Category: Quizzes

I am less Republican than Dustbury:

I am: 57% Republican.

“Congratulations, you’re a swing voter. When they say ‘Nascar Dad’, they mean you. Every Republican ad on the TV set was made just for your viewing pleasure. Don’t you feel special?”

Are You A Republican?

Free Will links to a quiz called the Moral Matrix.

Here’s how I did:

Apparently, that means:

Matches

The following items best match your score:

1. System:

   Conservatism

2. Variation:
   Economic Conservatism
3. Ideologies:
   Ultra Capitalism, Conservative NeoLiberalism

4. US Parties:
   Republican Party
5. Presidents:
   Ronald Reagan (93.75%)
6. 2004 Election Candidates:
   George W. Bush (80.24%), John Kerry (71.70%), Ralph Nader (53.02%)

Statistics

Of the 38260 people who took the test:

1. 0.4% had the same score as you.
2. 95.8% were above you on the chart.
3. 1% were below you on the chart.
4. 22.8% were to your right on the chart.
5. 70.8% were to your left on the chart.

As a Robert Crais character would say, “There you go.”

My score:

In response to Other Things I Remember, reader (not “one of my readers”, my reader) KG sends in his list of things he remembers:

• TVs that took 2 minutes to come on and left a white dot in the middle of the screen for 10 minutes after you turned it off
• The UHF knob
• Changing channels by hand
• Pop Tarts packaged in a zip-strip foil package
• When Kelloggs Corn Pops were called Sugar Pops, Smacks were Sugar Smacks and Super Crisp was Super Sugar Crisp
• When you missed Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer at Christmas (or Charlie Brown, or any seasonal show), you MISSED it. Better luck next year.
• When you rented videos, you also rented the player.
• 8 tracks (to this day, I will pause in certain songs waiting for the track to change)
• Six to eight weeks for delivery

Hey, I remember eight tracks, too. And musical recording media you had to flip, such as records and cassettes. To this day, I think of the CDs that I upgraded from older media as having two sides. As for pausing in songs, I assume he means singing them, and I’ll have to admit that yes, when singing certain songs (Billy Joel’s “You’re Only Human (Second Wind)”), I still sometimes truncate lines to accommodate a scratch in the my 45. Forty-five revolutions per minute record, you damn kids, not caliber.

So here are some other things I remember on a good day:

• Drive In Movies
  Not in their heyday, of course, and not as a necker. It was cheaper to go to the movies by carload than by individual tickets, so my parents and other parents would combine the families into an Impala and off we’d go. I saw Xtro for the first time at the drive in. Come to think of it, it’s the only time I saw the movie.

• Air Raid Drills
  Not that putting my head between my knees against the wall of the school corridor would have extended my life by a single millisecond when the concussion wave of a nuclear blast hit, but that’s the official policy of schools and government everywhere: we care, and we’re making a show of doing something, no matter how ineffective.

• Basement Rec Rooms
  Anyone with mostly dry basements, some wood, and some second hand carpet had a room with an old sofa and perhaps a console stereo where they could send the kids. Or maybe those were Wreck Rooms, I don’t know. Sure, people have dens and whatnot, but they’re upgrades now, with new furniture and elaborate entertainment facilities.

  Or perhaps I am just lamenting the lack of a rec room in this house which I could convert into a sweet bar.

• Bell Bottoms, the Original
  I remember these all too well because by the time they were handed down to me / recycled from the neighbors, it was 1981 and I was the only kid in school wearing them yet. I was retro when retro wasn’t cool.

That’s all I can remember now. Now old Brian needs his nap, and maybe sometime I’ll tell you about the how good it was and how much better behaved children were in the 1980s. Or at least my parents asserted that the rest of the children were, why couldn’t I?

Only 45.36489% geek on the Inner Geek Geek Test.

However, now that I know what to study for it, I will do better next time.

Over at Signifying Nothing, Chris Lawrence Takes Michelle Malkin’s Media Diversity Test (original Malkin post here.) He scores 60 out of a possible 100, which indicates he’s slightly more…what, Midwestern, conservative, something…than the major media.

Here’s how I did:

Question	Answer	Comment
I have never voted for a Democrat in my life.	No.	I voted for Chris Liese over his competitor 4 years ago, for example, because I received a flyer at the polling place which said his competitor was in favor of strong sodomy laws. It was all I’d heard about the challenger, and it was that he was against homosexuals.
I think my taxes are too high.	Yes.	I think all taxes are too high, not just mine. The government wastes money, period, because it can always get more.
I supported Bill Clinton’s impeachment.	Yes.	Perjury is a crime. Whether it’s about sex, or about the color of the sky.
I voted for President Bush in 2000.	Yes.	I volunteered for the campaign and I displayed a yard sign. Of course, I supported McCain first.
I am a gun owner.	Yes.	I hate to admit it because my admission on the Internet flags me if They decide to confiscate all guns.
I support school voucher programs.	Yes.	Why not? If you think the government redistribution of wealth should be directed to a goal other than increasing the size of government, you should be, too.
I oppose condom distribution in public schools.	Yes.	Do the students need them for school? No, don’t answer that.
I oppose bilingual education.	No.	I do, however, think that speaking, reading, and writing proper English are important to survive in society and oppose any education that would have students believe that speaking a tribal language inherited from their ancestors is equal to speaking a common tongue.
I oppose gay marriage.	No.	I don’t think the state should deprive long term gay couples who want to commit of the same privileges granted to heterosexual couples. I don’t think marriage should be a state issue. So I don’t condemn religions who prohibit gay marriage, either. I’d rather the state eliminate the concept of marriage and issue Civil Union licenses used by couples when they marry in the churches of their choice. Or don’t.
I want Social Security privatized.	Yes.	Actually, I want it eliminated, but if privatization is all I can get, I will take it. Somehow, though, I suspect that “a bankrupt nation, much like they enjoy in Europe” is what I will get.
I believe racial profiling at airports is common sense.	Yes.	What, ethicity counts as a special factor in college admissions, but not in anything else? Give me a break.
I shop at Wal-Mart.	Yes.	Before I accidentally married the woman of my dreams, I bought most of my new clothes at Wal-Mart. Now, though, she’s informed me that better quality jeans make my butt more attactive, to her at least, so who am I to argue?
I enjoy talk radio.	Yes.	I gauge my work day by talk radio. 7-9, Weber and Dolan. 12-3, Rush Limbaugh. 5-7, Hugh Hewitt. It’s entertainment more than enlightenment, come on.
I am annoyed when news editors substitute the phrase “undocumented person” for “illegal alien.”	Yes.	It’s small potatoes, though, to a greater problem in newsrooms across the country. They have a greater latitude to play linguistic tricks because people are less literate to identify them.
I do not believe the phrase “a chink in the armor” is offensive.	Yes.	I’m not even offended by off-handed racial epithets that target my race. If someone’s speaking them to get a rise out of me, though, I will respond to the context. But it’s not the words. It’s the speaker using the words effectively to elicit the response he or she wants.
I eat meat.	Yes.	Well, tonight I ate fish, but it’s all the same to the lower life form that I exploited for my further existence.
I believe O.J. Simpson was guilty.	No.	I don’t believe anything. I wasn’t there, and he was not convicted. I don’t believe he’s innocent, either, though, and he’s got a cloud over him that I don’t think is undeserved.
I cheered when I learned that Saddam Hussein had been captured.	Yes.	I’ll mark this as a yes even though I didn’t shout, “Huzzah!” I remember where I was, and I called out to tell Heather that they did, which is good enough for me.
I cry when I hear “Proud to be an American” by Lee Greenwood.	Give me five points.	I don’t cry, but I do feel close sometimes when I hear this song depending upon the context.
I don’t believe the New York Times.	Yes.	I don’t believe any source of news. They all tell me some facts interspersed with their interpretations. I have to treat it with the same skepticism I treat anything anyone tells me. Less, actually, since I haven’t vetted the media as well as I have vetted my closest friends.

Final score: 80/100

What does it mean? I’m different from Chris. Also, Michelle Malkin would probably think of me as a relative comsymp, much like I think of Alex Knapp of Heretical Ideas.

I guess we’re diverse, which is good, ainna?

Back at Jen Martinez’s Collection of Thoughts, Jen describes The Retrosexual Code, a retaliation against metrosexualism and girliemanism. She’s got quite the list, and I know my gentle readers want to know how I stack up. Well, here you go:

The Code Says:	Brian Says/Does:
A Retrosexual does not let neighbors screw up rooms in his house on national TV. A Retrosexual, no matter what the women insists, PAYS FOR THE DATE.	Brian reserves the right to screw up the rooms, plumbing, and so on, in his house for himself and his able and smoking hot assistant/spouse. Real men, who are not married, can let a woman pay half for a date if they want. They’re rational beings, too, mostly. Real men can sleep on any surface with only clothing as a pillow, which comes in handy when he is married and claims a woman can be only “mostly” rational at times.
A Retrosexual opens doors for a lady. Even for the ones that fit that term only because they are female.	A real man opens a door for a lady when appropriate, but the five second rule applies. If I see a female several dozen yards away from the door, I won’t hold the door for her. I’ll go in and hope the next guy has the class to hold it. Also, this does not apply to all females; the grocery store would get mad were I to let a real bitch in to snuffle among the meat and run out with a steak in her jaws to feed her pups, or just her thin beagle self.
A Retrosexual DEALS with IT, be it a flat tire, break-in into your home, or a natural disaster, you DEAL WITH IT.	I concur. Although my sainted mother gave me a super AAA membership, I would feel silly calling them for anything but a tow (real man or not, I can’t lift my vehicle nor drag it for miles). Now, if only I could figure out where there’s some sort of spare on my pickup truck….
A Retrosexual not only eats red meat, he often kills it himself.	My beautiful wife won’t let me eat cats, so I rely on the grocery store for red meat. Although I come from a long line of hunters and have gone hunting, I’ve not ever had license to kill, so I’ve never even shot a duck for dinner….but my father ensured we would not starve with plenty of ducks, geese, and “fuzzy chickens.”
A Retrosexual doesn’t worry about living to be 90. It’s not how long you live, but how well. If you’re 90 years old and still smoking cigars and drinking, I salute you.	I don’t smoke, but I appreciate the hedonism and materialism involved in this section of the code. I hope I have not been too girlie by opening IRAs recently, though.
A Retrosexual does not use more hair or skin products than a woman. Women have several supermarket aisles of stuff. Retrosexuals need an endcap (possibly 2 endcaps if you include shaving goods.)	I prefer White Rain brand shampoo, but because it’s a dollar a bottle. Of course, since I keep my hair (well, okay, my beautiful wife does the cutting because I don’t want to spend a half hour waiting to pay someone $10 for 5 minutes of hair cutting) under an inch (mostly), I could use the soap in the shower. Uh oh, that sounds like metrosexuality. I almost want to hump a fire hydrant.
A Retrosexual does not dress in clothes from Hot Topic when he’s 30 years old.	What is Hot Topic? I feel girlie sometimes for going to Kohl’s for Levis instead of Wal-Mart for $10 jeans.
A Retrosexual should know how to properly kill stuff (or people) if need be. This falls under the “Dealing with IT” portion of The Code.	By any means necessary, using whatever is at hand, with a determination that the stuff (or people) or I survive, but not both.
A Retrosexual watches no TV show with “Queer” in the title.	I recognize the multiple meanings of queer and dismisses this silly tenet of the code. Of course, I really only watch hockey and football on television, so I am only in danger of violating this if some city names its team the Queers and that team plays the Packers or the Blues.
A Retrosexual should not give up excessive amounts of manliness for women. Some is inevitable, but major re-invention of yourself will only lead to you becoming a froo-froo little puss, and in the long run, she ain’t worth it.	Especially women who would dictate a man’s behavior by saying real men or retrosexuals would do or not do something. I agree one hundred percent.
A Retrosexual is allowed to seek professional help for major mental stress such as drug/alcohol addiction, death of your entire family in a freak treechipper accident, favorite sports team being moved to a different city, or favorite bird dog expiring, etc. You are NOT allowed to see a shrink because Daddy didn’t pay enough attention to you. Daddy was busy DEALING WITH IT. When you screwed up, he DEALT with you.	Professional help? You mean pay someone to know yourself? Give me a break. I already paid Marquette University $50,000, mostly out of pocket, to teach me how to do that myself.
A Retrosexual will have at least one outfit in his wardrobe designed to conceal himself from prey.	None of my clothing make me stand out, ever. Prey? As long as no one messes with me, I have no prey, but my gear doesn’t make me look particularly tasty to predators, either.
A Retrosexual knows how to tie a Windsor knot when wearing a tie – and ONLY a Windsor knot.	I only know one knot, and I don’t know if it’s a Windsor. I don’t even know if it’s a knot or just a way to make it look like a knot. Of course, when I wear ties, a predator could grab me by the tie and have me, since I do tie something into full ties; perhaps a real smart man wears a clip-on.
A Retrosexual should have at least one good wound he can brag about getting.	Well, I’ve never been shot or knifed, but I did once break my nose, several bones in my face (including my eye socket), and crack my cheekbone–and the blow didn’t knock me down.
A Retrosexual knows how to use a basic set of tools. If you can’t hammer a nail, or drill a straight hole, practice in secret until you can – or be rightfully ridiculed for the wuss you be.	A hand drill or a power drill? Power tools are not basic tools.
A Retrosexual knows that owning a gun is not a sign that your are riddled with fear, guns are TOOLS and are often essential to DEAL WITH IT. Plus it’s just plain fun to shoot.	This tenet of the code bores me. Guns are guns, shooting guns as fun is an aesthetic judgment call. I don’t judge a man based on his possession of a mystical artifact, even one guaranteed to Americans by their constitution.
Crying. There are very few reason that a Retrosexaul may cry, and none of them have to do with TV commercials or soap operas. Sports teams are sometimes a reason to cry, but the preferred method of release is swearing or throwing the remote control. Some reasons a Retrosexual can cry include (but are not limited to) death of a loved one, death of a pet (fish do NOT count as pets), loss of a major body part. Retrosexuals do not cry for movies. They can get a teary lump in their throat under a few notable exceptions, such as when “the guy” heads out to die and save the day or the flag goes up on Suribachi.	It’s none of your business when or where I might be moved to tears. You won’t see them, and it’s my business.
A Retrosexual man’s favorite movie isn’t Maid in Manhattan (unless that refers to some foxy French maid sitting in a huge tub of brandy or whiskey), or Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. Acceptable ones may include any of the Dirty Harry or Nameless Drifter movies (Clint in his better days), Rambo I or II, The Dirty Dozen, The Godfather trilogy, Scarface, The Road Warrior, The Die Hard series, Caddyshack, Rocky I, II, or III, Full Metal Jacket, any James Bond Movie [sic], Raging Bull, Bullitt, any Bruce Lee movie, Apocalypse Now, Goodfellas, Reservior Dogs, Fight Club, etc.	Spare me the presumptiousness of knowing what a man should enjoy. Any man’s favorite movie speaks to the individual’s experience, and I trust his judgment. Also, please note, some refer to the Clint Eastwood series as The Man With No Name trilogy; the first Rambo movie was First Blood, the second was Rambo: First Blood Part II, and the third was Rambo III; The Road Warrior was the second movie in the Mad Max series (between Mad Max and Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome); and Apocalypse Now was a piece of peacenik cavaltrava. Thank you, that is all.
When a Retrosexual is on a crowded bus and or a commuter train, and a pregnant woman, hell, any woman gets on, that retrosexual stands up and offers his seat to that woman, then looks around at the other so-called men still in their seats with a disgusted “you punks” look on his face.	Okay, I’ve not been particularly adamant about this one. I’ve felt bad about it, but I’ve often let them stand, and sometimes when I have offered, the woman has refused.
A Retrosexual knows how to say the Pledge properly, and with the correct emphasis and pronunciation. He also knows the words to the Star Spangled Banner.	There are three verses to the “Star-Spangled Banner”. Sorry, I lose. But I know a lot of “America the Beautiful”.
A Retrosexual will have hobbies and habits his wife and mother do not understand, but that are essential to his manliness, in that they offset the acceptable manliness decline he suffers when married/engaged in a serious healthy relationship – i. e., hunting, boxing, shot putting, shooting, cigars, car maintenance.	Sorry, but I have an understanding (and smoking-hot) wife, and my mother doesn’t object to much that I do.
A Retrosexual knows how to sharpen his own knives and kitchen utensils.	Understand the theory? Check. Do? Not so much.
A Retrosexual man can drive in snow (hell, a blizzard) without sliding all over or driving under 20 mph, without anxiety, and without high-centering his ride on a plow berm.	I am from Wisconsin, for crying out loud. I only fear other drivers who are not, and retrosexuals who feel the need for driving over 20 mph to prove their manliness when 20 mph or less is the safest speed.
A Retrosexual man can chop down a tree and make it land where he wants. Wherever it lands is where he damn well wanted it to land.	Yeah, so? With the right number of ropes, pulleys, and friends, I can put a tree on Venus. What’s your point?
A Retrosexual will give up his seat on a bus to not only any women but any elderly person or person in military dress (except officers above 2nd Lt) NOTE: The person in military dress may turn down the offer but the Retrosexual man will ALWAYS make the offer to them and thank them for serving their country.	I thank them, but I don’t ride buses or trains.
A Retrosexual man doesn’t need a contract — a handshake is good enough. He will always stand by his word even if circumstances change or the other person deceived him.	Screw that. I know what contracts are for, and they’re about covering you legally against the unscrupulous who might take advantage of your respect and your honor. I always argue until I get the contract I want, and then I adhere to it as written.
A Retrosexual man doesn’t immediately look to sue someone when he does something stupid and hurts himself. We understand that sometimes in the process of doing things we get hurt and we just DEAL WITH IT!!!!	I’ve not yet sued anyone, nor would I unless greatly wronged. But I don’t rule it out.

The whole quiz reminds me of my grandmother’s wedding. Some years after my grandfather died, she married the her second husband and honored me by selecting me to participate as an usher. Wedding colors were black and pink, but I preferred to wear a white shirt instead. I was a college student paying my way through college by working a job that required white shirts; ergo, I had white shirts in abundance, but nary a pink shirt nor money to buy a nice pink shirt I wouldn’t wear again, and let’s be honest, I don’t like pink. My step mother, God rest her soul and hurry about it, said, “Real men aren’t afraid to wear pink.”

“Real men don’t fall prey to manipulation about what ‘real men’ do,” I replied, and I wore a white shirt. Probably with a thin black tie that I had which was a couple years out of fashion even in 1991.

That’s my response to anyone who would try to create an artificial code for what a real man would do. Real men know it without being guided by those who would manipulate them artificially.

(Link seen on Michelle Malkin.)

According to Slate’s Red or Blue–Which Are You? quiz, I am:

It’s time to get out of the sun. You’re looking a little red.

As if a little red, in this case, is bad.

I think the quiz was targeted to people who have lived in Wisconsin and Missouri and attended a Jesuit university. Jeez.

Some other commentators brag that they’re purple. That’s like saying your proud of your grey morals. As El Guapo indicated last night in a feeble blue defense of Farenheit 9/11, “There are two sides to every store.”

“Yeah,” our hero responded. “Right and wrong.”

After some introspection, I have discovered:

Which Olsen Twin Are You quiz

I feel freshly-legal.

How well do you know Spider-Man?

I am at 80%.

I missed questions 3, 10, and 11, but I want you to know I read the whole series about Kane and the Scarlet Spider courtesy of my brother, whose collection of comic books, gaming books, and fantasy novels I accepted in bulk as Christmas gifts for 1995-1998 since he didn’t want to ship them to Kanoehe Bay, Hawaii, his next base.

Microsoft Encarta’s got a short one that tests your abilities to fill in the blanks for proverbs.

I scored 10 of 10 immediately. Perhaps it’s harder for people who rely on Microsoft Encarta for any portion of their educations.

After some reflection inspired by Trey Givens, I discovered that I am akin to:

Which Princess Bride Character are You?
this quiz was made by mysti

(Funny, Jared, Jim, and Trey were all different. What diversity! Someone apply for a federal grant!)

Pejman wasted part of my Friday evening with trivialities:

What Classic Movie Are You? personality tests by similarminds.com

What Famous Leader Are You? personality tests by similarminds.com

His impertinence has been noted.

With some trepidation, I took a quiz pointed out by Ravenwood, and fortunately discovered:

You are a GRAMMAR GOD!

If your mission in life is not already to
preserve the English tongue, it should be.
Congratulations and thank you!

How grammatically sound are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Heather‘s choice of mate is validated!

P.S., Ravenwood, Heather thinks your Red Zinfadel goes well with pizza.

I was sort of embarrassed to admit, after homie Owen prompted me, that:

You are Lawrence Ferlinghetti! Modern rebel and
owner and proprietor of the City Lights
Bookstore in San Francisco, Lawrence
Ferlinghetti is known for his playful tone and
innovative style. He is MY favorite poet, and
the works of lawrence are always eye-opening
socio-cultural critiques in a light-hearted
tone. He is recognized as one of the most
influential poets of the beat era.

Which famous poet are you? (pictures and many outcomes)
brought to you by Quizilla

Disappointing, as I like end rhyme. At least I wasn’t Walt Whitman. Or Sylvia Plath. Or Allen Ginsberg.

Thanks to a little help from Kelley (and a couple of pints of Guinness, I discovered:

.
What Kind of Drunk Are You?

Spoons links to a Flash-requiring quiz by Match.com that’s supposed to tell you the type of person to whom you’re physically attracted. The quiz brags that it’s based on a fifteen-year study, undoubtedly funded by members of Congress.

I tried to take the quiz, but I got to the section where the quiz wanted you to select, from among the women you found attractive, the women who you thought would find you unattractive. I couldn’t think of a single woman who would find me unattractive, and it booted me back to the beginning.

No matter; we know the sort of woman I find dead-sexy.