if it smells like a fish, eat it

I stole that from a Republican, and if all Republicans thought that way I’d be nicer to them.

It’s a fish roundup for Good Friday here on the ol’ raincoaster blog; my Catholic ancestors must be recrudescent this weekend (is some chippy Brit going to get up my nose about using big words again? I love that: fresh prey).

the toothsome tiger fish 

The fearsome, toothy Tiger fish from the Congo; why would the Congo have tiger fish if Africa has no tigers? Eh? Can you answer me that?

Thai Catfish

This Thai Mekong catfish at 2.7 meters long (9 feet, give or take) may be the biggest freshwater fish ever caught. Gallery of giant Thai catfish photos here, array of giant Thai catfish breaded filets TBA.

Just a side note: the fish was alive when caught, and was injected with fertility drugs so it could be used in a breeding program. Whatever was in the drugs, it died that day, and uh, well, uh, one doesn’t want to make pointed remarks about the intelligence or lack thereof of Thai people, but they ate it. That same day.

Alaskan rockfish

This Alaskan Rockfish is estimated between 90 and 120 years old, which would put its birth back in the pre-Information-or-Otherwise-Superhighway days, indeed, back before horseless carriages. It, too, has ended up as fish sticks. Bon appetit!

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the green meanies: a scientific investigation

blue-green meanieSo for the past four days I’ve been on a rather extreme form of diet; yes me, who never goes on diets. And, in the world of diets, faddy or otherwise, it would be hard to find one more extreme than this one. You see, I am not allowed to eat food on this diet.

Let me repeat that: I am not allowed to eat food on this diet.

There is a very good reason the word “Diet” derives from the root word “Die.”

Click onward if you dare and read the entire 2007-word, heart-rending, or at least angina-producing, saga.

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Continue reading

Operation Global Media Domination: BoingBoingSplat

the crew of the good ship BoingBoing 

I finally get my link. After what, a year of praying and sitting through interminable load times (honestly, the website is mostly space; what could take it so damn long to load? Is it all the felt clogging the tubes of the internets?) and interminable billions of posts about Disney’s bloody Haunted Mansion and godawful felt crafts of the neo-repulsive school, I finally got a link on BoingBoing.

Sing Hallelulia! Let all creation sing,
That raincoaster from obscurity has risen,
Glory to the Boing!
Sound jubilation! Let every bell ring clear,
And joyous peals proclaim the message,
Our pwnage of Technorati is here.

Or not: One hit.

Ou sont les A-List Coattails d’antan?

Perhaps panda poo paper just isn’t popular? I even had to replace all the images because this was during the great Photobucket bandwidth blankout of 2007, not that we’re complaining. That would be so unlike us.

Oh, very well; the detail-oriented and sharp of memory among you will recall that we made it once before. All I can say to that is that the halflife of celebrity is clearly short online. In that case, I submitted the story and so my link was on there from the get-go, even if it wasn’t the go-to link. In this case, I submitted an addendum to a several-hours-old post, from which I conclude that BoingBoing readers read it pretty much in realtime, so if you want the glory and the kingdom, for ever and ever, or even for long enough for Technorati to pick up the link, you need to be the submitter of the link in the first place.

Timeliness: just what has been so difficult around these parts lately. I have learned, over the past two weeks of having a roommate, that I am willing to share space. I am willing to share food. I am willing to share even toothbrushes, okay, no, but almost. Point is: I’m fine with sharing most things. But sharing the internet connection, as in he has it some of the time and I have it some of the time?

No.

When you pair that with the fact that he’s an internationally known raw food chef whom I have allowed for the sake of experiment to put me on a special green smoothie juice fast just to see if there’s really anything in this chlorophyll hokum, and that green smoothie fasts apparently make me homicidally enraged from the moment I awake to the moment I lose consciousness, raining curses down upon the heads of my enemies as I drift off to sleep, and furthermore that I am PMSing at the moment, you’ll see that something had to give, and that it sure as hell wasn’t going to be me. Sic transit gorilla mozilla.

Cthulhu Tract

So the router he got seems to work well. We’ve even got our first pirate leeching off the signal, but as long as I can blog, I care not. Share the wireless luv! Information wants to be free!

Also, so do gastrointestinal systems. If I had any cash I’d hit the brunch buffet at Griffin’s like it’s never been hit before! As it is, I intend to scramble eggs with gorgonzola cheese and wash it down with a latte, then follow that up with pan fries. WITH ketchup and Tabasco. Sic transit gloria chorophyll.

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the Spaghetti Harvest, 2007

The Spaghetti Harvest 

Yes, the BBC did a groundbreaking documentary on the Swiss spaghetti farming industry back in 1957 (crappy Realplayer version here), but that’s soooo 20th Century. Here is an update on an independent spaghetti farmer working the family farm in New Jersey, and his valiant fight against corporate Big Spaghetti.

and remember, if you want to grow your own, just follow the advice of the BBC:

place a sprig of spaghetti in a tin of tomato sauce and hope for the best

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quiz: what flavour frappuccino are you?

Or however you spell that. Real women drink coffee and iced Americanos and mochas. Barbie dolls drink Frappuccinos. In SUVs. On their way to the mall. And then they purge in the public bathroom because they’re worried about the calories.


Mocha Frappuccino


Hyper and driven, you’ll take your caffeine any way you can get it. Frappuccinos are good, but you’d probably chew coffee beans in a crunch!

What Flavor Frappuccino Are You?

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