Crunchy Mustard

At the Steere House Nursing and Rehabilitation Center, when Oscar shows up, you know it’s time to die.

Apparently, the cat has a sort of sixth sense as to when patients are going to die. He’ll curl up next to them during their final hours, and then stay with them as they pass on.

His accuracy is astounding: after being observed in 25 correct cases, nurses will call family members once he has chosen someone to let them know that it is time. According to Oscar, this means they have less than four hours to live.

“He doesn’t make too many mistakes. He seems to understand when patients are about to die,” said Dr. David Dosa in an interview. He describes the phenomenon in a poignant essay in Thursday’s issue of the New England Journal of Medicine.

“Many family members take some solace from it. They appreciate the companionship that the cat provides for their dying loved one,” said Dosa, a geriatrician and assistant professor of medicine at Brown University.

Oscar would make his own rounds just like the staff of the facility. He sniffs and observes patients, then sits beside those who he thinks will die in a few hours.

Doctors say most of the people who get a visit from the sweet-faced, gray-and-white cat are so ill they probably don’t know he’s there, so patients aren’t aware he’s a harbinger of death. Most families are grateful for the advanced warning, although one wanted Oscar out of the room while a family member died. When Oscar is put outside, he paces and meows his displeasure.

[…]

Oscar recently received a wall plaque publicly commending his “compassionate hospice care.”

Does this advertisement look attractive to you? Does it make you want to wear glasses that don’t fit right? Does it make you want to throw on that pretty-average t-shirt and scream: I AM A NERD!

Well. I’m not quite sure what it says, but it does not suggest attractiveness.

American Apparel has been long known for their hideously ugly photos which tend to seem like amateur porn shoots (including bruises and stretch lines) of their models. My trouble is… where is the appeal? Sure the thought that this is shock advertising can be thrown out there.

Honestly? The initial shock that I receive only makes me click on the link and to decide to never buy the actual item.

Good work American Apparel.

Oh, and go read some “real” marketing analysis of AA here. And some more on the porn bit here:

Have you heard of American Apparel? Spreading fast, it is, opening multiple open-aired clean-cut brand-free stores across the nation and across five countries and they are, apparently, a big hit with hot urban chicks and lesbians and DJs and club kids and sporty types and grungy ’70s-inspired dudes who like to wear floppy hair and multiple layers of really simple clothing covered by nicely made hoodies of various primary colors, all without actually thinking they’re attaching themselves to a brand or a logo or a “look,” even though, of course, they very much are.

American Apparel. It was founded and is run by a talented and sexually nutty and increasingly notorious, mutton-chopped, ’70s-happy 36-year-old dude named Dov Charney, one of the more unique and controversial and libidinously open CEOs in all of corporate America, unafraid and unabashed and just a little greasy (click here to see a video interview with Charney, via Lou Dobbs).

And Dov, well, he happily indulges in consensual sexual relationships with members of his staff, and he uses tons of raunchy language in the workplace and posts old shots from Penthouse magazine up in his stores to complement the racy retro hipster club-kid design aesthetic, all despite a slew of sexual-harassment lawsuits now winging his way, fast.

Charney takes many of the company’s beautifully racy ad photos himself. He encourages a sexually open workplace atmosphere. He works not at all to hide his predilections, and most people claim he has never done anything that hasn’t been fully consensual, out in the open.

It still doesn’t make me want to buy the shirt (or glasses?) It just makes me feel dirty.

How many times has someone come at you with a “thanks for understanding,” “no offense,” or an “I appreciate it” to add that extra passive punch to coat their direct insult? My favorite passive aggressive notes are the business kind - a place where someone must be extremely polite (especially towards a customer) but would rather rip out their insides.

The extremely witty blog “passive-aggressive notes from roommates, neighbors, coworkers and strangers” showcases a fantastically superb selection of these gems. Here are a few of the best:

I spit in mine.
PLEASE STOP STEALING FOOD! (I spit in mine! Enjoy!) And I want my nice tupperware back!!!)

Go home Sally Perfect. Unless you want it to be eaten, don’t put your $30 organic Mediterranean Ahi Salad in your fancy tupperware in the office fridge.

And another good chuckle:

“That’d be great.”
Peter - I’m not too happy with your inability to provide me with some cookies. If we could fix this situation, that’d be great. Thanks, Jon.

Are you feeling rather down? Do you need a small pick me up from your favorite Chinese cookie? Look NO FURTHER:

Enjoy the joy of unFortunate. Read inspiring custom-crafted fortune cookies including such classics as:

• If you can do the robot, you can sneak into robot dance clubs.
• You will make many friends (in bed).
• You will invent a humorous toilet lid.
• If a cat pisses on your futon, piss on his bed.
• You will be aroused by a shampoo commercial.
• When life gives you ham, make hamonade.

unFortunate offers fun for the whole family. You can even print your custom creations right from your home printer. WOW! Enjoy unFortunate’s super Web 2.0 ish design and create away.

As of recently, I’ve been sleeping deeper sleeps
and I’ve been dreaming more vivid or graphic dreams.
As far as I can tell, I am not on any halucenogens, drugs,
or any other wacky stuff. Unless of course, it’s being
slipped to me without my knowing it. But I highly doubt that.
Anyway, it’s been getting harder for me to wake up,
and i’m usually one to wake up easily without any troube.

Last night, I had an unusual dream. I was in a fictitious town/small city.The details were so….detailed. The sense of actually being there was so real.

Apparently it was somewhere in the middle of Kansas but at the same time it was somewhere on the west coast. Skyscapers and city folk. It was so full of colors and life. I even had a chat with a mounted policeman and his horse. Not that the horse spoke, but he was there too and I thought I should mention him.

There was something so familiar to me. I knew this town. I’ve been here before. In another dream, less than two years ago. And then I realized it, I was in my own dream. I tried pinching myself (cliche I know) but alas it didn’t work. Nonetheless, I knew for certain that I was in my own dream. I had finally done it. After trying for God knows how long, I’ve realized that I’m in a dream in my own dream. So I started to walk around and then…blank….switched to another dream waking up not too long afterwards. Now I’ll try to master the environment of my dreams and see what else I can do.