I really don’t get it. If a newspaper is going to charge for its archives, you’d think that it wouldn’t make its archives available for free depending on what you clicked on. The Boston Globe does just that.
I did a search to see if Scott Kirsner’s followup article about the Pepper Pad had been published yet, but only the previous article showed up. Just for gits and shiggles I clicked on the article, but was redirected to a subscription signup page.
So, even though the article is publicly available for free and indexed by Google News and a dozen other sites, the Boston Globe still expects you to pay for their search capabilities. Maybe I’m totally missing something here, but I really don’t see the incentive to subscribe. Maybe I’ll change my tune if I ever feel the need to do an advanced search back to 1979.
Kudos to the Forefront sales rep who stopped by the office today. After encountering a locked door and a NO SOLICITING sign above our lobby doorbell, he meticulously balanced a brochure against our door and silently walked away! This is a far cry from most sales monkeys that will ring the bell while looking right at the sign and then try to convince me that their warez are worth wasting my time…
I was about to write an entry entitled Apathy, wherein I was going to say something along the lines of you know it’s going to be a long day when you wake up so drained that your only motivation to drive into work is the fact that there will be incredibly bland Cinco de Mayo Amerixican specials in the cafeteria that you can slather in hot sauce to make slightly palatable. A very simplistic thing turned my entire morning around, however. While doing a Google search to find a Cinco de Mayo page to link to, I saw that the page that Google returns first in the list is down. I’m not sure why, but that makes me smile. To quote Tre, Google is God.
I just signed one of our hedgehogs up for four free issues of Time Magazine. I hope that doesn’t give her any weird ideas about her place in the food chain.
Dear some random kid,
Thank you for not only taking the time to fill out our information request form, but also using such eloquent prose to inform me that I suck dick. Fortunately for me, and unfortunately for you, all requests are logged by IP address and it was rather trivial for me to track down and contact your music and computer teachers. Now, how could I possibly know to contact your music teacher? Simple; you hit our Web server on a direct request with no referrer, so you were more than likely trying to find JW Pepper and Sons in search of sheet music. We field a few requests per week from students whose teachers give them the wrong URL.
Hopefully, you were still sitting at your workstation when your faculty received my e-mail. Hopefully, you are still sitting at your workstation now. Hopefully, you will learn that your are not anonymous on the Internet. Unfortunately, you will probably never read this, and I will never have the satisfaction of knowing one way or another whether or not you got owned.
I’m not usually such an ass. Believe it or not, I used to be a kid too and I pulled my share of pranks. I was just never stupid enough to get caught. Oh, and it wasn’t even your incredibly poor attempt at an insult that set me off; it was the fact that you used Niggaville as your city. No attempt at wit was made whatsoever. Bad monkey, no biscuit.
Thanks to Andrew, I can’t get Freezepop out of my head.
Quite a few years ago, when I was living in the Mission Hill combat zone just outside of Boston, I was a Full Body Cast member of the Cambridge Rocky Horror Picture Show. In and of itself, that fact should have classified me as a pervert, but I had the distinct honor of meeting someone who far surpassed my own perversions while walking to a cast party one crisp October evening in the Fall of 1994.
A few blocks from Harvard Square, I ran into a rather intoxicated transvestite. Or, more accurately, he ran into me. After exchanging pleasantries and listening to a highly amusing diatribe about UFOs and gender inversion rays, my newfound friend lifted up his skirt to demonstrate how he was forced to tuck his penis between his legs to emulate his previous feminine heritage now that he’d been turned into a man.
Without skipping a beat, the friend I was walking with blurted out, “so, are you a Eunuch, or is it just cold out here?”
Unfortunately, her wit was lost in the moment, for it was quite cold outside. We simply received a blank stare and an awkward silence followed by accusations of being “one of them.” A few moments later, the tucked wonder slipped off into the night, never to be seen again.
I really wish I hadn’t been reminded of this memory…
That’s the problem with being a systems administrator or engineer. You always tackle the most obscure complex problems before checking for the blinding flash of the obvious.
The talk all around the world right now is Janet exposing her breast at the Super Bowl. After some digging through Google and AP News Photos, I finally found a detailed image of the incident! Here, in all of her glory, is Janet Jackson’s breast!
Personally, I’m not all that impressed. Not only is she totally flat chested, but she needs a shave! And man, she’s getting as white as her brother, Michael! I guess some people are easily excited. If I wanted to see a hairy white chick exposing her nipple and showing off a golden nipple ring, I’d check out the carnival the next time it comes to town. At least then I’d know what I was getting into…
Perhaps, if I’m really lucky, I can track down some video!
I absolutely refuse to mention anything about the cheesy “shocking” publicity stunt that pissed off CBS. It was an accident…honest! Yeah, whatever.