Specifically, the man had a brain problem which meant that even though his eyes were fine, and he could do things like name colors (if I remember correctly), he couldn’t process the information his eyes were giving him into objects. At one point, intending to grab his hat, he reaches instead at his wife.
Oh, I can imagine it being very hard to live in a world of colors and shapes which refuse to resolve themselves into identifiable objects. I was just making a little joke about dealing with meals (“little green spheres, but little green spheres of _what_?”), perhaps inappropriately.
I remember there was an interesting anecdote where the man was given a glove and asked what it was. He recognized it was a sack shape bit of cloth, bag like in nature, with five tubular extensions and theorized that it could be used as coin purse to separate coins by denominations. When asked to compare it in size to his hand he said he supposed it could be worn like a glove or mitten and then declared very triumphantly “Ah, it’s a glove!”
I think getting that joke off was vastly more important than getting in a gloat opportunity.
By the by, if you’ve never read the book — The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat — read it, after preparing to have your mind blown as you realize just how strange minds are.
I’ve led the pack, and moved it ‘round.
But fate’s been cruel, the downs aren’t so few
I guess you could say that it’s too yucky.
Well, I guess I could say that I blame it all on you.
I went along with H. T.’s bad sugar coating,
For whatever reason you might say,
You picked me up, and you’re not gloating.
And that’s the best thing that could have happened today.
Ah, that’s the best thing that could have happened today.
Oh, I’m the Prime, and Primes work hard,
But always some way we made it, and made it do.
‘Cause for all those moments that I spent cursing,
There were those moments that I spent, ah, just blaming you.
I went along with H. T.’s bad sugar coating,
For whatever reason you might say,
You picked me up, and you’re not gloating.
And that’s the best thing that could have happened today.
You know, that’s the best thing that could have happened today.
—from “You’re the Best Thing That Ever Happened to Me,” Jim Weatherly.
Traditionally, yes, cephalophores were saints who had been martyred by beheading, and are carrying their own heads. But since the word literally means “head toter” (thank you, Nick), it can be used more broadly.
Well, why not?
They’ve been kinda busy, what with running for their lives and all.
…well, running for Sweetheart’s life, anyway.
I don’t get the reference they’re making.
Oliver Sacks wrote a book with that title.
Specifically, the man had a brain problem which meant that even though his eyes were fine, and he could do things like name colors (if I remember correctly), he couldn’t process the information his eyes were giving him into objects. At one point, intending to grab his hat, he reaches instead at his wife.
Like face-blindness, only worse? Must have made meals a touch unnerving…
It was a lot more disabling than you suggest. There’s a reason he was seeing a neurologist…
Oh, I can imagine it being very hard to live in a world of colors and shapes which refuse to resolve themselves into identifiable objects. I was just making a little joke about dealing with meals (“little green spheres, but little green spheres of _what_?”), perhaps inappropriately.
I remember there was an interesting anecdote where the man was given a glove and asked what it was. He recognized it was a sack shape bit of cloth, bag like in nature, with five tubular extensions and theorized that it could be used as coin purse to separate coins by denominations. When asked to compare it in size to his hand he said he supposed it could be worn like a glove or mitten and then declared very triumphantly “Ah, it’s a glove!”
I think getting that joke off was vastly more important than getting in a gloat opportunity.
By the by, if you’ve never read the book — The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat — read it, after preparing to have your mind blown as you realize just how strange minds are.
Wouldn’t enjoying Skin Horse be adequate preparation?
Apparently they haven’t gotten new body parts for Unity yet.
I guess that makes Sweetheart a headtoter.
Wait… is Unity allowed to notarize her own marriage license?
Moustachio can notarize for Unity and Sweetheart, and Unity can return the favor by notarizing for him and Hitty.
You can notarize anyone’s signature for nay reason except your own. I suppose as long as she didn’t have to sign the license she could notarize it.
…just don’t let Hitty stamp them.
I can’t imagine anyone could make it more official than her though.
Hitty would be very good at stamping. Signing her name… not so much.
Does this mean Sweetheart and U.N.I.T.Y. Got ahead of themselves?
Boos only please, those vegetables can hurt.
Oops… sorry about that. I thought you said boots only.
Ouch.
Also lost the opportunity for a GREAT Halloween couple’s-costume reveal.
I’ve led the pack, and moved it ‘round.
But fate’s been cruel, the downs aren’t so few
I guess you could say that it’s too yucky.
Well, I guess I could say that I blame it all on you.
I went along with H. T.’s bad sugar coating,
For whatever reason you might say,
You picked me up, and you’re not gloating.
And that’s the best thing that could have happened today.
Ah, that’s the best thing that could have happened today.
Oh, I’m the Prime, and Primes work hard,
But always some way we made it, and made it do.
‘Cause for all those moments that I spent cursing,
There were those moments that I spent, ah, just blaming you.
I went along with H. T.’s bad sugar coating,
For whatever reason you might say,
You picked me up, and you’re not gloating.
And that’s the best thing that could have happened today.
You know, that’s the best thing that could have happened today.
—from “You’re the Best Thing That Ever Happened to Me,” Jim Weatherly.
I thought that cepalophores were supposed to carry their own heads.
Traditionally, yes, cephalophores were saints who had been martyred by beheading, and are carrying their own heads. But since the word literally means “head toter” (thank you, Nick), it can be used more broadly.
Like this: https://garage.vice.com/amp/en_us/article/mb5pny/gucci-decapitated-models (yes, they’re still carrying their own heads, but they’re not exactly saints)