I suppose we've stepped up a notch in instant gratification by sharing our thoughts with the world through Twitter and the Status Update features on social network pages.
My remarking on that is, well, unremarkable. But, when I spent as much time on November 4th reading friends' up-to-the-minute Facebook updates as I watched CNN for election updates, I realized we had hit another plateau.
I was moved.
You can pretty much follow the sequence of events, just by the nature and tone of the updates. While I kept the posts in their natural chronology, for brevity's sake, I did omit a few that seemed repetitious.
Here is a Twitter-ish narrative of one of the most important days of our generation spanning from the afternoon of November 4 to the afternoon of November 5:
(names withheld)
- is voting
- is going rogue
- is wondering who got their free starbucks and Krispy Kreme?
- is happy she voted today!
- is solid. Solid as Barack!!!
- thinks it's funny that someone was actually stealing my campaign signs from my friends' yards
- is awaiting the results of change
- is watching CNN and HAPPY
- is going to be watching election results while he bowls
- is hopeful about tonight's results
- voted for Snoopy
- says way to go OHIO!
- is thinking she needs to go to bed
- is keeping in mind that when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.
Then find someone who's life gave them vodka and make a party!
- ...exhale
- is so relieved
- is so pumped- what a great day!
- remembers his kindergarten teacher telling him he could grow up to be president.
For the first time in many lifetimes, all children can believe their teachers.
- 's heart is THUMPING right now! I am proud to be an American! We made it Dad!
We made it!....speechless!
- is throwing a party to welcome back his faith in America.
- is not quite ready for three months of racial talk form the talking heads...
his race is Human, people.
- yes. we. did.
- WOOOOOOO - FRIGGIN' - HOOOOO!!!!!!
- is ready to fight and work for a new era of hope and possibilities.
- can't wait to hear the speech that will inspire and change the way the world looks
at the US from here on out.
- had to take a Xanax!
- realizes the phrase "Scranton in the house" is now not just stupid,
but for the next few days, a pun as well.
- says YES WE CAN!
- wow, that was a long 11 month journey. I'm so excited about the outcome,
but after seeing the speech, I'm excited about the future.
- is saying "Oh hot dam" and throwing his hands up in the ayer ay ayer
- is taking a breath and an Aleve
- now projects that in the United States of America there will be hangovers in the morning...
- is inspired!!! Thank you President Obama...I love the sound of that!!
- thinks Fox News isn't news at all; rather, it is the 700 Club and Comedy Central
mixed together. Viewers, please turn the channel and form your own opinions.
- is so happy to have stayed awake to watch history happen! What an awesome sight it was!
- is looking forward to discussions about ANYTHING other than politics
- assures you all, what you winessed last night is real.
- apparently rocked the vote a little too hard and f'd up my knee somehow.
- can't wait to see Dubya's face at the swearing in. It will be priceless.
- America, you may have have elected a black President, but 45 states have bans on gay
marriage. The Civil Rights fight is far from over!
- thinks there is a direct correlation between Obama's victory and the fact that I haven't
had a cigarette in over 5 weeks! Yes I can!
- thinks that hating Obama isn't going to fix anything. Let's give him a chance.
He is our president.
- is happy to be living in ObamaCa :)
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Thursday, May 08, 2008
How little we change
In front of me in the coffeeshop, a 19 year old college student tries to impress a 17 year old (she'll be 18 next week!) girl with all his knowledge of law, education, chemistry (Nutrasweet vs Sugar).
Behind me, a 4 year old obnoxiously repeats "Who let the dogs out" over and over and loudly sings other songs, trying to get the attention of another 4 year old girl.
And me, I am blogging...
Behind me, a 4 year old obnoxiously repeats "Who let the dogs out" over and over and loudly sings other songs, trying to get the attention of another 4 year old girl.
And me, I am blogging...
Friday, February 15, 2008
Voicemail Blogging
Tuesday was typical, if I consider typical to be watching my second grade daughter walk in a circle for fifteen minutes, raising money for charity with her classmates.
“Now to check on the free-range children,” Principal Skinner echoed in my brain.
Leaving her school, I call Erik and Mike, realizing if I got their voicemails that I don’t necessarily need them to call me back- it’s not urgent, merely a musing idea. I could just hang up. If it had been important, I’d tell them to call me and why.
But that’s not why I was calling, I realized. I wanted to complain, not venomously, just sort of rant about paved schoolyards and Popsicles. But nowhere near my computer, I had no outlet.
So, my messages were voicemail blogs. I’m sure it drives some people crazy, and I’ve been known to leave messages until the time limit cut me off, but it got me thinking.
One of the technologies software developers are still working the kinks out of is voice recognition software. Shan Man of KUPD/Phoenix nailed a hilarious bit on his blog recently, mocking our frustrations with automated voice systems. But as this technology becomes ubiquitous, becoming standard fare on social networking and blogging sites, will it be the death of qwerty texting?
I imagined myself, instead of calling my friends, calling MySpace and leaving a voicemail blog. Someone visiting the page could read what I had just spoken into my phone, or have the option to listen to it as a stream.
I had heard recently that despite contractions (like LOL and BTW) and hurriedly misspelled words (like “luv” and “prolly”), some English teachers are finding kids easier to teach in that IM and text messaging are forcing an economical view of language on them. Restricted by time (IM) or space (texting), you only type words necessary for communicating the idea. Fewer words to edit.
This may be a quick reprieve. When voice technology completely takes over, the trend may reverse again, as people leave long, winding, sinewy blogs to be drunk-dialed and forgotten. Well, at least until all your friends post their comments.
“Now to check on the free-range children,” Principal Skinner echoed in my brain.
Leaving her school, I call Erik and Mike, realizing if I got their voicemails that I don’t necessarily need them to call me back- it’s not urgent, merely a musing idea. I could just hang up. If it had been important, I’d tell them to call me and why.
But that’s not why I was calling, I realized. I wanted to complain, not venomously, just sort of rant about paved schoolyards and Popsicles. But nowhere near my computer, I had no outlet.
So, my messages were voicemail blogs. I’m sure it drives some people crazy, and I’ve been known to leave messages until the time limit cut me off, but it got me thinking.
One of the technologies software developers are still working the kinks out of is voice recognition software. Shan Man of KUPD/Phoenix nailed a hilarious bit on his blog recently, mocking our frustrations with automated voice systems. But as this technology becomes ubiquitous, becoming standard fare on social networking and blogging sites, will it be the death of qwerty texting?
I imagined myself, instead of calling my friends, calling MySpace and leaving a voicemail blog. Someone visiting the page could read what I had just spoken into my phone, or have the option to listen to it as a stream.
I had heard recently that despite contractions (like LOL and BTW) and hurriedly misspelled words (like “luv” and “prolly”), some English teachers are finding kids easier to teach in that IM and text messaging are forcing an economical view of language on them. Restricted by time (IM) or space (texting), you only type words necessary for communicating the idea. Fewer words to edit.
This may be a quick reprieve. When voice technology completely takes over, the trend may reverse again, as people leave long, winding, sinewy blogs to be drunk-dialed and forgotten. Well, at least until all your friends post their comments.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Ben Tausig Answer In Own Puzzle
Here's an Onion article you'll never see (I hear they don't take submissions):
BEN TAUSIG ANSWER IN OWN PUZZLE
The answer for 33 Across in today's The Onion crossword puzzle is "Ben Tausig."
"What makes The Onion crossword puzzle so rad is that I make the answers!" explained puzzle editor Ben Tausig, who wrote himself as the answer to the clue, "Lord across the puniverse."
According to Tausig, who staunchly defends his use of puns in his work, wordplay keeps the player on her toes."Too many people Google-cheat their way through the pop culture references and this is my stand against it," said Tausig, shuffling a Scrabble dictionary under some paper on the desk. He believes that by manufacturing a pun, especially one that doesn't make sense, he adds a layer of difficulty for the uninitiated player, creating a unique "cross-sword (sic)" identity.
The answer for 12 Down is "Seventytogo."
"Get it?" he prodded. "Twelve down, seventy to go? There are eighty-two clues in the puzzle."
When reminded there are actually eighty-nine clues in today's puzzle, he responded that "seventyseventogo wouldn't fit."
Tausig's use of obscure three-letter words is at an all-time high today.
"It's hard," said Tausig. "You try coming up with forty-five three letter words to bind my puns together."
When stuck for clues, Tausig recharges by lighting candles and listening to linguistically flexible country music, followed by viewing back to back episodes of Jeopardy! By then he has worked his mind into "a froth, excited and percolating like the proverbial Dance of the Shiva. Oh, that's a good one for next week. The clue could be Turkish McIntyre, the answer: Dance of the Reba."
When told that clue was out of bounds and didn't make enough sense, Tausig replied, "If my crosswords are too hard, then go back to your New York Times, conservative literati!"
When told his attitude was now out of bounds as well, Tausig replied, "You want an easier clue? How about: How many fingers am I holding up?"The answer was "one." Look for it next week.
BEN TAUSIG ANSWER IN OWN PUZZLE
The answer for 33 Across in today's The Onion crossword puzzle is "Ben Tausig."
"What makes The Onion crossword puzzle so rad is that I make the answers!" explained puzzle editor Ben Tausig, who wrote himself as the answer to the clue, "Lord across the puniverse."
According to Tausig, who staunchly defends his use of puns in his work, wordplay keeps the player on her toes."Too many people Google-cheat their way through the pop culture references and this is my stand against it," said Tausig, shuffling a Scrabble dictionary under some paper on the desk. He believes that by manufacturing a pun, especially one that doesn't make sense, he adds a layer of difficulty for the uninitiated player, creating a unique "cross-sword (sic)" identity.
The answer for 12 Down is "Seventytogo."
"Get it?" he prodded. "Twelve down, seventy to go? There are eighty-two clues in the puzzle."
When reminded there are actually eighty-nine clues in today's puzzle, he responded that "seventyseventogo wouldn't fit."
Tausig's use of obscure three-letter words is at an all-time high today.
"It's hard," said Tausig. "You try coming up with forty-five three letter words to bind my puns together."
When stuck for clues, Tausig recharges by lighting candles and listening to linguistically flexible country music, followed by viewing back to back episodes of Jeopardy! By then he has worked his mind into "a froth, excited and percolating like the proverbial Dance of the Shiva. Oh, that's a good one for next week. The clue could be Turkish McIntyre, the answer: Dance of the Reba."
When told that clue was out of bounds and didn't make enough sense, Tausig replied, "If my crosswords are too hard, then go back to your New York Times, conservative literati!"
When told his attitude was now out of bounds as well, Tausig replied, "You want an easier clue? How about: How many fingers am I holding up?"The answer was "one." Look for it next week.
Literary Fiber; Semicolon Blow
In keeping with the spirit of the Book and its issues with bathrooms, I began a cleanse.
That's not news. Nobody cares. Even I barely care. But, it's inspired a rant, a release of marketing pressure that had been building in my media-saturated brain.
It begins with the cleanse's brochure, in which every sentence of the 16 page foldout ends in an asterisk, because, apparently, it's against FDA law to make any of these claims of detoxification and health without one. It also features a woman in the throes of ecstasy, looking up and into the distance with a gaped smile, with three seasonal colors radiating from her head- burnt orange, icy blue, and spring emerald. I wonder what color they had passed on for summer.
"New Season, New You!" the brochure screams.
I'm always bothered by the randomly out-of-place and ecstatic actor propped up in a marketing campaign, especially when the message is that she just can't contain her joy after crapping her guts out for two weeks straight.
This reminds me of a recent television commercial for sour cream, the one set in a backyard BBQ or birthday party or something, the one with little kids in Easter dresses running by with streamers in their hands. Everybody's dancing and gleeful because a "dollop of Daisy" made it a party. Thank God for that glop of spoiled milk.
In my fight against infinite regression, I've succumbed to comparing this all to the barrage of ED commercials we're subjected to on the Science Channel (I wonder if too many documentaries about the solar system correlates to lessened genital blood flow; the commercial now acting as an anti-promo for the channel), where getting it up is equated to riding a bike with your wife or walking with her through the park in your golden years.
But my buck stops here because, besides the implication that non-ED inflicted men will retain the talent to keep their wives at their side, I think the point is these men aren't thinking about the product being peddled. They've moved on.
With the cleanse model and the dairy children, it's implied their happiness is erupting right now, as they can't contain their joy. I make poop. There's a tub of sour cream melting and gathering bugs on the picnic table.
Weeeeee!!! Yaaaaay!!!
That's not news. Nobody cares. Even I barely care. But, it's inspired a rant, a release of marketing pressure that had been building in my media-saturated brain.
It begins with the cleanse's brochure, in which every sentence of the 16 page foldout ends in an asterisk, because, apparently, it's against FDA law to make any of these claims of detoxification and health without one. It also features a woman in the throes of ecstasy, looking up and into the distance with a gaped smile, with three seasonal colors radiating from her head- burnt orange, icy blue, and spring emerald. I wonder what color they had passed on for summer.
"New Season, New You!" the brochure screams.
I'm always bothered by the randomly out-of-place and ecstatic actor propped up in a marketing campaign, especially when the message is that she just can't contain her joy after crapping her guts out for two weeks straight.
This reminds me of a recent television commercial for sour cream, the one set in a backyard BBQ or birthday party or something, the one with little kids in Easter dresses running by with streamers in their hands. Everybody's dancing and gleeful because a "dollop of Daisy" made it a party. Thank God for that glop of spoiled milk.
In my fight against infinite regression, I've succumbed to comparing this all to the barrage of ED commercials we're subjected to on the Science Channel (I wonder if too many documentaries about the solar system correlates to lessened genital blood flow; the commercial now acting as an anti-promo for the channel), where getting it up is equated to riding a bike with your wife or walking with her through the park in your golden years.
But my buck stops here because, besides the implication that non-ED inflicted men will retain the talent to keep their wives at their side, I think the point is these men aren't thinking about the product being peddled. They've moved on.
With the cleanse model and the dairy children, it's implied their happiness is erupting right now, as they can't contain their joy. I make poop. There's a tub of sour cream melting and gathering bugs on the picnic table.
Weeeeee!!! Yaaaaay!!!
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