fanboy fave Brian Atene on the set of Star Wars: the Empire Strikes Back

What can be said about Brian Atene that hasn’t been said already, probably by himself?

Well he’s BACK, ladies and gentlemen, and we at the ol’ raincoaster blog have got him!

In fact, we at the ol’ raincoaster blog are so behind we actually gave him to Defamer and they ran it on Monday (even though we were banned; we’re too, too kind, and as for our subsequent un-banning, let me just say that Gawker Media interns are shockingly susceptible to a properly executed tandem deployment of the Venus Butterfly and the Mars Rover and now we return you to your regularly scheduled blog), that’s how backlogged we are. But we bit the bullet and swallowed the ex-lax and unclogged the pipes and shat out the following new video from Brian Atene, just for you.

He’s on a quest: a quest to return Lando Kalrissian to his rightful place at the command of the Millennium Falcon, with faithful Chewbacca by his side. Shall we join him?

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quote o’ the day: an armed society…

We barely tolerate how other people drive,
how the hell are we going tolerate those same people packing heat?

Renal Failure
in
An Armed Society is a Society that Ducks for Cover a Lot

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re: Virginia Tech: what DIDN’T you post this week?

Over at Mostly Harmless, the Mostly Thought-Provoking Constructivist has asked an interesting question:

What better way to acknowledge how truly awful a week this has been than to try to start a meme asking people to describe the posts they chose not to write out of respect for the recent dead?

As longtime raincoaster fans know, we’re so not about the memes here, but this one has jolted me out of my minimeme-izing mood and I’ve gone ahead and submitted it to Digg and Reddit, and you may second that if you so desire by clicking on those links.

Virginia TechI see eteraz has observed a moment of blog silence; I respect that and thought about doing that, but it did not seem authentic to me. A blog is silent until you post; for me, the best tribute I could give was not silence but meaningful speech. I did resolve not to speak on the issue unless I could usefully contribute; bandwagon-jumping is particularly abhorrent on a hearse.

As for me, well this isn’t going to cover me in glory but the fact is that I believe the first thing I posted after I learned about the shooting was an amusing and utterly flip quiz, At What Price Would You Sell Out? I generally resort to quizzes when I have nothing to say but want to feed the blog anyway, and so it seemed; as I posted it I thought, “well that’s bought me a few hours at least.”

The shootings sat in my brain for the next several hours, as I resisted the urge to learn more about them. That sounds strange, but after the ordeal I went through with the Kimveer Gill posts, I was not in a hurry to jump back into that trauma soup. In fact, I first learned about the Virginia Tech shootings when I was checking stats and saw that suddenly my Gill posts were doing very well.

Finally, I decided to give in to my impulses and find out what actually happened. It was clear the blogosphere was going nuts trying to find out information, and the police weren’t giving it out, so it became something more creative, more positive, than just sniffing at corpses; it became possible to, by finding and disseminating the truth, to help in some way. I spent some hours researching and saw that, one by one the mysteries were getting cleared up faster than I could possibly do a roundup. Any efforts on my part would only be duplications, so I didn’t make any roundups.

I only posted the cellcam video from Jamal Albarghouti, because watching it raised a lot of questions. Not questions of fact; questions about what it was like to be living through something like that.

I’ve always preferred questions to answers, but maybe that’s a character flaw.

Then I went right back to posting flippant things: a Will Ferrell video and an admittedly valuable but incongruously satirical political post about duelling manifestos from the amazingly irrelevant Michelle Malkin and an imaginary lizard from Buckaroo Banzai. I had promised Robert Chaplin to post about Teeny Ted from Turnip Town and his 10 Counting Cat video, which are both marvelous on any other day but Teeny Ted, the smallest book in the world and normally very newsworthy as well as amusing, was completely overshadowed by my subsequent post on the Bath Disaster, in the wake of the Virginia Tech debate.

It’s like I was eating doughnuts when what I really wanted was beef. Having finally posted on the Bath Disaster, I felt that I could relax. Three posts is a low amount for me in one day; I’ve done as many as 12. In this case, though, it felt as if the quest was complete; I’d done an original and meaningful contribution to the discussion around the meaning of death and what actions the world could take going forward, both on an organizational level and on an individual level. I felt proud.

And, I’m ashamed to say, I saw almost instantly that it was doing well in hits, and I said to myself, “It’s okay, I don’t need to do any more posts tonight. That will keep the blog going for hours.”

I really did.

The next day, I didn’t post because I wanted to leave that post at the top of my blog, and because I felt sure it wouldn’t hurt my standing to do so. I had promised Robert I’d post 10 Counting Cat, but the thing is: it’s about a cat that kills a lot of birds. It’s not really about anything else. It was certainly a bizarre choice to put up in that context, but I did it anyway; if there’d been no promise, there’d have been no post today. I did register that it was tasteless both absolutely (which we’d have no issue with, ever) and in context; it’s not as if I didn’t know. And then I topped that off with a post about Zeta Males and whether a robust virtual life would divert them from a fatal spree.

And so, the tale of what I didn’t post is really not the story at the raincoaster blog. Taste and context have never really been my forte, to say the least. This blog is like a sack of amazing things: dip your hand into it and you could come up with anything from an Archduchess to a dingleberry.

Overall, things balance out, but in the short term, with a fine lens, it can look pretty ugly.

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Teeny Ted from Turnip Town: the Text

Teeny Ted from Turnip Town

Click to enlarge: if only the actual book were so easy to read!

Here, ladies and gentlemen, with the permission of the publisher Robert Chaplin, is the entire text of the smallest book ever produced, Teeny Ted from Turnip Town. The book was produced in association with nanotechnologists Dr. Li Yang and Dr. Karen L. Kavanagh from Simon Fraser University, and is so small that when you look at the plain sheet of polished silicon on which it is carved, you cannot see anything but the scratches laid down by the point of a diamond so that the electron microscope can navigate. That is the huge rut in the image above; the finest scratch visible to the naked eye. The eye does not register this thirty-page book, even as a tiny speck. It is an invisibook, unless, that is, one happens to be carrying in one’s book bag a scanning electron microscope, which possibility we at the ol’ raincoaster blog are not prepared to deny on a categorical or any other basis.  We know our readers are a tricksy bunch, yo.

Teeny Ted from Turnip Town is a tale of triumph, a story of success. Ted grows the biggest turnip; Ted wins the Biggest Turnip contest.

Ah, if only life were that simple.

Chaplin points out, rightly, that we do not know the mysterious Ted‘s back story; we don’t know if he poisoned the other turnips, if he’s obsessed with size because he’s so short, or if winning the prize won him the heart of his true love. Back story be damned! Ted grows the biggest turnip, Ted wins the contest.

End of story.

The book is available from the publisher (contact him here) in a limited edition of one hundred copies, for $20,000. As it can be read only by those who can afford to have a spare scanning electron microscope lying around, price should be no object.

Suggested additional reading: Leaf by Niggle, by JRR Tolkien.

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duelling manifestos: Michelle Malkin vs John BigBooté

As longtime raincoaster fans know, we luv us a good manifesto. Indeed, there’s no feeling so dear to our shrivelled little cardio-unit as snuggling into bed with a lovely fresh, hard-covered and blood-spattered cri de coeur from some doomed, long-dead revolutionary.

Naturally, when we stumbled across this masterwork from the Amazing Invisible Blog of Alan Smithee, we were floored. John BigBooté, after bursting onto the geopolitical scene with the immortal “Monkeyboy Rant,” had vanished, seemingly into thin air (or at least the Ninth Dimension). We recognized this manifesto from another world for what it is: a work of genius. We were so intoxicated by the fumes of glory arising therefrom that it took a little while and a blog comment from the author before we realized it was a response to yet another manifesto from famous Filipino American Anchor Baby Michelle Malkin.

So there was one to love and one to hate. The yin and the yang. The sweet and the sour. The peanut butter and the chocolate. The sinigang and the balut.

Dear Muslim Terrorist Plotter/Planner/Funder/Enabler/Apologist,

You do not know me. But I am on the lookout for you. You are my enemy. And I am yours.

I am John Doe.

I am traveling on your plane. I am riding on your train. I am at your bus stop. I am on your street. I am in your subway car. I am on your lift.

I am your neighbor. I am your customer. I am your classmate. I am your boss.

I am John Doe.

vs

Dear Monkeyboy/Black ‘Lectroid/Hong Kong Cavalier/Kolodny Brother/Radar Blazer/Yakov Smirnoff,

If you don’t know me by now, you’ll never ever ever know me. Oooooo-oooo-ooooo. I’m on a hunt I’m after you. I’m hungry like the wolf. You are my everything.

I am rubber. And you are glue.

If there’s one thing I hate, it’s to be mistaken for somebody else.

I Am John BigBoote.

I am traveling to Planet 10. I am riding in the troop transport. I am in the pod ship. It’s a very bad design.

I’m driving in my car.  I turn on the radio.  Here in my car.  I feel safest of all.

I am your neighbor.  I am your customer.  I am a rock.  I am an island.  History is made at night. Character is what you are in the dark.

I Am John BigBoote.

Michelle Malkin. Is he holding a herring just off-camera?Bigboote. John BigbooteWell, which would you rather take to bed, eh?!

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