A Fantastic Contraption

I’m not really a player of Flash games, but Fantastic Contraption is the niftiest thing since sliced bread. It plays like The Incredible Machine, only more down-to-earth.

Shiny New Toy

Spurred to action by a fit of insomnia, I decided to replace the software I use to host my blog, photo gallery and other bits of my digital persona. After two weeks of restless nights, you see the results before your eyes. My homepage is no longer a blog; it is now the world’s most underutilized CMS. Victory is mine!

If I had any loyal readers, they would agree that I don’t post much content on my home page. I don’t have much to say, I don’t get much traffic, and my needs vis a vis blogging software are few. But since I began fiddling with Rails and RIA development, I have been afflicted by the need to engineer away my software and replace it with homebrew Web 2.0 crap. I have two excuses for this behavior:

1. I’m teaching myself new tech
2. I’m engaging in entrepreneurship by creating valuable intellectual property

Actually, I’m a raving loony and I can’t help myself; writing code is my OCD tic, the digital equivalent of uncontrollable hand-washing. But I digress. About the blog…

Alas, Poor Yorrick!

It was an off day for our intrepid travelers. I was on my last pair of pants and we’d walked across central Copenhagen in search of The Laundromat Cafe, one of a new breed of fusion cafes that serves coffee, drinks and full meals while you wait for your clothes to finish their spin cycle.

After taking care of chores, we decided to check out the nearby Assistens Kierkegaard, Copenhagen’s main burial ground where noteworthies such as Hans Christian Andersen are interred. Being that it was only a few blocks from the laundromat, we figured a bit of gravespotting would make for a nice, brief touristy distraction.

At the entrance was a placard with a map of “known peoples’ resting places.” We figured out approximately where to find Niels Bohr’s family plot and headed off to snap some pictures. That’s when our troubles began.

Tower of Babel, Norwegian Style

When we landed in Norway, I began to notice an interesting pattern of interaction between me and the locals. For an example, let’s look at how I ask for a table in a restaurant.

Hostess (presumably speaking Norwegian): Mxlkrmf tfiu?
Tony: Hi; we’d like a table.
Hostess: Blw dcij vcdhuhy for two?
Tony: Yeah; for two, please.
Hostess: Trsdj swofiu jasj ic kiscijds dij?
Tony: Sorry? I’m afraid I don’t understand much Norwegian.
Hostess: Oh, you’re speaking English!