that door had to be carted away and burnt later, for public safety reasons
Remember that old-timey singer Amy Winehouse, back when she was still alive?
Studio performance of Love is a Losing Game by Amy Winehouse
For you I was a flame
Love is a losing game
Five story fire as you came
Love is a losing game
While I wish I’d never played
Oh what a mess we made
And now the final frame
Love is a losing game
Played out by the band
Love is a losing hand
More than I could stand
Love is a losing hand
Self professed… profound
Till the chips were down
…know you’re a gambling man
Love is a losing hand
Though I’d bet on blind
Love is a faith resign
Memories mar my mind
Love is a faith resign
Over futile odds
And laughed at by the gods
And now the final frame
Love is a losing game
You know what else is a losing game? Trying to clean up the code in a popular page you copied bodily from Facebook because you are dutiful and political and committed to freedom of speech and think the world NEEDS an archive of the now-deleted Everybody Draw Mohammad Day page, and furthermore, you are doing it on a beautiful Friday Saturday (I have lost track of time GOD HAVE I BEEN HERE THAT LONG???) night while reading the posts and tweets of all my friends who are a block or two away, having a great time NOT editing Facebook code. And further to furthermore, not doing the workout I was supposed to get done four hours ago either, because I am here, madly editing this stupid, extraneous-div-filled code to appease the Google Gods, who have thrown this blog into the Ninth Circle of Google Hell since the start of May. I even pulled my best string, who yanked Matt Cutt‘s personal chain and got nothing better than When I search for ‘raincoaster’ that blog is the first hit, which proves it’s being indexed properly which is bullshit.
Don’t believe me? Here is my stats graph:
Is it any wonder I'm so fucking CRANKY?????
Now, having gone through ismyblogworking.com and Quantcast and the W3 Validator, Feed Validator, Google Webmaster Tools and (the much more decipherable) Yahoo Site Explorer, I have found my blog is riddled with a metric snotload of code errors and, since I, myself, don’t write in code unless someone is holding a gun to my head AND there are sharks with frikkin laser beams on their heads circling my desk, I didn’t put there. Right?
Anyhoodle, it appeared to even my inexperienced eye that code that looked like div /div div /div /form div div div div /h5 and so on was somewhat problematic, and so I sat down to eliminate said code, line by painful line. For two point seven five hours I sifted code, exercising my Delete button and my Backspace ruthlessly (have you seen Ruth lately, by the way? I’ve been Ruthless for months now) and when I looked at the sidebar I saw that I had successfully cleansed less than one-tenth of the code.
At that point I ruthlessly (seriously, where IS that bitch?) exercised the Move To Trash key, and I hope Lindsay Lohan is happy with the present I sent her.
Now I’m off to sacrifice a unicorn to the Google Gods.
Who knew Lady Gaga = Voldemort?
Wish me luck. On the plus side, I think this may be a good omen:
raincoaster 
RTd by the Great Dismal himself! niiiiice
Thanks! I used to make his coffee back in the 90’s at the Starbucks. It gave me hope, seeing somebody buying lattes with money he’d earned writing.
Gads, you’ll be (more) insufferable (than ever) soon. First Cusack, now Gibson?
oh gawd, my heart bleeds with you. experiences like this is one of the main reasons why every time (three, so far, starting in 197x) i contemplated becoming a professional ITeep, i recoiled semi-immediately.
btw, i gave ruth a call. she was very curt on the phone. something about her new boyfriend, she’s very “busy” with him. what was his name again? tofucorn?
Lori: you somehow missed the rt by Sir Ian McKellen?
Isabella, that Ruth! We’ll just have to wait till she comes back to Earth.
BTW Deleting that page seems to have made not a jot of difference.
However, putting a link to this post on the top of a comment string on Valleywag HAS helped. Yay! Somewhere, Nick Denton shivers and feels used.
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