Hump Day Unicorn Chaser: Party Time!

and to top it all off...

Ia! Ia! Baby work it! Insanely fabulous!

First things first: who knew the frozen tundra was absofuckingloutely roasting in the summertime? I guess 24 hours of sunlight and no clouds, ever, will do that to you.

The remedy? BOOZE POPS! I’m wondering what kind of rum I can get at the liquor store to mix into these, because the freezer I’ve got can turn a bottle of lukewarm coke into a coke slurpee in about 15 minutes.

Everybody dance now!

via Brosnakes

Yeah, okay. Maybe just that one guy dance, and everybody else watch him. And here I thought hipsters couldn’t move in those skinny pants! The fact that he performs this (and you really have to give it more than 30 seconds) in what looks like the setting for the world’s seediest amateur porn only makes the whole thing more fabulous.

Now that we’ve set the mood, the guests have started to arrive. The occasion, in case you’re wondering: a joint party (no puns, I hate smelly, dull people who mumble nonstop about pizza) for the birthdays of Julian Assange and myself. And look: everyone’s sitting down to dinner.

Happy Birthday, Mister President of Wikileaks

Happy Birthday, Mister President of Wikileaks

Who else was there? Oh, all the top celebrities. And what did they talk about? Each other, of course. And if you click over the jump to the celebrity gossip roundup, you’ll be able to read the whole thing.

Continue reading

The Swag Report: Happy Birthday to Me!

Of the Most Epic Party in the History of Partification we shall not speak at this time.

Mostly because we can’t remember much of it.

But my going-away party had to double as my birthday party, and that was just fine with me, as providing transportation for all my Vancouver friends to and from my new place would be a little difficult, what with it being a four-day drive and all. At the party I got, besides all the yummy food everyone brought, a bottle of Plymouth Gin (which has been hard to get since last year), a bottle of Bombay Sapphire Gin, a bottle of Vermouth, a gift box of a half-bottle of Bombay Sapphire with two rocks glasses (are we sensing a theme here?), a hand-blown glass perfume bottle, a bottle of Chilean wine, and Hmm. Hmm. Other stuff which I can’t remember. Which isn’t too bad for a party where I said No Presents Please.

And when I walked into my new place in Yellowknife the woman I’m house-sitting for had left an airline-sized bottle of Bombay Sapphire on the kitchen counter, with “Welcome to da Knife” on a post-it. That’s what I call welcoming!

In case you didn’t know, I found my new job via Facebook, from someone I’d met on Twitter. I found my new apartment via the comments section at Crasstalk. So don’t ever think social media is a waste of time; it’s like sex. It can be a waste of time if you’re doing it wrong. But I do it really, really well.

Ahem.

Today, as nobody in Yellowknife knows it’s my birthday and everyone elsewhere is too far to walk, I have only digital presents, but they are lovely. What did I get?

My friends have a wonderful ability to prioritize

My friends have a wonderful ability to prioritize

from JustJennifer

A birthday post dedicated to me from Hummingbird604:

The truth of the matter is that the Raincoaster persona is not exactly the same person as my good friend Lorraine Murphy. Lorraine happens to be actually a very nice person with a brain and broad range of experiences that rivals that of many modern times’ intellectuals … she’s done some amazing work, especially for the Fearless City project, empowering folks in the Downtown East Side (where she used to live) and enabling them to tell stories through blogs and other social media outlets.

Normally, I would have taken Lorraine for drinks for her birthday but since she’s up North, a blog post will have to do. Lorraine, I’m very proud of how far you’ve gone, and as I told you once – you rock, and you WILL continue to rock, long time. Have fun up North, change people’s lives, show them the way and then assimilate them into the Cthulhu :)

Raul, you can count on me!

If I had a blog

If I had a blog

Yeah, thanks there, Kye Grace. If you need blogging lessons, I can hook you up, ya know.

She's got legs! And Cake!

She's got legs! And Cake!

From Suzy Cakes on Facebook

and last but certainly not least (because I’m sure I’ve forgotten some, some are not compatible with WordPress.com, and besides, I have this particular object on mail order, and Nancy better not forget it!):

Julian Sez Happy Birthday!

Julian Sez Happy Birthday!

from Guacira Naves

Big Bang Blogged, Blindly

That's just wrong, dude. You wear the red shirt on the next away mission.

That's just wrong, dude. You wear the red shirt on the next away mission.

Longtime readers of the ol’ raincoaster blog will know that we rarely (make that never) comply with demands for retractions when we’re sure of our facts. And we’re usually sure of our facts, even when they are wrong.

Like they were in this case.

This is what I get for relying on The Sun for anything but tits, really.

So it turns out the facts in this case were not quite as reported. Which case? The one we blogged about, titling it

UK news: how to get away with blowing up three cars in a huge fireball without being suspected of terrorism

which was really rather pointed of us, wasn’t it? Too bad those don’t appear to be the facts.

So, what are the facts?

It happened in the UK. That is not disputed, particularly by the nice lawyer who contacted us therefrom; well, technically the Head of Complaints at the Press Complaints Commission (does this make me a Real Journalist now? Dad would be so proud). UK libel laws, you and Graydon Carter may recall, are pretty heavily weighted in favour of the person being discussed (usually known around these parts as “the material” and around Vanity Fair as “Roman Fucking Polanski Goddammit”) regardless of what was said and their pre-existing reputation, but that is neither here nor there. Tho it had to be said, because why? Because it’s a blog, that’s why. If you don’t read the text and only come for the saucy pictures of anarchists, you’re skipping this part anyway and I can insult you freely, you puce-faced pantyliner.

By the way, WordPress.com stood by me and thanked me for bringing it to their attention, reiterating what I already knew; that in the absence of a court order, they would not remove the post without my permission.

As for The Incident Itself…

It involved a woman called Sarah Dean, a young British woman, a woman who worked in the travel industry, a woman with a really good lawyer. No, really good. Go ahead, google her; the archive is wiped except for some irritable bowel symptom reference. Yes, even Yahoo; that is some god-like omnipotence shit right there, that is. I’ve never seen Yahoo wipe something before.

What the Sun reported was that, a couple of days before several car-based explosiony terrorist attacks in the UK, her car “exploded in a fireball”, taking out the neighboring cars as well. And that was, apparently that. Except that I went on to say:

To be serious for a moment, either people with connections to the travel industry who happen to be blowing cars up in the UK are a risk or they are not. Either all such people should be investigated for connections to terrorism, or none should be. I have not the slightest idea of Sarah Dean is a hapless clerk or a terrorist mastermind, but then neither do you. Let this very weird, very peculiarily timed incident be fully investigated. Cars rarely blow up, especially German ones.

Regardless of what happened to her car, I stand by that statement. Now, as to what happened to her car, this is the statement released by the lawyer and printed in the Sun (which I can’t even find on Google; told you the lawyer was good!):

Further to your article “I blew up my boss’s Porsche”, I would like to make clear that after seeing smoke from the engine I pulled my car over and pushed it into the staff car park. It later caught fire causing minor damage to two other cars. There was no explosion nor were any other cars written off.

So, now that we’ve gotten our facts straight we can move on, thinking: a) that all suspicious travel-related incidents in a time of domestic terrorism deserve an equal chance of investigation, b) Sarah Dean seems to fall into the category of “hapless clerk” and not “terrorist mastermind” unless she truly, truly sucks at it,  and c) the Sun‘s standards for “Fireball” would not be accepted by any Dungeon Master in the entire constellation of parallel universes of RPG’s.

Vanity UnFair!

Julian Assange is no Time Lord, cancels subscription

Julian Assange is no Time Lord, cancels subscription

THIS! Means! WAR!

Oh sure, it starts out as an amusing, cleverly-written quiz on VanityFair.com, but the next thing you know it’s fucking SLANDER!

Rootin' Tootin' Newtie!

Rootin' Tootin' Newtie!

Congratulations! You are Newt Gingrich: Despite strangely strong public affection for dinosaurs and space exploration and shocking contempt for the women you routinely divorce, you actually made it big in politics—15 years ago.

This is, like, SO not fair. I’m not even gay-married!

GPOY

Steampunk Stainless Steel Cthulhu is my spirit animal

Steampunk Stainless Steel Cthulhu is my spirit animal

Okay, technically this is a GPOYSA, gratuitous photo of your spirit animal. I think finally, after a lengthy search with candidates as impressive (and bizarre) as Sexually Oblivious Rhino, Courage Wolf, Greek Riot Dog, the raven, and a carnival Carousel, we finally have a winner.

Unless…

Yes. Yes. Looking over all 4178 posts and an estimated 1,044,500 words here on the ol’ raincoaster blog, it seems we have a strong rival to the Stainless Steel Squid here: the Oxford Comma.

The Oxford, Comma

The Oxford, Comma

From TheDailyWhat:

Who gives a f*ck about an Oxford comma? Not Oxford University’s branding style guide, which instructs its readers thus:

As a general rule, do not use the serial/Oxford comma: so write ‘a, b and c’ not ‘a, b, and c’.

It should be noted that an exception has been made for sentences where an Oxford comma would “assist in the meaning of the sentence or helps to resolve ambiguity,” such as when “one of the items in the list is already joined by ‘and’.”

So, that clears that right up, then. What, Ever. Any fool can SEE I am in love with this thing. SAVE THE OXFORD, COMMA! I’m a sucker for lost causes.

Help me out here, people.