October 13, 2005
Respect to Hossien Sharifi
I have used YACCS as my commeting utility on this and other blogs since 2001. In all of that time, when other blog tools were sucking at comments and letting in spammers or not offering comments at all or forcing you to develop 'black lists,' YACCS performed like a champ.
Hossein has rocked this house multiple times, never charging a dime. I don't know what his business model is--I don't know him at all--but if he's like the good folks who have been around here for a while, he didn't have a business mmodel when he started playing with comments. He was curious. He was already passionate about running a data-driven conversation platform.
Unfortunately, of late, YACCS has been throwing too many errors for me to keep up with on this blog. I get emails from folks who say, "why'd you take your comments down!" I've never taken my comments down, but sometimes YACCS has to go hurl and then it comes right back. In the mean time, it makes the blog take a LONG TIME to load. Too long.
When Blogger finally incorporated a commenting utility in this tool a year or so ago, I stuck with YACCS. I have four years of the most meaningful conversation of my life sitting in Hossein's database(s). I was not moved to switch.
But today I've turned on Blogger comments. What I want is for someone to buy YACCS and pay Hossein $2-$5 million like Dave Winer, because Hossein has also offered an incredibly valuable, free service and has never said a nasty word or pontificated or complained or jumped up and down. And he's provided what I think is the most reliable comment utilities in blogging for the longest time. Comment spam? I don't get any with YACCS.
So, in the mean time, while I wait to see how long it takes Hossein to get YACCS cooperating again or putting a few million dollars in the bank, I've saved the line in my template that lets me put YACCS back in. Hossein, I'm not leaving--I'm just taking a break and hoping you get rich. Keep my conversations safe.
THANKS,
respect.
jeneane
Hossein has rocked this house multiple times, never charging a dime. I don't know what his business model is--I don't know him at all--but if he's like the good folks who have been around here for a while, he didn't have a business mmodel when he started playing with comments. He was curious. He was already passionate about running a data-driven conversation platform.
Unfortunately, of late, YACCS has been throwing too many errors for me to keep up with on this blog. I get emails from folks who say, "why'd you take your comments down!" I've never taken my comments down, but sometimes YACCS has to go hurl and then it comes right back. In the mean time, it makes the blog take a LONG TIME to load. Too long.
When Blogger finally incorporated a commenting utility in this tool a year or so ago, I stuck with YACCS. I have four years of the most meaningful conversation of my life sitting in Hossein's database(s). I was not moved to switch.
But today I've turned on Blogger comments. What I want is for someone to buy YACCS and pay Hossein $2-$5 million like Dave Winer, because Hossein has also offered an incredibly valuable, free service and has never said a nasty word or pontificated or complained or jumped up and down. And he's provided what I think is the most reliable comment utilities in blogging for the longest time. Comment spam? I don't get any with YACCS.
So, in the mean time, while I wait to see how long it takes Hossein to get YACCS cooperating again or putting a few million dollars in the bank, I've saved the line in my template that lets me put YACCS back in. Hossein, I'm not leaving--I'm just taking a break and hoping you get rich. Keep my conversations safe.
THANKS,
respect.
jeneane
I just said "Scatology" over the Georgia radio airwaves and now I feel like Dooce.
Kevin, Grayson and I were on Atlanta's progressive station 89.3 WRFG this morning to talk about blogging and blogging, blogging and politics, blogging and business, and like that. Our nearby Florida neighbor Josh Hallett also called in to the show.
I've never done a radio interview before: Big Surprise. So when the phone rang and it was the radio station, I was of course Blogging in my bed...errr...I mean doing investigative reporting. Thank the Lord that Kevin and Grayson were on to make blogging legit, because I think I just took the topic down a nasty -- albeit well deserved -- path.
You see, I was finishing up my interpretation of the scatology memo from President Bush, exhibit A below.
Being progressive 'thinking with their own minds' kind of folks, the talk-show host and Grayson were in the studio actually looking at our blogs as we talked about them -- CLUED -- and so the clever and funny host, Mr. Monroe, asks me to talk about this Bush memo thing--> "Tell me, Jeneane, what you think the memo says...."
And I say, well, I don't think I can say that word on the air.
Here's the deal: Progressive radio really does rock better than conservative radio because indeed you can say scatology! And so I did. And then I said my only doubt on what the P.S. actually says is that I don't think the President knows a word with that many syllables.
So now you know the story about how I had to say Scatology on the radio and why I feel like Dooce because things like that only happen to Dooce.
Okay then. Paul, my business partner, will be glad to know that I plugged The Content Factor and Scatology on the same radio show. How many people have that opportunity?
The next time I'm asked about what blogging has to do with business, I will relate this anecdote.
I've never done a radio interview before: Big Surprise. So when the phone rang and it was the radio station, I was of course Blogging in my bed...errr...I mean doing investigative reporting. Thank the Lord that Kevin and Grayson were on to make blogging legit, because I think I just took the topic down a nasty -- albeit well deserved -- path.
You see, I was finishing up my interpretation of the scatology memo from President Bush, exhibit A below.
Being progressive 'thinking with their own minds' kind of folks, the talk-show host and Grayson were in the studio actually looking at our blogs as we talked about them -- CLUED -- and so the clever and funny host, Mr. Monroe, asks me to talk about this Bush memo thing--> "Tell me, Jeneane, what you think the memo says...."
And I say, well, I don't think I can say that word on the air.
Here's the deal: Progressive radio really does rock better than conservative radio because indeed you can say scatology! And so I did. And then I said my only doubt on what the P.S. actually says is that I don't think the President knows a word with that many syllables.
So now you know the story about how I had to say Scatology on the radio and why I feel like Dooce because things like that only happen to Dooce.
Okay then. Paul, my business partner, will be glad to know that I plugged The Content Factor and Scatology on the same radio show. How many people have that opportunity?
The next time I'm asked about what blogging has to do with business, I will relate this anecdote.
The Scat Singer
I'm going to ask you all again: Does the memo below from the Leader of the Free World (and freer by the day, I might add, if I were a nutjob neocon) to Supreme Court Justice Nominee Harriett Miers not advise said candidate to refrain from PUBLIC SCATOLOGY in the future.Okay--I'm willing to take future google hits from freaks looking for pictures. The least you can do is tell me, no. No, dumb ass, it doesn't say that. President Bush wrote: "P.S. No more public _____________."
Let's review what ____________ might be.
No more public scientology?
No more public scaffolding?
No more public scat singing?
Help me out here.
...tap tap tap... waiting....
No music with this one.
Excuse me, but does that p.s. say: "No more public scatology?"
Okay I thought so.
Cool.
Okay.
I mean, I was just trying to be sure.
October 12, 2005
passive aggressive dentist woman
I have to come clean about some stuff here. Number one, as you know, well, some of you, I have no dental insurance. Like most merikans, that went away with my 9-9 job a couple of years back. So, when I was eating some air about a year ago, and my bottom left molar decided to collapse, I had to get a crown.
They call em crowns because the cost like $340,033,000.22, or they might as well cost that much since coming up with a grand out of pocket was about as likely as coming up with the $340 million.
Well, my dentist was nice enough to work out payment arrangements. I always like when they do that--and back during Web 1.0 I was even careful to make those payments. But then I learned during Web 1.0 that no one really meant all those good things they promised in return for working hard, so I realized that meant I could take my time paying off my creditors.
Which brings us back to the bitch at the dentist's office.
My crown fell off two weeks ago when I dared to bite into a milky way--we're talking the snack-size square which is 93-percent soft center--and me being in a client meeting did what you would do: I showed it to everyone.
That notwithstanding: After that I stopped by the dentist, to find he has a new receptionist, Ms. Bitcherella.
I show her my crown and I tell her jeez since I've only had it on like 10 months, can't she just stick it on there herself for me, like if I put my face through that little sliding window she can give it a good shove, and I can be on my way?
Well no, of course SHE has other ideas, like looking up my account balance so she could shame me.
Funny thing is, RageBoy was on the phone the whole time because I was jabbering to him on the drive back and I said, hold on, I have to see about my crown, and took him inside.
So Ms. Bitcherella fires up her PC and begins to show me, with more disdain than I rightly deserve, that I still owe $200 on my account, which had been at $1,200.
I am jubilent--that means I've paid off like $1,000 ! This is the best news I've had in weeks! I point at the screen and say: "Isn't that great--look how much I've paid you!"
But she sees it differently and keeps reminding me that I'm a useless deadbeat with teeth she could take back if she wanted to.
I hear RB laughing out of my phone's earhole. She stares at my cellphone. I think she thinks I'm up to something.
I'm all like: Please, understand here, I have paid you a lot of money--I'm good for the rest.
She's all like: We have a communication problem.
In the end I scheduled an appointment and left. In the car RB was wheezing: "That was like listening to two completely different conversations going on simultaneously. You're all about: 'look how good i did!' and she's all about 'you're a fucking looser.' HA HA HA!"
And I'm all "HA HAHA HAHAHAHHAAA!"
fastforward.
I had to call Bitcherella back to move the appointment when a client meeting came up.
She told me this was my last chance--she can't keep rescheduling the doctor's time this way.
I said if she wanted that balance, I had to take client meetings when I could: I have to bill to pay her. AND I told her I didn't like her attitude.
She told me she wasn't trying to give me an attitude but it was clear that I didn't want to pay the balance and that I should come in and get my crown fixed either way. Somehow she has this mock concern going on for me all of a sudden, and so I look over my shoulder to make sure she's not at my house.
I told her I'd think about it.
Then I said okay, Thursday, but don't think I'm giving you any money.
The moral of the story: I think I have them on the run.
They call em crowns because the cost like $340,033,000.22, or they might as well cost that much since coming up with a grand out of pocket was about as likely as coming up with the $340 million.
Well, my dentist was nice enough to work out payment arrangements. I always like when they do that--and back during Web 1.0 I was even careful to make those payments. But then I learned during Web 1.0 that no one really meant all those good things they promised in return for working hard, so I realized that meant I could take my time paying off my creditors.
Which brings us back to the bitch at the dentist's office.
My crown fell off two weeks ago when I dared to bite into a milky way--we're talking the snack-size square which is 93-percent soft center--and me being in a client meeting did what you would do: I showed it to everyone.
That notwithstanding: After that I stopped by the dentist, to find he has a new receptionist, Ms. Bitcherella.
I show her my crown and I tell her jeez since I've only had it on like 10 months, can't she just stick it on there herself for me, like if I put my face through that little sliding window she can give it a good shove, and I can be on my way?
Well no, of course SHE has other ideas, like looking up my account balance so she could shame me.
Funny thing is, RageBoy was on the phone the whole time because I was jabbering to him on the drive back and I said, hold on, I have to see about my crown, and took him inside.
So Ms. Bitcherella fires up her PC and begins to show me, with more disdain than I rightly deserve, that I still owe $200 on my account, which had been at $1,200.
I am jubilent--that means I've paid off like $1,000 ! This is the best news I've had in weeks! I point at the screen and say: "Isn't that great--look how much I've paid you!"
But she sees it differently and keeps reminding me that I'm a useless deadbeat with teeth she could take back if she wanted to.
I hear RB laughing out of my phone's earhole. She stares at my cellphone. I think she thinks I'm up to something.
I'm all like: Please, understand here, I have paid you a lot of money--I'm good for the rest.
She's all like: We have a communication problem.
In the end I scheduled an appointment and left. In the car RB was wheezing: "That was like listening to two completely different conversations going on simultaneously. You're all about: 'look how good i did!' and she's all about 'you're a fucking looser.' HA HA HA!"
And I'm all "HA HAHA HAHAHAHHAAA!"
fastforward.
I had to call Bitcherella back to move the appointment when a client meeting came up.
She told me this was my last chance--she can't keep rescheduling the doctor's time this way.
I said if she wanted that balance, I had to take client meetings when I could: I have to bill to pay her. AND I told her I didn't like her attitude.
She told me she wasn't trying to give me an attitude but it was clear that I didn't want to pay the balance and that I should come in and get my crown fixed either way. Somehow she has this mock concern going on for me all of a sudden, and so I look over my shoulder to make sure she's not at my house.
I told her I'd think about it.
Then I said okay, Thursday, but don't think I'm giving you any money.
The moral of the story: I think I have them on the run.
buy coastal
If you're in NY, you better catch up with tony pierce on monday night, because it would be so stupid not to.
Chuck's Take on
Chuck Tanowitz takes on the noble task of defining just WHO is a journalist - or who a journalist is -- or maybe it's whom. Or really, maybe it's WHAT. All of which is made more difficult, he points out, by legal differences, even among states...
Chuck is right to look closely at the qualifiers. In the legal arena--which this debate seems destined for--lawyers will have a blast arguing. And whether you take the angle of who's a source and who's shielded, or who's writing and who's funding them, it really comes down to truth and facts.
But truth and facts in the online world are not always easily discernible. What if I disclaim, say in every other post, "That story I posted 20 minutes ago? It might not have been all true." Because we can play with the truth here--serious journalists or entertainent journalists. AND we can also TELL the truth more easily by uncovering falsehoods that are hard to find elsewhere (ala rathergate).
We can claim to play with the truth. Or we can not make such claim. We can be a card-carrying journalist and anonymous all at once. And if our ISP gets hauled into court, can we make like Tony Pierce and point to his top-level blog disclaimer: Nothing in here is true?
I would.
But you know all of it is.
And none of it is.
One subtle but huge difference is that we are not part of a corporation: We don't have the cost of print, ink, paper, advertising, distribution, sales--just some of the dollar realities that make accuracy important in offline, hardline news, where corrections can cost $ as well as credibility.
Does that make us more frivolous with the facts? I'm probably guilty of that.
So there.
Luckily though, when we write in a space that is, as either Doc or David once said, inherently self-correcting. That means, over time, the facts have an opporunity to take care of themselves.
Read Chuck's And Part 2 he discusses burying the shield for once and for all, calling a source a source:
...How does New York define a journalist?
A "professional journalist" is...one who, for gain or livelihood, is engaged in gathering, preparing, collecting, writing, editing, filming, taping or photographing of news intended for a newspaper, magazine, news agency, press association or wire service or other professional medium or agency which has as one of its regular functions the processing and researching of news intended for dissemination to the public; such person shall be someone performing said function either as a regular employee or as one otherwise professionally affiliated for gain or livelihood with such medium of communication.
There are a number of interesting qualifiers here. My favorite is as someone who provides information "for gain or livelihood..." in other words, you have to make money doing this. How many bloggers out there make nothing for their work but do it for the love of writing or finding things out? What if one of these finds themselves with a “source” who provides some sensitive information? Could this person duck behind the shield?
Chuck is right to look closely at the qualifiers. In the legal arena--which this debate seems destined for--lawyers will have a blast arguing. And whether you take the angle of who's a source and who's shielded, or who's writing and who's funding them, it really comes down to truth and facts.
But truth and facts in the online world are not always easily discernible. What if I disclaim, say in every other post, "That story I posted 20 minutes ago? It might not have been all true." Because we can play with the truth here--serious journalists or entertainent journalists. AND we can also TELL the truth more easily by uncovering falsehoods that are hard to find elsewhere (ala rathergate).
We can claim to play with the truth. Or we can not make such claim. We can be a card-carrying journalist and anonymous all at once. And if our ISP gets hauled into court, can we make like Tony Pierce and point to his top-level blog disclaimer: Nothing in here is true?
I would.
But you know all of it is.
And none of it is.
One subtle but huge difference is that we are not part of a corporation: We don't have the cost of print, ink, paper, advertising, distribution, sales--just some of the dollar realities that make accuracy important in offline, hardline news, where corrections can cost $ as well as credibility.
Does that make us more frivolous with the facts? I'm probably guilty of that.
So there.
Luckily though, when we write in a space that is, as either Doc or David once said, inherently self-correcting. That means, over time, the facts have an opporunity to take care of themselves.
Read Chuck's And Part 2 he discusses burying the shield for once and for all, calling a source a source:
I think we should bury the shield. Yes, a journalist's most key asset is the ability to gain information, especially information that may otherwise be hidden. But, remember that any source generally has a reason for talking, and that reason is often far from altruistic.
What the suits still don't get
TODAY I BLOG MY OWN INTERNAL CONFERENCE SESSION: WHAT THE SUITS STILL DON'T GET ABOUT BLOGGING 101
The right hemisphere's up next:
It's about areas of interest. Read Gonzo Marketing--study the parts in between the naughty bits. Your as usual corporate-comm doesn't work here.
The glue of all conversation is shared interest. Without that the conversation stops.
This is not necessarily similar thinking on a given topic--but shared interest. I hate cats / i love cats - still about cats.
Now let's say you are a restaurant - then you have to drill down to areas of interest your patrons are gathering around - and they are limitless: who are the people who eat with you? they are business people, artists, photographers, moms, dads, doctors.
They are vegetarians and they meat lovers. They eat. But that's not engaging--that's what they come to you to do. Drill deeper.
Think of the opportunities.
What you don't want to do is create or sponsor a blog about restaurants. Heck no. You want to undrestand why the man at table three is passing around pictures of farm animals. Is he the only one? Maybe. Keep watching. Don't judge. Don't stop the commotion. You notice all your customers have those camera phones. You see one lady taking a picture of her pork chop. BINGO. It's real then. Is the common area of interest farm animals? or is the area of interest cooking? Or is it photography? Watch your customers. Talk to them. Camera phones, pork chops, photos. Go deeper. Photography would work here. It doesn't have to be food pictures. It depends. Your customers are NOT your comptitor's customers or they'd be over there at this very minute. Find out about YOUR customers.
Nothing of value is within the first layer.
Don't confuse common interests with commonality. Mistake.
The more professionalized blogging comes, the higher the value on the quirky, the odd, the funny, the obscene, the joyous the inane. Which has always been the way of the net. Old timer netziens will beat you to these ideas every time. You have to engage their services here or you will fail.
There is a code. You don't always have to belong--if everyone belonged the value would disappear. If you don't care, don't join. If you don't join, engage others who are there.
You don't have to want to blog. You don't have to blog. You have to understand and appreciate. Or you can go away.
Reframe how you talk about communications--read read read blogs and study, even if you don't want to blog.
Take a blogger to lunch.
Send a blogger some product samples.
Adopt a blogger -- call them a consultant or evangelist.
LEFT HEMISPHERE IS NEXT ON THE SCHEDULE:
The currency in blogging is links. Bloggers will not want to admit this, so don't run around and act like a link whore. Don't spam to get links. Don't act like you even want links. Just write good stuff and be incredibly interesting or funny. Links follow.
Be liberal with your own links. You are not instapundit.
Put the top half of the Technorati 100 on your blogroll and blogger relations list, and then delete them all. This will make you feel like you've targeted the important poeple, but make you more likely NOT TO target them. The top 50 have no value to your company. They have become noise. Their links are eyeball links, not area-of-interest/passion links.
Eyeball links don't buy.
Passion links do buy.
The ROI in blogging is a lot like the ROI in any long-term communication program--the kind you're used to. Except it's more invisible, unless you put on a pair of glasses that bring into sharp focus the connecting strands among online participants.
Those strands = value.
The value is in the space between and the jumping across.
[[We're breaking for cookies now.]]
The right hemisphere's up next:
It's about areas of interest. Read Gonzo Marketing--study the parts in between the naughty bits. Your as usual corporate-comm doesn't work here.
The glue of all conversation is shared interest. Without that the conversation stops.
This is not necessarily similar thinking on a given topic--but shared interest. I hate cats / i love cats - still about cats.
Now let's say you are a restaurant - then you have to drill down to areas of interest your patrons are gathering around - and they are limitless: who are the people who eat with you? they are business people, artists, photographers, moms, dads, doctors.
They are vegetarians and they meat lovers. They eat. But that's not engaging--that's what they come to you to do. Drill deeper.
Think of the opportunities.
What you don't want to do is create or sponsor a blog about restaurants. Heck no. You want to undrestand why the man at table three is passing around pictures of farm animals. Is he the only one? Maybe. Keep watching. Don't judge. Don't stop the commotion. You notice all your customers have those camera phones. You see one lady taking a picture of her pork chop. BINGO. It's real then. Is the common area of interest farm animals? or is the area of interest cooking? Or is it photography? Watch your customers. Talk to them. Camera phones, pork chops, photos. Go deeper. Photography would work here. It doesn't have to be food pictures. It depends. Your customers are NOT your comptitor's customers or they'd be over there at this very minute. Find out about YOUR customers.
Nothing of value is within the first layer.
Don't confuse common interests with commonality. Mistake.
The more professionalized blogging comes, the higher the value on the quirky, the odd, the funny, the obscene, the joyous the inane. Which has always been the way of the net. Old timer netziens will beat you to these ideas every time. You have to engage their services here or you will fail.
There is a code. You don't always have to belong--if everyone belonged the value would disappear. If you don't care, don't join. If you don't join, engage others who are there.
You don't have to want to blog. You don't have to blog. You have to understand and appreciate. Or you can go away.
Reframe how you talk about communications--read read read blogs and study, even if you don't want to blog.
Take a blogger to lunch.
Send a blogger some product samples.
Adopt a blogger -- call them a consultant or evangelist.
LEFT HEMISPHERE IS NEXT ON THE SCHEDULE:
The currency in blogging is links. Bloggers will not want to admit this, so don't run around and act like a link whore. Don't spam to get links. Don't act like you even want links. Just write good stuff and be incredibly interesting or funny. Links follow.
Be liberal with your own links. You are not instapundit.
Put the top half of the Technorati 100 on your blogroll and blogger relations list, and then delete them all. This will make you feel like you've targeted the important poeple, but make you more likely NOT TO target them. The top 50 have no value to your company. They have become noise. Their links are eyeball links, not area-of-interest/passion links.
Eyeball links don't buy.
Passion links do buy.
The ROI in blogging is a lot like the ROI in any long-term communication program--the kind you're used to. Except it's more invisible, unless you put on a pair of glasses that bring into sharp focus the connecting strands among online participants.
Those strands = value.
The value is in the space between and the jumping across.
[[We're breaking for cookies now.]]
I saw Charlie at Web 2.0!
Once again, I have to say, online discrimination chaffes my scrote--and I mean on both ends of the gender gap.
Here is yet another example. Just check out who's missing from this lineup. For crying out loud, the one representative male looks like he just got off the plane from an O'Reilly conference!
(And I mean Tim, not Bill, but could be either, sweet Mary help us).
I'm with Madame Levy in the head shaking department. But then, the other part of me says a business model is a business model.
I'm with Madame Levy in the head shaking department. But then, the other part of me says a business model is a business model.
Charlie unwinds at the hotel after a grueling
conference schedule and some bad seafood
Did you know you need some kind of PIN?
I didn't know. I want to get my $ out of google adsense (see above) since I have $93 in there and not a hot dollar in my pocket, and I'll be darned if I just read and it says you need to enter some PIN they sent by mail.
Well, I've lived here for 10 years and I can tell you that Google never sent me a letter--I never even got a Blogger t-shirt even though I started the first group blog on Blogger, whose 4th birthday is Friday--and yes I checked my snail mail address (it's fine) and thank goodness they have that little contact form, because I just sent them an email.
Tell me I'm the only one who had no idea you needed a PIN number to get your dough out of adsense.
I better add the PIN to my will. They can put a nice daisy on top of me with my earnings and go to lunch.
Well, I've lived here for 10 years and I can tell you that Google never sent me a letter--I never even got a Blogger t-shirt even though I started the first group blog on Blogger, whose 4th birthday is Friday--and yes I checked my snail mail address (it's fine) and thank goodness they have that little contact form, because I just sent them an email.
Tell me I'm the only one who had no idea you needed a PIN number to get your dough out of adsense.
I better add the PIN to my will. They can put a nice daisy on top of me with my earnings and go to lunch.
October 11, 2005
even regular people
Even regular people--that is to say not just fundamental christians--are talking about Revelations and how can you not what with plagues and quakes and floods and Bush.
Even my friend who's a Methodist, and you know they're pretty liberal when it comes to open doors, open hearts, open mouths-singing type religion, even she says the Methodists are talking about it. I don't know much about denominations aside from Catholicism, inside of which I once kind of functioned but do not now, but I know when the Methodists start talking about Revelations, well that's big news down here in the South. Mostly they're busy in pantries and food kitchens or taking soup around to sick neighbors.
So I said to my friend, you think? and she's like yah I think, and I'll tell you she's a church going Methodist on Sundays but the rest of the week she can lay down some good times--ANYWAY, she was like yep, I think. And I was like, I kind of think so too, to which we both agreed it would be nice to see the Lord return, us on our cell phones agreeing on the second coming, and then she said except for the sin part which has her a little worried, what with some of her weekday behaviors, and she wondered if she might be stuck here while her kids went on to heaven, at which point she said, well, hell, I'm glad they'll get in anyway.
I had to agree with her not only because she's from Mississippi, but also because she has the most wonderful 14-month old baby and she's turning 45. That doesn't happen every day. And then she said of course you don't have to worry if you hang with the non-denoms that believe you're saved by Grace, which is kind of what I'm thinking and so I'm nodding my head on my cell phone.
My coffee swisshed on the dashboard, and if there is one really bad habit I have that I won't have after the rapture it's keeping a ceramic mug full of hot coffee on my dashboard.
We agreed there is something to be said for the non-denominational worship-and-praise Christians compared to the sin-and-hell focused doctrines, especially with the end so near. I told her I very much enjoy the singing and again, she agreed, because the Methodist hymns sound only slightly more optimistic than the Baptists'.
And that's how regular people are talking about prophesies.
Even my friend who's a Methodist, and you know they're pretty liberal when it comes to open doors, open hearts, open mouths-singing type religion, even she says the Methodists are talking about it. I don't know much about denominations aside from Catholicism, inside of which I once kind of functioned but do not now, but I know when the Methodists start talking about Revelations, well that's big news down here in the South. Mostly they're busy in pantries and food kitchens or taking soup around to sick neighbors.
So I said to my friend, you think? and she's like yah I think, and I'll tell you she's a church going Methodist on Sundays but the rest of the week she can lay down some good times--ANYWAY, she was like yep, I think. And I was like, I kind of think so too, to which we both agreed it would be nice to see the Lord return, us on our cell phones agreeing on the second coming, and then she said except for the sin part which has her a little worried, what with some of her weekday behaviors, and she wondered if she might be stuck here while her kids went on to heaven, at which point she said, well, hell, I'm glad they'll get in anyway.
I had to agree with her not only because she's from Mississippi, but also because she has the most wonderful 14-month old baby and she's turning 45. That doesn't happen every day. And then she said of course you don't have to worry if you hang with the non-denoms that believe you're saved by Grace, which is kind of what I'm thinking and so I'm nodding my head on my cell phone.
My coffee swisshed on the dashboard, and if there is one really bad habit I have that I won't have after the rapture it's keeping a ceramic mug full of hot coffee on my dashboard.
We agreed there is something to be said for the non-denominational worship-and-praise Christians compared to the sin-and-hell focused doctrines, especially with the end so near. I told her I very much enjoy the singing and again, she agreed, because the Methodist hymns sound only slightly more optimistic than the Baptists'.
And that's how regular people are talking about prophesies.
seems like every six months
i have to remind you to comment, because when you don't comment i get all pissed off. and when i get all pissed off i feel like picking up a cigarette. and when i feel like picking up a cigarette i don't. and when I don't i get all pissed off. and then i remind you to comment again. viscious. cycle.
The State of the Knee Address
Follow the highlighted google terms.Who the fuck am I trying to fool, spending unavailable $ on an expensive bike thinking I'll jump on and ride on up the umpty-ump-teen hills around our house and get in shape--just watch me. Day one. Day number one I'm like--damn this seat seems low well that's weird, so now I think, after researching how you're supposed to ride a bike -- stupid me thought I remembered from when I was 12 -- that I don't know how to ride a bike, especially not with 24 speeds, especially not up hill, especially not when the lady left the seat down at it's lowest setting after she had it on that machine and that's how I rode it and tore up my knee going uphill.
All that, and will the check even clear?
These are the things I do that make me crazy. George, he KEEPs asking me if I stretched, and I suppose people know what stretching is, but I keep telling him, isn't riding a bike stretching? And here he is, Mr. Stretch, and Mr. Filter, telling me, no. You're over 40 and you're beat like us and out of shape--you stretch.I'm thinking, stretching is a lot like exercise, so one or the other has to go, which is why even though I love my new too-expensive bike that I can't afford, maybe I should stretch every day for free, and forget the exercise part, and my knee wouldn't look like a watermellon. Plus it's a lot cheaper. And I'd have time to take up smoking again. Which, as you know, I do miss so.
its like that
sometimes when you've lost a lot of things in your lifetime, say starting early before your mind is really developed, you get this instinct thing that says a loss is a-coming. sometimes it takes you by surprise still, and really, most of the time it still surprises you, but when you get one of those feeling-so-low-stomach-crunch-cramp-wrenching instincts that loss is on the way, well, you have to know you're right.
How do you know:
the air is thick and falls from the sky in layers.
you hear the rubber souls on the bottom of your shoes separating from the pavement when you walk.
children appear from nowhere.
the jiggle of the bulbs in light sockets drives you mad.
when you vacuum the wood floors you can't believe it sounds so much like A Love Supreme.
How do you know:
the air is thick and falls from the sky in layers.
you hear the rubber souls on the bottom of your shoes separating from the pavement when you walk.
children appear from nowhere.
the jiggle of the bulbs in light sockets drives you mad.
when you vacuum the wood floors you can't believe it sounds so much like A Love Supreme.
A word about school
so after our two hurricane days a week or so back thanks to the wisdom of our Leader And Redneck Sonny Perdue, not the chicken man, but could have been, we now friday off from school because teachers need to prepare for conference week -- can my clients understand if i tell them i need a day off to get ready to work? not -- okay -- so -- then next week we have what they like to call early-release days all week so that teachers can make parents drag their sorry asses in at the most convenient hour of between 1 - 3 p.m. to look at papers they've already seen at home. Early-Release days mean kids actually arrive home before you take them, and with Jenna's two sick days from throwing up, plus friday off, plus a week of early-relesae days next week, I'm pretty sure we just time warped back to first grade.
The Top 10 on Human Suffering
Supersize me a disaster. Don't disappoint. Make it big, make it news, make it so so big. Chart Topper, blockbuster, ballbuster, lifesucker.
Tom's better at this.
Tom's better at this.
Doing Dilligence
That wiley culture phenom Tony Pierce sets the record straight on the genesis of the term blook. But on the genesis of the idea for blooks, I'm including the ass of yours truly:
In February of 2002 on Gonzo Engaged, I was looking for a way...
In Nov 2002 I talked about blog "year" books here.
I stuck my first poetry e-book PDF (damn, I suck at branding) in Demcember 2002.
None of this is to say jeneane made up blooks, but don't forget jeff jarvis wasn't the only guy online then.
Now I guess I have to start making me some.
In February of 2002 on Gonzo Engaged, I was looking for a way...
In Nov 2002 I talked about blog "year" books here.
I stuck my first poetry e-book PDF (damn, I suck at branding) in Demcember 2002.
None of this is to say jeneane made up blooks, but don't forget jeff jarvis wasn't the only guy online then.
Now I guess I have to start making me some.
Bird sighting, North Main Street
| There he goes again. |  Bird sighting, North Main Street Originally uploaded by allaboutgeorge. |
Bird Watching
| from all about g. |  Pre-metering light bird sighting, Bay Bridge Originally uploaded by allaboutgeorge. |
Technorati's Sprung a Leak?
My inbound link are dropping like flies.
If I keep losing links via Technorati, pretty soon I'll be sunk and you'll have to send an exploration crew to dig me off the floor of the blog sea.
Thing is, I KNOW my link love is still abundant because most of my link love is a two way street, baby. So HOW is it I fell from around 400 to 300-something (yes, I know, I know: there was an enhancement that counts SITES linking versus POSTS linking) a week or so ago, only to fall again down to 222. That was a great TV show back in the day, but it's not representative of my link numbers.
And while I'm admitting that I give a shit about links -- a rare moment -- how is it that site meter fails to show my my linking referrers that I know are sending me traffic. Like the day Doc and David and Five Other Really Important Bloggers linked to me in referencing my CEO's and Blogging article, yet site meter showed zero folks coming here from those sites. I'm so pissed I think it's time to trade in the old site meter for something newer.
Now, you and I can say it's piddly, this link business, and on any given Wednesday I'll be leading that charge, but it's not so simple anymore, because recent history (really recent) has shown that a lot of money is at stake in the blog tool space. And that should somehow be relative to quality and happy customers. In fact, I've given both of these companies my hard earned cash in the past. So, I might say, I have a vested interest. In fact, I'm a goddam stakeholder.
So tell me straight up... what gives?
If I keep losing links via Technorati, pretty soon I'll be sunk and you'll have to send an exploration crew to dig me off the floor of the blog sea.
Thing is, I KNOW my link love is still abundant because most of my link love is a two way street, baby. So HOW is it I fell from around 400 to 300-something (yes, I know, I know: there was an enhancement that counts SITES linking versus POSTS linking) a week or so ago, only to fall again down to 222. That was a great TV show back in the day, but it's not representative of my link numbers.
And while I'm admitting that I give a shit about links -- a rare moment -- how is it that site meter fails to show my my linking referrers that I know are sending me traffic. Like the day Doc and David and Five Other Really Important Bloggers linked to me in referencing my CEO's and Blogging article, yet site meter showed zero folks coming here from those sites. I'm so pissed I think it's time to trade in the old site meter for something newer.
Now, you and I can say it's piddly, this link business, and on any given Wednesday I'll be leading that charge, but it's not so simple anymore, because recent history (really recent) has shown that a lot of money is at stake in the blog tool space. And that should somehow be relative to quality and happy customers. In fact, I've given both of these companies my hard earned cash in the past. So, I might say, I have a vested interest. In fact, I'm a goddam stakeholder.
So tell me straight up... what gives?
October 10, 2005
Moi? Naw.
Frank takes the opportunity to blame it all on me, when really it's mostly his fault. Most everything is Frank's fault. He's the guy who goes out and interviews all of these nobodies-turned-somebodies right in the middle of whatever severe and traumatic life change led them to this blog place in the first place -- because no healthy person, especially in 2001 would take the opportunity to out themselves as an idiot in front of four other people. Then once Frank interviews you, you realize everything you said was a lie to yourself and then your life transforms itself YET AGAIN through a BRAND NEW set of trauma and upheaval, during which you plug away posting these words because by then it's a sort of turret's thing.
And so THAT? ALL OF THAT? It's Frank's fault.
And thank you for taking me back to my favorite blog on earth, Mr. Sandhill.
And so THAT? ALL OF THAT? It's Frank's fault.
And thank you for taking me back to my favorite blog on earth, Mr. Sandhill.
what does blowing your knee out feel like?
does it feel anything like, oh, blowing your knee out? Like when you're out of shape and in your forties and you think you can get on a bike for the first time since you were 12 and immediately ride up and down hills starting at the edge of your driveway? You manage to feel proud that you've gone up and down six times in two days. Next one knee hurts and swells up and you're all like, that's weird, ouch, where's the Ibuprophen. Then a few days later you suddenly can't walk because one knee doesn't work and keeps buckling, and man it sure has this weird swelling thing going on?
Is it anything like that?
Is it anything like that?
In Your Moment of Sorrow
The death of a parent is one of the most traumatic things that can happen to a child. In time, in therapy, in recovery, in love and in grieving, kids can survive it. But that's not why I'm writing this. I'm writing this to tell surviving parents something very important: Watch the people around your children after your spouse dies. It's a catch 22 for you. You need support--you need to grieve. And maybe that's too hard to do because you can't afford to. You can't afford vulnerability at a time when vigilance is due.
People will offer help to you and your children in this time of need. Many of those people will be helpful. But watch for predators because predators watch. And I don't mean wait and see. I mean, expect them.
Predators watch. They watch and wait for moments just like this. They look for prey in distress, the baby zebra who can't keep up, who is slowed, whose senses are dulled by injury, bewildered, the baby who has lost is lost. A predator zeros in on tender flesh, ripe, a flank, a loin, and at the moment when that baby is farthest from the pack, out of reach, separate from the wisdom and protection of the more experienced who know how to zig and zag, he strikes, she strikes.
Widows and widowers, watch your babies.
People will offer help to you and your children in this time of need. Many of those people will be helpful. But watch for predators because predators watch. And I don't mean wait and see. I mean, expect them.
Predators watch. They watch and wait for moments just like this. They look for prey in distress, the baby zebra who can't keep up, who is slowed, whose senses are dulled by injury, bewildered, the baby who has lost is lost. A predator zeros in on tender flesh, ripe, a flank, a loin, and at the moment when that baby is farthest from the pack, out of reach, separate from the wisdom and protection of the more experienced who know how to zig and zag, he strikes, she strikes.
Widows and widowers, watch your babies.
D.W. Really Does Rule.
As a side project, I'm writing an article on D.W., Arthur's little sister, and as a result I got the chance to talk to the inspiration for D.W. -- Marc Brown's sister, Kim Brown. (No, her name isn't Dora Winifred like you might expect).
Kim is a neat lady and was great to talk to. She travels around the country giving presentations in schools and working with kids on writing and illustrating. She helps bring the Aurthur and D.W. stories to life. Her courses look like fun. But the funniest part of this whole thing has been Jenna's obsession with this little project. DADDY, MOMMY GETS TO WRITE AN ARTICLE ON D.W.!
She nearly fainted when I told her D.W. would be calling today.
As it turns out it was just the right remedy for Jenna's stomach flu. Kim took the time to talk to Jenna on the phone--I saw Jenna's cheeks turn bright red as she mumbled out some niceties. It might as well have been Jessie McCartney himself on the other end of the line.
The great news is, she hasn't thrown up since. Thanks Kim!
p.s., I'll put a link up when the story is finally online.
Kim is a neat lady and was great to talk to. She travels around the country giving presentations in schools and working with kids on writing and illustrating. She helps bring the Aurthur and D.W. stories to life. Her courses look like fun. But the funniest part of this whole thing has been Jenna's obsession with this little project. DADDY, MOMMY GETS TO WRITE AN ARTICLE ON D.W.!
She nearly fainted when I told her D.W. would be calling today.
As it turns out it was just the right remedy for Jenna's stomach flu. Kim took the time to talk to Jenna on the phone--I saw Jenna's cheeks turn bright red as she mumbled out some niceties. It might as well have been Jessie McCartney himself on the other end of the line.
The great news is, she hasn't thrown up since. Thanks Kim!
p.s., I'll put a link up when the story is finally online.
Senior Bucket Holder - Job Description
I've been working away on work projects with little time to blog, mostly since my side occupation for the last two days has been "senior bucket holder" to Jenna who has had the stomach bug.
Do I need to go into a job description for senior bucket holder? I think I will, because it's about more than holding a little waste basket. It's about letting your kid take over your bed and mind and soul and sleep--and doing it with love because you can't stand to see the look on her little face when the throwing up begins and the aliens come lurching out of her system. And I'm hiring!
If you have a weak stomach, go read insapundit. Oh wait, that won't work.
SENIOR BUCKET HOLDER JOB DESCRIPTION
REQUIREMENTS:
Should be a mom in her early- to mid-forties, with at least 5-10 years experience catching vomit while simultaneously comforting and cleaning sick child. Survival through at least one child hospitalization required.
SKILLS:
Ability to effectively place and secure bucket, small waste basket, throw-up bowl, or in true emergencies a bath towel, underneath the chin of wobbling, dizzy, half-lifeless child in order to catch what is expelled. Looking for 90-percent or better catch rate. Multi-tasking is a must--candidate needs ability to sooth child and hold head during expulsion while simulaneously maintaining bucket position.
Ability to dump sloshing bucket into toilet and rinse well in tub with anti-bacterial soap, spray entire area with disinfectant. Must also be able to kiss child on forehead after disinfecting without vomiting herself.
Senior Laundry Skills--knowledge of pre-wash procedures for vomit stains of all hues required. Also knowledge of disinfectant soap effectiveness on specific viral loads, direct experience capturing water temperature and wash cycle data for laundry workflow procedures.
Experience with on-child cool-water washcloth placement also required, as well as non-traumatic suppository insertion.
OTHER RESPONSIBILITIES: All.
ATTITUDE: Must maintain a cheery attitude and good overall health at all times. Desire for Sleep not necessary. Inexperienced sleepers will be trained to delay sleep onset until project completion.
Apply to ewriter@bellsouth.net. The pay is inversely proportionate to love for the child, but someday you might get to watch them graduate from Harvard and say your name on stage, or at least ring you through the check-out line at your local Safeway. Apparently that makes it all worthwhile.
Do I need to go into a job description for senior bucket holder? I think I will, because it's about more than holding a little waste basket. It's about letting your kid take over your bed and mind and soul and sleep--and doing it with love because you can't stand to see the look on her little face when the throwing up begins and the aliens come lurching out of her system. And I'm hiring!
If you have a weak stomach, go read insapundit. Oh wait, that won't work.
SENIOR BUCKET HOLDER JOB DESCRIPTION
REQUIREMENTS:
Should be a mom in her early- to mid-forties, with at least 5-10 years experience catching vomit while simultaneously comforting and cleaning sick child. Survival through at least one child hospitalization required.
SKILLS:
Ability to effectively place and secure bucket, small waste basket, throw-up bowl, or in true emergencies a bath towel, underneath the chin of wobbling, dizzy, half-lifeless child in order to catch what is expelled. Looking for 90-percent or better catch rate. Multi-tasking is a must--candidate needs ability to sooth child and hold head during expulsion while simulaneously maintaining bucket position.
Ability to dump sloshing bucket into toilet and rinse well in tub with anti-bacterial soap, spray entire area with disinfectant. Must also be able to kiss child on forehead after disinfecting without vomiting herself.
Senior Laundry Skills--knowledge of pre-wash procedures for vomit stains of all hues required. Also knowledge of disinfectant soap effectiveness on specific viral loads, direct experience capturing water temperature and wash cycle data for laundry workflow procedures.
Experience with on-child cool-water washcloth placement also required, as well as non-traumatic suppository insertion.
OTHER RESPONSIBILITIES: All.
ATTITUDE: Must maintain a cheery attitude and good overall health at all times. Desire for Sleep not necessary. Inexperienced sleepers will be trained to delay sleep onset until project completion.
Apply to ewriter@bellsouth.net. The pay is inversely proportionate to love for the child, but someday you might get to watch them graduate from Harvard and say your name on stage, or at least ring you through the check-out line at your local Safeway. Apparently that makes it all worthwhile.
October 07, 2005
grandma d.
I can smell and see my grandmothers' kitchen tonight as clear as day. I do sometimes do what I do best, which is type with my eyes closed, like I'm doiong now. It's a blessing to be able to, because I can dream and write at the same time. Especially when I'm tired, like I am right now. I'm actually half asleep.
I haven't been in that kitchen since the late 70s. Augustine Street. Rochester, NY. How can it have been 25 or 30 years already since I passed through that door? After my grandfather died, my grandmother managed in the house for a couple of years. But they were married over 50 years, and it was a big, big house. She couldn't stay forever. Or she could have, but she didn't.
The kitchen. My grandmother was the first woman in the community to buy a dishwasher. She was a smart woman. I remember the formica table, with the silver wrapped around the outside, and I remember the wallpaper the table sat against with its oranges and golds and whites, was it floral?, I remember the screen door to the back porch and how we never used the porch except to look out at my grandpa's tomato garden, and I remember the fridge over to the right, the long counters--they seemed to go on forever, and what must have been 3040 cupboards and drawers.
Her kitchen was immaculate and always smelled like meatballs waiting. My favorite spaghetti dinners were topped with spoonfulls of Pecorino Romano cheese (imported) and washed down with a glass of orange crush and ice.
My grandma made soup--just one more bowl if I could. They call it Italian Wedding Soup now, but we never called it that. We called it the chicken soup with the little meatballs. Oh. mmmm. and there was another kind of soup she made e that used a raw egg and eg noodles with a HEAPING couple of spoon fulls of grated cheese.
Her stove was top of the line. She didn't skimp where my grandfather would notice it the most--on her cooking.
Tonight is the strange night--I smell so clearly a meal waiting for me to sit down to. To wait for the cheese to come around the table.
I'm alost asleep now.
I haven't been in that kitchen since the late 70s. Augustine Street. Rochester, NY. How can it have been 25 or 30 years already since I passed through that door? After my grandfather died, my grandmother managed in the house for a couple of years. But they were married over 50 years, and it was a big, big house. She couldn't stay forever. Or she could have, but she didn't.
The kitchen. My grandmother was the first woman in the community to buy a dishwasher. She was a smart woman. I remember the formica table, with the silver wrapped around the outside, and I remember the wallpaper the table sat against with its oranges and golds and whites, was it floral?, I remember the screen door to the back porch and how we never used the porch except to look out at my grandpa's tomato garden, and I remember the fridge over to the right, the long counters--they seemed to go on forever, and what must have been 3040 cupboards and drawers.
Her kitchen was immaculate and always smelled like meatballs waiting. My favorite spaghetti dinners were topped with spoonfulls of Pecorino Romano cheese (imported) and washed down with a glass of orange crush and ice.
My grandma made soup--just one more bowl if I could. They call it Italian Wedding Soup now, but we never called it that. We called it the chicken soup with the little meatballs. Oh. mmmm. and there was another kind of soup she made e that used a raw egg and eg noodles with a HEAPING couple of spoon fulls of grated cheese.
Her stove was top of the line. She didn't skimp where my grandfather would notice it the most--on her cooking.
Tonight is the strange night--I smell so clearly a meal waiting for me to sit down to. To wait for the cheese to come around the table.
I'm alost asleep now.
The question blog
I think I should start a question blog. It would only have questions. And people could answer in comments. We should put the world's toughest questions on the blog and let others answer. Like, how did unfinished furniture come to be a product? Did all furniture used to be sold unfinished, and then someone got the bright idea to stain it before selling it? Or was it the reverse?
I used to have a lot to talk about.
I wonder how many pixels it would take to wrap all the way around the world. Like if pixels were string, tied in a line around the center of the earth, how many would we need to go all the way around? If we put all the blogs together, could we reach?
I wondered that driving home today.
I wondered that driving home today.
Set Up a Blogger's Lunch and Learn at Your Company Monday.
Just do it.
Send out an office wide email on Monday that says: Look, we know some of you folks blog. Sure, you haven't told us so, and no we're not monitoring your site surfing (much), and no we're not mad at you for doing it. Actually quite the opposite. As a company, we'd like to understand more about blogging. And we want you who are already blogging to tell us. You're the experts. You understand the space. So, let's have a lunch and learn session next week. Pizza is on the company and everyone's invited--just bring your blogging knowledge and your favorite blogs (or at least the ones you think the rest of us should be reading) and let's talk about this blogging thing. If you would like to be one of the blogger hosts for this lunch, email [[insert your email here]].
Thanks!
[[insert your name/title here]]
Send out an office wide email on Monday that says: Look, we know some of you folks blog. Sure, you haven't told us so, and no we're not monitoring your site surfing (much), and no we're not mad at you for doing it. Actually quite the opposite. As a company, we'd like to understand more about blogging. And we want you who are already blogging to tell us. You're the experts. You understand the space. So, let's have a lunch and learn session next week. Pizza is on the company and everyone's invited--just bring your blogging knowledge and your favorite blogs (or at least the ones you think the rest of us should be reading) and let's talk about this blogging thing. If you would like to be one of the blogger hosts for this lunch, email [[insert your email here]].
Thanks!
[[insert your name/title here]]
okay sing the stupid people song with me--want to?
Helloooo stupid people
it's good to meet you
no it's not
see you made me lie
and if I tell you true
I would have to tell you
you
really you make my
intestines flutter
and rumble, baby
and not in a gooood way, baby.
I'm not sure how you
live with a pin-sized braihaaaiiin
but you really do
yah you do baby
you do it all my sweet
thing
because you're not just
ordinary
solitary
no
you're very very
extraordinarily
stupid
How do you do it?
You're bill-o'reilly stupid
You're bill-o'reilly stupid
You're not just smiley stupid
You're bill-o'reilly stupid
I bet in the morning, yah
you open your sweet shining eyes
and come alive inside
and your mind, your mihiiiiind
goes back to sleep
precious sleep
and that's okay
because baby
you gotta lotta work to do
in this world
a lotta hard work to do
and it's not easy, baby
no not easy
to operate the fryer
all the grease
sometimes the policeeeeee, baby
they come a rum come come
and say to you...
You're bill-o'reilly stupid
You're bill-o'reilly stupid
You're not just smiley stupid
You're bill-o'reilly stupid.
it's good to meet you
no it's not
see you made me lie
and if I tell you true
I would have to tell you
you
really you make my
intestines flutter
and rumble, baby
and not in a gooood way, baby.
I'm not sure how you
live with a pin-sized braihaaaiiin
but you really do
yah you do baby
you do it all my sweet
thing
because you're not just
ordinary
solitary
no
you're very very
extraordinarily
stupid
How do you do it?
You're bill-o'reilly stupid
You're bill-o'reilly stupid
You're not just smiley stupid
You're bill-o'reilly stupid
I bet in the morning, yah
you open your sweet shining eyes
and come alive inside
and your mind, your mihiiiiind
goes back to sleep
precious sleep
and that's okay
because baby
you gotta lotta work to do
in this world
a lotta hard work to do
and it's not easy, baby
no not easy
to operate the fryer
all the grease
sometimes the policeeeeee, baby
they come a rum come come
and say to you...
You're bill-o'reilly stupid
You're bill-o'reilly stupid
You're not just smiley stupid
You're bill-o'reilly stupid.
October 06, 2005
More Frightening than Bill WhoreReilly...
There are some folks over in the comments at Media Matters that don't understand the difference between Emmigration and Slavery. A lot of times, very stupid people can't read so well. In honor of them, I bring you some images. (Often times, very stupid people learn better with pictures.)
A HOG! Did someone say a HOG?
If you know a very stupid person, I would appreciate if you might allow them to review this post with you--maybe you can read aloud from some of the images that have words (like Negroes for Sale) on them.
Thank you.
A HOG! Did someone say a HOG?
If you know a very stupid person, I would appreciate if you might allow them to review this post with you--maybe you can read aloud from some of the images that have words (like Negroes for Sale) on them.
Thank you.
Oh no. no. No he didn't.
George, don't read this. Your head will explode and the house is really a mess at this point--I can't take one more stain on the carpet this week. I submit to you, Bill O'Reilly Explaining the African Emmigration (cough) to the Land of Milk and Honey:
LINK
Link with audio.
O'REILLY: All right. But let me counter that, [caller], and you can comment on my comment. That's the prevailing wisdom in a lot of the precincts, is that because blacks were in slavery in the United States, they were never able to develop an infrastructure of education and culture to compete with the white majority. That is the prevailing wisdom in lots and lots of places. Let me submit this to you, and then you can comment on it.
My people came from County Cavan in Ireland. All right? And the British Crown marched in there with their henchman, Oliver Cromwell, and they seized all of my ancestors' lands, everything. And they threw them into slavery, pretty much indentured servitude on the land. And then the land collapsed, all right? And everybody was starving in Ireland. They had to leave the country, just as Africans had to leave -- African-Americans had to leave Africa and COME OVER ON A BOAT and TRY TO MAKE IT IN THE New World with nothing. Nothing. And succeeded, succeeded. As did Italians, as did -- and I'll submit to you, African-Americans are succeeding as well. So all of these things can be overcome I think, [caller]. Go ahead.
--Bill WhoreRielly
LINK
Link with audio.
Bloggers Want Bling
The Edelman Survey (disclaimer--which i reviewed and suggested some refinements) results are out.
Key takeaways:
More than 70 percent of bloggers say, send us product samples to try. We are not afraid of bling.
More than 60 percent of us trust what your employees say while we only sort of trust what your corporate blog says.
Richard Edelman has some, err, more detailed thoughts about the survey.
You can't buy us, spin us, or manipulate us, but you can sure show us your stuff, make us feel good, and let us see for ourselves what your stuff is like. That is how you ENGAGE us. If we like it, YOU GET GOOD MOJO! If we don't, YOU GET HARD TRUTH.
As one respondent explains (not me, I paid for my sidekick):
Okay, yah, sorta like that.
Key takeaways:
More than 70 percent of bloggers say, send us product samples to try. We are not afraid of bling.
More than 60 percent of us trust what your employees say while we only sort of trust what your corporate blog says.
Richard Edelman has some, err, more detailed thoughts about the survey.
You can't buy us, spin us, or manipulate us, but you can sure show us your stuff, make us feel good, and let us see for ourselves what your stuff is like. That is how you ENGAGE us. If we like it, YOU GET GOOD MOJO! If we don't, YOU GET HARD TRUTH.
As one respondent explains (not me, I paid for my sidekick):
I am a sucker for free books, particularly when they come in softcover as uncorrected proofs. I am also a sucker for gadgets and physical objects, particularly when they are youth branded. In both of these cases, PR folks can totally get me to talk about their items because, honestly, i like gifts and it makes me feel all special when someone goes out of their way to give me a physical item. I don't guarantee that i'll blog about it but this little Mauss in me always does. I only blog about software when i'm playing with it for my own reasons. Not only do i ignore all email from software/web vendors trying to get me to use their system, requests to blog about it tend to turn me off immensely. Nothing pisses me off more than a PR release that i'm supposed to blog. This actually has anthropological sense. It doesn't take any effort for a PR rep to mass mail me and other bloggers to go to their website or blog about their product. Thus, i feel spammed - it's super lame. It takes a little more effort to write me a personal letter, but often these ask me to effectively QA their product - no thanks. It takes a lot of effort to write to me individually asking for my address and whether or not i'd like to try something out and having no obligation. That also costs money for the PR person. But when the mailperson rings the doorbell, i feel super special and if the product is cool, i am totally able to get addicted. I'm totally into cult brands and when i'm into something i gush obsessively. Two of my obsessions began with PR people sending me something - Malcolm Gladwell's publisher sent me Blink and i blogged about it a few times but then i went to every conference and told everyone that they must read it (and still am); Danger saw me blog about the Sidekick and how sad i was not to have the $ to get the new one and they sent me one for free, further magnifying my obsession with their device and making me make certain that they are included in lots of mobile phone events - plus, i've dragged at least 8 people to the store to get one (aside from those who i've encouraged through gushing). You can totally addict me to a product but you do need to make me feel loved and special.
Okay, yah, sorta like that.
The Web Explodes with DEALS DEALS DEALS
Congrats to Waxy.Org, now a member of the Butterfieldclan of the Kingdom of Yahoo.
Finer lineage? I know of none.
Finer lineage? I know of none.
RageBoy cleans his plate
| Yep, really does look like steak. Maybe potatoes too. Could be some of that fancy "bison roast" -- they like to have that at woo-woo events. Some kind of gravy's there too I think. Man, web 2.0 inhabitants know how to live. |  RageBoy cleans his plate Originally uploaded by Stewart. |
RageBoy's at Web 2.0!
| And Stewart fed him! (looks like steak.) |  Chris Locke post dinner Originally uploaded by Stewart. |
Blogger Josh Hallett in Talks with NY Times on Content Deal
rolling. on. the. floor. laughing. my. ass. off.
I have been in low-level talks with the New York Times on a content deal. I was contacted by the NYT to find out if I was interested in subscribing to their newspaper. We're still working out the financial details, but it looks like I might enter into a 9-week content deal with them.Josh--If Winer's getting $5 million, man, you have GOT to hold out. Don't show them all of your cards. Keep it close to the vest. I'm pulling for you.
October 05, 2005
Web 1.0 we had it right
I wrote and built my first website in 1996. Shawn Bernard -- a destined-to-be-gifted web designer -- and I did the whole thing. You can take a stroll through a lot of it here thanks to the wayback machine. We ran contests and gave away stress balls and pens and books. By February of 1997, we had a reference library of downloadable white papers, articles, and publications. We even had a registration page with a backend routine that sent an email to me to let me know who had registered and what their company information and needs were. Today you might just call that lead generation.
The site was a hell of a lot less primitive than IBM's at that same time.
We were stars in the data warehousing space in those days because we got tech, we got the web, we got data. (If we'd only had a product!)
Five years I spent getting it and giving it, sometimes round the clock, for the common cause.
In September of 1997 I had a baby.
By the time I came back to work, we had new management brought in by the investors. We were working really hard on that product we needed to actually have in order to sell it.
Our site was growing. IBM's site was this cool.
When I came back to work after six weeks on spare-change disability, I hemorrhaged, returned to the hospital for emergency surgery, and almost died.
I was in the hospital for 10 days.
Our website was looking good.
Between my delivery and my emergency surgery, during the 2 weeks I was back at work, I talked to the new CFO. I told him things about our business.
The CFO, his name was Sam Johnson, maybe he goes by Samuel Johnson now, no not THAT Sam Johnson, and maybe he moved from Atlanta to Chicago, I can't quite remember, it being Web 1.0 and everything, but I know Sam Johnson works in financial services, maybe he was a CPA, I couldn't tell you because he was just a young punk then.
I let him hold my newborn baby. I still regret it.
Sam was a corporate evil doer. He was also a short, bald brother, and I mean really short.
He said that this webpage thing wasn't going anywhere. I said it was. He tried to out-MBA-speak me. He said we do not need this webpage expense. I told him, it's not an expense--we have our own server and this web site saves us on the hard copy white papers we're always shipping. He said, if IBM doesn't have a webpage, we don't need one. I said IBM does have a web site, but ours is better. He said million dollar corporations are doing business without having these homepages, so we sure don't need one. I said, that's exactly why we we do need one. Because we're not them.
When I came back to work six weeks after my emergency myomectomy, I didn't have a job anymore.
My baby was 12 weeks old.
Web 1.0 taught us Internet jockeys a lot. Like you can find my brand on the net, but you can't find sam johnson the CFO.
Eventually, the company I worked for would be bought several times over, first by Prism, then by Ardent, then by Informix, and finally by IBM.
I love irony.
Sam, you were wrong 8 years ago, and I was right.
It's Web 2.0 and I'm still smart.
And I bet you're still an idiot.
The site was a hell of a lot less primitive than IBM's at that same time.
We were stars in the data warehousing space in those days because we got tech, we got the web, we got data. (If we'd only had a product!)
Five years I spent getting it and giving it, sometimes round the clock, for the common cause.
In September of 1997 I had a baby.
By the time I came back to work, we had new management brought in by the investors. We were working really hard on that product we needed to actually have in order to sell it.
Our site was growing. IBM's site was this cool.
When I came back to work after six weeks on spare-change disability, I hemorrhaged, returned to the hospital for emergency surgery, and almost died.
I was in the hospital for 10 days.
Our website was looking good.
Between my delivery and my emergency surgery, during the 2 weeks I was back at work, I talked to the new CFO. I told him things about our business.
The CFO, his name was Sam Johnson, maybe he goes by Samuel Johnson now, no not THAT Sam Johnson, and maybe he moved from Atlanta to Chicago, I can't quite remember, it being Web 1.0 and everything, but I know Sam Johnson works in financial services, maybe he was a CPA, I couldn't tell you because he was just a young punk then.
I let him hold my newborn baby. I still regret it.
Sam was a corporate evil doer. He was also a short, bald brother, and I mean really short.
He said that this webpage thing wasn't going anywhere. I said it was. He tried to out-MBA-speak me. He said we do not need this webpage expense. I told him, it's not an expense--we have our own server and this web site saves us on the hard copy white papers we're always shipping. He said, if IBM doesn't have a webpage, we don't need one. I said IBM does have a web site, but ours is better. He said million dollar corporations are doing business without having these homepages, so we sure don't need one. I said, that's exactly why we we do need one. Because we're not them.
When I came back to work six weeks after my emergency myomectomy, I didn't have a job anymore.
My baby was 12 weeks old.
Web 1.0 taught us Internet jockeys a lot. Like you can find my brand on the net, but you can't find sam johnson the CFO.
Eventually, the company I worked for would be bought several times over, first by Prism, then by Ardent, then by Informix, and finally by IBM.
I love irony.
Sam, you were wrong 8 years ago, and I was right.
It's Web 2.0 and I'm still smart.
And I bet you're still an idiot.
Where the hell did she come from?
Quick--out to get the bread and soy milk!
Robbie Berg, a meterologist at the National Hurricane Center in Miami, said because Tammy will spend so little time over water, it is unlikely that it will reach hurricane strength of 74 mph.Now why don't I trust anyone about this hurricane business anymore? Cheney's in the bunker with his weather machine -- He has one eye on the Supreme Court and the other on FOX News. It's all about the mastery of distraction--LOOK! It's a bird (the american eagle!), it's a plane (crasing into the world trade center!), it's a hurricane (wiping out the poor and infirm and making for great FOX ratings!) -- No, It's CHENEYMAN!
Note to Hillary RC...
...add some bits from your old healthcare speeches to this one Ron's written, and you're ready to rumble.
Bloggers are so funny! They write stuff for free. It's a silly little business model all our own. ;-)
Bloggers are so funny! They write stuff for free. It's a silly little business model all our own. ;-)
October 04, 2005
Getting Ready for Web 1.0
A Trip Down Memorabilia Lane
[Picture Above] WINDOWS on Healthcare - A short lived piece of propoganda -- errr, I mean a publication -- on MS Windows use in Healthcare. Remnants of it are here. An equally defunct DBMS boasts yet another article ghost written by yours truly. DBMS is now Intelligent Enterprise. My how the times change! It's a good thing my portfolio doesn't!
[Pictured Above] Impact Innovations Circa 1998 when Medaphis spun them off -- I bet even the Impact Innovations of today doesn't have these brochures over at their place. Note the high-priced commission artwork. You weren't anyone without commissioned artwork in 1998. People like me, we know these things.
[Pictured Above] Dude, this was data warehousing 1998, before data warehousing was cool! See that article on Delivery Chain Management? Dude, I wrote that!
[Pictured Above] Delta Air Lines, in better days. This was the 2002 model plane that was handed out in a PR frenzy after the delta.com launch and before the Olympics. Okay, I know it's the TAIL end of Web 1.0, but high-value PR shlock counts extra, whatever the era. (Damn, still no bids on ebay.)
What Web 1.0 conference would be complete without the cult classic that launched a thousand trains. Dust it off and read it again. Some things are timeless. Because after all:
Markets are conversations.
No they're not.
Yes they are.
No they're not.
Yes they are.
Nuh-uh.
Uh-huh.
Are too.
Are not.
Yes.
No.
Stupid geek.
Marketing wank.
You better shut up.
Make me.
No, you make me.
Ooooo good comeback.
Go play with your voice mail.
Go page someone.
jerk.
wank.
[Picture Above] WINDOWS on Healthcare - A short lived piece of propoganda -- errr, I mean a publication -- on MS Windows use in Healthcare. Remnants of it are here. An equally defunct DBMS boasts yet another article ghost written by yours truly. DBMS is now Intelligent Enterprise. My how the times change! It's a good thing my portfolio doesn't!
[Pictured Above] Impact Innovations Circa 1998 when Medaphis spun them off -- I bet even the Impact Innovations of today doesn't have these brochures over at their place. Note the high-priced commission artwork. You weren't anyone without commissioned artwork in 1998. People like me, we know these things.
[Pictured Above] Dude, this was data warehousing 1998, before data warehousing was cool! See that article on Delivery Chain Management? Dude, I wrote that!
[Pictured Above] Delta Air Lines, in better days. This was the 2002 model plane that was handed out in a PR frenzy after the delta.com launch and before the Olympics. Okay, I know it's the TAIL end of Web 1.0, but high-value PR shlock counts extra, whatever the era. (Damn, still no bids on ebay.)
What Web 1.0 conference would be complete without the cult classic that launched a thousand trains. Dust it off and read it again. Some things are timeless. Because after all:
Markets are conversations.
No they're not.
Yes they are.
No they're not.
Yes they are.
Nuh-uh.
Uh-huh.
Are too.
Are not.
Yes.
No.
Stupid geek.
Marketing wank.
You better shut up.
Make me.
No, you make me.
Ooooo good comeback.
Go play with your voice mail.
Go page someone.
jerk.
wank.
WWWD?
An email went around recently among some friends posing a philosophical--if not practical--dilemma, ending with the question, What Would Weinberger Do--WWWD? We laughed and chortled at using David as some kind of barometer of right decision making. Because after all, that's usually AKMA's job.
(Rim shot).
Well to answer the question, WWWD? -- HE DID IT.
I might modify it further to point out these gatherings are often of 'white American business men,' not just any men. But I don't want to take away from this beautiful passage coming from someone who is as sought after a speaker as David.
I always hate when I stop paying attention to blogging just long enough for something tremendous to happen.
A belated thank you, David.
(Rim shot).
Well to answer the question, WWWD? -- HE DID IT.
This isn't a matter of quotas. It's not about math. It's about power. It's about men strengthening bonds that have real consequences. The perfect gender homogeneity of this meeting is inadvertent but it's inexcusable. We have to get to the point where this is prima facie shameful and unacceptable. We have to get to the point where this is just plain embarrassing.
I might modify it further to point out these gatherings are often of 'white American business men,' not just any men. But I don't want to take away from this beautiful passage coming from someone who is as sought after a speaker as David.
I always hate when I stop paying attention to blogging just long enough for something tremendous to happen.
A belated thank you, David.
The Specks Vol 1
| Shelley pretty much sums it up. |  The Specks Vol 1 Originally uploaded by Burningbird. |
QUICK! Get the to this conference. Web 1.0 Is Upon Us!
My God, I almost missed it again. I guess that's part of the allure of the Web 1.0 Conference. Retro is never out of style.
It's tomorrow, and I want to see every one of you in attendance and partying like it's 1998!
It's tomorrow, and I want to see every one of you in attendance and partying like it's 1998!
Mrs. Scoble Is Blogging!
Good stuff, good stuff! I only wonder how she managed to stay away from the party this long. Maybe was all of those long evenings watching Robert's brain nearly explode after dealing with some pissy commentor that has kept Myriam away until now. Anyway, it's always good to have the better half online. Well, maybe always good is an overstatement. Actually, yes, Robert, this could serve to add to your stress quotient. Nonetheless, WEEE!Boy the way Glen Miller played
Songs that made the hit parade.
Guys like us we had it made,
Those were the days.
And you knew who you were then,
Girls were girls and men were men,
Mister we could use a man Like Herbert Hoover again.
Didn't need no welfare state,
Everybody pulled his weight.
Gee our old LaSalle ran great.
Those were the days.
October 03, 2005
I haven't been paying attention
Because I've been mourning the passing of that stellar scientist below, leader among leaders, pharmacologist among pharmacologists, man among men.
In other news, george sent me this link to a compfused clip, definitely not work safe folks, unless you use headphones, and so this has prolly been all around the internets, but I laughed out loud, and if I laughed out loud, then damnit, there is a chance you too will laugh out loud.
And most days, we can't ask for much more than that.
I introduce you to America's Biggest Dick.
thanks al.
In other news, george sent me this link to a compfused clip, definitely not work safe folks, unless you use headphones, and so this has prolly been all around the internets, but I laughed out loud, and if I laughed out loud, then damnit, there is a chance you too will laugh out loud.
And most days, we can't ask for much more than that.
I introduce you to America's Biggest Dick.
thanks al.
October 01, 2005
If you will...
A moment of silence.
Sternbach, the inventor of a revolutionary new class of tranquilizers that included Valium, one of the first blockbuster "lifestyle" drugs, has died at his home in North Carolina. He was 97. Sternbach, an award-winning chemist who helped the Swiss dr
ug conglomerate Roche Group build its U.S. headquarters in Nutley, New Jersey, after fleeing the Nazis during World War II, died in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, after a short illness late Wednesday.
They Look So Happy.
Sternbach, the inventor of a revolutionary new class of tranquilizers that included Valium, one of the first blockbuster "lifestyle" drugs, has died at his home in North Carolina. He was 97. Sternbach, an award-winning chemist who helped the Swiss dr
ug conglomerate Roche Group build its U.S. headquarters in Nutley, New Jersey, after fleeing the Nazis during World War II, died in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, after a short illness late Wednesday.They Look So Happy.
September 30, 2005
JENNA TURNS 8 -- BLOGAPALOOZA!
It was a big week at our house. BIGGER because of you. Because of "the bloggers!" as you are known to our little lot of three.It was a big week because Jenna's 8th birthday was marked with box after box arriving from Amazon not just holding the coolest of the cool presents, but also the most amazing show of hey kid, we know you long time and we think you're pretty cool, and lots of things matter to the people you're gonna run in to day in and day out, but us guys, we we're here to say you're special. We're representin' for who can and who can't send, and we want you to know that we think you are pretty cool and your mom is pretty neat and your dad is too, in fact your whole family is a lot more interesting than you'd imagine at your age--except what about those hamsters kid, you really have to keep a lid on that Coco because she's turning your mom grayer than she was with all this escaping and pooping under the Kitchen stove. Can we work on that between now and 9? What do you say?
That's kind of how we imagine you all talk. And we imagine you all the time.
Except for those of you whom we've met. You have real names and faces and hotels that we think you live in all the time.Some of you do live in hotels a lot. We like hotels. A lot. But most of all, we LOVED our eighth blogapalooza birthday and we'll be sending along thanks in other ways, but it seemed only nautral to say thanks here and KISS AND HUG YOU ALL and when are we going to have a party in person is what jenna would like to know? Because you can never have too many parties.
JENNA TURNS 8!!!!
Every grown up brings with them a suitcase from their own childhood full of monsters and silver coins, of tauntings and toy trains, of dread and dreams, the weighty and the lofty, and no matter how long or hard I sit on that suitcase, it pops open sometimes and I show my child who i really am, or who i once was, it's still a mixed bag and mostly i don't know.Sometimes I think that's a good thing, the showing, but other times I wish I could keep it from happening, because I don't want the junk inside of my suitcase to spill into hers. I want her suitcase to stay light and easy, a clean cloth liner with a flower pattern, plenty of side pockets filled with cotton candy and washable markers. I want the demons and claws to stay locked in my samsonite. it's not always hard to keep them contained. Some days it's near impossible though.
And that's what being a mother is I think--the half showing your child who you are and half protecting them from who you're not.
Today I watch my little girl growing and growing and growing and growing and I can't believe she was ever small enough to have been cut from my belly with a knife. And I remember the milisecond I saw her and thought, it can't be, she's okay, oh, oh, look, she's alive, this is it, I have a daughter, oh, oh, my god, am i okay, this is it, i am a mother, i can never ever go back, no return, what am i supposed to be feeling, i'm so cold, she's so small.
There is at once the singular, languishing, lasting moment of childbirth, and life fast forwards from there.Tonight we had a party at Chuck-E-Cheese. It is a place of sensory overload and kinetic mania, but that's okay. It's also a place of startling supply chain efficiency. Workflow, family flow, present flow, pizza flow, dance flow, tokens flow, prizes flow -- it is business process perfection in search of a visio diagram.
Tonight we played like kids with the kids and clapped to song ripoffs that don't deserve the air that absorbs them. Except for the smiles so big that nothing else matters--just the smiles and smiles and smiles and smiles and smiles--miles of them.
I love my sweet Jenna so much.
Morality is a tricky thing too
They're at it again, and thank goodness, someone is watching them, 'cause I didn't hear any of this. Read Tony on republicans thoughts on aborting black babies to reduce crime and on the Klan's race-sensitive bylaws.
I wonder if aborting partially black babies would affect Mr. Bennett's race-to-murder ratio? My partially black baby turns 8 today. Fuck you, Bubba Bennett.
I wonder if aborting partially black babies would affect Mr. Bennett's race-to-murder ratio? My partially black baby turns 8 today. Fuck you, Bubba Bennett.
[[Bennet says]] racism is a tricky thing, he's right. you have to open your mouth, stick your foot in there, and shove it deep down your throat while singling out one minority race to unjustly stereotype in a negative, and oftentimes, violent way.
September 29, 2005
Well if there's one guy who can speak for all non-profits...
It'd have to be RB. In fact, if you've been around the internets the last couple of years, you might know him as Mr. Non Profit. How fitting then his latest endeavor.
Check out what he's up to with Net Squared -- a community for the non-profit web -- the offspring of CompuMentor, TechSoup, and some smart folks Chris describes thusly (URL for smart folks - http://www.netsquared.org/about/team):
Check out what he's up to with Net Squared -- a community for the non-profit web -- the offspring of CompuMentor, TechSoup, and some smart folks Chris describes thusly (URL for smart folks - http://www.netsquared.org/about/team):
If you're warming to the idea of helping to grow web-based nonprofit communities, you could do worse than to check the links in the bios for Marnie Webb and Alexandra Samuel, a couple of very cool people who know their way around tech and social networking. I'm learning a lot from them. There's also a bio for Christopher Locke, but it's the same old self-serving crap you've already heard ad nauseam. Safe to skip over that one. This thing really is quite exciting, though, and it's just now lifting off. Please do come around and kick the tires. Sign up, subscribe to the blog, like that. For, as the beatles once said (not quite true yet, but it could happen): It's a thousand pages, give or take a few, I'll be writing more in a week or two.ZOUNDS! Did he say he's learning? And what's more, he appears to be the chief blogging spokesperson (CBS) for the site. How brave (or unsuspecting) these non-profits are:
I just wanted to set your mind at ease from the outset that you're in good hands here. Knowledgeable. Been around the block. Self-starter. Management material. Yup, that's me. Pleased ta meetcha.Oh my.
September 28, 2005
Shelley On A Mission
Shelley's about to be deployed by the American Red Cross to places and peoples unknown who really need the help. I'm proud to know Shelley and proud to be somehow ushering her off--if only via these little tiny pixels in a box--on her unfolding journey. She did mention that she had a bit of fear about running out of underwear. Perhaps we should take up a collection?
The great thing about Shelley's post is that in all my readings, surfings, callings, and even my two days at a Red Cross shelter here before it closed, No One, But No One, explained how this relief effort stuff works like shelley has in her post.
Go fight the good fight, Shelley. We look forward to getting you back safe and sound--and with clean underwear.
The great thing about Shelley's post is that in all my readings, surfings, callings, and even my two days at a Red Cross shelter here before it closed, No One, But No One, explained how this relief effort stuff works like shelley has in her post.
Go fight the good fight, Shelley. We look forward to getting you back safe and sound--and with clean underwear.
What a bunch you are
Thanks to Uncle Rage blogging Jenna's upcoming birthday, kinda like he did when she was 4 turning 5, a bunch of you have responded with packages, and let me just say in advance of the pending big day -- which is friday -- THANK YOU!!! She is BEAMING, she is freaking, she is celebrating this day and year, and she is remembering the time she still talks about when she was five, and she cannot believe she is seeing it come around again some 3 years later. It's magic. It's "the bloggers." It's the thing she tells her class about that they don't understand; It's a thing that she will tell her kids about that they will understand.
Funny thing is, and this didn't occur to me when I linked to her wish list, or when RB said he was going to -- being that I've been around here for a long time and so has my kid (blogging half her life) -- that some people would see RB's post as unseemly, greedy, nasty, or even as someone said in email, "Disgusting."
Yes, a real live person said that, one who apparently works in marketing for a living. I better never run into this person. Does everyone understand that?
I'll say it again in case that person visits here. I better never run into this person.
The simple fact is, and you know it if you get what's going on here, is that NO ONE can hijack joy away from this place, that no one has that permission, at least not while some of us are here. You can professionalize, you can sensationalize, you can rationalize, you can sanitize but you cannot remove this medium's ability to evoke childlike joy. Not as long as I'm still around.
I bet this person has never, not once, cried for a fellow blogger, probably hasn't talked to one on a phone, or had their kid ride a hotel elevator up and down and up and down with a blogger, or shown other bloggers' kids pictures to her kid on flickr, or told anyone about the great artist known as Pippa that the world awaits, or has never been on the toilet while talking about blogging, or has never lost sleep over a post, or worried when another blogger doesn't post, or doesn't show up when or where you were expecting them to be.
But the other ones of you, those of you who sent and who didn't send, who come here regardless, who know me, who see me here, who understand what I did when I showed you our baby girl five years ago, what I did when I showed you me, all of us, you understand what it's about and what it's not about. What you see shimmering is me seeing you. What a bunch you are.
Funny thing is, and this didn't occur to me when I linked to her wish list, or when RB said he was going to -- being that I've been around here for a long time and so has my kid (blogging half her life) -- that some people would see RB's post as unseemly, greedy, nasty, or even as someone said in email, "Disgusting."
Yes, a real live person said that, one who apparently works in marketing for a living. I better never run into this person. Does everyone understand that?
I'll say it again in case that person visits here. I better never run into this person.
The simple fact is, and you know it if you get what's going on here, is that NO ONE can hijack joy away from this place, that no one has that permission, at least not while some of us are here. You can professionalize, you can sensationalize, you can rationalize, you can sanitize but you cannot remove this medium's ability to evoke childlike joy. Not as long as I'm still around.
I bet this person has never, not once, cried for a fellow blogger, probably hasn't talked to one on a phone, or had their kid ride a hotel elevator up and down and up and down with a blogger, or shown other bloggers' kids pictures to her kid on flickr, or told anyone about the great artist known as Pippa that the world awaits, or has never been on the toilet while talking about blogging, or has never lost sleep over a post, or worried when another blogger doesn't post, or doesn't show up when or where you were expecting them to be.
But the other ones of you, those of you who sent and who didn't send, who come here regardless, who know me, who see me here, who understand what I did when I showed you our baby girl five years ago, what I did when I showed you me, all of us, you understand what it's about and what it's not about. What you see shimmering is me seeing you. What a bunch you are.
September 27, 2005
The Bad Teeth Economy
Here's my theory. America is setting itself up to be a nation of people with crappy smiles, as George Bush has ushered in the bad teeth economy.
Here's what I mean. Used to be people worked for companies for many years, and they valued their precious benefits, among which, especially in the established companies that everyone wanted to grow up and work for, included dental benefits.
Then came the dot-com rush, and the talent war was on, and nimble companies pulled benefits out of their tushies in order to get people to come to work for them. Dental was a given. A new car was a deal maker.
Then came the bust, and the aftermath of layoffs which have left many folks who once worked for those old established companies 20 years ago, and the newer dot-com refugees, SOL in terms of benefits. The young refugees and the old folks and the people who'd been through both economies -- lots of us who had work done back when we had all the free dental work we could swallow -- struck out on their own. Maybe not penniless, but beniless.
So, we bite bullet and get health insurance on our own, with premiums for $1,000-deductible plans now over $700 a month for a family. And that doesn't include dental.
So we let go what we have to let go. Our teeth. And we make due. And we're glad if we can just make our health insurance premiums every month. And those of us who once wouldn't be seen without perfect enamel and every six month cleanings smile a little less often these days.
And the smart ones watch out for caramel candies--because they can do a number on crownes, which can run $1,000 or more each.
Out of pocket.
In our beniless, bad teeth economy.
Here's what I mean. Used to be people worked for companies for many years, and they valued their precious benefits, among which, especially in the established companies that everyone wanted to grow up and work for, included dental benefits.
Then came the dot-com rush, and the talent war was on, and nimble companies pulled benefits out of their tushies in order to get people to come to work for them. Dental was a given. A new car was a deal maker.
Then came the bust, and the aftermath of layoffs which have left many folks who once worked for those old established companies 20 years ago, and the newer dot-com refugees, SOL in terms of benefits. The young refugees and the old folks and the people who'd been through both economies -- lots of us who had work done back when we had all the free dental work we could swallow -- struck out on their own. Maybe not penniless, but beniless.
So, we bite bullet and get health insurance on our own, with premiums for $1,000-deductible plans now over $700 a month for a family. And that doesn't include dental.
So we let go what we have to let go. Our teeth. And we make due. And we're glad if we can just make our health insurance premiums every month. And those of us who once wouldn't be seen without perfect enamel and every six month cleanings smile a little less often these days.
And the smart ones watch out for caramel candies--because they can do a number on crownes, which can run $1,000 or more each.
Out of pocket.
In our beniless, bad teeth economy.
Did I Mention...
The dentist who put the crown on my molar 8 months ago wants to charge $83 to put it back on?
Is that fair? I mean, what's his incentive to use good cement if he can collect another $80 and change if it gives out?
If it's not one thing, it's a hamster.
Is that fair? I mean, what's his incentive to use good cement if he can collect another $80 and change if it gives out?
If it's not one thing, it's a hamster.
Why Crazy Glue Might Work Better
I got a tooth crowned last November. It wasn't fun. I didn't like it at all. The root canal was much worse than the crowne though. Do they spell it with an "e"? I'm thinking so. You pay more money for things that end in "e".
It's almost paid off. Are we proud of me?
Today I'm sitting in a client meeting (Hi Guys!), chewing on a milky way mini-bite, and something starts to not taste/feel like nugut, or caramel, or chocolate, and I realize it's my tooth, or my prosthetic tooth better known as my expensive crowne.
I had already slipped it into my purse when I decided the right thing to do was to fess up and show it off. So I did. Is that gross? Bad client etiquette? I'm thinking that's standard operating procedure, but I admit my boundaries are fuzzy these days.
But HERE's where the story gets interesting. Are you ready? The strange thing is, I was sitting next to a woman whom, just two days prior, was sitting with my business partner at lunch when HIS crown came off.
Same woman. Two days. Two crowns.
That's just spooky.
That is way far away from being right.
It's almost paid off. Are we proud of me?
Today I'm sitting in a client meeting (Hi Guys!), chewing on a milky way mini-bite, and something starts to not taste/feel like nugut, or caramel, or chocolate, and I realize it's my tooth, or my prosthetic tooth better known as my expensive crowne.
I had already slipped it into my purse when I decided the right thing to do was to fess up and show it off. So I did. Is that gross? Bad client etiquette? I'm thinking that's standard operating procedure, but I admit my boundaries are fuzzy these days.
But HERE's where the story gets interesting. Are you ready? The strange thing is, I was sitting next to a woman whom, just two days prior, was sitting with my business partner at lunch when HIS crown came off.
Same woman. Two days. Two crowns.
That's just spooky.
That is way far away from being right.
If It's Not One Thing It's a Hamster
As I hinted at below, Coco has escaped, again. She has learned yet another means to freedom. Once she stopped trying to chew through the six intricately-braided bread twisties George used to fasten her front door, meaning that I have to now remove her water bottle to feed her by dumping the pellets and seeds in the hole at the top, she began looking for another way out.
Well she's gotten better than ever at dislodging the little petting box at the top of the cage where she sleeps. Now she can pop the top, which she did twice the other day, the second time during which she disappeared.
I came home today and George said he had seen her come out from under the stove 3 times. One time he even tried to catch her, but then backed off. He doesn't have a fondness for getting bitten, even though I assure him she doesn't bite. Never mind.
The point is, once again, she's eating well from the scraps the ants have missed - AKA crapping at will throughout my house.
And that's not even the bad hamster news.
The bad hamster news has to do with an idea I had after I spent TWO HOURS with George cleaning and scouring three hamster cages (one for the mom, one for the dad, one for the two brothers). The idea was, BOYS SHOULD BE ABLE TO LIVE TOGETHER. So I put the dad hamster in with the two brothers. In a big cage. With two food dishes. And two wheels to run on.
What's to fight about?
How happy was I to have one less cage to clean.
We thought they were going to make it. Then the noise started--a horrible grunting and gnashing noise that had me dropping the dust cloth and running back into the living room, lickety quick like Mayor Nagin says, and the first thing I see is the blood coloring their blonde hair AND the white wire cage I had just spent a half hour bleaching.
The dad and one of the boys were going at it.
Somehow, don't ask me how, I scooped the dad hamster up with a piece of wood--don't get that hamster blood on me!--and put him back in his cage.
That's when I noticed how bad brown-head (that's what we call the baby hamster we don't call Runt.) looked. If you've never seen blood dripping from the mouth of a hamster, well we can have lunch and talk about it. Because it's a pathetic scene.
GEORGE!
I called George down, and we watched brown-head for a while. He looked like he was in shock, just curled up in the corner until he got up and started walking towards us.
He got to his food dish in time to swirl his little hamster tongue around and spit out his tooth.
That's right, his tooth.
"Holy crap--George, how many teeth do hamsters have? I mean, is this bad?"
"That old man knocked his boy's tooth out," he said in a state of marvel. "Look at that. Knocked his tooth out."
Today brown-head is doing much better. I haven't been around enough to see if he's able to eat with one of his front teeth gone, but he can still use his hamster wheel just fine.
The Dad? He's back in his luxurious landscaped cage, solo, just how he likes it.
The moral of the story: Don't get any frigging hamsters if you can help it.
Well she's gotten better than ever at dislodging the little petting box at the top of the cage where she sleeps. Now she can pop the top, which she did twice the other day, the second time during which she disappeared.
I came home today and George said he had seen her come out from under the stove 3 times. One time he even tried to catch her, but then backed off. He doesn't have a fondness for getting bitten, even though I assure him she doesn't bite. Never mind.
The point is, once again, she's eating well from the scraps the ants have missed - AKA crapping at will throughout my house.
And that's not even the bad hamster news.
The bad hamster news has to do with an idea I had after I spent TWO HOURS with George cleaning and scouring three hamster cages (one for the mom, one for the dad, one for the two brothers). The idea was, BOYS SHOULD BE ABLE TO LIVE TOGETHER. So I put the dad hamster in with the two brothers. In a big cage. With two food dishes. And two wheels to run on.
What's to fight about?
How happy was I to have one less cage to clean.
We thought they were going to make it. Then the noise started--a horrible grunting and gnashing noise that had me dropping the dust cloth and running back into the living room, lickety quick like Mayor Nagin says, and the first thing I see is the blood coloring their blonde hair AND the white wire cage I had just spent a half hour bleaching.
The dad and one of the boys were going at it.
Somehow, don't ask me how, I scooped the dad hamster up with a piece of wood--don't get that hamster blood on me!--and put him back in his cage.
That's when I noticed how bad brown-head (that's what we call the baby hamster we don't call Runt.) looked. If you've never seen blood dripping from the mouth of a hamster, well we can have lunch and talk about it. Because it's a pathetic scene.
GEORGE!
I called George down, and we watched brown-head for a while. He looked like he was in shock, just curled up in the corner until he got up and started walking towards us.
He got to his food dish in time to swirl his little hamster tongue around and spit out his tooth.
That's right, his tooth.
"Holy crap--George, how many teeth do hamsters have? I mean, is this bad?"
"That old man knocked his boy's tooth out," he said in a state of marvel. "Look at that. Knocked his tooth out."
Today brown-head is doing much better. I haven't been around enough to see if he's able to eat with one of his front teeth gone, but he can still use his hamster wheel just fine.
The Dad? He's back in his luxurious landscaped cage, solo, just how he likes it.
The moral of the story: Don't get any frigging hamsters if you can help it.
September 26, 2005
In my house it would be nose plugs shaped in the form of doggie biscuits...
Because our dog stinks so bad.
But you may have a better idea.
My friend just alerted me to this Idea Fetch contest for the pet-a-holic in your life. You have a chance to submit a product you've often wished you had for your little furry munchkin and if you're voted in as top "petpreneur" you get $40,000, plus your product (with your pet’s photo or yourself – you choose) on the shelf of every PETCO store in the U.S.
$40,000 for nose plugs? I'm in!
(Or, since Coco the hamster escaped AGAIN today, perhaps I might suggest one of those little ankle bracelets they put on Brat Camp participants to keep track of them when they attempt the prime-time get away. Do they make those in hamster size "M"?)
Anyway, I pass it along. All part of the service.
But you may have a better idea.
My friend just alerted me to this Idea Fetch contest for the pet-a-holic in your life. You have a chance to submit a product you've often wished you had for your little furry munchkin and if you're voted in as top "petpreneur" you get $40,000, plus your product (with your pet’s photo or yourself – you choose) on the shelf of every PETCO store in the U.S.
$40,000 for nose plugs? I'm in!
(Or, since Coco the hamster escaped AGAIN today, perhaps I might suggest one of those little ankle bracelets they put on Brat Camp participants to keep track of them when they attempt the prime-time get away. Do they make those in hamster size "M"?)
Anyway, I pass it along. All part of the service.
happy happy happy all the time
Don't Go Rockin' My Boat [audio]
Huh, please don't you rock my boat
'Cause I don't want my boat to be rockin' anyhow
Please don't you rock my boat, no
'Cause I don't want my boat to be rockin'
I'm tellin' you that, oh, ooh-aah, I like it a-like a-this
Can you miss?
And you should know, ooh-aah, when I like it a-like a-this
Am I really it? Ooh yeah
You satis- satis- satisfy my soul, morning time
Evening cold, -fy my soul
Yes, I've been a-tellin' you, bake me the sweetest cakes
I'm happy inside all the time
Oh, can't you see what you've done for me? Yeah
You make me feel like when we bend them new corners
We feel like sweepstake winners, yeah
When we bend them new corners
We feel like sweepstake winners
And I said, oh, ooh-aah, I like it a-like a-this
Yes, I do
And you should know, ooh-aah, when I like it a-like a-this
I've got it, just can't miss, ooh
Satis- satisfy my soul, darlin'
Make me love you in the morning time, yeah
If ever I treated you bad, make it up to me one time
'Cause I'm happy inside all the time
I want you beside me, yeah, to be mine
One thing you've got to do, is when a-we holding hands together
You've got to know that we love, a-love each other, yeah
And if every time you should walk away from me now
Uh, you'll now I need your sympathy, yeah
Can you see? Do you believe me?
Oh, darlin', darlin', I'm callin', callin'
Satisfy my soul, satisfy my soul
Never, never, never give it up now
All in the same boat
Rockin' on the same route
We gotta get together, join each other
And can't you see what I've got for you? Yeah
I'm happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, and not you can turn me blue now
Come a little closer, satisfy my ...
Huh, please don't you rock my boat
'Cause I don't want my boat to be rockin' anyhow
Please don't you rock my boat, no
'Cause I don't want my boat to be rockin'
I'm tellin' you that, oh, ooh-aah, I like it a-like a-this
Can you miss?
And you should know, ooh-aah, when I like it a-like a-this
Am I really it? Ooh yeah
You satis- satis- satisfy my soul, morning time
Evening cold, -fy my soul
Yes, I've been a-tellin' you, bake me the sweetest cakes
I'm happy inside all the time
Oh, can't you see what you've done for me? Yeah
You make me feel like when we bend them new corners
We feel like sweepstake winners, yeah
When we bend them new corners
We feel like sweepstake winners
And I said, oh, ooh-aah, I like it a-like a-this
Yes, I do
And you should know, ooh-aah, when I like it a-like a-this
I've got it, just can't miss, ooh
Satis- satisfy my soul, darlin'
Make me love you in the morning time, yeah
If ever I treated you bad, make it up to me one time
'Cause I'm happy inside all the time
I want you beside me, yeah, to be mine
One thing you've got to do, is when a-we holding hands together
You've got to know that we love, a-love each other, yeah
And if every time you should walk away from me now
Uh, you'll now I need your sympathy, yeah
Can you see? Do you believe me?
Oh, darlin', darlin', I'm callin', callin'
Satisfy my soul, satisfy my soul
Never, never, never give it up now
All in the same boat
Rockin' on the same route
We gotta get together, join each other
And can't you see what I've got for you? Yeah
I'm happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, and not you can turn me blue now
Come a little closer, satisfy my ...
September 25, 2005
It's still about search
I love google, example #204.
George told me a few years back about seeing this 8-year-old drum prodigy they were showing off at the music store and then he started seeing more and more of him over the years, but I never knew who he was talking about til I searched on drum prodigy and found his site, and sure enough, there's the Isaiah Williams Project, with Isaiah now about 13. His playing is beautiful at any age.
Enjoy the mpegs.
Jenna just finished watching them. Her daddy is adding Isaiah to his list of husband candidates. (Look out Gabe!)
George told me a few years back about seeing this 8-year-old drum prodigy they were showing off at the music store and then he started seeing more and more of him over the years, but I never knew who he was talking about til I searched on drum prodigy and found his site, and sure enough, there's the Isaiah Williams Project, with Isaiah now about 13. His playing is beautiful at any age.
Enjoy the mpegs.
Jenna just finished watching them. Her daddy is adding Isaiah to his list of husband candidates. (Look out Gabe!)
haliburton watch
hadn't seen this.
In 1 year, Halliburton's stock doubles as troop deaths double
20 Sept. 2005
WASHINGTON, Sept. 20 (HalliburtonWatch.org) -- Since the beginning of the Iraq war, Halliburton, the Texas energy giant once headed by Vice President Dick Cheney, has seen its stock price more than triple in value. When the U.S invaded Iraq in March of 2003, Halliburton's stock was selling for $20 per share. The stock price at the close of market activity on Monday was $66. In the last 12 months, the total number of U.S. service members killed in Iraq almost doubled as Halliburton's stock doubled. Halliburton's stock rose from $33 per share in September 2004 to $66 yesterday while U.S. deaths in Iraq increased from 1,061 to almost 1900. Three graphs at this link starkly depict the dramatically similar rise of Halliburton's stock price, revenue and U.S. soldiers killed during the past thirty months of war in Iraq.
Halliburton's CEO also enjoyed an incredible personal gain from Iraq and the commensurate rise in gasoline prices. A HalliburtonWatch analysis reveals that CEO David Lesar's stock holdings in Halliburton increased by a stunning $78 million since the Iraq invasion. As U.S. citizens march on Washington this weekend to protest the 30-month anniversary of the war, a recent poll shows 52 percent of Americans want an "immediate" withdrawal of all U.S. troops from Iraq.
The big money Halliburton has made from the war, along with the widespread belief that the Bush administration lied about Saddam Hussein's purported weapons of mass destruction, has helped fuel public sentiment supporting the immediate withdrawal of troops from Iraq.
Polls show a majority of Americans do not think the war is worth the cost in lives and taxpayers' money. Halliburton has been the focus of heated criticism from members of Congress and even the Bush administration over its handling of war contracts. Pentagon auditors have issued at least nine reports slamming the company's inept and possibly fraudulent accounting system for work in Iraq. In September 2004, the U.S. military called for the immediate termination of Halliburton's most lucrative contract with the Army because of poor performance. Additionally, in January, the U.S. embassy in Iraq threatened to terminate Halliburton's contracts because of poor performance. However, both recommendations were ignored by President George W. Bush.
In 1 year, Halliburton's stock doubles as troop deaths double
20 Sept. 2005
WASHINGTON, Sept. 20 (HalliburtonWatch.org) -- Since the beginning of the Iraq war, Halliburton, the Texas energy giant once headed by Vice President Dick Cheney, has seen its stock price more than triple in value. When the U.S invaded Iraq in March of 2003, Halliburton's stock was selling for $20 per share. The stock price at the close of market activity on Monday was $66. In the last 12 months, the total number of U.S. service members killed in Iraq almost doubled as Halliburton's stock doubled. Halliburton's stock rose from $33 per share in September 2004 to $66 yesterday while U.S. deaths in Iraq increased from 1,061 to almost 1900. Three graphs at this link starkly depict the dramatically similar rise of Halliburton's stock price, revenue and U.S. soldiers killed during the past thirty months of war in Iraq.
Halliburton's CEO also enjoyed an incredible personal gain from Iraq and the commensurate rise in gasoline prices. A HalliburtonWatch analysis reveals that CEO David Lesar's stock holdings in Halliburton increased by a stunning $78 million since the Iraq invasion. As U.S. citizens march on Washington this weekend to protest the 30-month anniversary of the war, a recent poll shows 52 percent of Americans want an "immediate" withdrawal of all U.S. troops from Iraq.
The big money Halliburton has made from the war, along with the widespread belief that the Bush administration lied about Saddam Hussein's purported weapons of mass destruction, has helped fuel public sentiment supporting the immediate withdrawal of troops from Iraq.
Polls show a majority of Americans do not think the war is worth the cost in lives and taxpayers' money. Halliburton has been the focus of heated criticism from members of Congress and even the Bush administration over its handling of war contracts. Pentagon auditors have issued at least nine reports slamming the company's inept and possibly fraudulent accounting system for work in Iraq. In September 2004, the U.S. military called for the immediate termination of Halliburton's most lucrative contract with the Army because of poor performance. Additionally, in January, the U.S. embassy in Iraq threatened to terminate Halliburton's contracts because of poor performance. However, both recommendations were ignored by President George W. Bush.
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