Back to the future

Joe Sherlock, at his entertaining car-oriented blog The View Through the Windshield, has a crack at James Lileks' question on what you would take to wow the natives if you could travel back to 1950.

Joe's answer is the same as mine: a car. He says he would take a 1990 Nissan 300ZX Turbo. I would probably take a new 'Vette, but his choice's point of manufacture does hold out the potential for some additional hilarity.

Touch it

Nintendo DS touch screen + dictionary software + ignorance of English slang = Touch Dic.

(Thanks to Gizmodo for the link.)

Head of state or exotic flower?

The prime minister of Samoa is named Tuilaepa Sailele Malielegaoi.

That is all.

Links are good

One popular view among blogs and online media in general is that the traditional newspaper is going the way of the dodo.

A decade ago, so the reasoning goes, almost all readers of news had to rely on their local papers.

But now, the explosion of online media, most recently blogs, has meant that you can get news and commentary from anywhere, at any time.

Sure you might check your local paper for the game scores or the latest local scandal, but if you want news from, say, Darfur, you're not going to turn to wacogazetteherald.com for the latest.

The inevitable decline in readership and loyalty is supposed to make it very tough for local newspapers to survive.

But I think there might be more to it than that.

A big thing blogs have done is provide commentary on reporting by the mainstream media. Of course there is the fact-checking of asses and the occassional original reporting. But the reason-to-be (as the French say) for many blogs is to point out and comment on interesting or flawed articles from various newspapers and publications.

And what do blogs do when they comment? They link.

So it struck me that maybe blogs will end up helping traditional media by boosting traffic and providing more eyeballs to view online ads. I mean, I would never have any reason to vist the Rocky Mountain Herald's Web site on my own. But if I see a link and pithy comments on Instapundit, or even Sex's blog, I will.

Anyway, I was having these thoughts a few days ago but sort of let them slide because I didn't really have the energy to follow them up.

Then I see this piece on Clive Thomspon's insanely excellent Collision Detection where someone has come up with a metric -- "links per thousand copies of circulation" -- to measure a publication's online influence.

The examples given are The Wall Street Journal, which hides all its content behind a subscription wall, and The Christian Science Monitor, which has a tiny paper circulation but offers its content online for free.

The result is that CSM is one of the most-linked to papers, while the WSJ is among the lowest.

As Clive says:

I love it -- the Journal's rating is 337 times smaller than the Monitor's! Of course, there's no doubt that the Journal is still a much more influential paper, though given these numbers, I wouldn't be surprised if its closed-down gamble eventually blows up in its face. If online advertising continues to grow, the Monitor could wind becoming unduly profitable for its size, while the Journal goes in precisely the opposite direction.

This kind of fleshes out my hunch that blogs and links will turn out to actually be good for smaller newspapers.

Bad Dad

Last Friday I came home in a foul mood. After putting the tot to bed I wanted to veg out, maybe with a video game. But nothing in my library grabbed my goat.

I was a little sick of "Doom 3", especially those damn skeletons with their exasperating shoulder-mounted rocket launchers.

I've been stuck on a "Far Cry" boss level for ages, and I didn't want to play that a dozen times to get past it.

Football season is over, so "ESPN 2K4" didn't do it for me. It's baseball season, but I've been waiting for a friend to free up one of these evenings so we can go head to head on "MVP 2004".

Then I saw "Grand Theft Auto: Vice City". I'd picked it up along with "Grand Theft Auto 3" as part of the Xbox double-pack about a year ago.

Initially my goal was to play all the way through "GTA 3" but I've been stuck on a mission about 70 percent of the way through the game. At the rate I work through these things, I'd get to "Vice City" about the time of the 2008 presidential elections.

So I fired it up, quickly jacked a car, and started cruising through this 1980s Miami recreation. My mood was still foul though.

And then I hit someone on a motorcycle, sending them screaming through the air, and broke out into an involuntary smile.

Ah the cathartic effects of criminal adventure games.

I have to say, however, that "Vice City" cranks the violence up a notch from "GTA3".

In one of the earliest missions, you are sent to kill someone.

With a chainsaw.

Over the weekend, I popped it in real quick while the kid was taking a bath. He came out early and saw me playing -- just driving around as it turned out, but he of course wanted to drive.

He's played driving games before so I figure I'd let him roam around and just keep quiet about the fact that you can run down little old ladies.

In fact, I turned "Vice City" into a unique tool for teaching proper social behavior. I instructed him not to hit any other cars, and that it was a big no no to hit other people. He was doing real well, a regular model citizen.

Then the phone rang.

I was on the horn for maybe 30 seconds, max, and when I turn my attention back to the kid, he's run over several people, has crashed the car, gotten out, and is repeatedly kicking a prone person lying in a pool of bright red blood.

"I crashed, Daddy!" he said.

Jeebus Crispus, yes, you have. Now gimme that controller.

Why yes, this does in fact make me the worst father on the planet.

I would like to reassure all mothers and social workers reading this that "Vice City" will be staying up on the high shelf while the kid is awake from now on.

Amazon word games

Amazon continues to roll out neat little features based on analysis of book texts.

When you view a page for a particular book on Amazon, if you roll the cursor over the image of the book, you get that little window that lets you search the text. It

But now they have two new features, called "concordance" and "text stats".

Concordance shows you the top 100 most frequently used words in a book (after ones like "and" or "the"). The more often a word appears, the larget its font is on the page. If you move the cursor over it, it shows you how many times that word appeared. If you click on it, you can see each occurance in the book.

Text stats is a little more interesting. It has four categories of information: Readability, Complexity, Number of, and Fun Stats.

The Readability section gives you three different measures for how readable a book is, i.e. what level of education is generally required to comfortably read that book.

Complexity tells you the number of complex words (defined as three syllables or more), average syllables per word, and average words per sentence.

Number of gives you basic data like the number of characters, words and sentences in the book.

And Fun Stats tell you how many words you get per dollar or ounce of that edition.

All this could be useful in determining whether a certain book is suitable for a younger reader, like that nephew who lives across the country whose birthday is coming up.

It's also just sort of fun to compare books. Like Sister Alice versus Ideas.

Take Ideas. A hundred pages into this thing and my main impression was that it read much like a college textbook. Sure enough, according to Amazon, the book as a Flesch Index readibility level of 31.1, right near the range (0-30) at which a college degree is required to understand the text.

Furthermore, 21 percent of the text consists of complex words. There are 24.7 words per sentence, and nearly 5,300 sentences.

On the other hand, Sister Alice has a Flesch Index of 65.1 and has a complex words content of 11 percent. In contrast to Ideas, it has more than 8,800 sentences despite containing about 25 percent fewer words (105,000 versus 130,000).

Now obviously the two books can't really be compared since one is a book about big ideas like democracy (four syllables right there) and capitalism (another four) while one is a mass market sci-fi novel, albeit one that is more thoughtful than most.

Anyway, I'm not sure if this stuff is actually useful in helping people to make book buying decisions, but it is a pretty good way to waste some time and linger on the Amazon site.

Coffee Monday

The latest Coffee Monday is up at Chin Music Press.

It's really good, too, so you should definitely check it out.

If you like it, leave a nice comment for Dave to build his self-esteem. Lord knows its not easy being him.

Books

After struggling for more than a week to stay awake through The Ideas That Conquered the World, I finally put it back on the shelf and pulled down Sister Alice by Robert Reed.

Yes, I've once again picked sci-fi over something substantial. Actually, Ideas was pretty illuminating, at least when I was able to pay attention. I think I just might have to take it in doses -- 100 pages a month or something.

Robert Reed, however, totally rocks.

I first read some of his short stories in Asimov's, the sci-fi magazine. He had several stories set millions of years in the future, when humans had evolved into near-gods, fighting brutal, epic battles that spanned the entire galaxy. Transhumanism with fangs.

Sister Alice is a novel set in that universe, and so far it promises to pack the same drama and stark writing as the short stories did.

Evil

I have seen the face of evil, and it is a nasty piece of spyware called InstaFinder.

I was looking for some live White Stripes tracks the other, and foolishly downloaded the free version of Kazaa to try a little P2P action.

I knew it came bundled with all kinds of adware and spyware now, but figured I'd just put up with it until I found what I wanted.

I actually didn't end up finding any White Stripes, but the pop-up ads from Gator were already starting to drive me nuts. I deleted Kazaa, and went through the Gator instructions for removing their pop-ups.

No problem there, but something is still lurking on my machine. Something called InstaFinder.

What this malicious little piece of code does is hijack your browser, redirecting it to an InstaFinder page that is a crappy little directory with links for things like cars, e-commerce, relationships, etc.

InstaFinder cannot be found in the Windows directory of installed programs. A search on Google suggests that it is hidden away as a .dll file. I followed some instructions on how to remove it, but they didn't work, so maybe InstaFinder has changed their filename.

This sends me into a rage everytime I see it.

Hulk smash puny InstaFinder!!!

Must... fight... urge...

Someone in my close proximity is drinking fresh coffee and it smells damn good.

I am very close to falling off the wagon here.

Charles Atlas where are you?

I was at the gym yesterday admiring my carefully sculpted form when this dude and his girlfriend come in. They were having a heated discussion in some funny language, maybe Spanish, except that it didn't sound like any Spanish I'd heard so maybed it was Portugese.

This guy is wearing a short-sleeved, collared shirt the color of those gold-brown couches everyone had in the 1970s. That's not really pertinent to the story except that it established him in my mind as a dork and someone who didn't know what he was doing in a gym.

Sure enough, he heads over to the shoulder pull machine and sets up for that rowing-style exercise in which you sit and pull the bar towards your chest like you're rowing a boat. He puts on like 30 pounds and does 10 quick reps. It's obvious that he wasn't close to actually working his muscles, and it appeared to confirm my suspcicion that he was one of those people who don't really know how to work out and who come to sit on an exercise bike without moving except to change the channels on the TV in front of them.

Then he goes over to the bench press machine. I see him start doing really fast reps, bam bam bam bam bam, and I think, "Right. That's easy when you put freaking 30 pounds on the machine". Then I notice something odd -- there aren't any weights left at the bottom of the stack when he presses up. It dawns on me that holy crap, this guy is benching the whole damn stack, at least 200 pounds. Although I don't lift to add bulk and get big, I have a fairly large frame, and I've never tried to do the whole stack of weights. I think I could maybe do one or two reps at 200 lbs. Maybe.

And the crazy thing is this guy did a good half-dozen sets like this before I left. He would finish, get up, and then yell at his girlfriend for a minute, smile, kiss her, do a bunch more 200-lb reps, and start all over again.

This guy was not ripped at all either, he was just freakishly strong.

New Charger: Hot or Not?

Hans Bricks has been up in arms over big, gas-guzzling cars recently, and the new Dodge Charger is his latest target.

Not only is Hans pissed that DaimlerChrysler is essentially tossing trunkloads of cash to terror-supporting Middle Eastern autocrats, but his commenters are ragging on the new beast as a betrayal to the original Charger from the '60s, an affordable two-door muscle car which boasted absolute gobs of power to run down little old ladies, after which it would use splinters of their bones to pick their flesh out its teeth.

I beg to differ on both counts.

First, the car itself.

I'm not going to debate the styling because that's something that you either like or you don't. Personally I love it. The grill leans forward, imparting a sense of speed to the car. The headlights are scrunched down in an angry scowl. The rear fenders are flared out like the haunches of a beast. Meanwhile, the window lines are straight and clean. This is one hell of a handsome machine.

The car comes with several engine options, but the one that matters for this discussion is the SRT8 option that squeezes 425 hp from the 6.1 liter Hemi. That's good enough for 0-60 in five seconds flat, putting it close to the Mustang GT and other sports cars. Pretty freaking good for a big four-door sedan.

Ah, that's where the problem lies for Mopar purists. A lot of people can't get over the fact that a Charger has four doors. It doesn't even give me pause. I judge the car on its own merits, not against some 35-year-old ideal. If you're still really disgusted by the doors, look at it this way: Detroit has a storied history of totally deballing some of the hottest cars in its stable. The Nova, the Impala, the Monte Carlo (hey, all Chevys. Hmmm) and even previous iterations of the Charger weren't fit to carry the jockstraps of their predecessors. If cars wore jockstraps, that is. Anyway, given that the heart of the new Charger is a kick-ass block of engine, it seems a bit shortsighted to nitpick over two extra doors.

Now for Hans' gripe, which is that Detroit continues to crank out cars that guzzle gas like Mean Joe Green guzzles Coke. The argument is compelling: these cars increase our demand for oil, we get most of our oil from the Middle East, the Middle East is primary funder and backer of terrorism targeting America, therefore we should switch to alternative fuels to starve these evil-doers of the cash to carry out their nefarious schemes. It's a nice plan, and we may even get there some day. But I don't think terrorism will shrivel up any time soon if GM would just start making dang hybrids.

First, hybrids are a cross-over technology. They are powered by both batteries and a conventional internal-combustion engine. They still need gasoline. And they may not even be the most efficient use of that gasoline. Many drivers of diesel VWs routinely claim better mileage than what you get out of the current generation of hybrids.

But let's set aside hybrids and say the auto makers should dive into fuel cells, which run on hydrogen and thus obviate the need to purchase Middle Eastern oil to power our automotive fleets. Let's also assume that technological difficulties (mainly extracting, transporting and storing hydrogen) prove unexpectedly easy to solve. Detroit is able to ramp up production of these marvels pretty quickly. How long would it be before enough H-powered cars are on U.S. roads to make a dent in our oil imports? I would guess at least 10 years, maybe 20.

That's not even considering the fact that the U.S. is but one slice of the auto market. The biggest one, for sure, but what about Japan, Germany and China? Unless they get on board with this grand hydrogen plan, there are still going to be major amounts of cash flowing to the Middle East.

The U.S. burns about 20 million barrels of oil a day. About 3/4 of that is imported. Our passenger cars account for something like half of total consumption. The other half goes to things like trucking, aviation, shipping and power consumption, things which I think would take a lot longer to switch over to hydrogen, if it was even possible at all. Even if all our passenger cars ran off of imported oil and we were able to convert them all to hydrogen, that would still leave us importing about 5 million barrels a day, a bit under what Japan's imports are today.

It might be more effective to simply diversify our imports. Russia has become a major player, though it sells overwhelmingly to Europe. Interestingly, Canada has been exporting more oil to us, and recent projects to tap their tar sands could be really exciting. Our neighbor to the north (Hi Mayor!) has more than trillion barrels of black gold locked up in these tar sands. A few years ago, when oil was at $10 a barrel, it didn't make sense to tap that stuff. The equation obviously changes when we're looking at $50 a barrel.

Incidentally, part of the problem with alternative energy cars right now is that they are boring as shit. I have absolutely zero interest in driving a Prius. The thing looks like, I don't know, a streamlined Pontiac Aztek. Look at that ass! The wheels are laughably small -- my son's trike has bigger wheels. Yes, I know the thing is packed with cutting-edge technology and it's a real hoot to see the little computer display showing your current mileage and all that. But I crack open a "Car and Driver" here and see that the Prius takes 11.3 seconds to haul its ass to 60 mph. The magazine carries specs for 148 cars. Here is a complete list of all the vehicles that move slower than the Prius:

.

That's right, the Prius is one of the slowest cars on the roads right now. The next slowest is the Suzuki Verona EX at 10.7 seconds, then the Scion xB at 10.6 seconds. Yup, a rolling refrigerator is faster than the Prius. Big chunks of the American driving population are preoccupied with one thing: horsepower. Witness the proliferation of engines packing serious numbers of ponies recently. We are in the middle of a great horsepower war, and it's awesome because there are more cool cars to chosose from than at any point since the late '60s.

One development that will lend legitimacy to alternative fuels is when it is shown that they won't come at the expense of horsepower and fun. Mitsubishi was on the right track when they showed off a hybrid Eclipse concept last year that mated a 270-hp V6 to an electric motor capable of pumping an additional 200 hp to the rear wheels. Unfortunately Mitsubishi is struggling and it doesn't look like the hybrid setup will go into production. But show me a hydrogen-powered Corvette that scoots to 60 mph in four seconds and I will show you an American market ready to buy.

Anyway, I don't have any real ideological bias against alternative fuels. Though I love a big burly V8 engine (even in four-door cars) what I dig most is performance. If I can have a great driving experience in a car running on electricity or hydrogen or the menstrual blood of teenage Peruvian virgins, hey, that's great, count me in.

But until then, does anyone have the name of a good Chrysler dealer?

Rice vs. Putin

Condoleezza Rice is in Russia and is apparently giving Putin the full-court press on democracy.

Rice cut her teeth in foreign affairs by working on Russian policy. She was highly critical of the cozy relationship with Yeltsin, thinking that the U.S. had too much invested in the person of Yeltsin, who was a drunk and boor. The Rise of the Vulcans relates how the first face-to-face exchange between Rice and Yeltsin was about as frosty as a Siberian Dairy Queen.

One criticism that has was leveled at Rice while she was National Security Adviser was that she was too soft on Yeltsin's successor, Putin, because her boss, Bush, had struck up what he thought was a pretty good rapport with the guy. After meeting Putin for the first time, Bush said something like, "I looked into his soul and took a measure of the man".

Now I wonder if Rice has turned Bush's thinking around, or if he's had second thoughts himself and is giving her more slack to press Putin on democracy and rule of law.

Apple

Joe Wilcox at Microsoft Monitor talks about how he thinks Apple may have shot itself in the foot by introducing the low-priced iPod Shuffle. He notes that while Apple boasted about total iPod shipments up 16 percent sequentially but revenues were down 16 percent. Moreover, they didn't break out numbers for specific iPod models, leading Joe to infer that the cheap-ass Shuffles are cannibalizing the upper-end 'Pods.

The old adage "no news is good news" really should be "no news isn't bad news" when applied to public company financials. I can't imagine that Apple would miss an opportunity to tout iPod Shuffle's success unless the product didn't sell as well as expected or sold better and pulled sales from higher-priced models. I'm thinking the latter. And, of course, lower pricing on hard disk models shouldn't be ignored as a likely, major factor contributing to the sequential revenue decline.

I'm not so sure. That is, I'm not sure there's not a bigger play here.

I wrote here before about I thought the introduction of the Shuffle and Mac mini were potentially brilliant marketing ploys aimed at broadening Apple's appeal beyond the hard-core faithful by luring people in at lower price points and then eventually switching them up to higher priced products.

For instance, someone who had always wanted an iPod but was turned off by the high price might hear about the Shuffle and come in to check it out. While they are in the store, they see the Mac mini, with its starting price of $500, and think, "Wow, I didn't know Macs were so cheap, and it is time to upgrade my PC. Maybe this is the time to switch." Indeed, Apple's earnings release said that CPU shipments were up nearly 50 percent from a year earlier. I wonder how many of those were Mac minis? If the new entry-level products are driving sales of higher-end machines, it might take a couple quarters for the effect to become apparent.

The other factor is the iTunes music store. Each of those iPods ships with the iTunes software (in fact, can only work with the iTunes software). Once iTunes is on somebody's machine, Apple's just a few clicks away from a steady stream of music download revenue. Apple shipped more than 5 million iPods in its latest quarter. If they can convince even half of those to buy a few songs a month for 99 cents each, that's $12.5 million in extra revenue a month, or $150 million a year. Just off of one quarter's subscribers. But again, it might take a couple quarters for that revenue stream to become apparent.

Anyway, this is just my idle speculation and Joe is possibly right. In fact, since he is a professional consultant and I am just as schmoe with with blog, Joe is more than "possibly" right, he is most likely right.

Bad Onion

I was just taking a look at this week's issue of the The Onion, and was thinking "You know, this issue really sucked. It's been a while since The Onion really made me chuckle.

So I punch in the URL for Treach and the top post is a challenge: "Find one thing that makes you laugh in this week's edition of The Onion.

Someone in the comments put up a link to a Mad Magazine spoof that nails perfectly what is wrong with The Onion.

Pope

James Lileks has an insightfully amsuing (or maybe that should be amusingly insightful) post on the new Pope. I like his line about people professing shock that the head of the Catholic Church might be a traditionalist!

I was raised Catholic but haven't been practicing since the end of high school. Still, I think the Church is a pretty impressive institution in so far as they have a rather well-developed body of thought that has been adhered to for centuries. These guys don't take this stuff lightly. They dedicate their lives to trying to interpret what they see as divine truth, and I think it's understandable that the institution is reluctant to change in accordance with the latest social trends.

Lileks has a good point when he says if you don't agree with the Church, don't call yourself Catholic. There are plenty of other branches of Christianity out there, or whole other religions if you're so inclined. To ask the Catholic Church to change is sort of like asking nihilism or existentialism to change because you don't agree with some of their basic tenets. It's like saying, "I'm a nihilist, but I don't agree that the universe is without meaning or fundamental truth. In fact, nihilism should change to conform to this view." At that point, you've stopped being a nihilist.

None of this is to say that Pope Benedict XVI (hey Mayor, you've forgotten to call him Pope Eggs Benedict. You can use that if you want. And Pope Benedict Arnold, too) is a great choice or that the Catholic Church is always correct and woe be to those Hell-bound heretics who disagree. I'm just saying, you know?

I am, or rather was a fan of gussying up my espresso drinks with all the fixin's -- extra shots, flavored syrup, foam, cream, and sprinkles of fairy dust. But how about melted pepper?

The Seattle Times reports on the World Barista Championship held yesterday. The winner was a Danish dude.

He wowed judges with espresso made from Brazilian beans grown at a single estate and roasted in a Northern Italian style. He served his beverages on wooden trays similar to a sushi platter, and used fresh Danish milk in his cappuccinos.

And:

Poulsen called his signature beverage called "ESB", for "enhanced sensory balance." It included espresso served with a touch of lavendar syrup and a pepper flavoring that was served in a soup spoon and melted with a torch just before tasting.

Is it just me, or does that actually sound kind of tasty? That would be a great way to break my self-imposed espresso exile.

A successful conversion

Several months ago, I lent the first season of "Family Guy" DVDs to a neighbor who had never even heard of the show. This guy actually has a comedy production company he runs on his own outside his main job, but he had no clue about the show.

As the months passed, I'd see him and say, "You watch 'Family Guy' yet?" and he'd look kind of sheepish and admit that no, he had not. I was meeting him for brunch yesterday and planned on just telling him to give me the set back.

First thing he says when he sees me is, "Dude! I've been watching 'Family Guy' and it is hilarious!!!"

Ahhh. It feels good to do something nice for a fellow human being.

What I'm reading

I finished the most excellent Moving Mars by Greg Bear. It is one of those rare sci-fi treats that offer great writing, memorable characters and whiz-bang science in equal portions. Highly recommended.

For a change of pace to something lighter, I've picked up The Ideas that Conquered the World by Michael Mandelbaum.

Coffee Monday

David's Coffee Monday column is up on Chin Music Press. Like almost everything about David, it's alternately amusing and pathetic.

Caffeine

Lifehacker has an informative post about how to gradually wean yourself off of caffeine.

On one hand, it's a shame they didn't have this a month ago when I quit cold turkey. On the other, I've never been succesful at phasing something in. I have to do it whole hog. That's right, cold turkey whole hog. Elemenohpee, your premier source for mixed metaphors employing tasty domesticated animals.

Lifehacker shares this bit:

Cold turkey caffeine quitters will experience unpleasant withdrawal symptoms, like headaches, distraction, irritability and possibly nausea and dizziness.

I wonder why they didn't mention the flaming chimpanzees crawling around under the skin?

Sub

Once I finalize my plans for world domination, which should happen any day now, one of my minions should remind me to pick up one of these.

Luxury yachts are so 20th century. The discriminating evil genius definitely needs a luxury submarine to telegraph to his hapless victims that this is a psychopath with discriminating taste and an appreciation for the extraordinary.

This company actually offers a bigger model, but out of homage to my home town I feel obligated to buy the Seattle 1000, which at 118 feet, should be big enough. It has a cruising range of 3,000 nautical miles, "sufficient for trans-Atlantic crossings". The batteries allow the vessel to remain submerged for nearly three weeks.

(Tip o' my broad-brimmed fedora to Geekpress for the link)

Lileks agrees with LMNOP

James Lileks just bought "Doom 3" and guess what? It scared the crap out of him.

And I was. I turned all the lights off. I put on the headphones. I was down in a dark corridor, hearing the screams of the Marines on the communications systems, the bangs on the wall, the groan of bending metal; I had my shotgun. I stepped towards the stairs, looking up at the shadows swinging on the wall, expecting to see some hellspawn feasting on the entrails of a scientist, when the door opened and out came the zombies. I fell back, crouched, pressed into a recess, waiting, waiting, waiting...

I won't spoil what happens next. Just go there and read it.

I'm Doomed

I sat down at the computer last night expecting to do a long session with "Doom 3".

Normally I go just 15-20 minutes each time before getting overwhelmed by attackers or freaked out by the vision of blood-covered walls accompanied by the wailing of babies.

Maybe it's just me. But I was determined to get through a good portion of the game. The kid was asleep, the wife was out, and my nerves were steeled.

I started out pretty strongly -- blasting spider daemons into green goo with my trusty shotgun and wiping out other denizens of the netherworld with devastating combos fired from my machine gun, plasma gun and chain gun.

All who faced my might and skill were reduced to heaps of glowing ash.

I was kicking ass.

Then the dudes with chainsaws hit me.

Amazon changes, and it ain't pretty

Amazon.com has reworked their bookstore. The biggest change is that they have made the book photo much, much bigger. This is positive.

However, there are several problems with the new design that annoy me. Actually, all these problems share one root -- that the page is simply badly designed and either incorrectly prioritizes the features or fails to make optimal use of the available space.

First, the photo of the book cover extends below the bottom of the screen, requring that you scroll down to view the whole thing.

Second, customer ratings of the book are also not instantly viewable. The shopper must scroll down to see them.

Third, while the "Add to Shopping Cart" button is readily available, if you want to add the product to your Wishlist or Wedding Regsitry, you, wait for it, have to scroll down.

Now, some of this is due to the fact that I enable a links bar and a tool bar on my browser. The trims about half an inch off the space actually available for viewing Web pages.

But more and more people are using such features, and smart Web site design should take all that into account.

Here's how to fix it:

Right now, there is a big chunk of white space on the right of the page. I'd say it takes up about 1/6 of available screen space. Put the purchasing, Wishlist, and shipping information (all currently taking up most of the left half of the page) there?.

Then move the average customer rating up to that vacated space.

Shrink everything just ever-so-slightly so that it all fits neatly on one page.

You'd have a much more neatly laid-out page that gives the customer all the key information and options right there.

Jack has indulged in some childhood reminiscence. Since I can't think of anything else to post tonight, I'll just shamelessly rip off his schtick. Some of this was posted first in his comments.

When I was a kid, my best friend and I became fascinated with wrist rockets. The wrist rocket was sort of an over-engineered slingshot, with this extension that folded down and braced against your forearm to allow you to pull back harder while keeping your aim stable.

One time, I decided I to take out the streetlight in front of our house. I aimed from our upstairs window and let fly. The rock totally missed the actual lamp, but, in a moment of transcendent beauty, curved up at the last instant and obliterated the daylight sensor that turned the lamp on when it got dark. The sensor was housed in a plastic cap probably the same size as that on a can of shaving cream. I can still vividly see the blue shards exploding outwards and then raining down on the sidewalk below. It was an incredible shot I never could have made on purpose.

Another incident revolved around a van our neighbor had parked on a patch of dirt across the street. He was a contractor, and he kept of bunch of tools in that van, but hardly ever drove it. It was a piece of crap, and I thought the big, broad side of that van would make excellent target practice for the wrist rocket.

Again, perched in our upstairs window, I took careful aim at the van, and let loose. A major league starting pitcher could not have thrown a more perfect curveball. Unfortunately, this rock curved right into the driver's side window, punching a nice little hole smack in the middle, and causing the rest of the glass to spiderweb into about a thousand pieces.

A day later, I saw the neighbor out there with a cop examining the damage. He opened the door, and when he closed it, it jarred the window and knocked all the glass right on to the driver's seat. I was never questioned, but needless to say, that was the only shot I ever took at that van.

Later, my friend and I were on a nearby hill known to us as Gork Hill. We were firing rocks down on to the street below and just goofing around being young boys. When I bent over collecting more rocks, my friend shot me in the ass from a distance of about 10 feet. It stung like a son of a bitch, but I suppose that sting was just karma, paying me a little visit.

Awwwww

As further penance for linking Slo Mo, I present you with cute puppies.

Holiday

I'm going to Seattle on holiday in May for nearly three weeks. These trips are crucial to recharge the batteries, consume ungodly amounts of pizza and microbrews, catch a few good movies, and spend beaucoup bucks on gadgets, and video games.

This upcoming trip looks extremely promising. Movies include "Sin City", "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" and "Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith". I have a list of at least eight video games to buy, including "Brothers in Arms", "Mercenaries", "Splinter Cell 3" and "Half-Life 2".

And now it looks like I'll have a reason to tune into MTV for the first time in years: Microsoft will unveil the next XBox on May 12.

Apart from Katie Holmes frolicking nude, that's about the only thing that can make me tune into the vomitorium that is MTV.

Fire Siphon Method

Fire siphon method sounds like something you'd either find in the soundproofed basement of one of Saddam's former palaces, or a topic raised in the Savage Love column.

But it's actually the topic of today's Coffee Monday at Chin Music Press.

This is one of those that starts as a "WTF?", then slowly transforms into polite snorfling (yes, snorfling) before reaching a climactic guffaw.

Guilt

I feel really guilty about posting that link to Slo Mo.

To make up for it, I present you with the cute kitten generator.

Each time you click to view a new kitten, it washes away one of the black marks left on your soul for guffawing at Slo Mo.

For extra angel points, you can add your own kitten to the site. An update on March 30 trumpets: "26 new kittens added!"

Oh, and each of the adorable little buggers are suitable for printing out and using as target practice.

Slo Mo

Are dead Pope jokes getting old? Need a fresh hapless target of derision to get some cheap yuks?

Okay, if you weren't already going to hell, you will be after you check out this page for Slo Mo the Rappin' Retard.

Yo check it! It's Slo Mo bringin' DOWN the muddafuggin' house! Down as in "Down Syndrome".

Be sure to check out the clips of his new songs, such as "Too Many Chromosomes" and "Fit of Retard Rage".

Oh, this one is bad...

(Link shamelessly swiped from screenhead.com)

Moving Mars

The three interminable weeks I spent reading Vernor Vinge's A Deepness in the Sky didn't do anything to discourage me from reading sci-fi.

I'm now reading Greg Bear's Moving Mars, and it's pretty damn good so far, despite the fact that the first 100 pages, or 1/5 of the book, have done little else but follow a college girl's awkward attempts at establishing, then rejecting, her first love.

But Bear's style this go around is tight and evocative, and he weaves in details about Mars circa 2170 so naturally that it helps to keep the story interesting.

Bear has always had an eye for scientific detail, and everything from communications (signals take seven to 44 minutes to travel to Earth, depending on the planets' positions) to areology (like geology, except applied to Mars, the Roman equivalent of Ares, the Greek god of war) seems eminently plausible.

I've had mixed results with Bear's stuff in the past. The incredible The Forge of God was my introduction to him. Slant was good but forgettable, and I never bothered to finish Anvil of Stars. Moving Mars might make me pick that up again, though.

'Stang alive

I grew up in small blue collar 'burb where fast cars and faster mullets were the order of the day.

Our house was actually on the only white collar strip in the whole town, but half a block away, the local grease monkeys tinkered constantly with their light yellow '66 Chevy Malibu.

They'd come roaring up the hill, that V8 roar ripping the neighborhood a new asshole.

Primer-gray Camaros circled the 7-11 like grumpy sharks. The only thing bigger than the spoilers on the cars were the hair-dos on the girls.

But I was never "into" cars as a kid. The ape drapes, acid-washed jeans, and Def Leppard kind of scared me away from the whole scene. I could handle each of those threats if taken alone, but together they effectively kept me from joining the local rocker scene.

That all changed my senior year of high school. Our physics teacher liked to end his Friday classes on a light note by showing a 5-minute video of something he had taped at home and found interesting, something not even related to physics.

One day he showed a segment on a brand-new Corvette called the ZR-1. This was Chevy's attempt to kick things up a notch. The super-Vette crammed 375 horses under the hood, an amazing number at the time. I was impressed with the feature that let you lock out half the horsepower in case your kid or untrustworthy friend wanted to borrow it.

That video must have unlocked all those boyhood influences because I became a car nut virtually overnight. I subscribed to all the auto buff magazines -- "Car & Driver", "Motor Trend", even "Road & Track". I did it all. Hell, when I was in the mood for some hard stuff, I'd swing by the grocery store and pick up a "Hot Rod". But only once in a while, honest.

Through it all, the Corvette was lodged in my heart as my favorite car. The 'Vette was the one that started it all, the quintessential American muscle car.

But now there's a fresh challenge.

Don't get me wrong, the Corvette, reworked for 2005, is better than ever. The base package gets you 400 ponies and launches you from 0-60 in 4.3 seconds.

But.

Two seats, $51,000. Not the best choice for a single-income family with a kid.

It has just been getting tougher to find affordable American muscle. The Camaro and Firebird died with a wheeze after the 2002 models. Storied badges of eras past -- Malibu, Nova, Cougar, Charger -- were emasculated or condemend to a rusty grave, the first often making the second inevitable.

Some cars, like Ford's Thunderbird and Pontiac's GTO, were reborn in promising new incarnations, but were either boring to drive (T-bird) or boring to look at (GTO). Not to mention their outrageous prices.

The only real competitor to the 'Vette was Ford's Mustang. But the Mustang GT could never even best the Camaro Z28, much less a Corvette.

Ford did make a more-than-decent attempt with its 2003/04 Cobra, which bolted a supercharger on the 4.6-liter engine to crank out 390 horsepower and finally prove that Blue Oval's pony car could run with the big boys. But even that couldn't hide the fact that the Mustang's underpinnings were 25 years old -- older than many of its drivers.

Of course, the all-new Mustang hit the roads last year to much acclaim. And it has been with growing excitement that I've been thinking over the just-announced Shelby Cobra GT500.

Look at that thing, man.

Futuristically retro design? Check.

Modern chassis and suspension? Check.

Non-Kmart shopper interior? Check.

Four seats? Check.

5.4-liter supercharged V8? Check.

450 horses? Check. Oh baby, check.

The only problem is that I bet these things are going to be in hot demand. Ford dealers (well, probably all car dealers, but Ford seems especially bad) are notorious for really jacking up prices on flagship models. That's part of what killed the new T-bird. So even though early buzz says the new Cobra will have an MSRP of around $35,000, I wouldn't be surprised if the first batch go for something closer to $50,000.

But I still have the feeling that this could be the 'Stang that pulls me permanently away from the Corvette.

Sci-fi review

I finally finished A Deepness in the Sky, a sci-fi epic by Vernor Vinge.

The novel spans centuries and includes dozens of characters, both human and alien.

The ambitious story covers politics, trade, technology, astronomy and biology.

It is 774 pages long and took me three weeks to finish.

Here is my review:

Eh.

Family Guy is totally smurfin' smurf

I crossposted this in the comments over at Sex's place. She
had heard a radio skit with two guys using the word "smurf" as a
term of vulgarity.

I am 95 percent sure they were playing a snippet from the "Family
Guy". The episode was "Emission Impossible", one of the best
espisodes of one of the best TV shows in recorded history,
including the Bronze Age.

Smurf 1: Hey, you have a good time last night? Smurf 2:
Smurf-tacular. Smurf 1: Yeah I saw you leave with Smurfette.
Smurf 2: Oh man. As soon as we got out of the bar, she started
smurfin' me. Smurf 1: Shut the smurf up! Smurf 2: Yeah! Smurf 1:
Right in the smurfin' parking lot? Smurf 2: Smurf yeah! Smurf 1:
Ah, that is freakin smurf. Smurf 2: You smurfed it. Smurf 1: That
is freakin smurf. Smurf 2: Yeah.

(Quotes from www.tvhome.com. Episode summary here.)

Bon Appetite

One of the burning social issues of the day is obesity.

We've all been grotesquely obese at one time or another, it's nothing to be ashamed of.

I mean, who among us hasn't tucked a few fried chicken wings under our fat folds to help us cope with a sudden munchies attack?

Who among us has not been carried out of their home by firefighters driving a forklift?

Who among us has not gone to see the doctor about a persistent stomach ache, only to end up giving birth?

That's right. Let he who is without hunger pangs cast the first Twinkie.

Anyhoo, The Mayor, out of his infinite benevolence and regard for his constituents, has been running a series on nutrition all week to help guide us towards healthier living.

He comprehensively covers the five food groups: cereal, hot dogs, instant noodles, peanut butter, and pizza.

If you follow The Mayor's recommendations precisely, you are sure to end up with nutritional meals that are not only well-rounded and aesthetically pleasing, but are also, to put it frankly (because this is no time to hold back and mince words), scrumpdillyicious.

If you somehow find yourself unable to follow the government's suggestions due to a lack of ingredients, I suggest you browse this forum to show you what a little creativity can do for your diet:

The time has come to clean out my kitchen. I'm moving soon and I have to get rid of the previously edible crap inhabiting my fridge and cabinets. To aid in this purging, I'd like to offer you the chance to make me eat any combination of food ingredients that you like.

Basic Rules:

1 request per person

You may pick 1 item from the fridge, 1 item from the pantry, and 1 seasoning or spice

I will take these 3 items, mix them together, eat them, and post photos (thanks I.S.!)

I will eat any combination of things you ask, but I reserve the right not to eat raw meat and to soften things in hot water if I can't chew them

The feast ends when I either: puke, have a loose movement, or am too full to continue

Bon Appetite!

Shaolin soccer

Dammit, how many times have I told you, my name is NOT "Grasshopper"?!?! 

All Pope, all the time

Hey, what's up with the Pope lately? I could really use some Pope news right now. I don't think there's been enough news coverage of the Pope. It was like the Pope died and -- poof -- that was it.

(Thanks to J-Dogg)

Freak

David has hit my blog eight times so far today.

What's wrong with you, man? I'm sorry about your lack of a life and all, but really, this is scary.

Here's David's schedule today, as far as I can tell:

9:00:04 -- Gee, I wonder if Scott has posted anything? It's been 12 hours since I last checked. I really should have changed my underwear this morning.

9:38:40: -- Thank God the boss finally stopped beating me! How was I supposed to know he only wanted one sugar today? Hey, I wonder if Scott's posted anything yet?

10:19:41 -- I sure am weird-looking. Better check out Scott's blog to take my mind off things.

11:07:05 -- Starting to get hungry. I think I have a couple gummi bears stashed in my sock. Damn, must've eaten them yesterday. Too early to sneak out for lunch, though. Guess I'll see what Scott's up to.

12:56:30 -- (Whimpering) So. Hungry. I told Marvin he's going to have to pay me back for that bento box. But he just laughed and said that even though it was an accident I'll have to clean it up myself. Hey, I wonder if Scott saw that comment I left?

1:49:40 -- Ha ha ha. The Mayor sure is funny. Cannibals are a hoot. Damn, that reminds me how hungry I am. Why do I need five fingers on each hand when the Simpsons seem to make do with four? What would Scott say?

3:21:17 -- Crap. Maybe I shouldn't have brought up Mr. Tripps.

4:15:31 -- *Sob*

UPDATE!

9:22:38 -- Hey, I wonder if Sex has left any more comments. I think she kinda digs me.

Bummed

I haven't had much time to blog the past couple days. I've been a bit out-of-sorts, and also had lots of stuff going on. Bummed and busy, that's me.

What's got me down? I stumbled across a blog written by parents whose 10-year-old son is dying of a brain tumor. A recent post was about how the treatments had failed and they finally had to sit down with their boy and tell him that he was going to die.

Again: they had to tell their boy that he will die.

I wish I could say that this is unimaginable, but it's not. I can sit here right now and quite clearly imagine doing this with my own son (who is blessedly healthy).

It is absolutely morbid and literally makes me sick to my stomach, but I cannot for the life of me stop dwelling on this.

I am going to go buy my boy a new box of Legos today, probably the 18-wheeler set. This is totally irrational, but I just want to build a truck with him, and see him smile.

Dammit

It's been hard to post the last few days. Not because I don't have anything to say, but because it has literally been hard to post. I can barely get on to Blogger from my home connection, and I try not to post at work because I hear that's unethical or something. I'm not sure.

So now I'm stuck using the "Blog This" -- oops, I mean the "BlogThis!" feature on the Google toolbar. With this, I can sign on and post no problem, if you don't count slapping on the wrong timestamp as a problem.

So if you see posts starting to appear out of order, it's because of this. I'll try to fix any weirdness as soon as I can.

UPDATE: As soon as I was finished with this post, the main Blogger posting page came up and saved the day.

The Church

In watching the proceedings following the passing of the Pope, it struck me that there is something quite majestic about the Catholic Church when the full weight of its traditions is brought to the fore. Bronze doors, conclaves of cardinals, white smoke. It's all very mysterious.

RealNetworks sucks

You know, my friends tell me that one cool thing about the better online porn sites is that it is usually a snap to cancel a subcription. Even the disreputable sites, so everyone says, have some sort of cancel page you can eventually find.

I don't know if this is out of concern over legal action or what. I suspect a large part of it is that these sites want return business and the best way to get customers to come back is to make everything as easy and convenient for them as possible.

Anyway, I'm looking at my bank statement the other day and I see a charge "PURCHASE AT RN" or something, for like $10.91. I'm thinking, "RN"? What is that? Raunchy Nurses? Rastafarian Nymphs? Robust Nutsacks?

Then, a couple days later, I get a chirpy e-mail from RealNetworks saying that because it was now the NFL off-season, they were halving the NFL.com subscription to $5 a month. WTF?

Then I remembered. Back in September or so I signed up for a three-month pass to NFL.com to get game audio and game highlights. The technology and billing provider was RealNetworks.

It turns out that when you sign up for a three-month subscription, it's really a "pay for three months up front and then automatically keeping paying after that until you come back and tell us you want to cancel" sort of deal.

It gets even more galling. I followed the link in the e-mail to access my account. I get to the Real page, enter my username and password, and it tells me that I have no Real subscription but they can sign me up for one right now.

Technically this may be correct. I have an NFL subscription, not a RealNetworks subscription. But I can imagine someone going there and getting confused into thinking that their subscription ran out, and signing up for another Real service.

I look in vain for a "cancel" option. There is none. The deal is that you have to call a customer service number between such-and-such hours to cancel. This practice instills in me Incredible Hulk-like levels of fury.

Get this straight. You can, RealNetworks is more than happy to take your money with a few clicks of the mouse and the entry of your credit card number. But if you want to cancel, this amazing champion of consumer-oriented technology makes you pick up a damn telephone and navigate what is presumably a typical customer call center.

I have had this happen only once before -- with AOL. I had signed up for them with my first computer. It came pre-installed and you could get going within minutes. But to cancel, you had to FAX or WRITE THEM a letter. It took me two months, several phone calls, and a very nasty and threatening fax to get that straightened out and my money back.

I swore I would never use AOL again, and I make the same pledge about RealNetworks now.

The great irony about this is that RealNetworks' CEO Rob Glaser started the company as "Progressive Networks" and was originally to help further Glaser's liberal social agenda.

Look, Glaser is a great entrepreneur. He bailed from Microsoft in the '90s because he thought Web video and audio were huge untapped markets that were passing Bill Gates by. He helped legitimize and nurture much of the Internet multi-media we take for granted today. He created a thriving company in the heart of Seattle and created tons of jobs, wealth and cool vibes. He freaking helped rescue professional bowling, and where would be today if we didn't have pro-bowlers to make fun of? Stuck teasing the curlers, that's what.

But it sucks that his company doesn't have the basic customer relations sense of your average porn site.

Comment

(UPDATE: I accidentally posted this a few moments ago, but without the actual comment from David. Then Blogger wouldn't let me back in to edit it. Now I'm reposting it properly using BlogThis! but won't be able to delete the wayward original for a while.)

Some of you may have noticed someone calling himself "David" lurking in the comments section.

David is mainly repelling, much in the same way that a drooling, retarded Rhesus monkey is just before you shoot it right between the fucking eyes with a .45. Yeah, kinda like that.

Well, as much as I (deservedly) rag on David, occassionally the alcoholic gremlin that gobbled his cereberal cortex and now lives in his skull can make me laugh.

Thus, I am reposting this comment from David because I fear that it may not get the attention it deserves languishing in some comment thread that nobody checks anymore.

Although I am the butt of David's twisted ranting, I have to say it made me chuckle. I post it here because I hope that you, the reader, will chuckle as well.

Apart from the fact that I clearly elevate you, the reader, above my own interests, this also proves that I am the kind of confident, self-deprecating blogger whom people will eagerly add to their "favorites" list. People will flock to read my unique combination of folksy wisdom and cutting-edge humor.

I think the blogosphere could really use something like that right now.

Mayor, don't believe a word Scott says about me. When it comes to our relationship, he is consumed with jealousy and rage. Rage at the fact that everything he can do, I can do better. On the polo team, it was I who scored the most (on and off the field) and rode the finest steed. At restaurants, I'm always given a choice table, even if the place is packed, because I exude a kind of quiet, well-muscled glamor. As for Scott, well, let's just say it's best if I approach the maitre d' first if we expect to eat.

The sad fact is that he pays me to post comments on this blog. It's a per-word deal, with the only condition being that I use my mighty literary powers for good. If he keeps antagonizing me in his blog, I'm going to have to up my rates, which would of course push him deeper into debt. Mayor, its a long, sad tale, and I don't have the heart to continue it here. After all, Scott's heart is in the right place. He tries, you know? God how he tries.

Props

I've linked to the Coffee Mondays column over at Chin Music Press for some weeks now. Amazingly, week after week David manages to emerge from his stupor and stay lucid long enough to write consistently amusing reviews of Japanese canned coffee. Divine inspiration or dumb luck? Beats me.

But I'm honored that the suckers discriminating folk at CMP have seen fit to carry my recent post on quitting coffee. I reworked the piece slightly from its original form on this blog, and the new version can be read here.

Check out the rest of the site while you're there, too. They have a kind of group blog thing going on, and they've just put out their first book, Kuhaku, which is a collection of essays about life in Japan.

Thanks again to David (I feel kind of bad about the thumbscrew now) and to his editor, Bruce Almighty, for signing off on the idea.

Music

Quite a few bloggers have been posting their thoughts on music, with a focus on tunes of 1990s.

I was contemplating doing my big super-duper take-out on awesome music, but:

a) I haven't the time for such an ambitious undertaking

b) I feared it would be derivative of what others have done

c) I'm lazy

So here's my shortened version that captures the bare essence of the music I have loved. Note, this is not a list of the most essential or most influential artists ever, just the ones that have mattered to me and stood the test of time. Everything else follows from this.

Rock n' roll era: Elvis

Classic rock era: Led Zeppelin, the Rolling Stones

Grunge era: Soundgarden, the Smashing Pumpkins

Post-grunge era: Ben Harper, the White Stripes.

Acting

We watched "Sideways" last night, and there was a scene where the main characters order dinner, and they cut to the waitress for about five seconds as she recites the specials.

I suddenly thought that, if you're playing a waitress on-screen for five seconds, you probably have to have a regular job to support you. And what is the stereotypical job for struggling actors? Yup. Waiting tables.

So, theoretically, here's a woman who has been waiting tables in L.A., maybe doing some TV spots or whatnot, and she finally gets a break in a big Oscar-caliber production. And what role does she land? A waitress.

By the way, "Sideways" was okay. Thomas Haden Church was hilarious as the hell-raising buddy, but I never, never warmed to the main character, who was just whiny and depressing and unsympathetic for the whole movie. There is some great dialogue. It is kind of like a Woody Allen movie, but the endearing qualities of Woody Allen himself. Yeah. Like that.

Writing

The cool thing about blogs is discovering just how much great writing is out there. Without devolving into a bunch of syrupy prognostications about how blogs will transform publishing blah blah blah, I think it's fair to say that they are starting to transform reading.

In the past few weeks, I've found a handful of bloggers whose writing alone is enough to ensure that I will be back for more. How many mainstream columnists can you say that about? Sure, everybody probably has their favorite columnist in the local paper, and you might buy a publication just to read the essay by P.J. O'Rourke or Maureen Dowd. But I've never bookmarked a half-dozen columnists that I hadn't heard of before. I just don't get the exposure.

Doubtless part of that is due to the awesome feedback loop that is the blogosphere. I stumbled across Garfield Ridge, which pointed me to Mitchieville, which introduced me to SS@S, which linked to Jack Spencer. Even if Instapundit links to a certain column in a small-town paper, that columnist is not going to have a "column roll" of all his favorite writers. You're going to read him once and then forget about him. Blogs have this whole six-degrees-of-Glenn Reynolds thing going while newspaper columnists are trapped in their own self-supporting biosphere -- it's clean and functional, and interesting in its limited fashion, but it's fundamentally cut off from the real ecosystem outside its walls.

This is all by way of saying that two little pieces of writing have stuck with me all week. I mean, apart from Da Mayor. All his stuff sticks like hot silly putty. Hot. Silly. Putty. Go on, say it like that, slowly and in a husky voice. Kinda kinky, huh?

Anyway, the first piece was Sex's response to a challenge to write a short story in only 250 words. There were some other restrictions, like the year had to be 1968, and it had to include the phrase, "All due respect".

I saw it on my first visit over there, and when I read the challenge, I was like, "Right. This will be painful." Of course that was just a bitchy front for what I really meant, which was, "Damn. That would be tough. I doubt that even I could pull it off."

The result was a surprisingly gripping little thriller. It's hard to imagine such a thing playing out in just 250 words, but you can slap me with wet pumpkin innards if she didn't pull it off.

I'm sorry I don't have the direct link right now, but if you head to her blog and scroll down, it should be there.

The other bit was by the above-mentioned Jack Spencer, whom Sex links to. I think his blog is called jackJackJACK or something, but the URL is a jumble of letters, like sdfta or something. I can't look it up right now.

The piece that struck me was in Jack's rant about his prick of an English teacher who sprung a surprise D+ on him when he had been running a solid B all semester. In the middle of this lament, Jack sets out to prove that he can write about just about anything, and he starts riffing on his shoelaces of all things (I am struck with uncertainty at this point about whether this riff is actually in his teacher rant. It might have been another post). The result was strangely engaging.

Hope you all dig.

What a special week

Wow. What an amazing few days. I made not one, but two new friends (I think).

First The Mayor said my writing wasn't total shit, plus he made me Minister of Finance. How cool is that? When do I get access to the accounts?

Then, Sex turns up in the comments and starts being cool, and even says she has thought up a nickname for me.

This makes me feel special. Well, even more special than Mommy says I am. She's Mom so she has to say that. The Mayor and Sex are most definitely not Mom. I mean, Sex is a mom but she's not Mom.

Anyway. I feel kind of bummed that I can't visit either of their sites all weekend. In fact, I can't access any Blogspot-hosted site if I'm not at work. I can access Blogger and keep posting, but I can't see the entries once they're up. I can get into Haloscan, however, so I can still read comments and, based on their merits, dispense either joyous praise or rage-filled smackdowns.

So if y'all don't see me lurking around your sites for the next couple days, it's nothing personal.