The Core Dump

Update: They fought the law and they won. The couple’s daughter is now officially named Metallica. /Update

A couple in Sweden have, for whatever reason, decided to name their baby daughter Metallica.

The problem (for them, not their daughter, who obviously is going to have whole other set of problems) is that the Swedish National Tax Board have refused to let the couple register the name.

A non-Swede would be excused to ask, “What does a Tax Board have to do with this?”

Allow me to explain. Basically the way things work in Sweden is that no matter what the issue, there’s a government agency to take care of you. Some people kept giving their children ridiculous names that caused them to be mocked and ridiculed. So a government agency was given the authority to oversee names in the interest of making sure that children weren’t given names that could cause hardship later in life.

Those people are obviously still on the job.

The thing I always wonder about is how they handle immigrant names. If Abdul and Hined move to Sweden from some faraway land, and then choose to name their child after the arab version of Metallica, how would the Swedish National Tax Board know?

I’m guessing there’s an efficient bureaucracy leaving no stone unturned, with consultants brought in from all over the world as needed, able to discern that a child’s name actually means Frigtard in Hindi…

Soundtrack: “Breaker” by Accept

Came across this piece of graffiti on campus last night, and was taken by the desolation:

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I’m guessing our author either flunked remedial English, or wants somebody to send an instant message.

Soundtrack: The System on XM Satellite

At the Salt Mines where I work we have free coffee. Good coffee, even. Brand-name stuff. Did I mention it’s free? Just go down to the cafeteria and suck up all the caffeine you can stand without spending a dime.

Not. A. Dime.

Great, huh? Medium roast. Dark Roast. All kinds of weird anti-testosterone blends. Sugar. Milk. Cream. Whatever you could possibly want for your particular coffee fix.

Bearing this in mind, I keep running across people who have … who have … oh, dear Lord … stopped on their way to work to buy a cup of coffee. Really. Yep. No, no, it’s true. See it every day. Your work provides all the coffee you could possibly need or want, and you decide out of your own volition to stop your car on the way to work and pay for coffee.

Now, I have a long commute. Looooong. Painful. And yet I am able to wait until I get to work to pick up the free coffee. It seems that my entire being will not self-destruct if I don’t spend $4 on coffee on the way to a place where free coffee awaits me.

So what is the deal here? Much as I try, I just can’t wrap my head around why somebody would elect to pay $4 for absolutely no reason whatsoever apart from being able to carry a coffee cup with a different label on it. If you needed it that bad, why don’t I see you drinking any more coffee the rest of the day? How can that morning cup contain the magic elixir that keeps you alive, but then you don’t need another for 24 hours?

So here’s the big question: Can I have your money? You obviously have no idea what to do with it, so please give it to me. The first thing I will do is to not spend $4 per day on something I can get for free at work. That adds up to $20 per week, which is $80 per month, perilously close to a cool grand per year.

You can buy real stuff they don’t give you for free at work for that kind of money.

Just saying.

This was the scene in Skövde, Sweden, on January 10, 1987:

Ice Palace. Photo: Roland Svensson. Source: Skaraborgs Allehanda.
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A fire broke out in a department store building on a day of temperatures of -20F (-30C). The cold was so bad that firefighters could only work 20-minute shifts, and there were still a few cases of frostbite.

Soundtrack: The Loft on XM Satellite

According to a Reuters story,

Around a dozen Japanese tourists a year need psychological treatment after visiting Paris as the reality of unfriendly locals and scruffy streets clashes with their expectations, a newspaper reported on Sunday.

Yes, we’re talking full-blown psychosis here, on the level of believing you’re the Sun King or that you’re being attacked by microwaves. (Would Madame like to try on a Gaultier tin-foil hat?)

The phenomenon has been dubbed the Paris Syndrome and is closely related to the Jerusalem Syndrome, the label for when people go to Jerusalem and have psychotic episodes.

I can see where if you’re a bit of tightly-wound believer in one of the Abrahamic religions going to Jerusalem could be a bit of a let-down, but really, Paris? You can build Paris up to be that big of a deal? Enough to go completely off your rocker when you realize that Parisians are—shockingly, yes—rude and with their very own standards of cleanliness?

It makes you wonder what other places people out there have built up to be their own versions of Avalon only to have their fantasies horribly shipwrecked on the iceberg of reality…

London? “Aaaaarrgghhhh … the British have bad teeth! I’m George III!”

Los Angeles? “Aaaaarrgghhhh … I’ve been here three days and haven’t seen Brad Pitt! I’m Brad Pitt!”

Phoenix? “Aaaaarrgghhhh … The sun has fried my brain! Give me water!”

Soundtrack: “Emerge” by Fischerspooner

Out of Sweden today comes the story (sorry, article is in Swedish) of what may be the most inept bank robber in history.

Apparently, the would-be robber—who “appeared to be under the influence of drugs”—entered a bank holding a banana-shaped knife and wearing a purple child’s T-shirt as a mask:

Maybe a Nixon mask would work better. Source: Aftonbladet.se

Bank staff then laughed at him until he left the building.

Continuing the criminal mastermind theme, our hero removed the child’s T-shirt as he left, allowing one of the staff to get a look at his face. The staff member realized that she had seen him on the subway earlier that day, the police found his picture in surveillance footage from the subway, and he was picked up later the same day.

Today is 6/6/6. It’s still early in the day, so no nuttiness in the news yet.

However, the word of the day is Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia, which is the fear of the number 666. Put that in your spelling bee and smoke it…

My daughter: Budding artist or normal three-year-old?

Click for larger version.

Hey, somebody has to tag the Nexus 6 models when they come here.

Soundtrack: “Turn Up The Night” by Black Sabbath

Here we go, then. Another April 1st and the entire intarweb reveals its complete and utter lack of a sense of humor. Sigh.

There was a pretty good joke in Sweden back in 1962, just as color television was being introduced in the country. (Here’s a link to the Swedish Wikipedia entry.) In complete dead pan, viewers were informed that the state-run TV company had purchased new equipment that would allow people with black-and-white TV sets to view color programming by simply threading a pair of nylon tights over their screens.

According to my mother, my grandfather completely bought it, even though he would never admit it.

UPDATE: Thanks to the power of teh intarwebs and the groovy people at Swedish Television, here’s a link to the actual broadcast. It requires RealPlayer and will obviously only make any kind of sense if you happen to speak Swedish.

If you happen to have RealPlayer and speak Swedish, it’s pretty damn amazing, though. The guy doing the presentation is unbelievably sincere, and throws out a fantastic amount of almost-believable technobabble. Good job.

Soundtrack: “Den Döda Vinkeln” by Kent

My sister is one of those people who keep spamming her friends and family with silly chain letters, which sometimes gets annoying even though I love her dearly.

But sometimes something good comes along in one of those things…

Soundtrack: “Around The World (Lightforce Rmx)” by Mark Miles