Checked in to my Flickr account today. Someone had taken advantage of my Creative Commons permission for reuse and remixing of any image in my collections. When I clicked on the link, I was pleased to learn that Darwin is now an unpaid spokesperson for commercial floor cleaners in Boise, ID.
Just got back from a lovely trip to Seattle. It was my fourth visit to the gray city, but probably the first time I really had a memorable stay. The difference between this and previous visits is that I was sleep-deprived and burnt out from work — two conditions that make a very unhappy and…
Sometimes, I have a Spidey sense for a movie without having seen it in the theater. When it comes out on DVD or Blu-ray, I’ll just buy it, knowing that I will probably enjoy having it in my permanent library. Primer was a good example of that. So, when Where the Wild Things Are came…
I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again. I just love the Olympics. I can’t be bothered with the media spectacle, all that opening-ceremonies-a-guy-got-killed stuff. That’s for media whores and their pimps. I love the actual competitions. The beauty of streaming instead of watching on TV is that you get loads of raw replay without…
Another silly piece of legislation that our favorite silly Senator has up her sleeve: I want to let you know about the Taxpayer Fairness Act (S.2994), which Senator Jim Webb (D-VA) and I recently introduced in the Senate. Our bill would impose a tax on large bonuses paid by Wall Street banks and other firms…
On why the term “African American” is silly twaddle.
When you’ve tried your literary hand at comic-book scripts, screenplays, verse, prose poems, short stories, novellas, and novels, what do you turn to next? For many years, I’ve marveled at the genre of children’s fiction. I grew up on Curious George, Hardy Boys, Maurice Sendak, Beatrix Potter, J.M. Barrie. Something about children’s fiction — whether…
I sat the bar of a local oyster house, eagerly awaiting my assorted kusshi, wellfleets, and miyagis, when a very old woman sat down beside me. Although she hadn’t yet opened her mouth, around her hung the fog of a person who is always on the edge of saying something, anything, whether it makes sense…
I grew up a Pepsi kid. Somewhere in my 20s, I converted to a Coke guy. Cokes never made me fat and I really paid no attention to what was in one. They did give me pimples — rather, drinking two or three over the course of two days would give me one superpowered zit,…
After the smashing international success of the People Who Should Be Killed* series of Clog posts, I am spawning a whole new series called Signs of Stupidity. SOS is dedicated to actual signs — like a stop or do-not-enter sign — developed by idiots or developed for idiots. Sometimes, both. The series will showcase photos…