another reason to hate Ford

Dubya Plugs in car

The CEO of the Ford Motor Company forcibly prevented George W. Bush from blowing himself up last week.

It seems that plugging a live electrical cord into a hydrogen tank is not the wisest course of action, although why we should expect wise courses of action from the man who makes Gerald Ford look intellectual and Donald Duck look diplomatic is beyond me.

Also, quote of the day!

“I just thought, ‘Oh my goodness!’ So, I started walking faster, and the President walked faster and he got to the cord before I did. I violated all the protocols. I touched the President. I grabbed his arm and I moved him up to the front,” Mulally said. “I wanted the president to make sure he plugged into the electricity, not into the hydrogen This is all off the record, right?”

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tardis blueprints

This should look cute in your front garden 

Well, not so much “tardis” as “Metropolitan Police Box” but it is naturally beneath the dignity of the ol’ raincoaster blog to include “box” in a headline, bien sur and yew betcha.

From Sherrod Drawings, via Neatorama, here are the actual archictectural plans for the once-common, now consigned to sci-fi police box.

The first Police Boxes were introduced from America in 1888. The earliest Police Box resembling Drawing G/A1 was erected in Newcastle in 1929. Originally built of wood, the design had changed to reinforced concrete, weighing in around two & one-half tons…This set of plans will make a great present for those Dr Who Fans, or anyone interested in Architectural antiquities…

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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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Stone Age computing: Maria lays it down old skool for Cookie Monster

By now, poor old Cookie‘s probably become one of those sad shut-ins who does nothing but rack up the Visa charges ordering from Cookies4uonline.com.

Thanks a lot, bitch.

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