People who speak English (poorly) as a second language never cease to amuse those of us who speak it natively.

In that vein: The Two Towers, in Whimsical Engrish.(Via One Point Zero)

There’s some commentary to be made that those of us here in America who speak English natively usually don’t speak any other language at all, but in our imperial arrogance still find it amusing to laugh at the poor foreigners who at least try.

But whatever. That commentary is stupid. These engrish subtitles are hilarious.

As I’m sure you can tell, the site has been redesigned. This is partially because of vanity, and partially because of utility.

The utility is easier to talk about. I’m working on a client site, a weblog for Mackenzie Walsh—I had to fix a few scripts, and I decided to make my own site the testbed. Everyone (including you, Mack) can expect her site this weekend.

But, of course, vanity had more to do with the redesign. I could have simply left things the way they were, here, but I was getting bored. Once I started experimenting, I didn’t want to write any new entries until I had a new page to put them on.

And the old idea—the split of content between Angst Dei, the short-lived Fides Et Ratio, and the never extant Exegesis—was folly. It never came together. It was never going to. It was time to face facts and kill the non-links to those non-sections, those placeholders that were taunting me for so long.

I can’t help but feel that this new format will, well, discourage me from making the kind of entries I have lately. Cryptic comments don’t work as well when a stack of them fills the screen.

Maybe that’s wrong, though. Carl is the counterexample.

It’s already one month in, but I want to say, I’m glad to be here, to share 2003 with you. I… I don’t know what kind of year it’s going to be. But I appreciate everyone here with me for the ride.

Every once in a while you read something that brings a smile to your face so wide that it almost hurts. The skin at the corners of your mouth stretches. If you have chapped lips, like I do right now, your expansive grin cracks them a little.

Dae’s announcement and its attendant comments had this exact effect on me.

I know I’m a little late in saying this, but congratulations to Dave and Dae on their engagement.

Squee, indeed.

You call and get her voicemail. You think, that’s okay. But inside you wish you got to talk to her.

Her name and number are written on the back of a receipt. You stare at them afterwards, as if waiting for some hidden secret to reveal itself.

And every other marking becomes a zen koan; a challenge that defies reason but upon which you continue to meditate.

You think, you think, about the writing on the front, you think about the strange grease stains that make part of the flimsy receipt paper almost transparent, you think about the markings she made while she was trying to get the pen to work.

You think, you think, and then you summon your courage and you make your phone call.