Regular visitors know that I spend a good deal of pudu-related space spewing purest balderdash about the habits of small creatures. This week’s absurdity is actually real.

Last week I posted this note about participating in the European Quizzing Championships, which included some of the most lunatic and delightful questions I’ve ever seen — one of which asked us to name a kind of civet, common in the Balearic Islands, which marks its territory by doing handstands.

I couldn’t answer the question myself.  I was too busy giggling at the mental picture, and at the absurd sight of seeing competitors from fifteen countries nonchalantly nodding and writing down their answers, as if handstanding Balearic civets are in no way unexpected or wondrous.  Can the world truly be this comfortable with its own weirdness?  Apparently so.

Here’s our answer, as it appeared on the tournament’s big projection screen, and in four languages, no less:

The genet, dear readers, is our little self-inverting anus-gland-exposing gymnastic Mediterranean friend.

What am I thankful for in this year’s installment of socially compelled Two Minutes Gratitude? Many, many things. But most of all, to live in a world so strange and magnificent in the first place.

Have a gleeful holiday.  If you’re in the Balearic Islands, please hug a handstanding civet for me.

(And yes, I know genets don’t really like to be hugged.  But millions of Americans are getting hugs they don’t really want today, too.  So think of it as sharing the holiday spirit.)

Former SNL writer, Second City alumnus, and friend of the blog Tim Kazurinsky weighs in:

PS, added later: When Viacom CEO Tom Freston was fired in 2006, he received a $60 million severance package – more than all DVD residuals paid to WGA members that year combined.  (Link found via FDL, Atrios, and my buddy Don.)

Astute visitors here may have noticed that the site hasn’t been updated in the better part of a week. That’s because I’ve been in Blackpool, England, having a ball at the most unbelievable trivia tournament I’ve ever seen.

I’m at the European Quizzing Championships, part of a four-man Team USA along with Ken Jennings, Ed Toutant, and David Legler, with occasional cameos by the founder of the US Game Show Congress and US rep on the International Quizzing Association’s board Paul Bailey. (Incidentally, if this group were the Beatles, make no mistake: I’m Ringo at best. If not Stu Sutcliffe. Those guys have a total of over $7 million in quiz show winnings between them. Me? I have, um, this blog.)

We’ve spent the last three days hammering our brains against about 100 inspiring fanatics from nearly 20 countries from all over Europe and as far away as India. And just how crazed can the questions get when you’ve got people that good from all over the world? This one was completely typical, I swear to you:

I had no idea whatsoever. (Not that you need me to tell you that.) But the English guy sitting next to me came up with it after about thirty seconds of thought. He figured it out, in fact — by remembering which region Marmont was Duke of, then coming up with its biggest city, then modifying the name into a common French verb form, resulting in the educated and correct guess of "raguser."

Good lord.

Here’s another:

There are people from Belgium, Norway, Hungary and so on who walk around knowing that Zamenhof was born in Bialystok. Yes, yes, dear boy, ask us something difficult, would you?

So: this was three days of trying to come up with Albanian dictators, East German ping-pong players, Senegalese poets, and more weird random crap than I ever imagined I’d see asked with a straight face.

We actually did OK, if you’re curious. In the singles event, Ken ranked near the top (gee, big surprise there) and the rest of us were respectably middle and up. As a team, we again fared middle-up, losing the exhibition match against an international European side by one point, 60-59, because we could only identify two of the three snips of cinematic dream sequences we were given in the last round.

But winning was never the point, of course. Mostly it was a great chance to hang out with the guys and meet dozens of fascinating international nerds capable of raking at brain-frying trivia while — let’s remember — not even playing in their own native language.

So: thank you, EQC, thank you Paul Bailey, thank you fellow US players, thank you Steven and Chris and Jane and a bunch of other folks who put together the quizzes, and most of all, my hearty thanks to thousands of random events, objects, and historical people whose names I have now at least heard once before I humbly die.

Incidentally, and I say this with glowing affection: the Belgian players are total freaks. Off the charts. They know crap in four to six languages that I can’t even spell in English. Mark these words: never challenge a Belgian to a trivia duel. They will cut you with their minds.

At one point — my hand to any god you prefer — they actually asked which species of civet in the Balearic Islands marks its territory by performing handstands.

And like half of the people in the room just nodded dismissively as if they’d just been asked, I dunno, the capital of Denmark. I’m sure the Belgians were waiting for the really hard questions to start.

Wait a minute — you mean there are civets that do handstands in the Balearic Islands? How did I not know this? At least now I have a picture to seek out for Friday pudublogging.

More when I get the chance. A couple of the guys and I are taking a few days to hang out in Northern Ireland before heading home, and I’m not sure what the WiFi sitch will be. Should also be some pics from there and around Blackpool here, too.

(And yes, I am leaving the identity of that handstanding Balearic civet to your Google skills. Assuming you don’t just know it off the top of your head. I’ll post the answer later in the week.)

Incidentally, since this video was made (apparently a couple of days ago), the WGA has offered to withdraw the request for the share of DVD revenue promised almost 20 years ago.

The other side didn’t even budge in response.

Tells you a whole lot right there.

The floods in Tabasco have left countless people homeless. Nobody knows how many yet.

We do know that at least half a million people are affected, their homes cut off by the water, flooded, partially destroyed, or simply washed away entirely.

There may be 20,000 people still trapped on their roofs.

Up to eighty percent of the entire state has been inundated.

Obviously it’s one of the worst natural disasters in Mexico’s history. And it’s nowhere near over.

People are running out of food and water. Electricity is down. Waterborne illness now becomes a major risk.

Some of the Televisa photo gallery is simply hard to believe. If you don’t speak any Spanish, just assume each caption says something "yes, it’s hard to believe life can suddenly suck this much." Take a look.

If you’d like to help, you can donate to the Red Cross, UNICEF, Save the Children, or any other charity you prefer in a matter of seconds. The Mexican Embassy has also posted direct transfer bank information for relief-specific accounts accessible in the U.S. and Canada.

Si hablan español, el gobierno del estado de Tabsaco tiene todos sus últimos avisos de la emergencia aqui, y Televisa pone sus noticias actualizadas con frequencia y muchos videos aqui.

CNN has an English language video report here.

Serious Katrina memories. I hope you’ll want to toss in a few bucks yourself.