"Call no man happy until he is dead", Herodotus quoted Solon as saying. I first heard that quote in junior high, when teenage boys are most prone to accept facile philosophical aphorisms as THE PURE AND COMPLETE TRUTH, and it scared the CRAP out of me.
For whatever reason, a part of me always worries that no matter how awesome things are, no matter how lucky I am, something so awful will come along that it'll all seem crappy in retrospect. Maybe something awful but ridiculous, so I don't even get the dignity of, you know, suffering manfully. Something like WAKING UP ONE DAY AND REALIZE YOU HAVE THE GHOST OF A FREDDY MERCURY MUSTACHE PERMANENTLY IMPRINTED ON YOUR FACE AND YOU ARE WORTHLESS FOR THE PURPOSE YOU'VE SERVED ALL YOUR LIFE.
This is at least part of the reason that Kate's incredibly sad picture of the patchy, ridiculous Ken dolls she got in the bottom of an Ebay lot were so poignant to me. Call no Ken happy until he is dead, because look at those poor bastards. Who would want them?
Well, the auction has ended, and I'll tell you who wants them. FINLAND WANTS THEM. It's official -- Patchy-head Ken and Freddie Mercury Mustache Ken are off to the land of the ice and snow, to the midnight sun where the hot springs blow, etc.
To celebrate, I made them some suitable badass Nordic accessories and took this picture, which is how I will choose to remember them:
Godspeed, you two. Say hi to the Viking kittens for me.
UPDATE: Wow, I was kidding about Findland's ties to grim, brutal, campy death metal, and the grim, brutal, campy costumes that are worn up there. But while doing a GIS for that snow-covered-tree background behind Ken and Ken (it's a picture of Finland), I found out about grim, brutal, campy death metal band Lordi. Oh, Lordi! Oh, Finland! IT'S ALL TRUE. (Warning: unlike the kittens video, Lordi's website contains skulls and aluminized boobies.)
For whatever reason, a part of me always worries that no matter how awesome things are, no matter how lucky I am, something so awful will come along that it'll all seem crappy in retrospect. Maybe something awful but ridiculous, so I don't even get the dignity of, you know, suffering manfully. Something like WAKING UP ONE DAY AND REALIZE YOU HAVE THE GHOST OF A FREDDY MERCURY MUSTACHE PERMANENTLY IMPRINTED ON YOUR FACE AND YOU ARE WORTHLESS FOR THE PURPOSE YOU'VE SERVED ALL YOUR LIFE.
This is at least part of the reason that Kate's incredibly sad picture of the patchy, ridiculous Ken dolls she got in the bottom of an Ebay lot were so poignant to me. Call no Ken happy until he is dead, because look at those poor bastards. Who would want them?
Well, the auction has ended, and I'll tell you who wants them. FINLAND WANTS THEM. It's official -- Patchy-head Ken and Freddie Mercury Mustache Ken are off to the land of the ice and snow, to the midnight sun where the hot springs blow, etc.
To celebrate, I made them some suitable badass Nordic accessories and took this picture, which is how I will choose to remember them:
Godspeed, you two. Say hi to the Viking kittens for me.
UPDATE: Wow, I was kidding about Findland's ties to grim, brutal, campy death metal, and the grim, brutal, campy costumes that are worn up there. But while doing a GIS for that snow-covered-tree background behind Ken and Ken (it's a picture of Finland), I found out about grim, brutal, campy death metal band Lordi. Oh, Lordi! Oh, Finland! IT'S ALL TRUE. (Warning: unlike the kittens video, Lordi's website contains skulls and aluminized boobies.)
is that underlighting blue? nice touch.