Category Archives: Blogging

Operation Global Media Domination: Hit me again, I can take it, I’m Irish

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TIABehold, the chart which means more to me than an ECG, more than a roundel of feed stats, more than a breakdown of paycheque deductions (I think that's what it's called…paycheque… so hard to remember).

The Blog Hits Chart:

Blog Stats May 4 2006

Should I worry that the original size of this chart was 1040x666? Naaaaaaaaaaah.

In unrelated news, a friend of mine set me an intriguing test a couple of years ago. Can you name the seven deadly sins, WITHOUT consulting so much as your cat, much less Google or an actual Bible? Bet you can't, and I bet I know the one you leave off…everyone does. But not as completely or as well as I do.

Where was I? Ah yes, blog stats.

I have to say, when I went to bed last night things were looking good. I had already hit my "feel smug" baseline, which is 200. Now, you readers and I know quite well that if it weren't for a certain pair of nesting bald eagles and another pair of nesting bald eagles and my tendency to post the URL of relevant blog passages on the Guardian newsblogs (which are otherwise starved both of relevance and passagity, or is that passagassity?) I'd never see 200 hits in a day even if I caught Stephen Harper eating a baby on YouTube and you and I both know he's too smart for that: he has them brought to him pureed, in smoothies. Well, he must; he's never been photographed eating a baby, but who can tell what's in those cups eh? EH? Answer me that, me lad!

Where was I? Oh yeah, smug.

And when I got to the compy in the late PM, just before the statcounter clicked over from Today to Tomorrow, I was dumbfounded, for lo, I had done almost double the hits of my previous best day ever.

All because of bald eagles, ball-chasing Boris, and Beautiful Agonies.

And I, consumed in the glow of the ascendant short-tailer or is that bodian as opposed to long-tailer, clicked away for a moment, beaming with the irreproducable joy of having seen that graph approach the very top of the box.

FOOL THAT I WAS! FOOL, I SAY!

For lo, when I clicked back WordPress had analyzed the hit trend and decided to bump me back to the bottom of the graph; they have put the top bar at Eight Fucking Hundred and Ten Goddam Hits!

You know, in Fisherman's Wharf there are barrels and barrels of crabs and the fishmongers don't put any lids on them; they don't need to. When a crab makes a break for it and tries to crawl out, the others reach out and pull him back to the bottom.

Not that I'm bitter. Continue reading →

Operation Global Media Domination: “I May Have to Start Reading the Independent Instead” Edition

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TIAOne is slightly fucking annoyed, one is. It's one thing to be ripped off and quoted inflammatorily out of context by the Mirror, but it's quite another to have a blog comment I left on the Guardian used as a springboard to a blog post made for pay and without attribution, most particularly when said blog post is already several days out of date.

That's the thing that bugs me about the Guardian blogs; they're not blogs, they're dumping grounds for stuff several days old, not worth putting on paper, or otherwise afterthought. It's all filler, just something to click on while you're waiting for that damn marketing report to load in the background.

That's not what a blog is meant to be. Ruskin woulda been a great blogger. "Have nothing in your blog that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful," makes perfect sense, doesn't it? I happen to think Giant Squid are beautiful. Not everyone agrees with me, but this ain't a forum. It's a blog.

It has a perspective, it has a voice, and most of all it has a certain currency.

This does not. By the time it was posted, one of the eggs mentioned had been missing for several days. The other is no longer expected to hatch. And yet the post happily burbles on about anticipation and the pair of eggs and how really fantastic it's going to be in a few days when they hatch, lalalalalalalalalalalalala. How did they get this story in the first place?

Funny you should ask.

Let's be fair; it could have happened one of two ways. Either:

A) the writers of the news blog do not actually read the news blog, and came to the story via old-fashioned wire services in which case the editor needs a good spanking

or

B) they got it from my posts in this thread and this thread, much earlier in the news blog and just googled for some background. In which case the editor needs a good flaming.

I don't demand cash. I don't expect flowers. But not so much as a LINK????

and for some reason I am unable to get to the sign in page today. Could there be more conclusive proof that there is no liberal media conspiracy?

Blog post o’ the day

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Courtesy of the Heather —-s Blog . May contrain traces of soy products, gluten, nuts and editing:

It’s not you, it’s me. I’m just not the same person as when I started —–ing you. I have loved the time we spent together. Your —– is strong yet soft. You are lithe and attractive. There is nothing wrong with you. It’s just that I am in a different place now.

No, it’s not only that I’ve been spending time with Bjerk, and I truly wish that you’d stop saying “that B-Jerk.” I’m fairly certain it’s pronounced like Bjork but with an “erk.”

I spend time with Bjerk because I don’t want to hang around the house all the time anymore – I’ve been enjoying getting out and I can’t take you anywhere these days, what with your being in pieces and your ends all hanging out. When we were spending all that time at home in front of the TV, that was one thing. But I want to be free to move around!

I’ve worked hard on this relationship, and I’m not giving up now. You know that I’m committed: We’ve been through thick and thin, unraveling, bumps, twists, and 190 dang b—–s! But something has to change. You can’t accuse me of cheating just because I swatched Bjerk when I should have been working on your shoulders, or every time I —- a couple of —- with Bjerk in my hands. Yes, Bjerk is beautiful…

But so are you, in a different way. Neither of you is better or worse. I love your b—–s, Bjerk doesn’t have any of those. And you have such a lovely —– (no, I did NOT say d—p!). Just because Bjerk is slightly more youthful and elastic doesn’t mean anything.

OK, you’re right, maybe I don’t know how to handle your edgy ——-, but I’m willing to learn! I can improve, I know I can! Once we work through that, I’ll be able to take you with me everywhere.

It’s just that. Well. You’re right. I probably will never be able to be completely exclusive.

Just set me free and I will come back to you. Stop with the guilt trips. Wait patiently and the novelty of Bjerk will wear off (at about 2 3/4 inches, when Bjerk tells me to use — ———, and I say no because I don’t have any on me).

Welcome to the Blogroll: Rick Mercer, National Hero!

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Canadian Gothic

I mean, how can you not love a guy like this, eh? He's a political leftie, an author, a brainiac, he speaks fluent Maritimer, and he's a dead hottie to boot.

…a previous Conservative government made Conrad Black a Member of the Privy Council. It is somehow fitting that if Conrad goes down in a nasty prison brawl over a carton of cigarettes, the flag over the Peace Tower will fly at half mast. A nation will mourn the passing of a guy who voluntarily gave up his Canadian citizenship so he could play dress-up party in England.
 

I can see that, while he's not a daily blogger, nor yet a desperate famewhore such as myself who has to hit it several times a day or go mad but that's neither here nor there, he's already caught onto the old blogger's trick of getting other people to supply content. Way to take a month off, eh?

Naked George W. Bush! Nekkid! Nekkid!

Quiz: What Book Are You?

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I'm not sure I like this. I mean, I'm not disputing it; no, not in the least. But I'm still not sure I like this. At least I'm a literary best-seller!


You're The Poisonwood Bible!
by Barbara Kingsolver
Deeply rooted in a religious background, you have since become both isolated and schizophrenic. You were naively sure that your actions would help people, but of course they were resistant to your message and ultimately disaster ensued. Since you can see so many sides of the same issue, you are both wise beyond your years and tied to worthless perspectives. If you were a type of waffle, it would be Belgian.
Take the Book Quiz at the Blue Pyramid.