels he shouldn't be seen with, hates all his classes except one where he feels understood, etc. Even though I can't name a single other book that has a similar plot, I know I've read this type of story before... It's kind of forgettable.

Still, I'd say Sleeping Freshmen is well worth reading, despite the unimaginative plot. The central message - learning to respect yourself without regards for what others think of you - is pretty important for teenagers to hear, so I can give the author a bye on that. The real draw to the book, though, is Scott's personal writing.

Throughout the book, the author inserts several clips from Scott's notebook - letters he writes to his unborn brother, lists of survival tips for high schoolers, opinions and editorials... The jokes are often immature and unsophisticated, but that doesn't stop them from being genuinely funny.

One caveat, though - Scott discovers Tom Swifties in the first chapter or two, and he employs them throughout the book. I've read enough of Boys' Life magazine back when I was in Scouts to know that Tom Swifties just AREN'T funny. Bleagh.

I've been a little harder on the book than I meant to. Sleeping Freshmen Never Lie isn't going to win any awards, but it doesn't have to. The book is funny, full of likeable characters, and just original enough to make it worthwhile.

Flashes of Brilliance

As critical and, at times, cynical as I can be, I find it difficult to find movies that I completely and totally enjoy. It's not hard for me to find a movie that I can TOLERATE - I'm perfectly willing to overlook an imperfection or two to kill a few hours. However, when it comes to movies that actually INSPIRE me to the point where I want a second viewing... well, those films are harder to come by.

Case in point: I recently watched the movie Black Swan DESPITE its R-rating (a level of "maturity" I usually avoid) in order to revel a bit in the weirdness that is Darren Aranofsky. I knew there was a scene all uptight Mormons should avoid; so, when that scene came on, I promptly left the room and brushed my teeth. Five minutes later, when my gums started bleeding, I shouted, "They're STILL GOING?!"

So, yeah, I didn't enjoy the movie as much as everyone else. However, the last half hour, where Natalie Portman's character dances the black swan routine, may be the most brilliant half-hour of moviedom I've ever seen. The dancing is beautiful, the visual effects spectacular, and the emotional payload is explosive.


Also, it made me want to see a ballet, so good job, movie!

And speaking of dances... I think I've finally figured out why I can't bring myself to hate Tangled despite everything the movie does wrong... It's the dance sequence.


It's not really anything obviously spectacular, but the town dance in Tangled is rather brilliantly executed. The scene begins before we're even aware of the fiddle music that sweeps Rapunzel, Flynn, and the whole city into a Riverdancing frenzy. I'd watch the whole movie - terrible songs and all - for that one sequence.

Finally, I'm reminded of the movie Up, which I thought indicated Pixar was running out of ideas. Sure, the PREMISE is pretty unique - a man and a stowaway boy scout float away in a house full of balloons - but the execution doesn't do anything special with the premise. Instead, we get two hours of stale old-man jokes and Star Wars references. And, of course, that talking dog which I hate so much to the surprise of absolutely no one.


Still, those first fifteen minutes of the movie, showing Carl's and Ellie's courtship, are just beautifully simple. In fact, I'd go so far as to say the opening scene to Up is the best fifteen minutes in animated history - or pretty darn close to it.

So with the introdution to Up, the dance interlude in Tangled, and the finale of Black Swan, I could put together one utterly brilliant little movie.

Turn it over to you now: Any movies that you LOVE... for fifteen minutes?

Enter Gachnar the Computer Demon!

As long as it's been since the last time I posted any of my artwork, you'd think I'd have more to show for it... Oh, well. Here's what I've got:


Some of you may have missed the Jesters' fantastic 80s Night show a couple weeks ago. Well, never fear! Here we have a quick doodle of Blake in his authentic 1987 mullet and wife beater combo. The man has never looked finer...

...except for, like, every day of his life. Blake is much more handsome than this picture would imply.


I think I meant to take more time on this particular picture than I did... Some of the proportions are all off, and I'm not quite sure with how the menacing man in the poncho turned out. Actually, what's with his ensemble as a whole? It's kind of a mix of genres there.

The guy in the front, though, turned out pretty well.

***

Now for the main event.

I was "commissioned" a while back to make a drawing specifically for a friend of mine. My price was a bowl of ice cream (what can I say? I'm a sellout). Here's the description of what my friend wanted me to draw:

I need a picture of the little demon monster that lives in my computer. His name is Gachnar and he is little and evil and mean and sneaky and has horns and likes to play pranks and pinch ankles. Do you think you can do it? Puh-lease?

So here we have Gachnar, the computer demon that lives in Jenn's computer and pinches her ankles.


He's made himself quite at home.


I read somewhere recently that people prefer cartoons with lots of little details rather than lots of white space. It's like they think they're actually paying for the ink the artist uses, so they want their money's worth. While I don't know if that's ALWAYS the case, I'm certainly grateful for the extra time I was able to put into this second Gachnar sketch. It came out a LOT better for those little details.

Art Preservation and Star Wars

If you're a nerd, you may already be aware of the fiasco surrounding the latest re-re-re-release of the classic Star Wars trilogy, where George Lucas inserted more revamped effects and sound clips, including blinking Ewoks. Personally, I'm pretty much done discussing Star Wars - the original trilogy is a great cultural artifact that doesn't hold up to modern scrutiny, the fans are overly possessive, and the creators totally incapable of recapturing their earlier glory no matter how hard they try.

I have no grudges - although I may have once or twice demanded that George Lucas return the childhood he stole from me. In jest, of course. I don't want that childhood back (Could I have Richie Rich's instead?).

All the hubbub surrounding George Lucas RUINING THINGS FOREVER did, in fact, churn up one interesting treasure in its wake: an excerpt from an address George Lucas gave before congress in 1988. I'm including the segment I found most interesting below, for those too lazy to click on one more hyperlink. The quote is all Lucas; the bold print all mine.

A copyright is held in trust by its owner until it ultimately reverts to public domain. American works of art belong to the American public; they are part of our cultural history.

People who alter or destroy works of art and our cultural heritage for profit or as an exercise of power are barbarians, and if the laws of the United States continue to condone this behavior, history will surely classify us as a barbaric society. The preservation of our cultural heritage may not seem to be as politically sensitive an issue as "when life begins" or "when it should be appropriately terminated," but it is important because it goes to the heart of what sets mankind apart. Creative expression is at the core of our humanness. Art is a distinctly human endeavor. We must have respect for it if we are to have any respect for the human race.

These current defacements are just the beginning. Today, engineers with their computers can add color to black-and-white movies, change the soundtrack, speed up the pace, and add or subtract material to the philosophical tastes of the copyright holder. Tommorrow, more advanced technology will be able to replace actors with "fresher faces," or alter dialogue and change the movement of the actor's lips to match. It will soon be possible to create a new "original" negative with whatever changes or alterations the copyright holder of the moment desires. The copyright holders, so far, have not been completely diligent in preserving the original negatives of films they control. In order to reconstruct old negatives, many archivists have had to go to Eastern bloc countries where American films have been better preserved.

In the future it will become even easier for old negatives to become lost and be "replaced" by new altered negatives. This would be a great loss to our society. Our cultural history must not be allowed to be rewritten.

...

Attention should be paid to this question of our soul, and not simply to accounting procedures. Attention should be paid to the interest of those who are yet unborn, who should be able to see this generation as it saw itself, and the past generation as it saw itself.

I hope you have the courage to lead America in acknowledging the importance of American art to the human race, and accord the proper protection for the creators of that art as it is accorded them in much of the rest of the world communities.

I'm reminded of an experience from a couple of years ago at Salt Lake City's Organ Loft, where old silent films are showed while a live organist accompanies. Normally, the Organ Loft is a fun little dip into history - you get the feel for how the old Chaplin and Keaton films were originally meant to be seen.


The Organ Loft proudly presented the horror classic Nosferatu in 3-D. I've always found 3-D in movies gimmicky and unnecessary, but I loved seeing the original Nosferatu the year previous, so I thought this would be a good opportunity to catch the film again - and bring a date. Unfortunately, the movie wound up being kind of terrible. The team that worked 3-D into the Max Schreck classic also added their own scenes, rewritten tile cards, and a terrible animated segue sequence using the bat symbol from the 1960's Batman series.

In short, the movie - a timeless film with a strong following and emotionally-moving story that transcended genre restrictions was bogged down by unnecessary additions that clashed with the aesthetic already established by the time in which the film was made.

Sounds almost exactly like what's going on with Star Wars right now. At least, it would to someone who cared.

Since it's such a (relatively) new form of artistic expression - and since it's so often linked with big Hollywood business - film as a potential historical artifact seems to get neglected. I'm all for raising awareness of film preservation and artistic merit. Literature and history classes in the future may well turn to film as another text worthy of study.

After all, it was a literature class that introduced me to Charlie Chaplin, and I'll forever be grateful for that.

We Suck At Language

Now look what you did!

I doubt this is a new concept to anyone who has ever gotten a text message before (and, if you haven't, let me be the first to say, "Good morning, Mr. Van Winkle!"), but I get the impression that English speakers don't understand how to best use their own language. In reading some of the great books of the English language, I've noticed that masters of language use words as a painter would use a fine brush - to carefully mark almost imperceptible yet meaningful distinctions. Unfortunately, it seems that the bulk of the English-speaking population uses words more like a preschooler with fingerpaints and an IV full of paste.

I got to thinking about the subject of language and definition last weekend, when I sat through a performance of Little Happy Secrets, wherein the lead uttered the line, "Whoever invented the cell phone needs to be drawn and quartered." While the author narrowly avoided a major cliche by invoking the ancient act of drawing and quartering, I've heard this line and several variations so often that I don't think I ever need to hear anything beyond the line "Whoever invented..." unless the speaker actually means to PRAISE the invention - which would be a nearly revolutionary use of the phrase.

In Politics and the English Language, George Orwell condemned the use of cliches and stock phrases (like the above "Whoever invented" phrase) which "save much mental effort." Prefabricated phrases make the meaning behind the words almost impossible to determine and take nearly all the art out of speaking. The English language, with all its potential for shining beauty, is thus rendered dulled and lusterless.

Which, by the way, makes me a little embarassed to have a blog with a cliche title like "The Life and Times of S.R. Braddy." The same title formula describes biographies of everyone from Allen Ginsberg to Scrooge McDuck.

I've also reflected a bit on words that have been used so often that their meaning has been diluted. Take the word "awesome," for example. Merriam-Webster defines the word "awe" as "an emotion variously combining dread, veneration, and wonder that is inspired by authority or by the sacred or sublime." Now, with that in mind, take a look at this monolog from comedian Eddie Izzard:

The universe is "awesome" using the original version, the meaning of the word awesome, yeah? Not the new one which is sort of for socks and hot dogs: "Hey! Red and yellow - awesome! You got red and yellow socks, they're awesome!" You know... I saw an advert for 'awesome hot dogs, only $2.99'. If they were awesome you'd be going, "I can not breathe for the way the sausage is held by the bun. It is… it is speaking to me. It is saying 'we are lips and thighs... of a donkey. Please eat us... but do not think that we are lips when you eat us, otherwise you'll throw up.'" Which is true! It's awesome!

America needs the old version of awesome, because you're the only ones going into space. You've got a bit of cash and you go up there, and you need "awesome" because you're going to be going to the next sun to us. And your President's going to be going, "Can you tell me, astronaut, can you tell me what it's like?"

"It's awesome, sir."

"What, like a hot dog?"

"Like a hundred billion hot dogs, sir."

I wish we could blame the texting generation for what's happened to words which used to be full of meaning, but I'm pretty sure my generation (also known as the "Ninja Turtle Generation") must shoulder most of the blame for this decidedly un-bodacious turn of events.

Cowabunga.

Ironically, the trend of shortening words that dominates text messages may actually save the language in some respects. The word "love," for example, now looks a bit like a bruised apple in normal conversation. In texting, the word "love" is often abbreviated as the symbol "<3" which has in turn been converted to the unusual verb "heart," as in "Oh Em Gee I Heart You Lawl." In my normal foul temper I'd be inclined to condemn this practice as vapid and shallow; however, that very negative association could actually save the word "love" from falling into the same void of meaning where we now find "awesome." See, I may not know how I feel when someone says, "I love you": should I be worried that I don't reciprocate their deep and profound feelings or offended that they esteem me as much as their favorite Beefy Cheese Burrito? On the other hand, I know EXACTLY how to respond to "I heart you."

It'd be difficult to demand that EVERYONE carry a pocket dictionary and refer to it repeatedly during conversation - but that won't stop me from trying. At the very least, I hope we all can be a little more aware of what the words we say actually mean. George Orwell and I both thank you.