Valentine’s how-to: the nastiest prank in the world

STD, yoMaybe not the nastiest, come to think of it, as this only applies to those with sex lives that exist in the physical world and not just the universe of slash fic.

Inspot is a truly useful, life-saving website that helps those who’ve been infected with harmful diseases inform others of their risk and encourages a pro-active and positive approach to sexual health. As such, it deserves our wholehearted support and I for one applaud it.

However.

It’s also a tool ripe for abuse; the perfect way to mindfuck someone who has it coming. We at the ol’ raincoaster blog would never encourage you to unleash this monster on an innocent party, but what about those who have it coming? Well, that’s quite another tale of mystery and imagination.

Sexually transmitted diseases (STDs) are more common than you know. In the U.S. alone, there are 15 million new cases each year. Talking to your sex partners, even virtually, helps take away the stigma associated with STDs. AND it’s scientifically proven to reduce transmission.

** Did you know that some of these STDs make it 6-10 times more likely to transmit HIV from an infected person to his or her sex partner – no matter who has the STD first?

TIPS ABOUT THE SITE

  • Notify everyone you’ve had sex with in the past six months. Oral sex counts, too.
  • Try looking through your old emails and your online address book to complete the list.
  • If you decide to compose a personal message, put yourself in the other person’s shoes. Think about how you were told—what you liked and what you didn’t—and put the best of it into words.
  • You don’t have to provide detailed medical info—this email card will automatically provide links to what they need to know.
  • You can send postcards anonymously or from your email address.

Take a damn good look at that last line and then reach out and touch mindfuck someone.

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cash for cadavers, the dead celebrity lottery!

Seal Number Seven...are you sure it wasn't a sea lion?

Cash for Cadavers (Oh, how I wish I’d known about them last week, I coulda made a fortune!) is a uniquely morbid, cynical, and celebrity-obssessed betting system.

So it’s got ME written all over it!

This is the way it works, and yes, it is real.

Each team chips in twenty dollars and picks twenty celebrities they believe will die in the upcoming year. Each celebrity is assigned a point value based solely on how many teams picked that specific person. For instance, everyone seems to feel that The Pope‘s number is up, so his point value is very low. People die, points are accumulated, and the lucky schmo with the most points at the end of the year wins the jackpot.

Points are only awarded to bona fide celebrities. For the sake of this game, celebrity status is determined by North American, non-categorically-specific media source. The Associated Press, for instance, runs a national obituary page every day. USA Today, New York Times, CNN, etc.
We emphasize that it must be a general news source; if your celebrity’s death appears in Field & Stream but nowhere else, he or she is not a celebrity.

Short, nasty and brutish. I love it! The team names are marvelous: My Death in a Box, Please Sir I Want Some Muerte, Tuesday is Rib Nite At Pete’s Crematorium, Croakin’ 2: Electric Deathaloo, Christopher’s Reeve’s Dancecard, and the delightfully obscure Waiting for Bengt Ekerot. Note that their definition of “Celebrity” is quite strict, and is, in fact, the most detailed part of the website. Well, it’s such a competitive field!

BART THE BEAR CLAWS: (Claws? Clause? Har har.) Animals can be played on Cash4Cadavers assuming that they meet the criteria for “celebrity.” Specific, named animals (like Morris the Cat or Bart the Bear) only; none of that “world’s oldest tortoise” crap. If you want to play the world’s oldest tortoise you’ll tell us its name, Poindexter. 

No word on whether stage names are enough to specify a celebustiff, nor any specifics about cases where the soul may have left the body but for whatever cruel and sadistic reason, the Devil hasn’t taken out the trash yet: I would call this the Kissinger Caveat.

Want to see how your picks are doing? Check the Deaths page: I only recognize Art Buschwald, Anna Nicole (the floater is hilarious! See also Paddy Mitchell, eh) and Barbaro. Hey, what’s Arianna Huffington doing in there twice?

I note with interest that it does not actually seem to be against the rules to kill the celebrities yourself.

What? WHAT? I’m just making note of the fine print is all…

Anna Nicole, our angel

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tag cloud nine

raincoaster's tag cloud is so way taggier than yours, yo!So there it is: the raincoaster tag cloud, which idea I got from Seismic Twitch who got the Cthulhu chandelier from me so that is what you call fair trade. Thanks to WordPress.com and their security restrictions it’s not dynamic, but at least it does exist and feature Cthulhu rather prominently, even though it appears to imply that God hates Helen Mirren, which even if it were true I would have no way of knowing, so call off the lawyers and the priests already!

When you cast your bread upon the waters, it often returns to you in strange and unusual forms, even if an thousandfold. I mean, who needs that much bread pudding? But after casting nearly two thousand blog posts upon the blog pond, the internet gave a great heave and tossed the following back at me:

the raincoaster game!
Jessica Coen says so!

I have my own game! Mother would be so proud!

In moderately unrelated news, Google has recently re-jiggered their jigs and re-mastered their masters and greased up the series of tubes known as the internet and as a result my Page Rank, which had been a solid and more than respectobiggle 6 back in the day, but which had plummeted to a juicy 0 after the domain change, has clambered back up to a moderately impressive 5, although there is still lost ground to be regained. Operation Global Media Domination has suffered setbacks before, but it can no more be killed than it can be exorcise: like antimatter, OGMD is inherent in the very nature of the universe and should it be eliminated by some unthinkable and unspeakable metaphysical conflict, the existence of existence itself would cease to be, the snake would swallow its own tail, and the world as we know it would vanish in a puff of hyacinth-scented fairy dust.

And nobody wants that to happen, do they?

Got credited “submitted by” on BoingBoing for submitting Helm’s Deep in Candy, which they and TORn picked up: did fuckall for my hits, actually, and Technorati is still steadfastly refusing to see the damn link. They hate me. Mutual, babes, mutual. But I still get up to twenty hits a day from my comments on the Helm’s Deep post: very strange, but I’ll take ’em!

BTW, I outTechnorati BoingBoing on a search for Helm’s Deep in Candy. *thrilled*

Also, the Guardian picked up my Fart Tax story, which I got from the Guardian, and named it “Best of the web” but of course I didn’t get a screenshot. D’oh! Going on the resume anyway. It is a strange kind of incestuousness indeed that makes the participants BOTH look good, but god knows I’m not proud. Arrogant, yes: proud, no.

Rev it up, baby! 

In extremely-related news, I found this delightful little metric on Blogpond. How could raincoaster here resist something called EgoSurfing? I ax ya. My results, which vary between 10,000 and 12,000, give me a ranking of “Common” which is surely the first and last time someone will be able to get away with calling me that; you can insult me, but only if you manage also to give the impression that I am original in my sordid vileness: is that too much to ask?

Recently I was whining about the effect of blog quietude on hits and a friend of mine expressed complete bafflement at my interest in the subject; more than this, he managed to imply that working for fame was invalid, whereas working for money was right and good. More on this some other time, but being, as I knew he was, of a quantifiable turn of mind, I simply looked at him and quietly said “During the time I’ve been visiting you I’ve gone up seven thousand, five hundred places on Technorati.”

Where is your 2% annual raise now?

And finally tonight, also in OGMD news, we present some of the top searches that have led people to the ol’ raincoaster blog. Let us give thanks to Donnie Davies, may he rest in peace, Helen Mirren‘s tits, and the immortal triad of Beautiful Agony, Beaver Shots, and Blackzilla.

Strangely, nobody wants to look at Doug‘s beaver shots. They much prefer Lori’s. Maybe I should host a sort of photographic carnival of beaver shots, an internet-wide challenge for the best beaver shots out there. But that would artificially game the hits, and that would be so, so very far beneath me.

Wouldn’t it?

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I have no idea who this is

None. I stole the quiz from Pharyngula, though, so I’m not ruling out the possibility that he is a marine biologist and athiest missionary to the People’s Republic of Washington DC.

I am:

Samuel R. “Chip” Delany

Few have had such broad commercial success with aggressively experimental prose techniques.

Which science fiction writer are you?

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which irritating internet quiz are you?

Another from the twisted mind of Juvenal at Bread and Circuses. Not that there’s anything wrong with that: I’m somewhat warped myself and every morning it takes me fifteen minutes to screw my underwear on.

Which Irritating Internet Quiz Are You?

You are: Which Dessert are you?
Insert amusing picture and witty description here. Or not.

You know you want to eat it.

Try Again?

You are NOT:

  • An OS
  • A Powerpuff Girl
  • A Season
  • A Firearm
  • An Eye
  • A Greek Goddess
  • A Piercing
  • A Spirit
  • A Jedi (no matter what you wrote in the census)
  • A Beer
  • A Muppet
  • A Biological Molecule
  • A Month
  • A Sin
  • A Trainspotting Character
  • A Number
  • An Ice Cream Flavour
  • A British Band
  • A Superhero
  • A Herb
  • A Cat
  • A Carebear
  • A Subculture
  • A Transformer
  • A Moon
  • A Decade
  • A Dessert
  • A Hobbit
  • A VW
  • A Tarot Card
  • A Horror Movie
  • A Font
  • An Inanimate Object (probably)

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