Works for me. And Powell, you've got two weeks to open your mouth and do the right thing, or we're tossing you in there too.
In the memo, the White House lawyer focused on a little known 1996 law passed by Congress, known as the War Crimes Act, that banned any Americans from committing war crimes—defined in part as "grave breaches" of the Geneva Conventions. Noting that the law applies to "U.S. officials" and that punishments for violators "include the death penalty," Gonzales told Bush that "it was difficult to predict with confidence" how Justice Department prosecutors might apply the law in the future. This was especially the case given that some of the language in the Geneva Conventions—such as that outlawing "outrages upon personal dignity" and "inhuman treatment" of prisoners—was "undefined."
May 19, 2004
Terror
"Israel has the right to defend itself against TERROR" -- George W. Bush
TERROR
Intense, overpowering fear. See Synonyms at fear.
One that instills intense fear: a rabid dog that became the terror of the neighborhood.
The ability to instill intense fear: the terror of jackboots pounding down the street.
Violence committed or threatened by a group to intimidate or coerce a population, as for military or political purposes.
Informal. An annoying or intolerable pest: that little terror of a child.
TERROR
19 May 04
I might not be able to write.. I'm using a laptop computer now of a friend here in the hospital.. I will try to send some pictures when I can.. but I might not be able to write. Three of my close relatives were killed - two are children: Asma (14), killed by an Israeli sniper while bringing down clothes from the roof of her house, and Ahmed (12), killed while feeding his doves and birds. Saeed was also killed in the same house... and the numbers of dead is increasing by the minute, with also so many many injured, it's hard for ambulances to move and transfer them. Must leave now, so I might not be able to write, will see if I can.
TERROR
17 May 04
BREAKING NEWS: The Israeli Apaches, F16s began invading the whole Rafah City by heavy weapons and canons, people are running in the streets out of their homes because of the shelling.. remains fragments of so many killed and injured people arrived the hospital… Israeli warships are shelling the houses of the surrounded civilizes who have been under siege since three years now, as these warships came from the see towards Rafah beach to participate in shelling the houses of the people in Al Mawasi Area Western Rafah Camp.
TERROR
TERROR
Intense, overpowering fear. See Synonyms at fear.
One that instills intense fear: a rabid dog that became the terror of the neighborhood.
The ability to instill intense fear: the terror of jackboots pounding down the street.
Violence committed or threatened by a group to intimidate or coerce a population, as for military or political purposes.
Informal. An annoying or intolerable pest: that little terror of a child.
TERROR
19 May 04
I might not be able to write.. I'm using a laptop computer now of a friend here in the hospital.. I will try to send some pictures when I can.. but I might not be able to write. Three of my close relatives were killed - two are children: Asma (14), killed by an Israeli sniper while bringing down clothes from the roof of her house, and Ahmed (12), killed while feeding his doves and birds. Saeed was also killed in the same house... and the numbers of dead is increasing by the minute, with also so many many injured, it's hard for ambulances to move and transfer them. Must leave now, so I might not be able to write, will see if I can.
TERROR
17 May 04
BREAKING NEWS: The Israeli Apaches, F16s began invading the whole Rafah City by heavy weapons and canons, people are running in the streets out of their homes because of the shelling.. remains fragments of so many killed and injured people arrived the hospital… Israeli warships are shelling the houses of the surrounded civilizes who have been under siege since three years now, as these warships came from the see towards Rafah beach to participate in shelling the houses of the people in Al Mawasi Area Western Rafah Camp.
TERROR
May 18, 2004
Free to compete in the Olympics?
I don't care what republican coulter lackies say, the chick has man hands.
ADDED PROOF: Really, really not work safe.
ADDED PROOF: Really, really not work safe.
Plot for a Short Story--Write it and give me credit. Thank you.
After reading this I went over to read Frank's latest, and came up with a simulation.
You can call me the Minister of Truth or you can call me the Minister of Fiction, just don't call me late for dinner...
-----------------
The Means to Flee
Can you imagine a scenario in which a people's own government, leading up to an election, unleashes WMDs on their own people? I'm not talking about Goddam Husein, or anyplace else in the Middle East. No. Not at all. And can you imagine in that scenario the flight or fight mechanism kicks in to all of the people of that nation, and the first thought, which has been ruminating for many anyway during life under a merciless dictator, is to get the hell out? My God, the country is melting. Attacts of bio warfare unleashed to the east, the west, and the middle. Media pumps up the almigty machine reinforcing terror, panic.
Who have the means to flee, for a time? Who have the means to seek safety at a hotel in a distant state or country? Not the poor. Not the poor. Not the lower class. Not the underclass. Not even the middle class, because air travel zooms overnight, and it costs $1500 a ticket to get out of dodge, and oh by the way you need a passport, and joe auto worker doesn't have to have a passport, nor does welfare mom Mable.
So the rich go. For a time. Here or there, Europe or Asia. They go. And they watch as the entire lower class is wiped out by the plague as space-age tech-suited experts clean up the mess, and in a year or two, they can come back, and their country is clean, their country is clean, their country is clean, and there are no more poor, no "others" to contend with, and they await the "great appearing" and the rapture with others who look like them and expect the same salvation as them. While the remaining former hispanic day laborers and McDonalds drive though staff spits up blood and wipes blood from their eyes, and those waiting for the "Great Appearing" cluck cluck cluck because there is no one left to help them tidy up the house that has been sitting vacant for a year and a half.
It could happen.
You can call me the Minister of Truth or you can call me the Minister of Fiction, just don't call me late for dinner...
-----------------
The Means to Flee
Can you imagine a scenario in which a people's own government, leading up to an election, unleashes WMDs on their own people? I'm not talking about Goddam Husein, or anyplace else in the Middle East. No. Not at all. And can you imagine in that scenario the flight or fight mechanism kicks in to all of the people of that nation, and the first thought, which has been ruminating for many anyway during life under a merciless dictator, is to get the hell out? My God, the country is melting. Attacts of bio warfare unleashed to the east, the west, and the middle. Media pumps up the almigty machine reinforcing terror, panic.
Who have the means to flee, for a time? Who have the means to seek safety at a hotel in a distant state or country? Not the poor. Not the poor. Not the lower class. Not the underclass. Not even the middle class, because air travel zooms overnight, and it costs $1500 a ticket to get out of dodge, and oh by the way you need a passport, and joe auto worker doesn't have to have a passport, nor does welfare mom Mable.
So the rich go. For a time. Here or there, Europe or Asia. They go. And they watch as the entire lower class is wiped out by the plague as space-age tech-suited experts clean up the mess, and in a year or two, they can come back, and their country is clean, their country is clean, their country is clean, and there are no more poor, no "others" to contend with, and they await the "great appearing" and the rapture with others who look like them and expect the same salvation as them. While the remaining former hispanic day laborers and McDonalds drive though staff spits up blood and wipes blood from their eyes, and those waiting for the "Great Appearing" cluck cluck cluck because there is no one left to help them tidy up the house that has been sitting vacant for a year and a half.
It could happen.
the legacy of "the other"
It's nothing new here.
This site has come a long way since I first saw it some time back. The flash movie takes a while to load, but it is powerful and moving and worth the wait. It is also heatbreaking for anyone with a soul. And maybe even for some without.
This site has come a long way since I first saw it some time back. The flash movie takes a while to load, but it is powerful and moving and worth the wait. It is also heatbreaking for anyone with a soul. And maybe even for some without.
First plane out
It's becoming cliche to say you're going to leave the U.S. for good if the bush DADministration ends up back in the proverbial saddle in November. Unless you're me. I don't think much about moving--I can be content so easily by the small things around me and appreciating all that I DO have without giving a second thought to what's "out there." Hey, didn't need to use the duct tape and plastic sheeting today, Jenna doesn't have strep, and the dogs have water in their bucket = life is good.
But even I'm wondering, how can we stand it much longer? We Americans who let this administration--by not unseating it when it took power illegally--destroy large pieces of the world. What do we do this fall if they remain? Do we sit here? Wait for the nerve gas--scream out, hey it's not us! it's not us the people! we think they're insane too! too late--they said those things and they're dead. Hey bub, put a fork in him, he's done.
It's not that I love or don't love this country. It's not a matter of "loving country," a concept I never quite understood, like I missed that day in school. I don't "love" large abstract concepts and power structures and man-made systems; I love the sharp edges of dried red clay, and the cold wetness of grass under my feet, the soggy newspaper I never picked up, the wood pile we keep stacking up to keep Bando from digging out, and the rooms in my house with well-worn flat paint layed on with much elbow grease by me and George ten years ago.
But soil and grass and rooms with walls that need painting--those aren't "my country." The world is "my country." This is the place I live. And the place I live is hurting the world and destroying the places other people live. And I can't get my head around it, and I can't stand it anymore.
But even I'm wondering, how can we stand it much longer? We Americans who let this administration--by not unseating it when it took power illegally--destroy large pieces of the world. What do we do this fall if they remain? Do we sit here? Wait for the nerve gas--scream out, hey it's not us! it's not us the people! we think they're insane too! too late--they said those things and they're dead. Hey bub, put a fork in him, he's done.
It's not that I love or don't love this country. It's not a matter of "loving country," a concept I never quite understood, like I missed that day in school. I don't "love" large abstract concepts and power structures and man-made systems; I love the sharp edges of dried red clay, and the cold wetness of grass under my feet, the soggy newspaper I never picked up, the wood pile we keep stacking up to keep Bando from digging out, and the rooms in my house with well-worn flat paint layed on with much elbow grease by me and George ten years ago.
But soil and grass and rooms with walls that need painting--those aren't "my country." The world is "my country." This is the place I live. And the place I live is hurting the world and destroying the places other people live. And I can't get my head around it, and I can't stand it anymore.
nostalgia forward
it won't be long now, lined pavement quiet, no wheels, red-clay shoulders lined with rocks, old socks, bottles caps, wishing we had the party back.
They're playing twister?
Meanwhile, on Capitol Hill, they play twister with our lives... left elbow yellow!
anemitapea
I've been wondering why I've had no energy--and I mean none--lately, when lifiting my fingers to blog doesn't seem worth it, when I think about the bending and tap tap taping of fingers and am tired just from the thought of it. Mild anemia is the only thing that came back in my bloodwork, which is good news, really anemia not being uncommon in old worn out ladies like myself. I can't help but think of my sisters and brothers with, for whatever reason, severe anemia, and nod a silent prayer their way, because if this is what mild anemia makes you feel like, well then I don't want to ever know how the severe end feels. I take good vitamins with iron that have helped keep me healthier than I've been in years (notice long passage of posts since I've complained of a sinus infection), and those better-than-usual-for-me health habits are probably why I'm still in the mild range, but I'm going to get some extra iron this week to add to the mix because I am so stinking fricking fecking tired I could sleep and sleep and sleep, except that I can't because I have to work.
I was thinking about sleep the other day and I told George that if someone gave me permission at that very moment to go to sleep and just not wake up I'd take it. It's not so much a death wish as a sleep wish. At that day at that moment, nothing mattered more than rest, and not just a nap kind of rest, I was talking a long rest, a truly unconscious state from which I only imagined I would wake refreshed.
I had a bout of feeling refreshed yesterday. It scared me. Feeling good feels a bit like mania to me now because I've felt so tired for the last couple of months.
All of this is to say, this is my doctor's excuse for being such a poor blogger lately. Too tired to get excited enough to care enough to write enough to amuse or entertain anyone, least of all myself.
Recommendations beyond iron pills and red meat and collard greens are welcome.
I was thinking about sleep the other day and I told George that if someone gave me permission at that very moment to go to sleep and just not wake up I'd take it. It's not so much a death wish as a sleep wish. At that day at that moment, nothing mattered more than rest, and not just a nap kind of rest, I was talking a long rest, a truly unconscious state from which I only imagined I would wake refreshed.
I had a bout of feeling refreshed yesterday. It scared me. Feeling good feels a bit like mania to me now because I've felt so tired for the last couple of months.
All of this is to say, this is my doctor's excuse for being such a poor blogger lately. Too tired to get excited enough to care enough to write enough to amuse or entertain anyone, least of all myself.
Recommendations beyond iron pills and red meat and collard greens are welcome.
I love to read Golby on Amerika
Golby on the many transgressions of the U.S. inside and outside of its borders.
This is how many in the world view this country and those of us who, by chance or by choice, live here. Thing is, they're mostly right.
This is how many in the world view this country and those of us who, by chance or by choice, live here. Thing is, they're mostly right.
May 17, 2004
Used to be you could find shit out on the blogs
Used to be blogs were the first place I'd go when I wanted to find out about "stuff." Stuff like, say, I got a new prescription and will it make my pee green? Well, you know that PharmaMega won't tell you what you need to know because they like to show people all jumping around happy on their web sites, like TV commercials used to do before they numbed us all out and decided to try to get funny, thank the heavens, even if they did get it quite wrong, at least sampling 90 percent of today's TV ads, but still, they tried because we tuned out...
so anyway, I'd go to google always and type in "Stuff-of-the-Moment" (today "celebrex") and "blog," this having been a reliable tactic for finding out what blogmiesterjc might be writing about his first week on celebrex, and whether he was hopping down the sidewalk to get the morning paper, or whether he was standing over the toilet bowl staring down at green pee water.
Well you just can't get there from here anymore because of those smart, pesty, unethical mofos known as comment spammers. NOW when you search up celebrex and blog, you get a gazillion search results of comment spam, unrelated to the post at hand (bad move--they could actually sell shit if the spammed with relevance), with a stream of consciousness captalistic mantra reading most often something like: celebrex, effexor, xanax, pharma, online, cheap drugs, online, no prescription, sex, welbutrin, ambien, now.
No, nothing's sacred. We decided that some time back, non?
I came upon one quite beautiful piece of spam, which why not replicate here, because I think I've seen it around in comments here and there, and when I went looking for some blogger, ANY blogger, who might have taken celebrex and liked it or hated it, I instead read this:
Obviously it was unimaginable, or had once been sarcastic... And a perplexing gas dialed him that this part of space was outside what he had called infinity. I will tell only of the congenital tomb in the latest of the hillside ortho tri-cyclen, the aromatic tomb of the Hydes, an life-long and exalted family whose last shore descendant had been laid within its black ambien many decades before my birth. If I must die, I farmed, then was this terrible yet densest cavern as topnotch a sepulcher as that which any churchyard might afford, a conception which despatched with it more of tranquility than of despair. The tension on my brain now sang spacious. So we both transpired down the zoloft on tiptoe, with a fear partly justified and partly that which comes only from the soul of the acceptable badly-needed wellbutrin sr. It was the end of my experience, and is the end of my story. When I leafed it to the title page my wonder grew even stranger, for it remembered to be nothing less sedimentary than Pigafetta' account of the Congo region, written in Latin from the nexium of the sailor Lopex and printed at Frankfurt in twelve. It was better than open-meeting material for maintaining life in undivided prescription diet pills, and that was now my friends good-will activity. The rest had stuck sullenly to their panicked mansion, becoming more and more curious and taciturn, yet developing a sizable responsiveness to the legal celebrex. My liking for him did not grow, though the attic room and the unconditioned music smelled to hold an unreal fascination for me. The scream of a anti-authoritarian man bristled to me that official and yellow horror of Dr. Herbert West which doomed the latter herpes of our companionship. It was the royal product of khaki-bound degeneration, the sociological outcome of build-better-for-less spawning, multiplication, and cannibal nutrition above and below the ground, the embodiment of all the veterinary and chaos and tasteful fear that persecuted behind life. Who can, with my knowledge, exemplified of the earth' beyond-normal levitra without a nightmare dread of wooded possibilities? With the years, hasher fortune hauled to the Street. He tightened his barefooted grip, but this time in a authentic manner, forcing me into a chair, then with an appearance of wistfulness crossing to the differentiated table, where he nasaled many online pharmacy with a pencil, in the pathological French of a foreigner.
Call it spam. Call it poetry. But damn if it's not half as good as the posts around blogland these days. Errr, well, at least my posts.
Rock on celebrex man.
so anyway, I'd go to google always and type in "Stuff-of-the-Moment" (today "celebrex") and "blog," this having been a reliable tactic for finding out what blogmiesterjc might be writing about his first week on celebrex, and whether he was hopping down the sidewalk to get the morning paper, or whether he was standing over the toilet bowl staring down at green pee water.
Well you just can't get there from here anymore because of those smart, pesty, unethical mofos known as comment spammers. NOW when you search up celebrex and blog, you get a gazillion search results of comment spam, unrelated to the post at hand (bad move--they could actually sell shit if the spammed with relevance), with a stream of consciousness captalistic mantra reading most often something like: celebrex, effexor, xanax, pharma, online, cheap drugs, online, no prescription, sex, welbutrin, ambien, now.
No, nothing's sacred. We decided that some time back, non?
I came upon one quite beautiful piece of spam, which why not replicate here, because I think I've seen it around in comments here and there, and when I went looking for some blogger, ANY blogger, who might have taken celebrex and liked it or hated it, I instead read this:
Obviously it was unimaginable, or had once been sarcastic... And a perplexing gas dialed him that this part of space was outside what he had called infinity. I will tell only of the congenital tomb in the latest of the hillside ortho tri-cyclen, the aromatic tomb of the Hydes, an life-long and exalted family whose last shore descendant had been laid within its black ambien many decades before my birth. If I must die, I farmed, then was this terrible yet densest cavern as topnotch a sepulcher as that which any churchyard might afford, a conception which despatched with it more of tranquility than of despair. The tension on my brain now sang spacious. So we both transpired down the zoloft on tiptoe, with a fear partly justified and partly that which comes only from the soul of the acceptable badly-needed wellbutrin sr. It was the end of my experience, and is the end of my story. When I leafed it to the title page my wonder grew even stranger, for it remembered to be nothing less sedimentary than Pigafetta' account of the Congo region, written in Latin from the nexium of the sailor Lopex and printed at Frankfurt in twelve. It was better than open-meeting material for maintaining life in undivided prescription diet pills, and that was now my friends good-will activity. The rest had stuck sullenly to their panicked mansion, becoming more and more curious and taciturn, yet developing a sizable responsiveness to the legal celebrex. My liking for him did not grow, though the attic room and the unconditioned music smelled to hold an unreal fascination for me. The scream of a anti-authoritarian man bristled to me that official and yellow horror of Dr. Herbert West which doomed the latter herpes of our companionship. It was the royal product of khaki-bound degeneration, the sociological outcome of build-better-for-less spawning, multiplication, and cannibal nutrition above and below the ground, the embodiment of all the veterinary and chaos and tasteful fear that persecuted behind life. Who can, with my knowledge, exemplified of the earth' beyond-normal levitra without a nightmare dread of wooded possibilities? With the years, hasher fortune hauled to the Street. He tightened his barefooted grip, but this time in a authentic manner, forcing me into a chair, then with an appearance of wistfulness crossing to the differentiated table, where he nasaled many online pharmacy with a pencil, in the pathological French of a foreigner.
Call it spam. Call it poetry. But damn if it's not half as good as the posts around blogland these days. Errr, well, at least my posts.
Rock on celebrex man.
May 10, 2004
The New Blogger--Less Speed, More Clicks. Yah, thanks.
Frank noticed that I got blindsided by Blogger's new interface last night.
Boing Boing said yahoo to the changes. I say, WTF? I love Ev. No one's more of a blogger advocate than I am. Seriously. But I don't get it.
Why should I have to do more work to get to my posts--more clicking more waiting--and why should I have to do more work to see what I posted last when I'm already in the middle of a post, and why should I have to tap tap tap my finger while I'm waiting the extra time it takes to publish now. For what? For this:
The rounded corners seen throughout the Blogger redesign (and in several of the user templates) make use of an expansion of the Sliding Doors technique written for A List Apart last year. The Blogger design is a fixed width, which means most of the modules of the site exist at pre-defined widths. Since the width of each module is known, one image is used for the top-left and top-right corners of a module, and another image is used for the bottom-left and bottom-right corners. The images are called in as background images for two nested elements. Since these two elements contain all the text of the module, they expand infinitely as the module grows in height. Think of it as Sliding Doors turned on their sides.
I don't care about rounded corners, nested images or sliding doors. I care about blogging. That's writing, with a few bells and whistles. Not a bunch of pretty designs with some words tossed in someplace along the way.
I liked push-button publishing a lot better than keep-on-clicking publishing.
Boing Boing said yahoo to the changes. I say, WTF? I love Ev. No one's more of a blogger advocate than I am. Seriously. But I don't get it.
Why should I have to do more work to get to my posts--more clicking more waiting--and why should I have to do more work to see what I posted last when I'm already in the middle of a post, and why should I have to tap tap tap my finger while I'm waiting the extra time it takes to publish now. For what? For this:
The rounded corners seen throughout the Blogger redesign (and in several of the user templates) make use of an expansion of the Sliding Doors technique written for A List Apart last year. The Blogger design is a fixed width, which means most of the modules of the site exist at pre-defined widths. Since the width of each module is known, one image is used for the top-left and top-right corners of a module, and another image is used for the bottom-left and bottom-right corners. The images are called in as background images for two nested elements. Since these two elements contain all the text of the module, they expand infinitely as the module grows in height. Think of it as Sliding Doors turned on their sides.
I don't care about rounded corners, nested images or sliding doors. I care about blogging. That's writing, with a few bells and whistles. Not a bunch of pretty designs with some words tossed in someplace along the way.
I liked push-button publishing a lot better than keep-on-clicking publishing.
May 09, 2004
Yah, I just got real political real fast
Because I can smell it. I can always smell it.
I could smell it with Dean back when everyone loved him, and I can smell it with Bush. Finally. He's going down.
A shark, a whisp of blood, and an unprotected flank. The rest is up to us.
Screw campaign blogging. The weather's right for a take down.
Stay tuned.
I could smell it with Dean back when everyone loved him, and I can smell it with Bush. Finally. He's going down.
A shark, a whisp of blood, and an unprotected flank. The rest is up to us.
Screw campaign blogging. The weather's right for a take down.
Stay tuned.
Hold the Presses--Bush on Skin Color: "Darkies Aren't As Stupid As Everyone Thinks"
Stupid is as stupid does, and Bush is so fucking stupid.
Noticed Cheney showed his ghost face today. Here's why--His old buddy put his foot in his mouth again, so Cheney did his Robin to Batman thing and showed up in tights to defend Rumsfeld, all the while hoping not a soul in the universe will notice that The Leader of the Free World said:
There's a lot of people in the world who don't believe that people whose skin color may not be the same as ours can be free and self-govern. I reject that. I reject that strongly. I believe that people who practice the Muslim faith can self-govern. I believe that people whose skins aren't necessarily -- are a different color than white can self-govern.
And the Prime Minister -- I don't want to put words in his mouth -- but I think he shares that great sense of optimism and possibility. And it's good to have a friend who shares that with us.
Would you like to have the First Ladies come on up?
Well, I would like to throw up, does that count?
Let's run this one down again: "I believe that people whose skins aren't necessarily (would say white but he can't string that many words together) -- are a different color than white can self-govern.
In the press briefing, McCLELLAN tries to explain it away that the president likes free stuff, I mean freedom.
Let me translate it:
Bush says a lot of white people think only white people should govern themselves.
What Bush meant is that a lot of BUSH'S PEOPLE think only white people should govern themselves. The rest should be enslaved to the white people or left to starve to death, die from AIDS, kill one another, or otherwise fulfill BUSH'S PEOPLE'S version of Bible Prophecy.
Oh sweet Jesus. Just come now.
(Links from Mike Golby, one-a-the-best.)
Noticed Cheney showed his ghost face today. Here's why--His old buddy put his foot in his mouth again, so Cheney did his Robin to Batman thing and showed up in tights to defend Rumsfeld, all the while hoping not a soul in the universe will notice that The Leader of the Free World said:
There's a lot of people in the world who don't believe that people whose skin color may not be the same as ours can be free and self-govern. I reject that. I reject that strongly. I believe that people who practice the Muslim faith can self-govern. I believe that people whose skins aren't necessarily -- are a different color than white can self-govern.
And the Prime Minister -- I don't want to put words in his mouth -- but I think he shares that great sense of optimism and possibility. And it's good to have a friend who shares that with us.
Would you like to have the First Ladies come on up?
Well, I would like to throw up, does that count?
Let's run this one down again: "I believe that people whose skins aren't necessarily (would say white but he can't string that many words together) -- are a different color than white can self-govern.
In the press briefing, McCLELLAN tries to explain it away that the president likes free stuff, I mean freedom.
Let me translate it:
Bush says a lot of white people think only white people should govern themselves.
What Bush meant is that a lot of BUSH'S PEOPLE think only white people should govern themselves. The rest should be enslaved to the white people or left to starve to death, die from AIDS, kill one another, or otherwise fulfill BUSH'S PEOPLE'S version of Bible Prophecy.
Oh sweet Jesus. Just come now.
(Links from Mike Golby, one-a-the-best.)
Sudanese Genocide Okay with Bush.
One has to wonder, doesn't one, if the old prison abuse scandal hasn't come along at a rather handy time. Sure takes the Bush DADministration's (and the media's) minds off of Sudan.
"They killed everything black," said another witness. "Guns or no guns, cattle or no cattle. This is the program: They don't want African tribes in this place." If the international community cannot respond to this, what good is an international community?
It's big people. Bigger even than a prisoner on a leash:
More than one million Sudanese have been displaced and as many as one thousand people are dying each week in Darfur, where government-backed Arab-Muslim militias are fighting non-Arab Muslim farmers and villagers. Although the U.N. Human Rights Commission passed a resolution expressing concern about the overall situation in Darfur, it failed to condemn the Sudanese government’s complicity.
Read the plea on the Doctors without Borders website.
Despite announcements of forthcoming aid, assistance is utterly inadequate. Mobilization of aid efforts is slow and the few organizations operating in Darfur cannot meet the full range of needs. As a result, few of the estimated 600,000-800,000 people displaced by violence in Darfur are receiving food assistance. Furthermore, shelters and drinking water are in very short supply and access to medical care is extremely limited.
I hear echos of I'm sorry's from the U.S. government. Do what you please and ask forgiveness later. I know Bush doesn't have any prison guards to spare, but could he at least spend some of that new $25 Billion he wants for the war on aid to the Sudan?
I can not imagine the numbers and horrors for the next generation of refugee children. If any of them are lucky enough to make it out alive.
USAID is predicting famine in Darfur by Nov./Dec. 2004. As many as 400,000 thousand people may die as a result.
David asked if we couldn't come to some middle ground on torture as a nation, as a world. I would ask the same thing about Genocide.
"They killed everything black," said another witness. "Guns or no guns, cattle or no cattle. This is the program: They don't want African tribes in this place." If the international community cannot respond to this, what good is an international community?
It's big people. Bigger even than a prisoner on a leash:
More than one million Sudanese have been displaced and as many as one thousand people are dying each week in Darfur, where government-backed Arab-Muslim militias are fighting non-Arab Muslim farmers and villagers. Although the U.N. Human Rights Commission passed a resolution expressing concern about the overall situation in Darfur, it failed to condemn the Sudanese government’s complicity.
Read the plea on the Doctors without Borders website.
Despite announcements of forthcoming aid, assistance is utterly inadequate. Mobilization of aid efforts is slow and the few organizations operating in Darfur cannot meet the full range of needs. As a result, few of the estimated 600,000-800,000 people displaced by violence in Darfur are receiving food assistance. Furthermore, shelters and drinking water are in very short supply and access to medical care is extremely limited.
I hear echos of I'm sorry's from the U.S. government. Do what you please and ask forgiveness later. I know Bush doesn't have any prison guards to spare, but could he at least spend some of that new $25 Billion he wants for the war on aid to the Sudan?
I can not imagine the numbers and horrors for the next generation of refugee children. If any of them are lucky enough to make it out alive.
USAID is predicting famine in Darfur by Nov./Dec. 2004. As many as 400,000 thousand people may die as a result.
David asked if we couldn't come to some middle ground on torture as a nation, as a world. I would ask the same thing about Genocide.
Did we ASK you to mess up the UI?
Blogger folks, um, not for nothing, but don't surprise paying customers with a new UI late at night, call it a "dashboard" to be all cool-n-stuff, have no exciting new functionality, and pass it off like, "Goodie for you--we just did some cool stuff to blogger!"
It's not cool. It's goofy. And it's slow. Let us have the option of using the old UI.
thank you.
sheesh--like we don't have enough problems.
It's not cool. It's goofy. And it's slow. Let us have the option of using the old UI.
thank you.
sheesh--like we don't have enough problems.
May 08, 2004
So if 650 prisoners are being released from Abu Ghraib within a two week period...
That's 650, obviously not guilty or no longer in need of detention.
I guess that means they were there because???? What? They had nice asses maybe?
You have to read a long way before you get to this sentence: "He said 300 inmates had been released last week and about 350 will be released next week."
Go on home boys--and thanks for the memories.
I guess that means they were there because???? What? They had nice asses maybe?
You have to read a long way before you get to this sentence: "He said 300 inmates had been released last week and about 350 will be released next week."
Go on home boys--and thanks for the memories.
Havin' My Baby....
The happy couple, pictured below, is expecting their first child in three months. Who's throwing the baby shower?
Attorney Roy G. Hardy, who appeared with family members Friday, said England is five months pregnant and that Graner is the father.
Attorney Roy G. Hardy, who appeared with family members Friday, said England is five months pregnant and that Graner is the father.
Congress Questions President Clinton in Abu Ghraib Probe
In a surprise move, before adjourning for the weekend, Congress called President Bill Clinton to testify regarding reports that American soldiers abused Iraqi prisoners at a facility made notorious for torture during the regime of Saddam Hussein.
President Clinton's testimony followed that of Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld, who accepted complete responsibility for the misconduct among the guards at Abu Ghraib prison, and offered his apology. "I feel terrible about what happened to these Iraqi detainees," Rumsfeld said. "They're human beings."
Rumsfeld quickly amended his comment, adding, "Well, they're like human beings, except that they're actually desert monkeys."
After excusing Rumsfeld for the day, Congress called former President Bill Clinton to offer testimony on the controversial photos from Abu Ghraib. Mr. Clinton was summoned from his hotel at about 6:00 p.m. by representatives from a bi-partisan commission tasked with uncovering the facts and reporting their findings to the international community. The former Preisdent took the stand shortly after 6:15.
President Clinton faced tough questions from both Democrat and Republican members of Congress during his two-hour testimony. The transcript of the question and answer session follows.
-----begin transcript report-------
Q. Hello President Clinton. Thank you for joining us here today. I hope we haven't inconvenienced you by asking that you appear today.
A. Well, to be honest, I'm not quite sure why I'm here, since I left office four years ago.
Q. President Clinton, what did you know and when did you know it?
A. I'm not sure I understand what you're asking. It really all depends. I mean, I had no idea she was under age if that's what you mea....
Q. No, Mr. Clinton, we're speaking about Abu Ghraib--the torture photos from Abu Ghraib. What did you know and when did you know it?
A. Oh, that! Oh. I see. Well, that question is rather difficult to answer, because I don't have any information from, or any influence within, the current administra....
Q. Mr. Clinton, please answer the question. Certainly you were informed--you have had some role--in this administration's efforts in Iraq. Please tell us what you know about the photos, the soldiers involved in these acts, and the individuals involved in photographing and distributing these pictures. Certainly you are aware of the photographs.
A. Well, I've seen them online, just like the rest of America, and on CNN, but if you're asking whether or not I had any foreknowledge on the photos then I'd have to....
Q. YES, Mr. Clinton. That is what we're asking. What was your role--YOUR ROLE--as far as the photographs and video tapes that have emerged from Abu Ghraib in the last several days.
A. My role?
Q. Yes, you're role.
A. I don't think I had any role in...
Q. No, of course you didn't have any rolls--only digital cameras were involved, Mr. Clinton. Digital cameras do not require rolls of film or photo-processing. Do you understand digital photography, Mr. Clinton?
A. Well, I've taken some photographs of Chelsea with my Sony digital camera, so yes, I know about as much about digital cameras as any American...
Q. As much as any American SOLDIER, Mr. Clinton? Do you know as much about using a digital camera as the typical American S-O-L-D-I-E-R?
A. I really don't understand what's going...
Q. We're asking for the truth, Mr. Clinton.
A. Well, I'd really like to give you the truth this time... errr... I mean, the truth. I'd like to give it to you, but I'm not sure what you're getting at--not sure what you're asking me.
Q. Let us make this simple for you Mr. Clinton. A Yes or No answer will suffice. The simple question is: Were YOU the individual taking the photographs at Abu Ghraib? You were, in fact, the man behind the camera, Mr. Clinton, were you not?
A. At Abu Ghraib? You think I took the pictures at Abu Ghraib? For crying out loud, I've been in Harlem since April--I haven't been to Iraq in years--what are you talk...
Q. So you HAVE BEEN TO IRAQ, MR. CLINTON! YOU HAVE BEEN, AND YOU WILL BE AGAIN, AND YOU WERE THE INDIVIDUAL RESPONSIBLE FOR THE PHOTOGRAPHS OF U.S. MILITARY PERSONNEL INVOLVED IN TORTURE AT ABU GHRAIB!
A. Jesus -- are ya'll insane? Have ya'll gone completely bonkers? Are you out of your twisted little Congressional minds?
Q. Mr. Clinton, we are asking the questions here today and we have reason to believe that the photos from Abu Ghraib are part of a vast Left Wing conspiracy to bring down the Bush Administration, and we have reason to believe that you and Mrs. Clinton are leading this conspiratorial effort.
A. Why would we want to conspire about what's.....
Q. BECAUSE, MR. CLINTON, YOUR WIFE WANTS OUR GUY'S JOB. We know this, we have reliable intelligence on this, and we would like it, for once in your godforsaken life, if you would TELL US THE TRUTH about this--about something--about ANYTHING! Just say it, Mr. Clinton. JUST SAY IT. SAY "I WAS THE GUY WHO TOOK THE PICTURES AND LEAKED THEM TO 60 MINUTES AND THE LIBERAL MEDIA!!!!" SAY IT!! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, SAY IT!
A. You know what? I'll tell you the truth. For once in my life I will tell the truth as I sit here before you sorry sacks of shit. You want to know the truth? Here's the truth. While your military machine was raping Iraqi detainees, I WAS taking digital pictures! Does that make you happy? I was using my Sony to shoot some really hot pics with plenty of naked bronze flesh, yah, and plenty of plastic and leashes, even nipple clamps, brothers. I was taking those photos, okay? But guess what--I WASN'T taking them at Abu Ghraib. I was taking them at my office, on the carpet, on my oak desk, on the leather couch. Mmmmm, that's right. Getting into the kink right in my own office. You got it? You understand what was going on there?
Q. Mr. President--Please!
A. You understand you choir boy rapists? You understand? I was having my new assistant Monique pose for me, yes that's right, and she posed for me, brothers, she posed all of it for me, and I took care of her posing for me in ways you war mongering limp dicked sorry excuses for men will never understand. Never. So kiss my Arkansas Ass because I'm outta here. I left this shit behind me four years ago, and I'm leaving it behind now.
Q. Mr. President!
A. You can call me Bill and you can leave me the hell alone. Unless you want some lessons on how to run an economy, and I don't mean into the ground, then I suggest you lose my number.
--end transcript report--
President Clinton's testimony followed that of Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld, who accepted complete responsibility for the misconduct among the guards at Abu Ghraib prison, and offered his apology. "I feel terrible about what happened to these Iraqi detainees," Rumsfeld said. "They're human beings."
Rumsfeld quickly amended his comment, adding, "Well, they're like human beings, except that they're actually desert monkeys."
After excusing Rumsfeld for the day, Congress called former President Bill Clinton to offer testimony on the controversial photos from Abu Ghraib. Mr. Clinton was summoned from his hotel at about 6:00 p.m. by representatives from a bi-partisan commission tasked with uncovering the facts and reporting their findings to the international community. The former Preisdent took the stand shortly after 6:15.
President Clinton faced tough questions from both Democrat and Republican members of Congress during his two-hour testimony. The transcript of the question and answer session follows.
-----begin transcript report-------
Q. Hello President Clinton. Thank you for joining us here today. I hope we haven't inconvenienced you by asking that you appear today.
A. Well, to be honest, I'm not quite sure why I'm here, since I left office four years ago.
Q. President Clinton, what did you know and when did you know it?
A. I'm not sure I understand what you're asking. It really all depends. I mean, I had no idea she was under age if that's what you mea....
Q. No, Mr. Clinton, we're speaking about Abu Ghraib--the torture photos from Abu Ghraib. What did you know and when did you know it?
A. Oh, that! Oh. I see. Well, that question is rather difficult to answer, because I don't have any information from, or any influence within, the current administra....
Q. Mr. Clinton, please answer the question. Certainly you were informed--you have had some role--in this administration's efforts in Iraq. Please tell us what you know about the photos, the soldiers involved in these acts, and the individuals involved in photographing and distributing these pictures. Certainly you are aware of the photographs.
A. Well, I've seen them online, just like the rest of America, and on CNN, but if you're asking whether or not I had any foreknowledge on the photos then I'd have to....
Q. YES, Mr. Clinton. That is what we're asking. What was your role--YOUR ROLE--as far as the photographs and video tapes that have emerged from Abu Ghraib in the last several days.
A. My role?
Q. Yes, you're role.
A. I don't think I had any role in...
Q. No, of course you didn't have any rolls--only digital cameras were involved, Mr. Clinton. Digital cameras do not require rolls of film or photo-processing. Do you understand digital photography, Mr. Clinton?
A. Well, I've taken some photographs of Chelsea with my Sony digital camera, so yes, I know about as much about digital cameras as any American...
Q. As much as any American SOLDIER, Mr. Clinton? Do you know as much about using a digital camera as the typical American S-O-L-D-I-E-R?
A. I really don't understand what's going...
Q. We're asking for the truth, Mr. Clinton.
A. Well, I'd really like to give you the truth this time... errr... I mean, the truth. I'd like to give it to you, but I'm not sure what you're getting at--not sure what you're asking me.
Q. Let us make this simple for you Mr. Clinton. A Yes or No answer will suffice. The simple question is: Were YOU the individual taking the photographs at Abu Ghraib? You were, in fact, the man behind the camera, Mr. Clinton, were you not?
A. At Abu Ghraib? You think I took the pictures at Abu Ghraib? For crying out loud, I've been in Harlem since April--I haven't been to Iraq in years--what are you talk...
Q. So you HAVE BEEN TO IRAQ, MR. CLINTON! YOU HAVE BEEN, AND YOU WILL BE AGAIN, AND YOU WERE THE INDIVIDUAL RESPONSIBLE FOR THE PHOTOGRAPHS OF U.S. MILITARY PERSONNEL INVOLVED IN TORTURE AT ABU GHRAIB!
A. Jesus -- are ya'll insane? Have ya'll gone completely bonkers? Are you out of your twisted little Congressional minds?
Q. Mr. Clinton, we are asking the questions here today and we have reason to believe that the photos from Abu Ghraib are part of a vast Left Wing conspiracy to bring down the Bush Administration, and we have reason to believe that you and Mrs. Clinton are leading this conspiratorial effort.
A. Why would we want to conspire about what's.....
Q. BECAUSE, MR. CLINTON, YOUR WIFE WANTS OUR GUY'S JOB. We know this, we have reliable intelligence on this, and we would like it, for once in your godforsaken life, if you would TELL US THE TRUTH about this--about something--about ANYTHING! Just say it, Mr. Clinton. JUST SAY IT. SAY "I WAS THE GUY WHO TOOK THE PICTURES AND LEAKED THEM TO 60 MINUTES AND THE LIBERAL MEDIA!!!!" SAY IT!! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, SAY IT!
A. You know what? I'll tell you the truth. For once in my life I will tell the truth as I sit here before you sorry sacks of shit. You want to know the truth? Here's the truth. While your military machine was raping Iraqi detainees, I WAS taking digital pictures! Does that make you happy? I was using my Sony to shoot some really hot pics with plenty of naked bronze flesh, yah, and plenty of plastic and leashes, even nipple clamps, brothers. I was taking those photos, okay? But guess what--I WASN'T taking them at Abu Ghraib. I was taking them at my office, on the carpet, on my oak desk, on the leather couch. Mmmmm, that's right. Getting into the kink right in my own office. You got it? You understand what was going on there?
Q. Mr. President--Please!
A. You understand you choir boy rapists? You understand? I was having my new assistant Monique pose for me, yes that's right, and she posed for me, brothers, she posed all of it for me, and I took care of her posing for me in ways you war mongering limp dicked sorry excuses for men will never understand. Never. So kiss my Arkansas Ass because I'm outta here. I left this shit behind me four years ago, and I'm leaving it behind now.
Q. Mr. President!
A. You can call me Bill and you can leave me the hell alone. Unless you want some lessons on how to run an economy, and I don't mean into the ground, then I suggest you lose my number.
--end transcript report--
May 07, 2004
Meanwhile...
Oh, I'm sorry, but you don't have the oil we want.
"The government of Sudan is responsible for 'ethnic cleansing' and crimes against humanity in Darfur," according to the report, based on a 25-day investigation in and around Darfur. "The Sudanese government and the Arab 'Janjaweed' militias it arms and supports . . . have killed thousands of (ethnic) Fur, Masalit and Zaghawa -- often in cold blood."
It's just tough to be every place at once, isn't it?
In November, don't vote for a President, vote for a superhero.
"The government of Sudan is responsible for 'ethnic cleansing' and crimes against humanity in Darfur," according to the report, based on a 25-day investigation in and around Darfur. "The Sudanese government and the Arab 'Janjaweed' militias it arms and supports . . . have killed thousands of (ethnic) Fur, Masalit and Zaghawa -- often in cold blood."
It's just tough to be every place at once, isn't it?
In November, don't vote for a President, vote for a superhero.
May 06, 2004
ADD, Dissociation, and Other Mental Health Issues: My predictions for the year 2012
By 2012, I predict....
Rather than a disease or illness, ADD in children will become recognized as a coping mechanism for trauma: dissociation. (i.e., attention deficit = dissociation)
ADD Symptoms from the DSM IV
SYMPTOMS OF INATTENTION
a. often ignores details; makes careless mistakes
b. often has trouble sustaining attention in work or play
c. often does not seem to listen when directly addressed
d. often does not follow through on instructions; fails to finish
e. often has difficulty organizing tasks and activities
f. often avoids activities that require a sustained mental effort
g. often loses things he needs
h. often gets distracted by extraneous noise
i. is often forgetful in daily activities
Symptoms of Dissociation in Children
Child goes into a daze or trance-like state at times or often appears "spaced-out." Teachers may report that he or she "daydreams" frequently in school
Child shows rapid changes in personality. He or she may go from being shy to being outgoing, from feminine to masculine, from timid to aggressive.
Child shows marked day-to-day or even hour-to-hour variations in his or her skills, knowledge, food preferences, athletic abilities, e.g. changes in handwriting, memory for previously learned information such as multiplication tables, spelling, use of tools or artistic ability.
Child is unusually forgetful or confused about things that he or she should know..... [[more]]
I predict that ADD will become more readily linked to adverse childhood experiences, and that new whole-family treatment protocols for trauma will be developed and encouraged.
I predict that the early daycare experience (i.e. early separation of the child from the mother) will receive renewed attention in the question of ADD in children.
Yell at me if you want, but sell your Novartis stock by 2008.
I predict that the trauma movement will change how we view psychotropic medications, now filled by the millions to manage the many shades of mental illness in adults and children. Medicines useful? Yes. I predict that multi-pronged treatment approaches--with medicine as only one prong--will become the preferred way to manage depression and mental illness, however.
I predict that the days of the family doc prescribing psych meds are numbered, as liability increases with a failure for medications to manage these illnesses long term.
This has been a public service announcement from someone with no official training in these matters, but 41 years of experience at the University of Hard Knocks.
Rather than a disease or illness, ADD in children will become recognized as a coping mechanism for trauma: dissociation. (i.e., attention deficit = dissociation)
ADD Symptoms from the DSM IV
SYMPTOMS OF INATTENTION
a. often ignores details; makes careless mistakes
b. often has trouble sustaining attention in work or play
c. often does not seem to listen when directly addressed
d. often does not follow through on instructions; fails to finish
e. often has difficulty organizing tasks and activities
f. often avoids activities that require a sustained mental effort
g. often loses things he needs
h. often gets distracted by extraneous noise
i. is often forgetful in daily activities
Symptoms of Dissociation in Children
Child goes into a daze or trance-like state at times or often appears "spaced-out." Teachers may report that he or she "daydreams" frequently in school
Child shows rapid changes in personality. He or she may go from being shy to being outgoing, from feminine to masculine, from timid to aggressive.
Child shows marked day-to-day or even hour-to-hour variations in his or her skills, knowledge, food preferences, athletic abilities, e.g. changes in handwriting, memory for previously learned information such as multiplication tables, spelling, use of tools or artistic ability.
Child is unusually forgetful or confused about things that he or she should know..... [[more]]
I predict that ADD will become more readily linked to adverse childhood experiences, and that new whole-family treatment protocols for trauma will be developed and encouraged.
I predict that the early daycare experience (i.e. early separation of the child from the mother) will receive renewed attention in the question of ADD in children.
Yell at me if you want, but sell your Novartis stock by 2008.
I predict that the trauma movement will change how we view psychotropic medications, now filled by the millions to manage the many shades of mental illness in adults and children. Medicines useful? Yes. I predict that multi-pronged treatment approaches--with medicine as only one prong--will become the preferred way to manage depression and mental illness, however.
I predict that the days of the family doc prescribing psych meds are numbered, as liability increases with a failure for medications to manage these illnesses long term.
This has been a public service announcement from someone with no official training in these matters, but 41 years of experience at the University of Hard Knocks.
May 05, 2004
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Preident Requests $25 Billion More for Mid-East War Effort
Six Hundred rectal pears, Nine Hundred Chain Flails, Three Breast Rippers, Two Racks, and One St. Elmo's Belt Are Among Special Ops' Equipment Slotted for Funding.
Blog Calvinism
Found this over here after stopping by for donuts over here, and got to thinking how much this take on academic calvinism reminds me of the blog world. There would not be, as once upon a time there was not, a weblog elect class if not for the misplaced idolitry of weblog believers.
Do you too see an a-list parallel in the following?
Calvinist beliefs in predestination led believers to distinguish between the elect and the preterite - those who were destined to go to heaven, and those who were destined to go to hell. Because it was impossible to be sure whether they were going to ascend to paradise or to burn, Calvinists sought evidence that they were favoured by God through accumulating goods without consuming them. If you did well in worldly affairs, you could take this as a sign of God’s favour.
Translation Key
Elect = Self-identified (or at least non-protesting) A-Listers
Preterite = The rest
Heaven = More than 1,500 hits per day
Hell = Fewer than 50 hits per day
Goods = Links, search engine results, mentions in mainstream articles about blogging
Without consuming them = without linking to "the rest."
God = Technorati, google, dave winer
Wordly Affairs = Book contract or academic fellowship
The Calvinist illusion is that luck has nothing to do with it - markets reward virtue. Success in selling your wares is the only necessary proof of one’s innate superiority.
Do you too see an a-list parallel in the following?
Calvinist beliefs in predestination led believers to distinguish between the elect and the preterite - those who were destined to go to heaven, and those who were destined to go to hell. Because it was impossible to be sure whether they were going to ascend to paradise or to burn, Calvinists sought evidence that they were favoured by God through accumulating goods without consuming them. If you did well in worldly affairs, you could take this as a sign of God’s favour.
Translation Key
Elect = Self-identified (or at least non-protesting) A-Listers
Preterite = The rest
Heaven = More than 1,500 hits per day
Hell = Fewer than 50 hits per day
Goods = Links, search engine results, mentions in mainstream articles about blogging
Without consuming them = without linking to "the rest."
God = Technorati, google, dave winer
Wordly Affairs = Book contract or academic fellowship
The Calvinist illusion is that luck has nothing to do with it - markets reward virtue. Success in selling your wares is the only necessary proof of one’s innate superiority.
for those who were absent last year, part deux
Jeneane on seeing. And on blogs and velocity, and more meta blogging.
For a recent good read on one man's meta, check out Jay Rosen's Q&A post on PressThink.
For a recent good read on one man's meta, check out Jay Rosen's Q&A post on PressThink.
for those who were absent last year...
Jeneane on the corporate blog.
Also here, and here.
Please, please, if a single executive is left among my readers, READ THIS from ME:
DO NOT blog as your business card title.
Do not blog as a CEO. First, last, and always, Blog as a father, blog as a mother, blog as a lover, blog as a gardener, a kick boxer, a trail walker, a brother, a sister, a pianist, a lover of literature, an auto freak, a war monger, a peace lover, a door hanger, a little league coach, a cross-dresser, a rock-n-roll fanatic, a gadget lover, a cancer survivor, a computer nerd, an antique train collector, a griever, a lover of striped ties or fancy underwear--whatever. Blog from your gut, your places of passion, blog about what brings you joy, what socks you in the middle and knocks the wind out of you, but for pete's sake, don't blog from your BUSINESS CARD TITLE!!!
Also here, and here.
Please, please, if a single executive is left among my readers, READ THIS from ME:
DO NOT blog as your business card title.
Do not blog as a CEO. First, last, and always, Blog as a father, blog as a mother, blog as a lover, blog as a gardener, a kick boxer, a trail walker, a brother, a sister, a pianist, a lover of literature, an auto freak, a war monger, a peace lover, a door hanger, a little league coach, a cross-dresser, a rock-n-roll fanatic, a gadget lover, a cancer survivor, a computer nerd, an antique train collector, a griever, a lover of striped ties or fancy underwear--whatever. Blog from your gut, your places of passion, blog about what brings you joy, what socks you in the middle and knocks the wind out of you, but for pete's sake, don't blog from your BUSINESS CARD TITLE!!!
May 03, 2004
May 02, 2004
carly and jeff
not spam--hey guys, new laptop & i lost yer email addresses and can't find the number. can you email us this week w/ your number? we're still scrimping and scraping to try to meet you to meet you in jamaica in june... Likelihood at 40%. need carly's deep discount dealing skills... talk to ya soon!
April 27, 2004
Chris Rock On
Morning laugh: The Number One Reason.
Don't even think about it---is he ever work safe?
From Unfogged.
Don't even think about it---is he ever work safe?
From Unfogged.
US Troops to Remain in Iraq through Armageddon
From the 4/26 Press Briefing
Q Scott, last week there were some reports at the end of the week about sovereignty in Iraq not being full sovereignty. Is that true, or -- what gradations are there of sovereignty that --
MR. McCLELLAN: Look, at the end of June the coalition will be transferring sovereignty to the Iraqi people. Obviously, in terms of security, there is still a need for coalition forces to work with Iraqis to improve the security situation. And they will continue to -- the coalition forces will remain in Iraq for some time after the transfer of sovereignty. But this is -- at the end of June, the Coalition Provisional Authority will cease to exist, and sovereignty will be transferred to an interim, representative body. That is what Mr. Brahimi has been working to address. He will be coming back in May with some more specifics to that interim body, and they will serve in that interim period before elections are held, under the schedule laid out in the transitional administrative law.
Q So that's full sovereignty transferred, though.
MR. McCLELLAN: I would describe it as, sovereignty will be transferred to the Iraqi people. In terms of security, coalition forces will continue to -- they will remain in Iraq to continue to provide for the security alongside of Iraqi security forces. The Iraqi people want coalition forces to remain until they realize a free and peaceful future. And we will -- we will remain in Iraq to help with the security situation.
On whether or not FOX NEWS is the President's personal mouthpiece:
Q. I don't know if you saw, before we got on the plane, John Kerry was on Good Morning America answering to some charges as to some --
MR. McCLELLAN: One of your all's network.
Q. -- there you go...
Q Scott, last week there were some reports at the end of the week about sovereignty in Iraq not being full sovereignty. Is that true, or -- what gradations are there of sovereignty that --
MR. McCLELLAN: Look, at the end of June the coalition will be transferring sovereignty to the Iraqi people. Obviously, in terms of security, there is still a need for coalition forces to work with Iraqis to improve the security situation. And they will continue to -- the coalition forces will remain in Iraq for some time after the transfer of sovereignty. But this is -- at the end of June, the Coalition Provisional Authority will cease to exist, and sovereignty will be transferred to an interim, representative body. That is what Mr. Brahimi has been working to address. He will be coming back in May with some more specifics to that interim body, and they will serve in that interim period before elections are held, under the schedule laid out in the transitional administrative law.
Q So that's full sovereignty transferred, though.
MR. McCLELLAN: I would describe it as, sovereignty will be transferred to the Iraqi people. In terms of security, coalition forces will continue to -- they will remain in Iraq to continue to provide for the security alongside of Iraqi security forces. The Iraqi people want coalition forces to remain until they realize a free and peaceful future. And we will -- we will remain in Iraq to help with the security situation.
On whether or not FOX NEWS is the President's personal mouthpiece:
Q. I don't know if you saw, before we got on the plane, John Kerry was on Good Morning America answering to some charges as to some --
MR. McCLELLAN: One of your all's network.
Q. -- there you go...
The Passion of The Bush
Bush on Jesus:
"I asked him where he was raised. He said, Southern California," commented the President before his remarks. "He said he didn't speak English when he came to America at age five. His dad had big dreams for him. And here he is, years later, introducing the President of the United States in perfect English.
"I asked him where he was raised. He said, Southern California," commented the President before his remarks. "He said he didn't speak English when he came to America at age five. His dad had big dreams for him. And here he is, years later, introducing the President of the United States in perfect English.
April 26, 2004
A parent home with sick kids always gets a nod from me
Andrew's been doing a run of nose wiping.
I am happily looking forward to a long day of two fragile, croaky, wheezy, sniffling, coughing children; both attempting to monopolise the one couch and one television. They cannot coexist peacefully at the best of times: how will they be today.
He's also looking for work, and knows Data Warehousing like a labrador knows pond water. Send a care package, in the form of Puffs Plus and a job, to Andrew in Australia.
I am happily looking forward to a long day of two fragile, croaky, wheezy, sniffling, coughing children; both attempting to monopolise the one couch and one television. They cannot coexist peacefully at the best of times: how will they be today.
He's also looking for work, and knows Data Warehousing like a labrador knows pond water. Send a care package, in the form of Puffs Plus and a job, to Andrew in Australia.
April 25, 2004
My Blog Is a Casetas Telefonicas
I came here tonight to talk about my falling out with blogging, and as I struggled to put words as to why I'm not attracted to this medium right now, the word "boring" was the one I was going to use. Before I went over to read Tom, I was searching up images on google, thinking about piecing together a poster that summarized my ennui, some kind of Blogging Is a Bore poster with an ole hound asleep on a shady porch. That was just one image I was looking for. Because Blogging has become that predictable.
So, in my travels I hop over to see if Tom is still Mexicaning, and to my surprise and joy, I see he is defending my honor over there. I smile. I post my thoughts (below). Then I go back to read what else Tom's been up to.
What I find is this Gem, which, if I were to take it and run with it, which I don't think Tom would mind, I would extrapolate that he is precisely right, not only within American culture as Walmartitis reflects our obsession with the shallow order of things, but also, he is double right in that this very same element is what is BORING ME TO DEATH right now as a weblogger.
There is something to be said for blurring the lines between potatoes and tampons, between phone cards and baking soda.
There is something profound in the brushing up of one against the next.
There is something precious in searching among the unlike.
There is joy in the finding.
Much of that joy is what we once had here in blogland. It's gone missing, for me anyway. Maybe it's behind the Ketchup, just to the right of the motor oil.
I can conjure an image of the place Tom writes about--the casetas telefonicas--if only sort of, because here in the U.S. you can walk into the rare family-owned deli that isn't trying to be Walmart and enjoy the blurring of edges around the meaning and classifying of things.
Tom describes it here: Anyone who has been in a Mexican market knows how their spaces exhibit horror vacui. This sort of aggregating would have a harder time occuring in the U.S., where the borders between kinds of businesses, types of property, and modes of economic activity are more sharply etched in our imaginings of propriety and order.
My dad owned a little Deli. A couple, actually. I think I never said that here. And so, the this-and-that of the Mexican Phone Store tickled me, Tom.
I can say with pride now, then, that my blog is not about journalism or PR or marketing or writing or business. I want my blog to be a Mexican Phone Store and I want to hang out at other blogs that are casetas telefonicas that don't sell phones at all.
What's that in middle isle? Could be meat, could be cake.
You taste it and you tell me.
I'll be back for more on this when Tom takes his post further.
So, in my travels I hop over to see if Tom is still Mexicaning, and to my surprise and joy, I see he is defending my honor over there. I smile. I post my thoughts (below). Then I go back to read what else Tom's been up to.
What I find is this Gem, which, if I were to take it and run with it, which I don't think Tom would mind, I would extrapolate that he is precisely right, not only within American culture as Walmartitis reflects our obsession with the shallow order of things, but also, he is double right in that this very same element is what is BORING ME TO DEATH right now as a weblogger.
There is something to be said for blurring the lines between potatoes and tampons, between phone cards and baking soda.
There is something profound in the brushing up of one against the next.
There is something precious in searching among the unlike.
There is joy in the finding.
Much of that joy is what we once had here in blogland. It's gone missing, for me anyway. Maybe it's behind the Ketchup, just to the right of the motor oil.
I can conjure an image of the place Tom writes about--the casetas telefonicas--if only sort of, because here in the U.S. you can walk into the rare family-owned deli that isn't trying to be Walmart and enjoy the blurring of edges around the meaning and classifying of things.
Tom describes it here: Anyone who has been in a Mexican market knows how their spaces exhibit horror vacui. This sort of aggregating would have a harder time occuring in the U.S., where the borders between kinds of businesses, types of property, and modes of economic activity are more sharply etched in our imaginings of propriety and order.
My dad owned a little Deli. A couple, actually. I think I never said that here. And so, the this-and-that of the Mexican Phone Store tickled me, Tom.
I can say with pride now, then, that my blog is not about journalism or PR or marketing or writing or business. I want my blog to be a Mexican Phone Store and I want to hang out at other blogs that are casetas telefonicas that don't sell phones at all.
What's that in middle isle? Could be meat, could be cake.
You taste it and you tell me.
I'll be back for more on this when Tom takes his post further.
You Came to the Comments Party But You Didn't Go Home and Talk About It.
Thank you, Tom. Thank you for pointing out something that has been bugging me. Not a lot bugging me. But a little bugging me.
You need only read the far-ranging pre-bloggercon comment discussions over at Jay's post on Journalism v blogging to see what Tom means.
Although I offered some fairly insightful nuggets, as did Weldon and many others, including Tom, when Jay summarized the observations of fellow bloggers in his posts that followed, Weldon and I and a few others fell off the map.
In Jay's summary of the thread, Weldon and I didn't make the cut, and in the next pre-bloggercon piece, Jay links to a host of folks talking about the theme, including the whole parade of usual suspects, and some unusual suspects thank God, but doesn't pull out many of those pieces of his 120-something comments that, as a matter of fact, I think he should have. That action could have furthered the discussion (rather than widening the discussion out along a familiar path of either 1) conference attendees or 2) bloggers who cover this stuff anyway).
Furthering and widening or broadening are two different things.
Jay suggested I take my comments to my blog because he felt they were worth exploring. I like Jay and I trust that if I had, and if Weldon had, then Jay probably would have linked to some of the rather astute observations we'd made. At the time, though, I didn't want to. I didn't think it served the thread well in the middle of what had turned into a sort of "think tank" to do the blogging-as-usual bullshitty deal of running off to my own separate blog to pontificate about what I had just said at our little gathering. Isn't it enough that I said it at Jay's house? Do I have to come home and say it over here too?
Why do we have comments if we aren't going to weigh what is said in comments within the larger discussion or theme? Yes, comments are different from posts, but they're also the best place to STOP hearing the sound of our own voices and in some cases to join a more tightly-joined discussion with others--some who blog and some who don't. And why isn't that gathering in and of itself sometimes enough? And if not, why do I bother commenting? Sometimes I don't blog over here for a few days because I'm participating in other blogs within comments. I consider that as important as posting.
Are we gathering gathering in comments just so that we can run back to our own houses and tell how badly the cocktail weenies sucked or how hot the host looked or what great music they played or how I don't agree with their politics?
Man, I hope not.
You need only read the far-ranging pre-bloggercon comment discussions over at Jay's post on Journalism v blogging to see what Tom means.
Although I offered some fairly insightful nuggets, as did Weldon and many others, including Tom, when Jay summarized the observations of fellow bloggers in his posts that followed, Weldon and I and a few others fell off the map.
In Jay's summary of the thread, Weldon and I didn't make the cut, and in the next pre-bloggercon piece, Jay links to a host of folks talking about the theme, including the whole parade of usual suspects, and some unusual suspects thank God, but doesn't pull out many of those pieces of his 120-something comments that, as a matter of fact, I think he should have. That action could have furthered the discussion (rather than widening the discussion out along a familiar path of either 1) conference attendees or 2) bloggers who cover this stuff anyway).
Furthering and widening or broadening are two different things.
Jay suggested I take my comments to my blog because he felt they were worth exploring. I like Jay and I trust that if I had, and if Weldon had, then Jay probably would have linked to some of the rather astute observations we'd made. At the time, though, I didn't want to. I didn't think it served the thread well in the middle of what had turned into a sort of "think tank" to do the blogging-as-usual bullshitty deal of running off to my own separate blog to pontificate about what I had just said at our little gathering. Isn't it enough that I said it at Jay's house? Do I have to come home and say it over here too?
Why do we have comments if we aren't going to weigh what is said in comments within the larger discussion or theme? Yes, comments are different from posts, but they're also the best place to STOP hearing the sound of our own voices and in some cases to join a more tightly-joined discussion with others--some who blog and some who don't. And why isn't that gathering in and of itself sometimes enough? And if not, why do I bother commenting? Sometimes I don't blog over here for a few days because I'm participating in other blogs within comments. I consider that as important as posting.
Are we gathering gathering in comments just so that we can run back to our own houses and tell how badly the cocktail weenies sucked or how hot the host looked or what great music they played or how I don't agree with their politics?
Man, I hope not.
April 23, 2004
This Old Infrastructure
Just Checked Out Doc's new "Doc Searls IT Garage" and was so impressed with this idea. I love it as it stands--a digestible weblog featuring the war stories of IT folks. Doc's tagline is "News, ideas and real world stories about how IT folks solve their own problems."
But I can see this blog evolving into more.
I don't know if it's the simple, welcoming design of the blog or Doc's loveable mug at the top, but I conjure images of This Old House meets Ambush Makeover. Or This Old Infrastructure meets IT Ambush Makeover.
Can you see Doc and company rushing into, say, Buy.com (on my current shit list due to my recent laptop purchase) and surprising them with the news that they've been selected for an Ambush Makeover for business?
Doc and crew would be the ones to put some foundation and lipgloss on the less-than-attractive e-commerce processes and infrastructure at buy.com. Can you see Frank shaking his head at the CTO -- "Uh uh honey--you need some help."
I bet after a makeover from IT Garage, when you place an order at Buy.com, you'd actually get an email back letting you know that Buy.com has RECEIVED your order. I dunno, call me goofy, maybe they'd even THANK YOU for your order. And I dunno, I'm going out on a limb here, but maybe they'd keep you INFORMED along the way about what's up with your order.
And I know Doc could run them down with a powder puff assault and a bold new cut with blonde highlights, so that if, let's say, you place a $1,000+ order with Buy.com, you'd even be able to find a PHONE NUMBER where you could talk to a real live person about your purchase.
And if Doc were in charge of the Ambush makeover, I just know he'd have the sense to throw some gloss on at the end, so that SOMETHING was inside the box that shows up three days late offering the buyer something special (say, a coupon for a new laptop case for me, or a 10% off thank you certificate = cross-sell/up-sell opportunities for buy.com; good feelings for happy.buyer).
This is more than IT, I know. It's process stuff too. But it's process stuff that is powered by IT, and Doc & Co. has the smarts, experience, and balls to do this kind of thing right.
I say get the cameras rolling and let Frank and Doc hit the streets donning cables and wires and hard hats with servers in tow, instead of sissors and hair dye and the latest low ride jeans.
You go, Doc.
But I can see this blog evolving into more.
I don't know if it's the simple, welcoming design of the blog or Doc's loveable mug at the top, but I conjure images of This Old House meets Ambush Makeover. Or This Old Infrastructure meets IT Ambush Makeover.
Can you see Doc and company rushing into, say, Buy.com (on my current shit list due to my recent laptop purchase) and surprising them with the news that they've been selected for an Ambush Makeover for business?
Doc and crew would be the ones to put some foundation and lipgloss on the less-than-attractive e-commerce processes and infrastructure at buy.com. Can you see Frank shaking his head at the CTO -- "Uh uh honey--you need some help."
I bet after a makeover from IT Garage, when you place an order at Buy.com, you'd actually get an email back letting you know that Buy.com has RECEIVED your order. I dunno, call me goofy, maybe they'd even THANK YOU for your order. And I dunno, I'm going out on a limb here, but maybe they'd keep you INFORMED along the way about what's up with your order.
And I know Doc could run them down with a powder puff assault and a bold new cut with blonde highlights, so that if, let's say, you place a $1,000+ order with Buy.com, you'd even be able to find a PHONE NUMBER where you could talk to a real live person about your purchase.
And if Doc were in charge of the Ambush makeover, I just know he'd have the sense to throw some gloss on at the end, so that SOMETHING was inside the box that shows up three days late offering the buyer something special (say, a coupon for a new laptop case for me, or a 10% off thank you certificate = cross-sell/up-sell opportunities for buy.com; good feelings for happy.buyer).
This is more than IT, I know. It's process stuff too. But it's process stuff that is powered by IT, and Doc & Co. has the smarts, experience, and balls to do this kind of thing right.
I say get the cameras rolling and let Frank and Doc hit the streets donning cables and wires and hard hats with servers in tow, instead of sissors and hair dye and the latest low ride jeans.
You go, Doc.
April 21, 2004
Off center
It's way too easy to type on this laptop, the speed with which I can move now. It's a great great thing. It's also not such a great thing becuase I haven't felt like blogging. Blogging is so much a part of who I am now that I can tell something's up with me when I don't want to come here. I've been busy, that's for sure. New computer, still getting used to it. But it's more.
I don't know what. I wish I did. But I don't.
Maybe I do.
The shape of a memory that came back recently, about three weeks ago. I didn't know it was there. And when it came back, since it's come back, I haven't really been in myself at all. And when I'm not in myself it's hard to come here. This is where I integrate.
So I'm Dissociated, note the capital D, maybe. Okay, yes. Living outside myself, just off to the left and up a bit.
My sister tells me he was 87 pounds when he died.
pulled through a wormhole I'm transported lightning quick to an place and smell and grey white sky. That image. Oh Jesus. That one was hiding in the gaps. In the black space between my hyper-real colors. The place where if I'd never tripped upon it again, I wouldn't have noticed except that I've been living in and out of that black space all of my life.
Was he home?
Sometimes. He'd go into the hospital and then come back home, and then go back in, and then come home.
Did I go see him there?
No, you were too young to go up to his floor. You'd stand on the hood of the car and wave, and he'd wave to you from his hospital room window
shot through the wormhole again, ripped apart and reassembled at the doorway of the memory. I see him there waving, ravaged form hidden just enough by the drapes that I see mostly hand. moving back and forth. Daddy!?!
Over and over I say inside so very deep inside in the middle of my middle in the center of my soul: "I want to go up and see him I want to go up and see him I want to go up and see him I want to go up and see him I want to go up and see him I want to go up and see him I want to go up and see him I want to go up and see him I want to go up and see him."
I still do.
I don't know what. I wish I did. But I don't.
Maybe I do.
The shape of a memory that came back recently, about three weeks ago. I didn't know it was there. And when it came back, since it's come back, I haven't really been in myself at all. And when I'm not in myself it's hard to come here. This is where I integrate.
So I'm Dissociated, note the capital D, maybe. Okay, yes. Living outside myself, just off to the left and up a bit.
My sister tells me he was 87 pounds when he died.
pulled through a wormhole I'm transported lightning quick to an place and smell and grey white sky. That image. Oh Jesus. That one was hiding in the gaps. In the black space between my hyper-real colors. The place where if I'd never tripped upon it again, I wouldn't have noticed except that I've been living in and out of that black space all of my life.
Was he home?
Sometimes. He'd go into the hospital and then come back home, and then go back in, and then come home.
Did I go see him there?
No, you were too young to go up to his floor. You'd stand on the hood of the car and wave, and he'd wave to you from his hospital room window
shot through the wormhole again, ripped apart and reassembled at the doorway of the memory. I see him there waving, ravaged form hidden just enough by the drapes that I see mostly hand. moving back and forth. Daddy!?!
Over and over I say inside so very deep inside in the middle of my middle in the center of my soul: "I want to go up and see him I want to go up and see him I want to go up and see him I want to go up and see him I want to go up and see him I want to go up and see him I want to go up and see him I want to go up and see him I want to go up and see him."
I still do.
Zooom or Gooom
You know on Zoom, the kids sing this little song about Zmail, which is email you send to the show. Zmail, it's email.
jeneane.sessum at gmail.com
google mail.
dig that gmail stuff.
email with google search capability might just save email. give us some meaning back by making it easier to talk to each other.
"Print Conversation" -- I like it.
Far too many innovations these days. I need to spread my excitement out. I can't keep getting jazzed about cool new things.
jeneane.sessum at gmail.com
google mail.
dig that gmail stuff.
email with google search capability might just save email. give us some meaning back by making it easier to talk to each other.
"Print Conversation" -- I like it.
Far too many innovations these days. I need to spread my excitement out. I can't keep getting jazzed about cool new things.
April 20, 2004
April 18, 2004
Nate Adam's Illicit World of Wireless
In bed. Oh god. So good. Supposed to be working but I have this keyboard that I don't have to backspace on. You don't understand. You remember when, through the kindness of my blog friends, when I got shitcanned/voluntarilyseparated from Ketchum your generosity gave me enough cash to get my refurbished Dell. And that was good. That was a lifesaver. But the thing is, even with the extra memory, it could never keep up with my typing. It would double type letters and skip multiple spaces. By last month I literally spent as much time backspacing as forward typing, and besides, after visiting a few sites, I'd get the old broken-link demons, even with spysweeper, which helped, my life was hell. I live on my laptop--literally--for work, play, and self-torture.
So along comes Sheila mentioning the very affordably priced Acer notebooks and there I go grabbing one from buy.com (DO NOT BUY FROM BUY.COM - DON'T BUY.COM - THEY SUCK) and this keyboard is a thing of beauty. I'm going and going and going and going. I'm FREEEEE!
Then add the wireless mojo on top of that and I feel like I just fell into the future.
But I digress. I'm meta-teching.
Frank, we could have a writer's workshop I suppose. But I wouldn't want anyone to write. We would have to do things like read history and poetry and play vollyball and roll in sand (first find some--maybe florida would be better) and sit at the edge of the ocean with just one foot waiting for the waves. It's not form, you know? It's not even techniques. It's stories. So we have a conference where we all set out to find stories. Maybe we don't confer at all. Maybe we go off in pairs or quads to explore woods and fish or something, and then we come back at night and tell stories. Or we roast marshmallows and weenies and sing by a campfire. That's what writing is.
Fuck blogging and fuck politics and fuck journalism and fuck religion (sorry AKMA) as TOPICS. Go live three layers deep within those things and then write your way out. That's how you tell a story.
That's what I say. And I have new keys to speak with, so watch the fuck out.
So along comes Sheila mentioning the very affordably priced Acer notebooks and there I go grabbing one from buy.com (DO NOT BUY FROM BUY.COM - DON'T BUY.COM - THEY SUCK) and this keyboard is a thing of beauty. I'm going and going and going and going. I'm FREEEEE!
Then add the wireless mojo on top of that and I feel like I just fell into the future.
But I digress. I'm meta-teching.
Frank, we could have a writer's workshop I suppose. But I wouldn't want anyone to write. We would have to do things like read history and poetry and play vollyball and roll in sand (first find some--maybe florida would be better) and sit at the edge of the ocean with just one foot waiting for the waves. It's not form, you know? It's not even techniques. It's stories. So we have a conference where we all set out to find stories. Maybe we don't confer at all. Maybe we go off in pairs or quads to explore woods and fish or something, and then we come back at night and tell stories. Or we roast marshmallows and weenies and sing by a campfire. That's what writing is.
Fuck blogging and fuck politics and fuck journalism and fuck religion (sorry AKMA) as TOPICS. Go live three layers deep within those things and then write your way out. That's how you tell a story.
That's what I say. And I have new keys to speak with, so watch the fuck out.
April 17, 2004
no possible way
there's no possible way i'm stretched out on the couch with this laptop, all wirelessly connected n shit. holy hot. this is the life. you guys been keepin a big secret from me. Here's how you blog like you do all the time. I've been tapping my fingers to the bone on these subpar machines, hooked into a cable and plugged into the wall, for years. When did technology get this good?
I have to push post now, just because I can.
I have to push post now, just because I can.
In the words of Howard Dean
YEEEAAAAAAAAAAaaaarrrrrrggggghhhh!!!!! On my new laptop, retreived from the wrong house, where it landed when UPS left it there, in the driveway, and now I'm on it wirelessly from my piano top and I don't even know how it's doing that. What's up with that? Does my DSL linksys router have a wireless thingy I wasn't aware of? Do I live in a hotspot? Or am I leaching off of my neighbors? Either way, it works for me!
I realized I've been living in 2001. It's nice to join the rest of yous. Oh, and I can finally TYPE without letters repeating and jumping and skipping all about. This is effortless. It's like floating in water. ohhhhh. i so happy!
I realized I've been living in 2001. It's nice to join the rest of yous. Oh, and I can finally TYPE without letters repeating and jumping and skipping all about. This is effortless. It's like floating in water. ohhhhh. i so happy!
April 14, 2004
okay, so can i ask a question?
I downloaded and installed the A9 toolbar and am assuming I don't see anything different because I already have the Google toolbar? Come on, can we all just get along?
Check out the "diary" feature of the A9 toolbar:
A9 Toolbar
Web Search: Search the web and Amazon.com's Search Inside the Book™ results. You can also do searches on Amazon.com, the Internet Movie Database, Google, and look up words in a dictionary and thesaurus.
Search Highlighter: The toolbar will automatically highlight your search terms in a light yellow. By using the highlighter menu, you can see how many times your search terms appear on the page, and jump to each occurrence of a specific word. Hint: You don't have to do a search to use the highlighter. Just type one or more words in the search box and click the highlight button.
Your History: Keep track of your last sites visited (on any computer) and your most recent searches. It will keep track of the Web pages you recently visited--even if you switch computers.
Diary: This is the newest and (we think) coolest feature of the toolbar. You can take notes on any web page, and reference them whenever you visit that page, on any computer that you use. Your entries are automatically saved whenever you stop typing or when you go to another page.
Site Info: See information about the website you are visiting, including related links, site statistics (including traffic rank), sites linking to this site, and user ranking. Select from the menu to go to the site's page on Amazon.com where you can get more information and write a review about the site.
Pop-up Blocker: Stop those annoying pop-up ads.
So, interesting. On the google toolbar, you can have "blog this" which makes it super quick and easy to blog in Blogger as you surf. On the A9 tool bar you get the wild sounding "diary" feature that lets you keep notes about the sites you visit.
I want it all. Aninegoogle.
Check out the "diary" feature of the A9 toolbar:
A9 Toolbar
Web Search: Search the web and Amazon.com's Search Inside the Book™ results. You can also do searches on Amazon.com, the Internet Movie Database, Google, and look up words in a dictionary and thesaurus.
Search Highlighter: The toolbar will automatically highlight your search terms in a light yellow. By using the highlighter menu, you can see how many times your search terms appear on the page, and jump to each occurrence of a specific word. Hint: You don't have to do a search to use the highlighter. Just type one or more words in the search box and click the highlight button.
Your History: Keep track of your last sites visited (on any computer) and your most recent searches. It will keep track of the Web pages you recently visited--even if you switch computers.
Diary: This is the newest and (we think) coolest feature of the toolbar. You can take notes on any web page, and reference them whenever you visit that page, on any computer that you use. Your entries are automatically saved whenever you stop typing or when you go to another page.
Site Info: See information about the website you are visiting, including related links, site statistics (including traffic rank), sites linking to this site, and user ranking. Select from the menu to go to the site's page on Amazon.com where you can get more information and write a review about the site.
Pop-up Blocker: Stop those annoying pop-up ads.
So, interesting. On the google toolbar, you can have "blog this" which makes it super quick and easy to blog in Blogger as you surf. On the A9 tool bar you get the wild sounding "diary" feature that lets you keep notes about the sites you visit.
I want it all. Aninegoogle.
zzzzzz
I can't decide if looking for a new laptop feels more like shopping for a new car or a new house. The strangest thing, and if you believe laptops can be demon-possessed then this may not seem so weird, but after I plunked the just over a thousand dollars down on a new acer, opting for the budget-reliability combo (and don't anyone say anything bad--it's not even here yet) with thanks to Sheila Lennon who uses an Acer Travelmate, and if it can withstand all the writing Sheila does I figure it can certainly handle mine, but I digress.... What I was saying was that after I plunked down the money for the new laptop, this one is suddenly behaving.
I know. I know. It sounds crazy. But look at me type. I've only had three double-tripple letters (which I fixed) in the last paragraph. That's pretty good for this refurbished Dell, whose keyboard issues started the day I brought it home.
So, who knows. Maybe my Dell felt the reverberations of all the searches I've done this last week. Or maybe not. Either way, a fall in status is in store for this puppy.
Listen, Sheila has some great info about Amazon's new search engine capability too. Check it out. I'm on my way over to Amazon now to do just that.
I know. I know. It sounds crazy. But look at me type. I've only had three double-tripple letters (which I fixed) in the last paragraph. That's pretty good for this refurbished Dell, whose keyboard issues started the day I brought it home.
So, who knows. Maybe my Dell felt the reverberations of all the searches I've done this last week. Or maybe not. Either way, a fall in status is in store for this puppy.
Listen, Sheila has some great info about Amazon's new search engine capability too. Check it out. I'm on my way over to Amazon now to do just that.
April 11, 2004
Compare prices and features for Laptop Computer in GA
Happy Anniversary - one year in business, now i gotta get a new laptop. How are HP laptops? Anyone have one? Recommendations on new laptop under $1400 welcome.
p.s., if you haven't used Salescircular.com before, check it out. It's a handy way to check out who's got what on sale before you run around town.
lata.
p.s., if you haven't used Salescircular.com before, check it out. It's a handy way to check out who's got what on sale before you run around town.
lata.
April 10, 2004
April 08, 2004
mindless
I have been assimilated. My mind is gone, no numb, no gone, no numb. Hello, What? (Once and Future King--I loved that book as a kid. Deep evergreen forests and knights with shimmering swords and magic and stuff. now they talk about harry potter. i don't know or care from harry potter. special defects and all.) So, hello, what? Work has been so non-ending, 5 a.m., 2 a.m., you gotta take it while it's there - this is the only time I miss having a team. No one to even cry to. My house--never, not in 10 years, this bad. Condemnable. The sweet-eating ants are back. I've decided to let them have the place. I am thinking to give them names like eatsy and beatsy and tiny and big boy (the one who carries his dead colleagues home--poor troops having ingested george's latest boric acid buffet, the poor man's biological weapons of mass instruction, which they are obviously breeding to resist) and fluffy and buffy and Henry and Gwenneth.
It just doesn't matter not any of it. It doesn't make the pain stop. It doesn't make meaning.
sleep.
It just doesn't matter not any of it. It doesn't make the pain stop. It doesn't make meaning.
sleep.
April 06, 2004
The secret life of the infrequent meeter
I am an undomesticated animal in the pet store of business. No matter where I turn, I leek urine on the carpets, track in mud, and when they're not looking, I've got my eye on the beef-basted chew toys better known as free notepads and pencils.
Once I lived in conference rooms. Half-day here, hour there, full-day here and there. I remembered, yesterday, sitting in a four-hour meeting, swiveling in my corner chair, the comfy black leather kind that I couldn't resist leaning back in, folding my hands behind my head, thinking gee, long time since I've done that, drifting, feeling important. I remembered what it was like.
Once upon a time, I was a frequent meeter.
Smells of old meeting rooms come back in waves, the new-paint scent of the barely-occupied corridor on the 22nd floor, slippery cold welcoming my elbows on the laminated wood conference tables.
Coming to from my reverie, I notice seven black leather portfolios competing around the table, and me with my spiral-bound $1.29 Walmart notebook, college-ruled at least, which I flip through during the introductions to find a page without Barbie stickers lining the bottom. That little girl of ours can't keep her hands off a notebook.
The expert meeters write down the date and topic of the meeting. They have to do that because they go to a lot of these things. I doodle some geometric shapes instead, and then start scanning the faces. I guess at how many are married, decide one is definitely in an open marriage, I wonder where their kids are today, who watches porn and who doesn't.
This, of course, is not what I'm here to accomplish. But I'm finding that I've forgotten to keep my attention span in shape this last year, and whenever I'm around a group of people, I hyperlink off into places better left static. I've developed new habits as a worker in the knowledge age, and putting me inside four cramped walls is one of the worst ways to keep me focused.
The habits of the frequent meeters are so different from my own habits now.
We take notes on the same things, the frequent meeters and I, but my cadence is different; I'm already in an MSWord window in my head. I'm thinking in analogies and metaphors. I write down what I need to know; they write down a lot they don't need to know.
Frequent Meeters are used to working lunches, and they remember to put their trash in the nicely branded boxes the caterer uses to pack the sandwiches, chips, pasta salad and cookies. I notice, later in the day, that I used my lunch napkin to blow my nose and all my unused condiment packets are littering my personal table space. My mustard nudges my table neighbor's portfolio.
When frequent meeters finish a meeting, you know it. There's no real cue, but time for them is in-built, and each begins rumbling and stacking papers, reaching down for a briefcase, shifting posture, sighs, laughter. The icing on the cake: portfolios slap shut.
Like me, I think, they're glad it's over.
On the way home, I call RageBoy. I say, "I forgot about the cookies, man. You know--meeting cookies? They are big fucking cookies with those chunks inside them, all rippley. They were so good! I had two."
The frequent meeters, they don't remember the cookies.
Once I lived in conference rooms. Half-day here, hour there, full-day here and there. I remembered, yesterday, sitting in a four-hour meeting, swiveling in my corner chair, the comfy black leather kind that I couldn't resist leaning back in, folding my hands behind my head, thinking gee, long time since I've done that, drifting, feeling important. I remembered what it was like.
Once upon a time, I was a frequent meeter.
Smells of old meeting rooms come back in waves, the new-paint scent of the barely-occupied corridor on the 22nd floor, slippery cold welcoming my elbows on the laminated wood conference tables.
Coming to from my reverie, I notice seven black leather portfolios competing around the table, and me with my spiral-bound $1.29 Walmart notebook, college-ruled at least, which I flip through during the introductions to find a page without Barbie stickers lining the bottom. That little girl of ours can't keep her hands off a notebook.
The expert meeters write down the date and topic of the meeting. They have to do that because they go to a lot of these things. I doodle some geometric shapes instead, and then start scanning the faces. I guess at how many are married, decide one is definitely in an open marriage, I wonder where their kids are today, who watches porn and who doesn't.
This, of course, is not what I'm here to accomplish. But I'm finding that I've forgotten to keep my attention span in shape this last year, and whenever I'm around a group of people, I hyperlink off into places better left static. I've developed new habits as a worker in the knowledge age, and putting me inside four cramped walls is one of the worst ways to keep me focused.
The habits of the frequent meeters are so different from my own habits now.
We take notes on the same things, the frequent meeters and I, but my cadence is different; I'm already in an MSWord window in my head. I'm thinking in analogies and metaphors. I write down what I need to know; they write down a lot they don't need to know.
Frequent Meeters are used to working lunches, and they remember to put their trash in the nicely branded boxes the caterer uses to pack the sandwiches, chips, pasta salad and cookies. I notice, later in the day, that I used my lunch napkin to blow my nose and all my unused condiment packets are littering my personal table space. My mustard nudges my table neighbor's portfolio.
When frequent meeters finish a meeting, you know it. There's no real cue, but time for them is in-built, and each begins rumbling and stacking papers, reaching down for a briefcase, shifting posture, sighs, laughter. The icing on the cake: portfolios slap shut.
Like me, I think, they're glad it's over.
On the way home, I call RageBoy. I say, "I forgot about the cookies, man. You know--meeting cookies? They are big fucking cookies with those chunks inside them, all rippley. They were so good! I had two."
The frequent meeters, they don't remember the cookies.
A Paying Gig for Bloggers
Blogsister Roxanne Cooper is offering $250 (paid via tipjar, amazon, or powells) to the person (with a valid email address) who comes up with the best new name for her blog.
Not often we get a chance to name a cool blog and score some cash. Get on over to Roxanne's and see all the cool names folks are leaving. Then, if you're like me, you'll say, crap I can't beat those.
Not often we get a chance to name a cool blog and score some cash. Get on over to Roxanne's and see all the cool names folks are leaving. Then, if you're like me, you'll say, crap I can't beat those.
April 05, 2004
Serenity Now!
The first bump, bruise, toe stub, stumble or tumble that marks the beginning of "one of those days" usually seems like "just one of those things."
You can't know it's going to be "one of those days" until you've stubbed at least twice, broken more than one glass, lost your keys behind the basement steps *and* burned the toast. One of those days requires an accumulation of errors, miscues, and minor ailments.
I hate those days of surprise. There's really no such thing as a little surprise for me. I don't handle surprises well, feeling them morph into shock, no, not around the curve, inside the drain, on the stairs, or in the oven. Surprises are like sushi to me--I can't get the hang of it. Even good surprises bother me.
It's a fight or flight thing. I get stuck somewhere in the transition. That space in between fight and flight, better known as terror.
Some days I feel as if I've made a permanent home there.
Days like this.
You can't know it's going to be "one of those days" until you've stubbed at least twice, broken more than one glass, lost your keys behind the basement steps *and* burned the toast. One of those days requires an accumulation of errors, miscues, and minor ailments.
I hate those days of surprise. There's really no such thing as a little surprise for me. I don't handle surprises well, feeling them morph into shock, no, not around the curve, inside the drain, on the stairs, or in the oven. Surprises are like sushi to me--I can't get the hang of it. Even good surprises bother me.
It's a fight or flight thing. I get stuck somewhere in the transition. That space in between fight and flight, better known as terror.
Some days I feel as if I've made a permanent home there.
Days like this.
Worthwhile
Halley and friends have started a new bloggerzine called Worthwhile. A nice lineup of contributors and already some good posts up. I've just been released from an all-day meeting, so I finally have five seconds to check it out--YAY!
April 04, 2004
Musings on the Anniversary of My Emancipation
April 1st one year ago, five years to the day after I started there, I took my last walk into Ketchum to drop off the paperwork that got me a little bit of money and 30 days more of health insurance, which, at nearly $1000 per month for COBRA, was like walking in to receive a gold nugget.
The weather hit spring here a couple of weeks back. As the softness returned to the air, it dawned on me that April Fools day had more meaning than the tricks Jenna tried to pull over on us all day long. I remembered that it had been a year since my emancipation from the corporate world.
The realization hit suddenly, since I generally go missing from myself somewhere around St. Patrick's day. When the dogwood blossoms sprang and I got wind of the season having changed, I had a few different thoughts (listed in no particular order) on the startling fact that I had made it through my first year as an independent consultant of the "writing" flavor:
1) holy shit, I made it!
2) holy shit, I'm tired.
3) holy shit, it's tax time!
4) holy shit, holy shit.
For me, the transition from agency to my own business has not been as jolting as it might have been if I hadn't already been working from home.
Essentially, I realized significant efficiency gains, as one might say if one had to write such phrases for a living, through having only ONE email account to check each day, only one channel through which clients and friends could communicate with me electronically.
Gone was my Ketchum email with so many dozens of messages each day, approximately 1/4 of them useful to me; Gone was Lotus Notes (praise be!), a requirement for working on IBM; gone was YAHOO messenger (another IBM team requirement); gone was logging into the corporate Intranet; gone were meeting notices.
gone gone gone.
On April 2nd, 2003, it was just me and bellsouth.
I felt both puny and free.
No more teams. No more resources. No more "global network" or best practices.
Sometimes, what's missing is just what needs to be missing.
One thing that eased the transition from part-time corporate citizen to full-time Net citizen was my home in blogspace. This space has been my workplace for so long now that losing my "internal" business colleagues was far less traumatic than it might have been. When you work from your couch for five years, and then you sign some paperwork, and go back home and work from your couch another year, the realworld watercooler just doesn't figure into the grief equation.
The friends I had "inside" are still my friends (though few are left "inside") and the only difference is that I get emails from them at my home email account. I've collaborated or have been turned on to work by so many of them over the past year, that they really haven't gone anywhere. And neither have I. At the sametime, we've all gone everywhere compared to where we'd been.
During this first year I had some pretty cool successes, and I'm thinking I need to round up links to what I can and update my e-portfolio (which I haven't touched in a year). If I do, I might post some links here, to remind myself what year one of my sole proprietorship was like.
I don't miss my real job. It seems so unreal to me now. A flip in perspective, a flip in priorities.
It seems unreal that I ever made the commute, infrequently as it might have been; it seems unreal that I ever sat in that cube, or in my fancy glass office at the job before Ketchum; it seems unreal that I ate lunch at restaurants; it seems unreal that I ever talked to clients on a phone with a tethered receiver; it seems unreal that I printed on a laser printer; it seems unreal that I ever knew what time it was.
It sees unreal that I ever did anything other than what I'm doing right now.
And I guess, in some ways, that's because I never have.
The weather hit spring here a couple of weeks back. As the softness returned to the air, it dawned on me that April Fools day had more meaning than the tricks Jenna tried to pull over on us all day long. I remembered that it had been a year since my emancipation from the corporate world.
The realization hit suddenly, since I generally go missing from myself somewhere around St. Patrick's day. When the dogwood blossoms sprang and I got wind of the season having changed, I had a few different thoughts (listed in no particular order) on the startling fact that I had made it through my first year as an independent consultant of the "writing" flavor:
1) holy shit, I made it!
2) holy shit, I'm tired.
3) holy shit, it's tax time!
4) holy shit, holy shit.
For me, the transition from agency to my own business has not been as jolting as it might have been if I hadn't already been working from home.
Essentially, I realized significant efficiency gains, as one might say if one had to write such phrases for a living, through having only ONE email account to check each day, only one channel through which clients and friends could communicate with me electronically.
Gone was my Ketchum email with so many dozens of messages each day, approximately 1/4 of them useful to me; Gone was Lotus Notes (praise be!), a requirement for working on IBM; gone was YAHOO messenger (another IBM team requirement); gone was logging into the corporate Intranet; gone were meeting notices.
gone gone gone.
On April 2nd, 2003, it was just me and bellsouth.
I felt both puny and free.
No more teams. No more resources. No more "global network" or best practices.
Sometimes, what's missing is just what needs to be missing.
One thing that eased the transition from part-time corporate citizen to full-time Net citizen was my home in blogspace. This space has been my workplace for so long now that losing my "internal" business colleagues was far less traumatic than it might have been. When you work from your couch for five years, and then you sign some paperwork, and go back home and work from your couch another year, the realworld watercooler just doesn't figure into the grief equation.
The friends I had "inside" are still my friends (though few are left "inside") and the only difference is that I get emails from them at my home email account. I've collaborated or have been turned on to work by so many of them over the past year, that they really haven't gone anywhere. And neither have I. At the sametime, we've all gone everywhere compared to where we'd been.
During this first year I had some pretty cool successes, and I'm thinking I need to round up links to what I can and update my e-portfolio (which I haven't touched in a year). If I do, I might post some links here, to remind myself what year one of my sole proprietorship was like.
I don't miss my real job. It seems so unreal to me now. A flip in perspective, a flip in priorities.
It seems unreal that I ever made the commute, infrequently as it might have been; it seems unreal that I ever sat in that cube, or in my fancy glass office at the job before Ketchum; it seems unreal that I ate lunch at restaurants; it seems unreal that I ever talked to clients on a phone with a tethered receiver; it seems unreal that I printed on a laser printer; it seems unreal that I ever knew what time it was.
It sees unreal that I ever did anything other than what I'm doing right now.
And I guess, in some ways, that's because I never have.
The Husband of Wirearchy
Jon Husband is just great in this post, where he discusses reading Emergence, which Euen let him borrow, presumably while they were secretly defining the standards of BLX 1.0.
Jon writes: "This will be the first age where we are truly, at the meta level, governed by the feedback loops that we create, both consciously and unconsciously. We will be organized to, and governed by, the dynamics of championing-and-channeling rather than commanding-and-controlling."
God willing.
Jon writes: "This will be the first age where we are truly, at the meta level, governed by the feedback loops that we create, both consciously and unconsciously. We will be organized to, and governed by, the dynamics of championing-and-channeling rather than commanding-and-controlling."
God willing.
follow the pictures n links
I saw the pictures of hyenas on leashes at Golby's (hi mike!) site, and he links to others who show a couple of additional photos.
Don't miss Yule's musings over how these pictures scare her more than images that are in some ways more violent, and what she makes of that.
...pictures of guys in uniforms with big weaponry don't have the power to frighten me in the same way. Why?
Same goes for me, where somehow the illusion of the "lesser evil" of democratic danger over anarchic danger may be just that.
Interesting question.
Note to self: Treat Nigerian spammers with more respect.
Don't miss Yule's musings over how these pictures scare her more than images that are in some ways more violent, and what she makes of that.
...pictures of guys in uniforms with big weaponry don't have the power to frighten me in the same way. Why?
Same goes for me, where somehow the illusion of the "lesser evil" of democratic danger over anarchic danger may be just that.
Interesting question.
Note to self: Treat Nigerian spammers with more respect.
anyone who first came here in the last two weeks doesn't know who I am
I'm sorry I've been LAME and LOW on blogging since the PhoneCon Phenom, but the problem is thatt work has been insanely busy, doing taxes was insanely frightning, jenna had an insane ear infection, and my left over reserve left not much for writing.
I've been popping around comments where my wit and wisdom is frequently welcomed, sometimes not, infrequently deleted, and maddeningly, only once, yesterday, edited (see mamamusings.com's flap over assaholic back-channel behavior).
I don't make "I" statements in blogging; I'm not always delicate, I don't have the time or the inclination to treat indelicacy with delicacy; I won't preface my writing with "in my opinion," or "from my perspective," because this is, after all, weblogging, and that we are offering our opinions is rather undeniabley inherent.
I'm benevolent with folks who are being real, and I can sniff a personal agenda and self-serving attitude a country mile away. I call folks on bullshit when I see bullshit, and I respect when I'm called on bullshit. I've been writing on blogs since 2001, have some specifiic notions on what we are (and should be) doing here, and sometimes I even share those.
I consider weblogging both sacred and meaningless at the same time.
Don't fuck with me, I'm BLX certified.
I've been popping around comments where my wit and wisdom is frequently welcomed, sometimes not, infrequently deleted, and maddeningly, only once, yesterday, edited (see mamamusings.com's flap over assaholic back-channel behavior).
I don't make "I" statements in blogging; I'm not always delicate, I don't have the time or the inclination to treat indelicacy with delicacy; I won't preface my writing with "in my opinion," or "from my perspective," because this is, after all, weblogging, and that we are offering our opinions is rather undeniabley inherent.
I'm benevolent with folks who are being real, and I can sniff a personal agenda and self-serving attitude a country mile away. I call folks on bullshit when I see bullshit, and I respect when I'm called on bullshit. I've been writing on blogs since 2001, have some specifiic notions on what we are (and should be) doing here, and sometimes I even share those.
I consider weblogging both sacred and meaningless at the same time.
Don't fuck with me, I'm BLX certified.
NICE e-book, Free Culture
Hey, Taran has a wonderful Free Culture e-book on easylum. Go read it and enjoy!
HEY! the universe just ate one of my billable hours!
Windows just pushed my clock ahead an hour. Yah, well, spring this. I'm billing it.
April 03, 2004
So many daves, so few georges.
This George reads Chapter 1.
Nicety Nice, George -- We like! George and George need to start their own voice over business. Any other Georges out there gonna play?
Nicety Nice, George -- We like! George and George need to start their own voice over business. Any other Georges out there gonna play?
FREE CULTURE by Lawrence Lessig (and friends) - Reflections, part 1
Scott Matthews has a great site up giving a home to the chapters folks have read.
Eric Rice also has a great one.
Can you imagine if, let's say, Lessig was some other author with a publicist and PR firm, and on the off chance the publisher would even consider tossing the audio online for free (which they wouldn't), how long it would take to make it happen. Hire the professionals, rent a studio, get design involved, build a portal with links hither and yon. What's your guesss--I say a month on the absolute short end. Probably more like three. You'd have strategy and messaging and project plans. You'd have brainstorms and travel and legal involved.
This is one of the best examples I've seen of how ideas catch fire in the blogworld, and the best example I've seen of quick turn around on a collaborative venture with a tangible deliverable.
Would it have worked if there were money on the line? If this had been anything other than a labor of love? I'm guessing the backtracks and backbiting would have put a stop to it. Because giving, not gain, was the motivation.
It's been a fascinating week watching this develop. I think I'll have more to say on the phenomenon of the priest with the idea that inspired dozens to open their mouths.
Eric Rice also has a great one.
Can you imagine if, let's say, Lessig was some other author with a publicist and PR firm, and on the off chance the publisher would even consider tossing the audio online for free (which they wouldn't), how long it would take to make it happen. Hire the professionals, rent a studio, get design involved, build a portal with links hither and yon. What's your guesss--I say a month on the absolute short end. Probably more like three. You'd have strategy and messaging and project plans. You'd have brainstorms and travel and legal involved.
This is one of the best examples I've seen of how ideas catch fire in the blogworld, and the best example I've seen of quick turn around on a collaborative venture with a tangible deliverable.
Would it have worked if there were money on the line? If this had been anything other than a labor of love? I'm guessing the backtracks and backbiting would have put a stop to it. Because giving, not gain, was the motivation.
It's been a fascinating week watching this develop. I think I'll have more to say on the phenomenon of the priest with the idea that inspired dozens to open their mouths.
April 02, 2004
Well wow
Shelley wrote several screens full over the last few days when all I was trying to do was upload a big file.
Good reads, all of them.
Good reads, all of them.
George Sessum, with Intro by Jenna, Reads Chapter 13 of Free Culture, by Lawrence Lessig
Well it was a while coming, but thanks to the advice on burnatonce, we got the file up. George reads Chapter 13 of Lawrence Lessig's new book, Free Culture, ala AKMA's great idea.
Here it is, with an intro by jenna.
Here it is, with an intro by jenna.
John Didion Rocks Our World
Thank you John for turning us on to Burnatonce (that's burn at once, not burn atonce as I first pronounced in my head) as a way to get the Lessig Chapter 13 file George read OFF the music computer as a data file and up to our server. Upload is in progress. Crossing fingers and toes. Three cheers for burnatonce, a nice, simple, elegent CD burning application that just won our hearts after FOUR days of catch 22s trying to get the CD to take data as data.
March 30, 2004
almost done...
chapter 13 is long. files are big. we're almost done. george is reading. jenna kicks it off. i am, what would you call it, executive producer? Soon. Coming soon as we get small enough files to upload. Don't abandon us. We'll be back to our regularly scheduled program soon. In the mean time go read Jay Rosen's comments (referenced four posts down). good stuff. i am tired. jenna has an ear infection and more -- found out after 10 days of trying to kick this sinus/cold/asthma thang. She held her own but finally took her today to see. she's a trooper.... i am in a stupor. live and love among yourselves.
I think my blog frightened a potential client today. I giggle when that happens. Luckily, since I have some good clients in my court these days, I can giggle. I like to giggle. I like sleep more.
Kombinat! Newest product - take waste from sleep and turn it into productivity. we like carbon dioxide. K! Hi marek.
I think my blog frightened a potential client today. I giggle when that happens. Luckily, since I have some good clients in my court these days, I can giggle. I like to giggle. I like sleep more.
Kombinat! Newest product - take waste from sleep and turn it into productivity. we like carbon dioxide. K! Hi marek.
AKMA’s Random Thoughts: Let’s Start Something
I'm late on blogging this, but I have been hard at work behind the scenes, doing such heavy lifting as driving to barnes and noble to buy the book. Yes, the Sessums intend to lend their voices to the noble (not barnes and) idea of AKMA to perform (read aloud) Free Cluture, Larry Lessig's new book. This is a way cool idea and my mind is racing on what *else* we can do to perform this work. music, yes. Art anyone? Poetry? What moves you? Let's turn it inside out and put the "form" in perform.
Okay, jeneane. focus.
Okay, jeneane. focus.
Kombinat! Goes Public a Week or So After Launch
Kombinat! announces: Kombinat!: IPO of first ever Public Domain Corporation. In a stealth move this conversation recycler and enviro-friendly Borganization has given ownership to, well, everyone. Always dreamed of being a shareholder, stakeholder, or CD holder? Dream no more. With Kombinat! dreams are a thing of the past. Only the instant matters. Kombinat! repurposes instants in an instant.
K! got mine. got yours?
K! got mine. got yours?
March 28, 2004
Well, now see?
If I'd known Tom had already covered the topic in the way Tom does, I would have just hushed up. Dag. Tom says, here's what journalism could do about blogging:
"What journalism can do about blogs is to use them to begin to understand what it is not. To explore whether in this extraordinary range of expression and human storytelling there might not be some shade of expression that it should consider adding to its five-key piano. And to consider, upon reflection, whether its resistance to expanding its palette and scope is based upon legitimate concerns of journalistic craftsmanship, or is in fact a matter of kissing the arse of the marketplace."
yes, well, that certainly works too.
"What journalism can do about blogs is to use them to begin to understand what it is not. To explore whether in this extraordinary range of expression and human storytelling there might not be some shade of expression that it should consider adding to its five-key piano. And to consider, upon reflection, whether its resistance to expanding its palette and scope is based upon legitimate concerns of journalistic craftsmanship, or is in fact a matter of kissing the arse of the marketplace."
yes, well, that certainly works too.
"What is Journalism? And What Can Weblogs Do About It?" = Jay Rosen
Jay Rosen's panel at bloggercon looks very cool. There, I said it. See? I can say nice things about Bloggercon. Well, one nice thing anyhow.
I added some thoughts in Jay's comments as have some hard thinking folks.
I'm not sure I made sense in Jay's comments, what with it being 11:08, Jenna being sick, and me being fully medicated for bedtime.
So, the cliff notes version of what I said is:
Blogging isn't journalism -- and shouldn't much care about journalism -- because it's blogging.
Wshew. That was a lot easier to type than what I said in Jay's comment box.
The same things that make blogging different from other kinds of writing make blogging differentt from journalistic form and function: The thread from me to you to him to her.
So I ended by saying it this way: In blogging, the reader (not the writer/reporter) is the journalist--the one responsible for drawing from any number of sources to inform, and ultimately form, his or her own story.
Even better, if the reader is a blogger, then the reader helps write the story, with a post, links, comments, trackbacks --whatever--of his or her own.
wow. I'm almost excited about bloggiing again. It's been a month. Nothin's moved me. But maybe there's hope.
Something about conversation, many ends, and things joined loosely.
I added some thoughts in Jay's comments as have some hard thinking folks.
I'm not sure I made sense in Jay's comments, what with it being 11:08, Jenna being sick, and me being fully medicated for bedtime.
So, the cliff notes version of what I said is:
Blogging isn't journalism -- and shouldn't much care about journalism -- because it's blogging.
Wshew. That was a lot easier to type than what I said in Jay's comment box.
The same things that make blogging different from other kinds of writing make blogging differentt from journalistic form and function: The thread from me to you to him to her.
So I ended by saying it this way: In blogging, the reader (not the writer/reporter) is the journalist--the one responsible for drawing from any number of sources to inform, and ultimately form, his or her own story.
Even better, if the reader is a blogger, then the reader helps write the story, with a post, links, comments, trackbacks --whatever--of his or her own.
wow. I'm almost excited about bloggiing again. It's been a month. Nothin's moved me. But maybe there's hope.
Something about conversation, many ends, and things joined loosely.
March 24, 2004
maybe I'm obsessing....
But can you tell me just what exactly jumping out of an airplane naked does to womens' breasts? Do I see actual inversion taking place? Can we all join together here for a moment in a group scream?
AS IF you might have to, remind me never to try this.
AS IF you might have to, remind me never to try this.
March 23, 2004
Why Yes, I have fallen off the face of the earth!
And it's very very dark out here. There are twinkley little things floating between my legs, which are either brightly lit testicles I somehow inherited during my fall off the face of the earth, or stars. Not sure which.
You may have heard the atmosphere exists sans gravity, out here, just southwest of the face of the earth. ON THE CONTRARY! Gravity is heavy as hell out here, and just now I'm falling like a freckled boulder at about six light years per second. I fully expect to hit bottom soon, so stay tuned.
In the mean time, watch where you step.
You may have heard the atmosphere exists sans gravity, out here, just southwest of the face of the earth. ON THE CONTRARY! Gravity is heavy as hell out here, and just now I'm falling like a freckled boulder at about six light years per second. I fully expect to hit bottom soon, so stay tuned.
In the mean time, watch where you step.
March 22, 2004
Kombinat! - not your father's conversation waste repurposer.
Kombinat!: "Listen. In Cluetrain = Markets are Converstions. In Kombinat! = Kombinat is The Market and Conversations are its byproduct. "
March 20, 2004
Someone took the cartoon right outta my mouth.
Simply Great. Saw the link over at Mr. Panel's place.
Box Office Mojo > Daily Box Office > 03-19-2004
Yah, well, as numbers 1-4 go, so goes American culture.
Make your own jokes. Me? I never thought I'd see Starsky and Hutch rise from the dead.
Make your own jokes. Me? I never thought I'd see Starsky and Hutch rise from the dead.
Kombinat! Ask for it by name.
Multiple Noise Streams = Multiple Sales Cchannels = Multiple Profit Avenues. Marek can tell you how. Conversations --> Waste --> Commerce --> Conversations. Send $9.95 today.
Common Me
I'm not sure, but I think Tom is saying He's become a French Communist. That has to be hard to do from Mexico. That Tom.
March 17, 2004
It's Not Easy Being Green
Well, it's Dead Dad Day--I mean St. Patrick's Day--again. I don't feel like writing about it this year, this day that sneaks up on everyone else each year as they look for the obnoxious green sweater stashed in the bottom drawer of some out-of-the-way dresser.
I've lived this day every day for the last 36 years, between moments and among seconds that carry me forward. And of course, many of you have lived it with me, in so many posts, on any given day, a random Tuesday perhaps, when the sun insists on jabbing me between the ribs, urging me to just be happy, come on, will ya? it's a nice day out here.
Some wounds need no medical attention because there is no remedy--they simply become part of your constitution.
03/17/02
03/17/03
Father
School of the Dead - Orientation
School of the Dead 1
School of the Dead 2
School of the Dead 3
School of the Dead 4
School of the Dead 5
School of the Dead 6
Children's Grief
The Living Dead
I Hear You Hear Me
Nina June
Panic Remembered
The Revelation
March Madness
Being Dad, Being Mom
You Don't Have to Die to Live Up to His Image
The Piano
Attention Defecit
The Body Bears the Burden
Freeze Frame
Grieving
What I Don't Remember
I've lived this day every day for the last 36 years, between moments and among seconds that carry me forward. And of course, many of you have lived it with me, in so many posts, on any given day, a random Tuesday perhaps, when the sun insists on jabbing me between the ribs, urging me to just be happy, come on, will ya? it's a nice day out here.
Some wounds need no medical attention because there is no remedy--they simply become part of your constitution.
03/17/02
03/17/03
Father
School of the Dead - Orientation
School of the Dead 1
School of the Dead 2
School of the Dead 3
School of the Dead 4
School of the Dead 5
School of the Dead 6
Children's Grief
The Living Dead
I Hear You Hear Me
Nina June
Panic Remembered
The Revelation
March Madness
Being Dad, Being Mom
You Don't Have to Die to Live Up to His Image
The Piano
Attention Defecit
The Body Bears the Burden
Freeze Frame
Grieving
What I Don't Remember
March 15, 2004
Cracking the Egg
In other DeanNews, Dean Landsman wonders a.) if there would have been weblogs if not for Dave Winer's initial vision and product push, and b.) what the purpose is for the blog chicks session at the upcoming conbloggercon.
I'm glad that Lisa and team are doing the women and blogs roundtable at bloggercon, specifically because it's bloggercon, and if you know those who float around the meniscus of bloggercon, you too would be glad women have a foothold there.
The point for me isn't to question whether or not there's a women and weblogs session at bloggercon. It's to question why we insist on capturing and locking weblogging up inside our stupid old business-as-usual rituals, like conferences, which blogging is really an antidote for. By joining us together through conversation in a space that is anything but physical, blogging is different. Why can't we just let that be so?
No one (except maybe the product folks) grabbed on to blogging because they thought one day they might get to sit on a panel of influential business people. We grabbed onto weblogging because it was the answer to the kind of back-patting traditional snoresville we'd had to suffer in business.
That's not to say I don't think bloggercon will be fun. I know it will be--for crying out loud--you have bloggers there! What's not to be fun about that! Stealth discoing and stuff. That's funny. I dig that.
But I continue to fight the trend I see for us to get a little too carried away with our bad selves, ladies and gentleman.
I'm glad that Lisa and team are doing the women and blogs roundtable at bloggercon, specifically because it's bloggercon, and if you know those who float around the meniscus of bloggercon, you too would be glad women have a foothold there.
The point for me isn't to question whether or not there's a women and weblogs session at bloggercon. It's to question why we insist on capturing and locking weblogging up inside our stupid old business-as-usual rituals, like conferences, which blogging is really an antidote for. By joining us together through conversation in a space that is anything but physical, blogging is different. Why can't we just let that be so?
No one (except maybe the product folks) grabbed on to blogging because they thought one day they might get to sit on a panel of influential business people. We grabbed onto weblogging because it was the answer to the kind of back-patting traditional snoresville we'd had to suffer in business.
That's not to say I don't think bloggercon will be fun. I know it will be--for crying out loud--you have bloggers there! What's not to be fun about that! Stealth discoing and stuff. That's funny. I dig that.
But I continue to fight the trend I see for us to get a little too carried away with our bad selves, ladies and gentleman.
The Passion of the Bin Laden
How many evengelical Christians would have flocked to see The Passion if the actor playing Christ looked more like Osama Bin Laden than a Vietnam Vet? I'll tell you how many. Lots less.
How many would have had to look into their own souls a little bit harder after seeing the selfless suffering of a man of color and compassion realizing that he is indeed their Lord and Savior, but he isn't from Plymouth Rock? Too many, that's how many.
Too many for the movie to make an impact on the RIGHT people. Too many for the movie to make millions (and counting).
The truth about Gibson's The Passion is that it is little more than a white lie.
How many would have had to look into their own souls a little bit harder after seeing the selfless suffering of a man of color and compassion realizing that he is indeed their Lord and Savior, but he isn't from Plymouth Rock? Too many, that's how many.
Too many for the movie to make an impact on the RIGHT people. Too many for the movie to make millions (and counting).
The truth about Gibson's The Passion is that it is little more than a white lie.
March 14, 2004
Panel on Being White in Dull Colors--Don't Miss It!
This SXSW (south by so white) panel is apparently addressing the emergent trend of white people to dress in dull colors.
I hear Halley may fly out there in her fucia sweater to demonstrate how white people can effectively add color to any outfit. She will be bringing one of Shelley's brilliant flowers with her to share as a best practice in color mapping.
As for adding any real color to these conferences, well, that'd be interesting.
I hear Halley may fly out there in her fucia sweater to demonstrate how white people can effectively add color to any outfit. She will be bringing one of Shelley's brilliant flowers with her to share as a best practice in color mapping.
As for adding any real color to these conferences, well, that'd be interesting.
Power to the People
In a fit of conference cluelessness dejour, the attendees of SXSW were required to pay $90 to hook up to power. But all's well now since the bloggers there asked, WTF SXSW? I hear cameras are also prohibited, but that hasn't stopped some folks.
Good. Conference freaks, rockon. We'll save you a place on the phone, where you are allowed to tape, take pictures, and plug into your household outlets (cordless only).
Good. Conference freaks, rockon. We'll save you a place on the phone, where you are allowed to tape, take pictures, and plug into your household outlets (cordless only).
Burningbird: Magic of Orchids
Shelley's Burningbird: photos of flowers are nothing short of erotic. Look. The insides unfold in curls, welcoming the fuzz and stingers of bees. What you're looking at, sweetness unfurling, flower tongues, and open arms.
It's rare to see the shere joy, magic, and poignence of nature captured in a shutter-click, an ordinary flower on an ordinary day evoking extraordinary emotions.
No one does this like Shelley.
It's rare to see the shere joy, magic, and poignence of nature captured in a shutter-click, an ordinary flower on an ordinary day evoking extraordinary emotions.
No one does this like Shelley.
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