Truex.org » Animals

An Amero

Truex — Fri, 10 Apr 2009 01:52:23 +0000

Poor Platypus Frog

Truex — Sat, 04 Apr 2009 18:11:13 +0000

This is the gastric-brooding frog, also known as the Platypus frog. There were two species of these things, and in both cases the female frog would swallow the fertilized eggs. The tadpole would then develop into a frog while in the female’s stomach.

These little weirdos went extinct sometime in the 1980s, although for once it wasn’t (entirely) humanity’s fault – we can lay the blame with chytrid, a nasty little fungus that has an affinity for messing frogs right the hell up.

Canada Meets America

Truex — Thu, 02 Apr 2009 17:11:53 +0000

Good (Ad) Dog

Truex — Wed, 18 Mar 2009 02:13:45 +0000

People are pretty damn good at ignoring ads, since there’s no longer any (sane) way to avoid them. The cold-war response is to make the ads louder and more obnoxious, which only makes the occasional clever and well-executed ad all the more surprising –

It took me a moment for everything to come together, but when it did and I thought “I get it” the advertisers won. They were able to invoke an emotional response in me, tied to the product, which might influence future purchases; the payoff was clever enough that I’m not left resenting the company.

To be fair I don’t even have a fucking dog, but still.

Blast from the Past

Truex — Mon, 12 Jan 2009 05:02:12 +0000

I think I have a chronic problem when it comes to writing about myself as opposed to… things, I suppose. Every time I relaunch this son of a bitch I try to focus on writing for and/or by myself, but it never pans out. This is probably due to the fact that I’m self-critical as fuck, so you know what? Fuck it.

Here’s a pretty good visual metaphor for my stance re: personal blogging –

You’re a Kitty!

Truex — Tue, 03 Apr 2007 23:25:52 +0000

The house I’m in is on one of those pseudo-main roads, a supposed shortcut around the traffic lights that takes longer than the alternative. I was washing the dishes the other night, listening to the traffic drive by, when I notice something from the other side of the kitchen.

Skritch. Tap tap. Skritch.

I glance over and see nothing until I drop my eyes to the ground. There, paws pressed against the glass, is a 1 to 2 year old calico named Bijou. It turns out she was one of the neighbor’s cats, which meant I got to play with a well-behaved kitten for a little bit before walking her back over. Being allergic this probably wasn’t the brightest of things for me to do, but c’mon. Kittens. They’re like tiny little cynical, yet curious people with fur.