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About Ramblings of a Hopeless Khowaga

Welcome to my Web site. My name is Chris, and I’ll be your host. I live in Austin, Texas, with my partner, Ray, and our child dog, Mocha. You can read more about me, learn 100 random things about me, and if you’re wondering what the heck a khowaga is, click here. Feel free to browse, read, and leave comments!

Tag: ‘Denmark’



Den eneste bøsse i landsbyen

Monday, December 14th, 2009

I got my first hit from Greenland today!  (We’ve discussed my inner stats whore earlier, so never mind that creepy bit.)

See, there it is on Mint:

stats1

What on earth brought my Greenlandic visitor to my site?  Well, I click on the little icon and I discover that what’s on the minds of today’s Greenlanders is:

stats2

A la Dr. Evil: Riiiiiight.

I get my first hit from Greenland, and it’s someone looking for gay porn.  Fabulous.

Well, then I got to thinking.  Like most of the rest of the world, what I know about Greenland is as follows: it’s not as big as it looks on maps, being the main victim of distortion put about by the Mercator projection.  It’s ruled by Denmark, as I have known from the fifth grade when we had to research it as a class project after several of us more literate types questioned our teacher when she said it was an independent country while the map in our social studies book clearly labeled it as a possession of Denmark.

Oh, and there’s some sort of asteroid on the west coast that could power the universe if only extraterrestrial worms weren’t eating peoples’ brains.  I got that last by reading Smilla’s Sense of Snow (the book being far, far better than the movie which now airs regularly on Lifetime as part of their court ordered Julia Ormond quota).  I also recall something about Greenland having low humidity (“I’ve been colder in Denmark than I ever have in Greenland”), a high rate of both alcoholism and suicide (has something to do with the long hours of night in the winter–as I recall Smilla’s brother had committed suicide), and Greenlanders being rather resentful of their forced inclusion into the Greater Danish Sphere (Smilla herself being a prime example).

And since I’m sure that author Peter Høeg is an expert on Greenland, this must all be correct…

Nuuk_night

So, I pulled it up on the Interwebz, and I discovered that Nuuk (formerly Godthåb) is one of the smallest capital cities in the world by population–right around 18,000, which comprises one quarter of Greenland’s entire population.

Which leads me to the following thought: no wonder my Greenlandic visitor was seeking out gay porn on the Internet.  The most accessible gay bar is in Copenhagen–six hours away by plane (among my other random knowledge is that it is far, far easier to fly from Greenland to Denmark than to either Canada or the U.S., even though they’re closer).  Can you imagine what it must be like trying to find a date on a Friday night?

One can imagine the drama that would ensue in the small dating pool: everyone knows everyone else’s business, that’s for sure.  Plus, it’s that part of the year when there are a scant few hours of daylight.  Who wouldn’t want to hang around the house and surf the Interwebz?

Nuuk_snow

Sure offers a new lens to the concept of being the only gay in the village, don’t it?  (BTW, the title of the post is “the only gay in the village” rendered into Danish by Google translate, and I’d be happy to change it if a real Dane happens by and wants to correct it … )

*photos by Peter Løvstrøm.  Used under a Creative Commons Attribution license.

Sweet Anonymity

Friday, August 7th, 2009

There are times when I wonder if Web 2.0 is taking us to a level of public exposure previously only known to politicians, porn stars, and Madonna.  Thanks to the wonder of Facebook (and, I suppose, Twitter, which I haven’t joined because I’m not vain enough to think anyone is interesting in knowing if I’m standing in line at the grocery store), we now have 24 hour access to deep thoughts.

The question of whether the thoughts are actually deep and may be better left unexpressed is one that I think that some ought to ask themselves (although, in full disclosure, I certainly didn’t ask myself that before I sat down to write this here post).  There are, among my acquaintances, many people who comment on every single thing that their Facebook “friends” do all day long.  Some comments are amusing, others are … well, clearly not as amusing as their authors think they are.

The ubiquity of Facebook, Twitter, and other forms of social networking means that it’s now possible to create an entire online persona that you can drag with you hither and yon.  Your Yahoo! account can be linked to your Flickr, which is now linked to Twitter, and Google now knows more about you than the federal government, and all of them can be linked to Facebook.  Facebook, if you’re not careful, can also track what you buy on Amazon and rent from Blockbuster or Netflix.  This means that if you rate a movie that you rented on Blockbuster, the netsavvier among us can find within a frighteningly short amount of time those embarrassing photos that your coworker took at the office Christmas party of you pretending to be Smiling Bob from the “natural enhancement” commercials.

My friend Michael has pointed out on occasion that there are clearly people with nothing to do all day who lurk about on the InterWebz and leave bizarre comments on any public forum that invites comment.  Austin is a fairly liberal town.  You wouldn’t know this by reading the online edition of our alleged “newspaper” [sic], the Austin American-Statesman (which, on a side note, was up for sale for 18 months and has been taken off the market because no one wanted to buy it).

The Statesman did this weird thing where it invited readers to form their own blogs and comment on the news — it’s to the point where I can’t actually read the online edition anymore.  Global warming is a man-made myth.  The president was born on Mars (funny, I was pretty sure that was a reference to Lady Gaga).  And any time an article pops up about gay … well, gay anything, the Bible thumpers turn up and start screaming about Satan (see: Barack Obama).  Someone actually told Michael to go back where he came from, Commie.

It’s enough to make you want to pull out your old government book and read aloud the definition of “socialism.”  Kids, do you want to know some countries that are socialist?  Norway, Denmark, and Sweden.

I’m guessing this is all because the sane people have day jobs and don’t have time to sit around and write ultra right wing conspiracy shit all over the Internet, let alone create a fake Kenyan birth certificate for the president … and can I just ask — what, exactly, is the birther movement trying to do?  If you don’t like Obama, fine (I’ll admit, the enchantment has worn off for me, too) but for gawd’s sake, why is it necessary to be coming up with all of these ridiculous stories about how he’s not really American?  Are we really supposed to believe that his parents faked his birth certificate in 1961 because they knew that he was going to run for president 48 years later?  Because if they did, I’d like their phone number — I want to run some stock options by them and see which ones they like.

I know, I know: this is America, and we have freedom of speech.  However, just because we have freedom of speech doesn’t mean we should always feel the need to use it.  Sometimes the best thing to do is realize that you don’t have anything important to say … and then not say it.

Like this:

Greece does it again …

Thursday, October 26th, 2006

Well, my ancestral countrymen have done it again: Greece has scored another victory.  This time, however, they didn’t win the Euro Cup in football — they’ve won an EU court ruling that says that only Greece (and the Greek part of Cyprus) is allowed to produce an alcoholic beverage and call it “ouzo:” Greeks toast EU ruling that ouzo belongs to them – Yahoo! News

Greece, for those who have been paying attention, previously won the right to be the only EU state allowed to produce cheese called “feta.”  Whatever it is that they’ve been producing in Denmark looks like feta, smells like feta, and crumbles like feta, but according to the EU ruling, it ain’t feta.  (Which raises the question: what is it?)  And that stuff that we get here in the states is usually from Wisconsin, and they call their product feta.  Sucks to be Denmark, I guess.  (That’s OK — the Danes still have one of the highest standards of living on earth, and they can remind the Greeks of that as often as they can.)

The question in my mind is how much of a problem ‘bootleg’ ouzo is, exactly.  Nearly every Mediterranean culture has a version of the anise-flavored liquor that’s clear when it’s pure and turns cloudy when you add water.  The Arabs call it arak, the Turks have their rakı (which is barely distinguishable from ouzo — ouzo is just an eentsy bit sweeter), and in Italy it’s a syrup called sambucca.  But I guess when you’re on a roll …

 

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