Improve Your Handwriting Or We're All Gonna Die

Just kidding. Or am I?
You should probably read this.

Yesterday morning my boss thoughtfully sent me a link to an article about typography-lovers, thinking I'd be interested. Naturally, I was all over it. The piece got me thinking about things...I mean, aside from, "Oh, that's like our apartment!" and "I love typographica.org too."  While the article is interesting, it also brings to light the annoying commercial popularity that type and text are enjoying right now. I attribute the recent hipster fascinations with type (in large part) to quality handwriting and printing going the way of the bald eagle – highly sought after and getting increasingly harder to find. The fact is that well-executed, handwritten signs or well, anything, is a rarity these days.

I didn't say "dodo bird" on purpose. Bald Eagle.

Procrasti-&%$#@-nation

I do not like doing my billing for last weeks' time. Why, you ask? Because I don't remember everything I did last week. What to do now, you ask? Now I must go piece it back together, like Sherlock Holmes going through my Outlook 'Sent' folder.

I do this every week...and have been for 3 + years.

Why don't I ever learn to do this on a daily basis, you ask? That's a good question, smartypants. I ask you this: who wants to do something that sucks every day, when you could do something that sucks once a week?  Mmm-hmm. My logic is flawed, but brilliantly so.

The iPhone Can Blog

It is fairly easy these days to publish content from virtually anywhere. I have a data plan on a mobile device featuring an HTML browser. (Alternatively, blogging/website platforms Word Press and Tumblr have mobile apps for iPhones and Android devices.) The options seem limitless.

They aren't. WITH GREAT POWER COMES EVEN GREATER ULCERS!

What's In A Word?

I was listening to the grand shuffle of my preferred digital media container, and this song ("Loving, Self Loathing" by Smoke or Fire) came on. Play it while you read, perhaps.

You ever listen to that Violent Femmes song "Blister in the Sun" (here) and think to yourself, "kite is a funny word"? Because it is. Kite and white.

Happy Holidays

He'll do it too

Season Of Busy Pants

It's Christmas time. In case you hadn't noticed. We've noticed, because we've been busy. In fact, everyone is busier during the holidays. And the thing is, for all we tell everyone how busy we are (and hear how busy they are as well) doing the million and one little things necessary for a "nice" holiday season, preparing for what is to come, all that shit - we probably spend more time with our friends and families during the month of December than any other time of the year. Because if being busy is a sort of barometer for how loved someone is, then we are a fucking loved society. So strictly speaking, when someone says "I haven't had time to catch up with this or that," if it's December, chances are what they are really saying is, "this or that is pretty low on my list of priorities. Far below the happy hour with coworkers or the movie night with girlfriends - annual tradition!"

Buying Things

Let's start with a song. Give it a spin while you read. It's an older number but always a good one.

Considerations Before The Holiday

Public schools and their political correctness make for silly bedfellows at times. The word "Thanksgiving" doesn't seem to be tied into anything overtly religious; the title says thanks, not "praise the Lord." So I found it interesting when the Child came home from school insisting it was called "Turkey Day," because that is what the teacher was telling all the kids to call it. Since the inoffensive Thanksgiving Day moniker is, obviously, too offensive. Hence why she didn't check spelling...

Hoppy Thonksgiving

The Ish Report, 11-whatevertodayis-2010

So I was driving to work this morning when the damnedest thing happened: this older gentleman in a Chevrolet midsize pickup decided to declare his angst for pedal-depression with a more active form of protest in hitting my car. He was very enthusiastic about it -- and I'm definitely quoting what I presumed my make-believe telepathy would have uncovered -- thinking often that he was "sticking it to the Man." Somehow.

I'm fine. I smell like shit and piss, because the older gentleman had some issues controlling himself while we were exchanging information. Otherwise I'm fine. Except for the blood.

Ella's Still Entertaining But That Depends On What You Find Entertaining (Plus A Few Other Things)

First of all, forget what you thought you knew. Ella Fitzgerald is not dead. She is alive and well, and she is on Facebook. And apparently, there are people in this world who like what she has to say, dammit.

I Know What New Yorkers Are Complaining About

Last week Wired magazine posted an infographic that visualizes a week's worth of calls to New York City's 311 complaint line and segments them by time of day.  They made use of Lee Byron's streamgraph method to create a visually arresting image, but the results were a letdown (if you ask me). Take a look for yourself here; these complaints are a borefest. I'm not judging, I'm just saying I thought New Yorkers would come up with some more interesting things to complain about. I mean, they're in NEW YORK for crying out loud. Chlorofluorocarbon recovery? Puh-leeeze. You can do better than that, guys.

This is not real.

Here There Be Coda

No matter which way you look at it, this is gratuitous hot action.

Who wants to change oil now?

Now then.

The People Want More Neon

It was a few magical nights ago, there were fireflies flitting about the living room crooning about the wonders of airborne life and the dustiness of the Great Lamp that is their shrine, and Sassy and I were sitting together on the sofa. We were watching television. I believe it was a program about food. I want to point out here, even in the midst of this special moment I'm describing, to make sure we're clear: Sassy likes programming about food and watching it with her makes me hungry, so I go along with minimal protest (unless hockey is on). But I digress. We were being sang to by fireflies somehow. Candles were burning. Neighbors were gathering beneath our balcony holding up lighters and sighing (no mistake, friend: they were sighing loudly and in time) little contented sighs to each other because of how peaceful that spot of sidewalk was.

The Best Post In The World

It has been a time since I have posted anything. It was a difficult time for most of you, I know. But it was tough for me as well because of all my readers, who missed me. I felt their collective agonized yearning for the Ish as waves of astral energy, and it invigorated me during my deadlines, but it also set upon me a terrible burden: the desire to ease the thirst for Ish.

R2D2 Got Out Of His Dreams And Into His Car

Sassy and Kid went to Comic Con in Long Beach this past weekend! It was Sassy's first, and she was pleased. Kid was relieved to finally find his dream car.

In space, nobody cares what your hubcaps look like.