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2001.07.08 : 2001.07.14
Saturday, July 14, 2001
Blab. A reader looking for more information on the stars
of The Socialist Calculation Debate writes:
I'm familiar with Salma
Hayek and Jessica
Lange, but who's Von Mises? What has she been in?
That would be Margit
(Herzfeld) von Mises, of course.
By the way, here's a very
nice review of the movie.
Blab. A reader writes:
verrrrry silly
... though whether this is review or entreaty is not yet clear.
Blab. On an otherwise quiet Saturday in cyberspace comes an odd
little piece of spam. Originating in the domain q1y401tnp0.com,
it was relayed through the apparently misconfigured www.itsecurity.gov.in("India's
IT Security Portal"), and you have to find that amusing.
But even more curious is the text itself:
EXTREMELY POWERFUL PRODUCTS
! NEW! WINNI-V * D-BOL * EQUIPOSE * MASTERBOLAN "REAL" Anabolic Bodybuilding
Pharmaceuticals .....( CLICK HERE! ) "REAL" Diet Pills ..... ( CLICK HERE!
) SDI Labs Toll Free: 1-888-256-**** **** Lake Worth Road - Lake Worth,
FL 33467 <--------------------------------------------------------->
To be removed FOR FREE from our mailing list please click on the link below
and and hit send. Your email address will be removed within 24 hours. (
CLICK HERE ) If link does not work please send an email with the word remove
in the subject to remove@****.com - ////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
/ From C1, it follows that the product assurance / / architecture requires
considerable systems analysis and / / trade-off studies to arrive at the
evolution of / / specifications over a given time period. It would not,
/ / however, be safe to assume that a primary interrelationship / / of
system and/or subsystem logistics adds overwhelming / / Folkloristic significance
to the traditional practice of / / grammarians. Based on integral subsystem
considerations, / / initiation of basic charismatic subculture development
/ / cannot be arbitrary in the total configurational rationale. / / As
a resultant implication, our fully integrated field / / program is functionally
equivalent to (though formally / / distinct from) an important distinction
in language use. It / / seems to me to be the case that the incorporation
of / / additional mission constraints raises serious doubts about / / nondistinctness
in the sense of distinctive feature theory. / / From the intercultural
viewpoint, any associated supporting / / element presents a valuable challenge
showing the necessity / / for the extended c-command discussed in connection
with / / (34). It should be noted that a descriptively adequate / / grammar
maximizes the probability of project success, yet / / minimizes cost and
time required for any discrete / / configuration modality. Of course, most
of the / / methodological work in modern linguistics can be defined in
/ / such a way as to impose the anticipated fourth-generation / / equipment.
On the other hand, the speaker-hearer's / / linguistic intuition adds overriding
performance constraints / / to our hedonic Folklife perspective over a
given time / / period. Notice, incidentally, that the incorporation of
/ / additional mission constraints cannot be arbitrary in an / / important
distinction in language use. / /////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Ignoring the very apostrophized pharmaceutical ad, that last marvelous
bit of nonsense is similar, but not identical to, otherspam-relatedtracts
that people have noticed.
Maybe it comes from the Chomsky-Bot.
But what's it doing in spam? Is the Chomsky-Bot now using spam to spread
its post-intelligible message? Readers?
Yo.
The Second Coming Project
is a not-for-profit organization devoted to bringing about the Second Coming
of Our Lord, Jesus Christ, as prophesied in the Bible, in time for the
2,000th anniversary of his birth.
By, um, cloning Him. (Weird
Links)
Yow. From a fortune cookie last night:
Valuable people need to be
treasured.
We hope that we can always live by these words.
Yo. Imagine the rusty, dusty "used future" look of Star Wars,
redone
by a contemporary designer. Does your brain stretch that far?
Plop. Who, I ask you, who would have this license plate?
That it is an Idaho plate is probably not coincidental. "Famous Potatoes"
indeed. (Weird Links)
Yak.
Oh, yeah, they'd like
you to believe it's a conspiracy. As if it's hard to make it look
like a conspiracy.
 Plurp.
The blue dog
had a plate but no
license
Friday, July 13, 2001
Blab. From an extremely resourceful reader comes this
gem:
A new entry for Generic
Literature:
From the a capella/comedy group Da
Vinci's Notebook, the boy band love song parody Title
of the Song. (Since the previous is a personal page designating
the lyrics as "Lyrics of the Week," perhaps I shoulkd link to the Google
cache as well. Hope I did that right.)
Reading the lyrics alone doesn't do
the song justice, though, so I'll also note the MP3
clip from the group's own website.
This is absolutely the funniest thing we're heard in a long time! While
we have reproduced the classic lyrics below (to avoid our readers developing
Carpal-Tunnel Syndrome), readers are required to listen
to the MP3 clip right now. Go
on. Click
on the darn
thing. It's hilarious!
Title Of The Song
by DaVinci's Notebook
Declaration of my feelings for you
Elaboration on those feelings
Description of how long these feelings
have existed
Belief that no one else could feel
the same as I
Reminiscence of the pleasant times
we shared
And our relationship's perfection
Recounting of the steps that led
to our love's dissolution
Mostly involving my unfaithfulness
and lies
Penitent admission of wrongdoing
Discovery of the depth of my affection
Regret over the lateness of my epiphany
(Chorus)
Title of the song
Naïve expression of love
Reluctance to accept that you are
gone
Request to turn back time
And rectify my wrongs
Repetition of the title of the song
Enumeration of my various transgressive
actions
Of insufficient motivation
Realization that these actions led
to your departure
And my resultant lack of sleep and
appetite
Renunciation of my past insensitive
behavior
Promise of my reformation
Reassurance that you still are foremost
in my thoughts now
Need for instructions how to gain
your trust again
Request for reconciliation
Listing of the numerous tasks that
I'd perform
Of physical and emotional compensation
CHORUS
Acknowledgment that I acted foolishly
Increasingly desperate pleas for
your return
Sorrow for my infidelity
Vain hope that my sins are forgivable
Appeal for one more opportunity
Drop to my knees to elicit crowd
response
Prayers to my chosen deity
Modulation and I hold a high note...
CHORUS
That really is marvelous.
Blab. A reader trying to milk those memes for all they're worth
writes:
The decision of the judges
ruling on a cow-related patent.
Mu.
Blab. A reader sends a reference to an image that is fraught
with dire implications.
The
Condit - Blue Dog Connection
Just what is the blue dog whispering in Rep. Gary Condit's ear?
Blab. Perhaps inspired by our rant against
Stalinist computer scientists (admittedly a classic rant), a reader
writes:
Seems you may want to read
more about the "Socialist Calculation Debate" (Hayek, Lange, Von Mises)
Yep, our polemic opinions come from that same set of folks, or at least
from the eroding memories we have of them from (eek) thirty years
ago when we first read them.
Yo. Oh look. It's Friday the Thirteenth. Break a mirror.
Yo. A new Helenism,
found in situ in a conversation with Helen.
Breathed down her throat
-
Breathed down her neck
-
Climbed down her throat
That is a particularly nice one!
Yow. Pokethulhu:
Gotta catch you all. Now that's funny! (Ian)
It's an endless summer vacation
in the land of the dead. The POKETHULHU - adorable eldritch monsters from
the icy depths of space - run wild in the swamps, the forest, and even
the cobwebs and sagging gambrel roofs of the fishing village that you call
home.
Yow. A very
funny commercial featuring the man who invented the Internet. Really.
Go
click on it. Note numerous references to wood.
Yow. And while we're on politics, here's the now infamous Clinton:
The Final Days, a little film made by Clinton himself as a present
for the press corps, lampooning his lame duckicity. Very, very funny!
Plurp.
The blue dog
denies
everything
Thursday, July 12, 2001
Blab. Porky contributes a new Cthulhu
haiku.
Tentacles arise
Fear all over the planet
Time to say goodbye
------------
Thats all folks
Buh-bye!
Blab. One of our treasured readers has a rare and fleeting moment
of quasi-lucidity.
m: Brain?
b: What?
m: Brain!
b: Who?
m: Brain, it's me. Do you
remember?
b: Yes? No.
m: Ok ... please don't think
anymore.
b: What?
And they say that drug use is declining.
What?
Blab. Another reader who must be smoking something exhales thusly:
Bunches of weeds affecting
the decision of the judges.
Far out, man!
Blab. Yesterday we wondered about the
phrase What's the big idea?
Regarding the "big idea:"
To get a truly comprehensive view of how illogical much of American English
idiom is, try teaching the language to very bright people for whom it is
a second language.
Student: "I don't understand.
Why is it that you say 'The sun is *on* my eyes' is incorrect? Why
do you use the word *in* here? What is the sense of that? The
sun is striking the eye, not contained within it, right?"
Me: "Ummmmm."
Student: "Does one simply memorize
a list of arbitrary usage?"
Me: "Ummmmmm."
Hmm. Smoke gets in your eyes. Standing in line / standing on line. I'm
down with it; what's up with that?
Blab. A correspondent corresponds as follows.
Suing
spammers for profit may be old news, but it's new news to me.
Billion Dollar Business Idea O' The Day: Start a company that
threatens to sue a standard list of spammers on behalf of anyone who registers
on the site. Your company gets a fraction of any payment by the spammers.
Plus ad revenue, of course. And, in a pinch, you can sell the list of your
registered users.
Oh. That dot-com thing is over though. Pity.
Blab. Always helpful, a correspondent alleviates a major concern
in our life.
Unhappy about the low density
of your destroyed paper and other waste? You need one of these!
We do indeed feel the great necessity of acquiring at least one of these:
SEM Briquetters
SEM offers a very simple and efficient
Briquetter machine for the purpose of waste collecting and densification
of destroyed paper and other waste from the SEM Disintegrator System.
We are, as you know, obsessed with densification.
Yo. Did you like that cow-related patent yesterday?
Plurp. Words to live by # 6.
Sometimes you feel like a
nut. Sometimes you don't.
Plurp.
The blue was
on the
dog
Wednesday, July 11, 2001
Blab. Yesterday we asked our
loyal readership to voice their opinions on whether we should attribute
identity to people who Blab at us. Surprisingly, our diverse readership
has, um, diverse opinions on this topic.
>Should we attribute, as
best we can, identity
>to our dear contributors?
Nope.
But we don't know who said that.
Blab. Another reader gives us total license.
Conspire to obscure our identities
whenever it suits your own idiosyncratic sense of humor, by all means!
We thank you for allowing us to do whatever we want. We like people
like you.
Blab. This tersely named reader objects to the question itself.
Except you *don't* strip
the identifying information (even when it's just an initial, perhaps accompanying
a troll for hits). Seems to me you should. Some people end their dicta
with cr-cr-G out of sheer force of habit, and do not deserve to be exposed.
G
(from France, where the keyboards
are crazed)
Gee. Or, rather, Cur-Cur-Gee.
Sometimes we do, and sometimes we don't. We find ourselves to be arbitrarily
arbitrary, most of the time.
Blab. A reader who prefers to remain anonymous writes:
I rather enjoy the anonymous
posting. In fact, I've been known to occasionally use Plurp as a
surrogate blog of my own when I have something to say that I'd like others
to read. It doesn't go in my own blog, since I don't have one, and
if I did I wouldn't post often enough to make it worthwhile, and the existence
of the blog would only serve to identify me to the eagles.
Plurp: The surrogate blog. We like that, and we hope our anonymous
reader won't object when we steal it as a tag line.
Blab. Finally, a reader attempts to get us to solve our own problem
by (gasp) doing work.
First, bravo on matching
IP addresses, comments, and homepages.
Perhaps you can alter the Big Blab
Box ever so slightly... add a "Name" field or something similar. If the
person wants to me named, let them enter something. Otherwise, leave
it blank and remain anonymous.
OK, helpful readers, here's the Decision Of The Judges. The editors of
Plurp
will continue to do whatever the heck they do do, attributing reader contributions
when they feel like it and anonymizing them when it suits their own enigmatic
purposes. We will try to be sensitive to the need for privacy felt by some
misguided readers, and the desire for exhibitionism felt by other, more
twisted readers.
Those of you who object to our well reasoned policies should feel free
to Blab us. With or without
attribution.
Blab. A rather literal reader suggests a correction to the little
Arroz
Con Pollo tune submitted a couple of days ago.
only grows when it's on the
vine
That's correct. Thank you.
Blab. A reader asks us to site quietly while he indulges in his
own little bondage fantasy.
So the contestants, you see,
line up at the starting line, bringing along their loves who are restrained
in various ways (you can picture those yourself; you know; hemp; ropes;
chains; sheets; ball-gags optional).  Then
I start reciting a long list of body parts, and the contestants have to
listen real carefully, because they're supposed to loose their loves when
I say the word "spine", and the loves that are loosed the most promptly
will have the best chance of being the first to race down the field (I
hope the loves are properly attired, but we have to leave that to the contestants)
and take a long drink from the fountain with the big iconoclastic angel
in the middle (one of those fat angels, with the smug and knowing grins).
Thank you for sharing.
Blab. A reader rolls down Nostalgia Lane with this:
Hi Captain Plurp,
Congratulations on your award!
That section of today's Plurp reminded me of using a fortune-telling eight
ball at childhood sleepovers. When I clicked on "e-commerce section"
to read your work, Netscape beeped at me with the message "Try again later".
(It also said "The document contained no data" but it was the "try again
later" the flashed me back to junior high sleepovers.)
Your Midwest Correspondent
Yes. In fact, we consulted our own Magic Eight Ball as a young lad in choosing
our gender preference. Those were the days.
Blab. Our Midwest Correspondent checks in for a second time in
one day with this late-breaking news flash.
Hi Dr. Plurp,
I just read this week's PEOPLE magazine
during lunch and thought you wouldn't want to miss knowing about  "The
Natural History of the Chicken" on PBS tonight (7/11) at 9PM Eastern time.
PEOPLE describes it as a "marvelously offbeat film" and go on to say that
"a Maine farmer recalls saving a chicken's life with CPR and engaging an
'animal communicator' to elicit details of the bird's near-death experience..."
You and that lovely lady you live with could watch it while you munch on
dry-cured beef.
Your Midwest Correspondent
Must be one spiritual chicken! And with a rave review like that, how could
we possibly miss it? (Oh. Except that we have dinner guests tonight. And
just how did you know we were serving dry-aged beef, hmmm?)
Those of you who don't have one of those television things can, of course,
read
about it on the Web. In several
places, it seems.
Blab. Finding two memes in Plurp that, somehow, mysteriously,
had not previously been mixed, a reader writes:
The meme-mixer's vacation
ending with bunches of weeds.
It's heartbreaking.
Plop. A loyal reader has pointed out a certain recent laxity
of Plurp in not providing insightful comments as hover help when
readers mouse over pictures. Aside from that being atrocious techno-speak
it is, shamefully, true.
We shall endeavor to put an end to this slothful behavior.
Plurp. We were writing patents yesterday.
-
 Method
and apparatus for doing stuff.
-
A method as in Claim (1) where the stuff
is useful stuff.
-
A method as in Claim (2) where the stuff
is useless stuff.
-
A method as in Claim (3) where the useless
stuff is in the form of claims of a patent.
-
A method as in Claim (4) where the useless
stuff is later posted to a weblog.
Plurp. The adaptability of the human mind continually amazes
me. When you start doing something completely new, or go into a new environment,
your attention is riveted by all the new details. Everything is puzzling,
everything is fascinating. After a while, the new and bizarre become understood,
predictable, and you no longer focus your attention on everything at once.
Dreaming is an important part of this. Current thinking in psychology
is that dreaming is part of recording stuff in long-term memory. In your
dreams, you rehearse the new and surprising things you've experienced recently,
and in so rehearsing them you extract their essential elements and remember
them. And they become less surprising to you next time.
Which brings me, naturally, to Thief
II. I've been playing it rather a lot lately. In its world, you
spend your time hiding in dark corners, watching and waiting for the coast
to be clear so you can do your nefarious deeds. But you never know when
someone might be lurking about and, if they spot you, it will be bad.
So you tend to run into a dark corner, hide out, run behind a pillar,
hide out, run behind a door, hide out. It's the way lizards move, or birds,
holding still, running fast, then stopping dead still again to look around.
Last night, my mind was trying to grok this new environment, this weird
new world, and I had a dream. In the dream, I was moving through an odd,
abstract world, featureless except for a dark, pixellated texture. I could
feel myself moving - though not with my legs - stopping, moving, stopping,
moving, stopping, and I could see the pixellated terrain shift as I did.
As we spend more and more of our time in cyberspace, our image of what
constitutes reality will change, will adapt, to this weird new world that
behaves very differently from the physical world. We will dream new dreams
until, ultimately, we grok the new world in the same intuitive way that
we do the physical world.
I
have no mouse, and I must dream.
Plop. Now that Kozmo and WebVan
have joined Bob the Sock Puppet in dot-gone hell, their addicted former
customers are going
through withdrawal.
"After sitting at home in
my bathrobe, and having some nice man hand me my movie, how can I ever
go back to Blockbusters?" asked one woman. "It's like living in a Third
World country." Said a young man, a retail clerk: "I'm just so tired now.
I'm tired all the time."
Doesn't your heart just bleed?
Plurp. We are confused by the expression What's the big idea?
It seems like it should mean What is the significant idea? but it
seems to mean Hey, bub, what do you think you're doing, anyhow?
which, by the way, also seems confusing.
Can someone explain?
Plurp.
The blue dog always
wondered what
that switch was
for
Tuesday, July 10, 2001
Plurp. Notable readers have mentioned our stylistic
conceit of stripping any identifying information from their Blab
contributions before publishing them and, even when we have a suspicion
about who might be the author, pretending that we do not.
And so we ask you, our treasured
readers: Should we attribute, as best we can, identity to our dear contributors?
Or should we, in our editorial vanity, conspire to obscure their identities
whenever it suits our own idiosyncratic sense of humor? What
say you?
Yow. Dave's heart
has been broken, but his writing remains as compelling as ever.
I said that the tub wouldn't
take up the whole tennis court, and we could certainly set aside part of
it for wild weeds. She sort of shrugged and smiled, and said "no". Just
"no". No, she's not a tiny person anymore who gathers bunches of weeds
and gives them to Mommy as bouquets of flowers. No, she doesn't need that
hot sunny place to wander in anymore; it's okay.
Yow. Yes indeed, an extremely way cool Powers
Of Ten animation (uses Java). (Dave)
Plop. If you saw a section title like this in an article, what
would you think?
The Noninvasive Surgery-Free
Reversible Programmable Distributed Brain Implant, Full-Immersion Shared
Virtual Reality Environments, Experience Beamers, and Brain Expansion
Easy, right? You'd think this was one el wacko dude and skip right
over to the Weekly World News site to find out how he was doing.
Curiously, this is from an article called The
Singularity Is Near by erstwhile (and famous) computer visionary Ray
Kurzweil.
Perhaps, after a moment of cognitive dissonance, you revise your opinion
of the article and rush off to read it in rapt fascination, quelling your
lingering doubts under a flood of semilog graphs purporting to show ...
something or other.
Us? We're off to the Weekly
World News site. (geegaw)
Yak. Oxymoron o' the day:
Sushi cook
 Yo.
On that triple crown thing the other day, its origin
turns out to be, weirdly, the Catholic Papacy. Popes, it seems, used to
wear the Triregno
("triple crown") as a symbol
of their Papacy.
Hence the Pope is crowned
with a triple crown, as king of heaven and of earth and of the lower regions.
See what ya learn hangin' out 'round this here blog?
Readers are invited to speculate
about just which lower regions those might be, as well as what all of this
has to do with racing horses.
Yo. One of the results of yet
another random survey about the Internet:
Just 23 percent of those
surveyed said they could trust most of the things they read online; while
70 percent said "you have to question the truthfulness of most things you
read on the Internet."
We here at Plurp are devoted to educating that remaining 23%.
Yo. Four planets - Mercury, Venus, Jupiter and Saturn - are poised
to collide for the first time in recorded history later this month.
Astrophysics is such a precise science that even the dénouement
can be predicted with pinpoint accuracy.
 One
day later, near the end of the celestial dance, the moon cuts in between
Venus and Jupiter, while Mercury floats off the lower left.
That would be your lower left, by the way.
Yow. A glossy brochure on Computer Science at IBM Research
just won an Apex Award
for publication excellence.
 Why
do you care? Well, you don't, but I do. I wrote the e-commerce section
and illustrated it with really silly clip art of piggy banks and stuff.
A crummy text
version is online, including the e-commerce
section but without the piggy banks.
It's just more fame than I can possibly handle.
Plurp.
The blue dog really
wanted one of those noninvasive
surgery-free reversible
programmable distributed
brain implants.
Monday, July 9, 2001
Blab. A reader discovers a clue to a Great Mystery.
I checked your site on Saturday,
and on Sunday morning, and always got Friday's entry. Then, on Sunday evening,
got Sunday's entry. I had to go to "earlier" entries to get Saturday.
Yes, I refreshed the browser.
There is nothing wrong with your browser. Do not attempt to adjust your
operating system. You have discovered a strange side effect of our recently
acquired Thief II game, in which the game itself steals time. So
far, it only goes one way, but we are looking for a way to reverse the
process and get more time in our life.
We'll let you know how that turns out. But not right now ...
 Blab.
Trapped in a twisty maze of passages, a reader carrying a plover that is
all alike honks:
xyzzy
The phrase itself has long since passed into nerd
history.
Blab. A warble throated reader croons this into our ear.
Love is arroz
but it's rather tight-fisted
only grows when it's five to nine
handful of corn and you've almost
kissed it
loose your love when I say the word
"spine"
We intuit that the title of this lovely piece must be Arroz
Con Pollo.
Blab. Never shirking from giving us more to do, a reader demands:
This blab serves as notification
of intent-to-remind concerning the following post:
"Plurp. Remind us to tell you why
we called a well respected executive at IBM Research a Stalinist last Friday."
You are hereby required to explain
said post within the next 36 hours.
Oh - that.
On Friday, an executive and we were discussing the future of the digital
economy, in which businesses will automate a lot of their business-to-business
interactions. This executive was holding forth that the ability to monitor
economic transactions would allow "us" to optimize the economy on a global
scale, rather than on the scale of individual businesses.
We pointed out that this was the economic premise of Stalinist Russia
- that a centralized agency (in Stalin's case, the government) could collect
all relevant economic information and do centralized planning for the whole
economy, deciding how many loaves of bread should be produced and where
the shoe factories should be located.
We further pointed out that centralized planning hadn't worked (big
time!), and that there were good, solid economic reasons for its failure.
The first reason is that you can't make useful economic predictions
simply by asking people what they want. People's real economic behavior
(as expressed by what they actually spend money on) is just different from
their verbal behavior (what they say they want).
The second reason that central planning doesn't work is that the economy
is a chaotic system. By the time you gather all the information together,
it is out of date on a global scale. Our friendly executive pointed out
that computers could gather the information much faster, so doing this
was closer to being possible. Ignoring, for the moment, the fact that businesses
do not want all of their internal information gathered by any centralized
body, it's still the case that the economy is chaotic and attempts to gather
noisy data and do global optimization from it is unlikely ever to work.
But computer scientists are raised to think of themselves as Owning
The Whole System. So they can tinker with and optimize the whole thing
at once. The idea of inherently distributed systems (like the global economy),
in which no one owns the whole thing, and in which it is not possible for
one party to optimize the whole thing, is simply outside of their thinking.
They do not see the invisible hand.
They are, therefore, Stalinists in that sense.
No, we didn't actually call our executive a Stalinist. But we
did say that his approach to this problem was much the same as Stalin's
might have been had he been a computer scientist. And when our executive
said that the great grand VP of our department might approach the problem
in the same way, we suggested that lots of people might, but it didn't
change the prospects for the approach.
When we related this story to Helen over the weekend, she pointed out
that we can have a rather bombastic style at times. She's right, of course.
But our executive is unlikely to forget our point!
 Yow.
At last, fame falls upon us like baseball sized hail, breaking our windows
and punishing us with large, purple bruises. That is to say, a tiny number
of sites have recently linked to our humble Plurp for the first,
and no doubt last, time We record them here only because, well, where else
would we record them?
The first may possibly be that somnambulistic
clown avoider from a while ago, and maybe even the person to whom 3e
is a meaningful term: thinkhole.
Yo, John.
All the way over there in dot-en-el, Plurp makes it to the nearly
infinitely long undifferentiated list
of blogs, but not to the real one.
Oh well.
Finally, over in massless, we
are famous for knowing
about Lileks (though we thought we were the last to know), but
not famous enough to make the blog list.
Excuse us while we go eat worms.
Plop.
Dear Sirs,
We noted with pleasure the absence
of a large number of people from the Greater New York Metropolitan Area
this past week. The roads were tolerable, there were fewer flatlanders
standing in the middle of sidewalks gawking at buildings, and various Public
Facilities were not stuffed to their architectural gills.
Now we note with equal displeasure
that most, if not all, said people have, for some unfathomable reason,
returned, and the aforementioned roads, sidewalks and Public Facilities
are once again overrun with a torrent of aromatic humanity.
Clearly, something must be done. It
simply will not do to permit this dense, squirming rabble to once again
infest the hallowed pathways of our lives. You got it right last week.
Surely you can do it again.
We would appreciate your immediate
attention to this deplorable situation.
Yours most sincerely,
Plurp.
If you have a beautiful thing,
Give it to me.
If it does not come back to you.
You do not deserve to have
Beautiful things.
Yow. It turns out our Hobbit
name is Podo Brockhouse of Loamsdown. Good to know. (massless)
Rant. What's with this Triple
Crown thingie? If it's a triple crown, how comes there's only
one of them? And only three jewels? Doesn't sound very regal to us.
Yow.
Plurp.
The blue dog never
did get that
clam open
Sunday, July 8, 2001
Blab. Blatantly pandering to fans of naked pics of Dave
Winer, a reader writes:
 DAVE
WINER NAKED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes, well. Perhaps equally interesting (sic) is the
site itself, which features Justin Hall's blog, a sample of which we
have recorded below for posterity.
7 July
I'm in the Biggedy-Biggedy O, after
I got freezer burn on SFC. Three years after I was hit-a-lick in lower
bottoms, I'm livin' nappy, prolly a rooti poo in the town. Not so much
L.G. and I ain't ballin' out of control. But definitely P.H.d., just doin'
my squat, and spittin' game - tryin' to come at the web correct. Pickin'
bits of nappy stack out of my gold ones. On the rilla, I'm a cold piece
of work. Tadow! (What's he flawsin'?)
Readers are invited to submit translations.
Blab. A curious bit of correspondence comes our way. The parts
about which we do not feel too completely sullied include:
This email has been sent
to you because someone at this e-mail address subscribed to this service.
If you wish to remove yourself from this service please go here
and enter the e-mail address you wish to remove, or call our customer service
line weekdays between the hours of 9:30AM and 4:30PM PST at (604) xxx-xxxx.
Our operators will be pleased to serve you. Outside these hours, please
feel free to leave your email address with our automated service. All models
are at least eighteen years of age.
It is, of course, possible that our treasured email account has been hacked
by some adolescent male with nothing but sex on his overheated mind and
that he is, even now, subscribing us to even more fascinating mailing lists.
But, in our aged cynicism, we suggest that it is equally plausible that
this is spam scam, an inducement to give these bozos our email address
and encourage them, and all their friends, to flood us with equally valuable
offers.
Blab. A reader in search of a name for its female child considers:
wered
An interesting choice.
Your name Wered has given
you tenacity of purpose and has made you extremely independent. Whatever
you undertake, you approach from your own point of view, and others either
have to conform to your ideas or go their own way and leave you to work
things out for yourself. You are so narrowly focused in your pursuits that
you frequently overlook the little personal considerations and attentions
that create a bond of understanding and sense of companionship. Thus it
is difficult for you to merge your efforts harmoniously with others. In
the home, you can inadvertently be offhand and abrupt when you would really
like to show your affection. In circumstances that require a little finesse,
you find that you are inclined to be too direct and straight to the point
and suffer frustration in your personal relationships as a result.
Hmm. Maybe our reader should also consider Rainboner.
Or Esmerelda.
Blab. In a fit of incurable nostalgia, a reader writes:
It is pitch black. You are
likely to be eaten by a grue.
Honk if you played Adventure on a computer
at MIT over the Internet before it was called "the Internet".
Plurp. Remind us to tell you why we called a well respected executive
at IBM Research a Stalinist last Friday.
Plurp. We are declaring our independence from corporate rule.
And fighting globalization. And helping to expose corporate espionage.
And whatever else our masters at Adbusters
command us to do.
(But shouldn't someone tell them that Marxism is passé? It's
embarrassing.)
Plurp.
The blue dog didn't
really have a
name
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