Operation Global Media Domination: the confessional

TIAJesus, I hope I spelled that right. I am only genetically Catholic, after all. No doubt The Sister, who rode our Catholicest of the Catholic family name all the way to a very senior job in the Catholic school system (which, of course, neither of us attended although we did go to Baptist day camp), will correct me.

After she asks her secretary how to spell it.

In any case, I have a confession to make. I have taken you for granted. And judging by the hits yesterday, you didn’t seem to mind.

I think acetominophen is antithecal to blogging, or at least on two extra strength tylenol I wasn’t feeling very fresh, so I just didn’t post. Now, this may seem odd, given that what I usually post is just the online equivalent of shoving the newspaper under some handy person’s nose and saying, “check this out!” but nonetheless, one must be in the mood, in the zone, or in the groove, to blog effectively.

I took one look at the stats and said to myself the Britney pervs will keep this thing afloat overnight if I flake out, and so they did, all 1200 of them looking for the elusive porn tape. Guess what, guys? It’s not her. Now you can get on with the rest of your so-called lives.

You’re welcome.

So, I jammed the Axe Gang dance moves up there and went to bed, sulking and wisfully thumbing through all the workouts in Self and Shape that I cannot, in this shape, actually do. Gawd knows what I did to my left ankle right now, but it’s quite clear that I am being singled out for punishment in this life, as we finally have perfectly clear, crisp days that are perfect for rollerblading, and the T-factor has not yet become suffocating, although I did scare a bunch of oblivious Iranians and one tiny Hong Kong realtor wheeling and dealing on a cellphone when I zoomed between them. They’re just lucky I swerved rather than treating them like vertical speed bumps. I did pat the realtor on her shoulder, and she looked quite surprised. Perhaps she thought I was after her jacket?

In unrelated news, I spent the day cooped up and the energy had to go somewhere, somewhere that didn’t involve the feet, so I washed all the mold and lichens off the wall of my patio, revealing the pink stucco that lurks beneath. I also cleaned up most of the crap on the patio and looked wisfully at the iron potbellied stove that Carinthia gave me, but dismissed the idea of starting a fire, for fear my neighbors would smell smoke and become alarmed.

Then my upstairs neighbor threw his trash over the balcony and onto my patio.

The fire is lovely. 

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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momma’s got a brand new blog!

Alert the media: They’ll be thrilled.

If the Friday the 13th movies were filmed in Canada! 

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t a great idea to launch this blog on Friday the 13th.

We shall not let that stop us! Blogroll/ignore at will! We shall be running through rain relentlessly, regardless!

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Fame, Glory, Sex and Money through Blogging: what it takes to beat the squirrel babies

Jedi Squirrels unite! 

Fame. Glory. Sex. Money. You want it all. You want it now.

And you want to get it by blogging.

I hear you, baby. I know how you feel. I’m one of you.

I’m about to give you some bad news

The Fame? That comes fast, as long as you define “fame” as “slightly known, in that they can kindasorta recognize my header but have no idea what I look like way, to people who already read blogs.” This is a smaller group than you currently imagine, and even your late-night entreaties of the retired longshoremen on the rail at your local watering hole are not likely to change it on a measurable scale.

If you want to be famous to politicians’ research staffers, WoW-playing slackers, or sysadmins, however, you’ve got it made.

The Glory? See above, plus your mother will be proud of you once you spend three consecutive holidays explaining to her what blogging is and showing her how to put YOUR blog in HER email signature. Unless you’re a porn blogger, and then we don’t want to know about your relationship with your mother.

The Sex? You mean with other people? What would I know about that? Ask the porn bloggers if you must.

The Money?Ah, the money. Now we come to it; you figured that if you stuck Adsense on your cat blog that you could just sit back and watch the millions roll in, didn’t you? You’ve taken a couple of overpriced SEO seminars and can’t understand why you aren’t able to quit your day job just yet.

In point of fact, there are three ways to earn six figures from blogging.

  1. Be Robert Scoble.
  2. The engtech method
  3. The Manolo method

Of these three, we at the ol’ raincoaster blog favour #3, for lo, we are in truth and in fact not Robert Scoble and yea verily we can hardly understand what engtech says half the time (and could only get a six-figure job if you left out the decimal entirely), so that leaves only one option.

Fortunately, the Magnanimous Manolo has laid out a simple yet superfantastic planenabling you to scale the heights of the six-figure-blogo-strato-sphere. Or, as he puts it, “to beat the squirrel babies.”

You may think, Mr. Arturo G. Bloggerman, that your grand mission is to enlighten the unwashed masses, to whom you declaim the unpleasant truth from your exalted perch at declaimingloudly.blogspot.com. But in the point of fact, if the unwashed masses do not find your loud declamations entertaining they will quickly move down the street to the Cuteoverload to look at the pictures of the squirrel babies.

So, what must you do to compete with the squirrel babies?

Read the rest of the articleto learn the superfantastic surefire secret to six-figure success!
(sorry, been reading a lot of marketing faff lately)

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tag and release

Never forget! 

Tag, anyway. Release? I dunno: I get off on blogging, but how was it for you?

Despite my noted antipathy towards chain letters, meme-tagging, and all associated nonsense, both the esteemed Juvenal and the self-esteemed Stilletto Girl have tagged me as being a Thogger.

The participation rules are simple:

1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think,
2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme,
3. Optional: Proudly display the ‘Thinking Blogger Award’ with a link to the post that you wrote (here is an alternative silver version if gold doesn’t fit your blog).

This is better than it sounds, and really quite brave of them, all things considered.

So I’m a blog that makes you think, eh? Probably one that makes you think Canadians are a group of degenerate, tentacled, squid-souled anarchists, and quite right you are (note that all Canadians who do not fit that description are, in fact, Albertans). I am flattered nonetheless.

Release: In the spirit of Anarchy, I’m passing this tag along to anyone who wants to volunteer for it. I have a rare, refined, and reflective group of readers and feel confident that anyone who would step up for this is both ballsy and thought-provoking.

Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?

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