He Said, She Said

For nine in ten of us, the most fundamental mystery of life is that of the Opposite Sex.

We’d like to understand, but it just doesn’t make sense!  Women wonder: what’s the story with the Ultimate Fighting and Star Trek, and why can’t he put the toilet seat down?  The men puzzle likewise.  Um, aromatherapy?  Greeting cards?  Why does she care what I do with the toilet seat?  And so on…

Yup, we don’t entirely get it – but keep trying we must!  Each hard-earned insight, no matter how tiny, could be the difference between, in feminine terms, a spiritual connection and crossed arms, or, in male-speak, nookie and the dog house.

So, with Valentine’s Day fast approaching, we rolled our combine into the ripe fields of the Internet Dot Com and harvested 14,000,000 words from over 2,000 randomly-selected weblogs – per their profiles, all stateside, half written by women and the rest by men.  Then, we fed them into the Corpusculator, our custom in-house suite of text analysis software.  For hours, it jittered and hummed, as if tenderizing meat and smashing atoms, then out popped two lists: one of words that ladies use more than gentlemen, and the other vice versa.

That night, we left a kettle of chamomile on the stove, set out a plate of snickerdoodles, put the words under our pillow, and slipped into slumber.  The next morning, lo and behold, the kettle was empty, the plate barren, and Glory Be!  The Data Fairy had come during the night and replaced the words with an infographic, entitled He Said, She Said: Words That Men Bloggers Use More Than Women, and Vice Versa:

He Said, She Said.  Click it to see the full-sized version!

He Said, She Said. Click it to see the full-sized version!

The Data Fairy left a note, explaining that she’d scaled each word by the degree of preference and omitted very common words (and, it, my, etc.) and contractions (I’ll, we’re, etc.).  She also noticed a seasonal bias: since we sampled the blogs on February 5th, the data reflects the psychology and events of the month or two beforehand, more or less.

From the lead off of love, the women’s words rollick past Christmas and then bounce about the warm, fuzzy territory of family, food, and fun.  They’re utterly heart-warming, like that classic second-season episode of Friends where Phoebe told Monica that she overheard Chandler say to Rachel that Ross had kissed Joey in the meat locker and hahaha hahah hah haha!  Clearly, if throwing a party, you’ll want to invite as many women as possible.

Quite honestly, I expected the men’s words to be just as entertaining: maybe a corny mix of sports phrases and beer terminology, or something of that genre.  Could I have been less right?  Witness a dry mélange of American politics, government, business, power, influence, and money, spritzled with the cardinal directions, counting numbers, place names, Biblical material, references to other men, and to top it all off, a smatterin’ of the fightin’ and the killin’ words.

As a whole, even to my masculine self, it’s so unyieldingly, analytically, megalomaniacally weird that I’ve gotta say:  Whoa.  Hold on a sec, guys.  Let’s take a few deep breaths, lighten up, and mellow out, lest we involuntarily commandeer a banana republic or something awful like that.

Yes, yes, I over-dramatize, but the men’s words really do read like the uptight offspring of a G8 meeting and the Dubuque City Council!

So, at this point, Dude Association Bylaws require me to inform Better Halves about how they might best achieve the aforementioned “Relaxation” of their Significant Others.  However, I cannot, for the DA recently revoked my advisor privileges because of an unfortunate misunderstanding: on February 7th, GenderAnalyzer.com reported that this blog is written by a woman!

GenderAnalysis's verdict.

The GenderAnalyzer's verdict.

As I’ve assured the Association, my behavior falls within the Safe Harbor carved out in Subsection 4.3.6(a):

Dudes may be female only on Halloween and/or within the privacy of their primary domicile.

I hope to prevail soon, and counsel advises me to refrain from any further comment.  Now, my lovely wife, do you know what happened to that size-24 black spandex mini?


More Steeps Of San Francisco

24th Street on Potrero Hill

24th Street on Potrero Hill

Last November, as previously detailed, Weather Sealed searched San Francisco’s less-photogenic neighborhoods for under-appreciated inclines, rewrote the City’s “official” list of steepest streets, and discovered Prentiss Street, which, at a maximum grade of 37%, matches Pittsburgh’s Canton Avenue as the most-tilted urban thoroughfare in the world!

Afterwards, I boarded the couch for a well-deserved weekend in pro sports vacationland.  All the while, loose ends whispered in the wind, open leads nagged, and unexplored territory begged for attention.  With a tap of the volume button, I could drown them out, but…

Did George Washington dip his finger into the Delaware and whine “maybe I’ll come back when it’s warmer?”  Did, daily at noon, Rosie the Riveter betray her trusty gun for the factory masseuse?  Did Pee-wee shirk his Big Adventure under the duress of potato chips and beer?

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Barrel O’ Links: January 2010

Thirty-some-odd cubic feet of linky goodness:

  • God help us if Happy Gilmore gets his hands on this (RedFerret)
  • My favorite freshman photo blog of 2009 (1001Words)
  • Relampago del Catatumbo: a giant natural ozone factory (AtlasObscura)
  • The Great War of the Californias (SandowBirk)
  • Undoubtedly, by far, the most useful punctuation mark of all (Telegraph)
  • Dead Pixel In Google Earth (McWetBoy)
  • A hidden passageway makes the perfect gift! (HiddenPassageway)
  • Mr. Sun sez: stranger, it’s either me, or the cod liver oil… (SFGate)
  • You must use the Imagination, Luke (NYTimes)
  • Larry Sprinkle, Dallas Raines, and other ridiculous weatherman names (SFGate)
  • Coming soon to an ATM near you (KrebsOnSecurity)
  • The best self-referential nerd comic strip that ever shall be (XKCD)

Kung Fu Typing

A nice white keyboard.If you’re one of the fortunate few who’s successfully completed a typing class, dance those ballerina fingers across the keyboard, you lucky devil!

As for Yours Truly, teenage peer pressure kept me from riding the touch typing train.  Per the sexist suppositions of way-back-when, before computers went mainstream, keyboards were for secretaries, and secretaries were female!  Dudes just didn’t do that kind of thing.

Sans guidance, out of the pecks of a ten-year-old computer programmer, my keyboard technique evolved organically.  Today, at maximum caffeination, via a curious set of finger contortions, I can knock out 55 words per minute – not blazingly fast, but adequate for whatever the typing need…

That is, until I got a Blog!

Now, every morning, I spend three hours making a biggest pile of words that I can muster.  Then, my Blog runs in, gulps it down whole, belches, grins, and enthusiastically inquires:

“Thank you, sir, may I have another?  Please please please?!”

A responsible Blog owner keeps his animal well-fed, but would a semester of Touch Typing 101 do the trick, or did I simply have to work harder?  I fired off a probing tweet in the direction of my technical staff, for certainly, they could help me with the answer.

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Color Me A Dinosaur

First, Pluto got a demotion.  Then, surfing the FM dial, I heard a Styx song on the oldies station.  And just yesterday, park-side, a nanny chided me:  “Star fish?  No, kids call those sea stars nowadays.”  Oh, really?

Denial worked for a while, but honesty’s time had come.  “Okay,” I said to myself, “admit it.  Once, you were a cool dude, but he got eaten by your inner dinosaur.  Now, go roar, or something.”

Lumbering homeward with my sons, doubt swirled about my tiny Stegosaurus brain.  I quite liked my Jurassic bubble of backwardness, but was I raising my brood in it, too?

As we strolled down the sidewalk, we happened upon a stray green crayon.  My kids still doodled with the familiar hues of my youth, but did other children?  Or had they ditched that stupid stuff for a new-and-improved, perceptually-optimized, ISO-12647-2-compliant wax-based coloring system?

Crayons!

Crayons!

Us Stegosauri can’t type, unless we have something pointy attached to our feet.  That evening, thankfully, my boys duct-taped a couple of pencils to my toes, and thus equipped, I hunted-and-pecked across the Internet Dot Com and eventually landed on the web site of Crayola, the undisputed King Of Crayons.

Crayola’s crayon chronology tracks their standard box, from its humble eight color beginnings in 1903 to the present day’s 120-count lineup.  According to Crayola, of the precious crayons of my childhood – the seventy-two colors from the official 1975 set – sixty-one survive.  Today, each is loved to nubs by kids worldwide, just like when I was a sprout.  Woohoo!  Maybe I’m slightly less ancient than a dinosaur – a woolly mammoth, perhaps?

The next day, I gave my buddy Velociraptor a ding-a-ling, and true to form, he yakked his hyperactive yakkage – until I mentioned the crayons.  Five quick claw taps rang out from the phone, then silence, a hiss of “check your email,” and click!  The line went dead.  Good ol’ Velo’s sharp as a tack, but he’s also that way, if you know what I mean.

Three minutes passed, and “bing!”  Oh, a message from velo@cretaceous.org, let’s see… with an image attached, labeled Crayola Color Chart, 1903-2010:

Velo's Crayola Color Chart, 1903-2010

Velo's Crayola Color Chart, 1903-2010

To create the chart, Velo gently scraped Wikipedia’s list of Crayola colors, corrected a few hues, and added the standard 16-count School Crayon box available in 1935. 

Except for the dayglow-ski-jacket-inspired burst of neon magentas at the end of the ’80s, the official color set has remained remarkably faithful to its roots!

Ever industrious, Velo also calculated the average growth rate: 2.56% annually.  For maximum understandability, he reformulated it as “Crayola’s Law,” which states:

The number of colors doubles every 28 years!

If the Law holds true, Crayola’s gonna need a bigger box, because by the year 2050, there’ll be 330 different crayons!  Shortly thereafter, frazzled packaging designers rejoice, for to the rescue comes a revolution in household appliances: the new-fangled Replicator-Dissociator!  Load it with the Crayola plugin, and you’re seconds away from every shade in the rainbow – no boxes required!

At the dinner table in 2100 AD, great-great-grandson John might ask: “Hal, could you use this leftover broccoli to make five crayons, spaced evenly between Pantone 205 and hex f8b3a2, inclusive, please?”

To which Hal will reply: “Most certainly, John, I can do that.  Would you like a dinosaur coloring book, too?”