BEST! BLOG! PLUGIN! EVAR!

100% shit-free, this is the absolute best blog plugin the world has ever known. I defy you to find one with more universal appeal. It’s flexible, with a little imagination it works in any theme, and properly installed it entails almost no risk of spreading a virus.

It’s even compatible with a wide variety of platforms, including Blogspot, the trailer tramp of the blogosphere and WordPress.com, the strict English governess of the blogosphere.

Ladies and gentlemen, we present Blog for Sex!

In an effort to encourage me to revive this blog, my wife has imposed this “No blog, No sex” rule. The rule is simple: I am supposed to blog at least once a week in exchange for love-making. The hornier I get, the more blog entries I get to post.

Note that you must upload your own sexual partner, rather than hotlinking Marc’s. Hat-tip to a certain degenerate horse blogger. You may do what you like with THAT mental picture.

Up and Coming! Shape up or slip out!

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the blogger rap

Go on, say it. 

Here’s a little gem from The Assimilated Negro, who apparently gets these urges from time to time. We only give thanks he gets them when there’s a mic handy. Ladies and gentlemen, we present your new theme song.

Rough Draft: Blogging All Over New York

all over new york baby
center of the universe
the blogging here is so crazy right now
that’s why, when I see a girl
i walk right over to her
i’m like yo …

waddup girl, I’m a blogger
assimilated negro looking for fodder
and I’m not your average ipodder
kicking some game
you know my sh*t’s smart, funny,
plus a little insane
(hey)
see TAN is running this town
and if you got some wi-fi
I could show you around
that’s why anywhere online
you’ll be thinking of me
there’s so many blogrolls with people linking to me

And so on, much with the hyperlinkage. That’s the best part, actually. Full lyrics on the site here.

“And what is the use of a blog post,” thought Alice, “without hyperlinks and multimedia?”

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quiz: which Romantic Poet are you?

I tried leaning heavily on my love of daffodils to game this quiz, but I think it could tell I was lying. And just because I’m too old to die young doesn’t mean I’m not Keats, dammit! Fuck- I mean FAUGH!

You scored as Percy Shelley. You’re poet is Percy Shelley. Shelley’s best-known works include his Prometheus Unbound (1819), a lyrical drama in which Shelley expounds the cause of an imaginative revolution, his atheistic poem Queen Mab (1821), his prose essay A Defence of Poetry (1840) and The Triumph of Life, left unfinished at Shelley’s death. Many of Shelley’s other works were written around 1820: these include The Mask of Anarchy (1820), the poem ‘Ode to the West Wind’ (1819), Peter Bell the Third (1819) and the political odes ‘To Liberty’ and ‘To Naples’ (both 1820).

Percy Shelley
69%
John Keats
69%
William Wordsworth
63%
Lord Byron
63%
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
50%

Who is Your Romantic Poet?
created with QuizFarm.com

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Ask the philosophers: the 11 greatest philosophical quotations

Hobbes. Bet you didn't expect that, eh?

But they left out my favorite, from Camus: “It is the obligation of the intelligent to oppress the stupid, otherwise they will take over the world.”

Too late. That’s what three decades of Relativism gets you.

Here, from Mental Floss via Neatorama, are the 11 greatest philosophical quotations, with arguably enlightening commentary. Bonus pronounciation guide, for those of you who prefer to pronounce things as if you were still living in Bavaria…here’s a tip: I was born near Paris, but I pronounce it “Pare-iss” not “Pay-ree” because I do not live in France. I do not pronounce Indonesia with five syllables either, although you do once you’re there. That goes double for idiomatic English names (eg “It’s spelt ‘SMITH’  but has been pronounced “Williams” since the Battle of Hastings…”) If you do not live in France or Germany or Worcestershire or Bandaniera either, making a point of pronouncing things like the natives do simply makes people write you off (correctly) as one of those beret-wearing pretentiati. And when raincoaster here tells you you’re being pretentious, you know you’re out of bounds.

Ahem.

3. “The life of man [is] solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.” – Thomas Hobbes (1588 – 1679)
Referring to the original state of nature, a hypothetical past before civilization, Hobbes saw no reason to be nostalgic.

Whereas Rousseau said, “Man is born free, and he is everywhere in chains,” Hobbes believed we find ourselves living a savage, impossible life without education and the protection of the state. Human nature is bad: we’ll prey on one another in the most vicious ways. No doubt the state imposes on our liberty in an overwhelming way. Yet Hobbes’ claim was that these very chains were absolutely crucial in protecting us from one another.

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Too Much Coffee Man, an introduction

TMCM, yo man! 

Reading engtech’s post on his favorite web comics reminded me of my old fave from the deepest, darkest Nineties, Too Much Coffee Man, which I find is now an opera that is packing them in like espresso in a portafilter! TMCM was one of my favorite comics, back when I had a 9-5 or actually it was with Starbucks so it was more like a 5:30am-6:30pm, but whatever, and could afford to buy dead trees.

I am reminded at this juncture of perhaps the most absurd of the various absurdities of working in a cubicle farm. I had a TMCM toque which I treasured for its hip coffeeness and relevance, and I thought it would look cute and edgy sitting on top of my filing cabinet, so that is where I put it.

And every morning it would be on my desk.

At first I thought the cleaners were moving it, although dusting the top of the cabinets every day seemed a bit extreme to me. But after awhile I realized it was happening even when the cleaners had not been in. So I began to test things.

I pinned it to my cube wall. Nothing. I put it on my chair. Nothing. I pinned it on the outside of my doorway: bingo, it was on my desk in the morning.

Turns out that the head of HR didn’t like to see anything poking up above the level of the top of the cubes, nor anything outside the cubes other than slate grey tweed: the only person who could violate this rule was the admittedly artistic and very powerful head of the training department. My boss was staying late every night just to move my toque.

There’s the title of my forthcoming business book, right there:
WHO MOVED MY TOQUE.

Back to TMCM. He would show up in some of the gimme papers in Portland cafes, but the trip to Oregon sort of offset the freebie-ness of the comics themselves, so I had to give it up and start spending fifteen minutes’ pay at the comic shop for the colour issues.

While the title character himself seems to have long since gone to that Great Compost Bucket in the Sky, the comic and the aesthetic and the dream live on.

Oh Solo Espresso!

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