The subject line of a spam email I received today:
“Now I can penetrate hardly and give the pleasure to every woman.”
Obviously this was written by a non-native English-speaking spam bot. Penetrating hardly is hardly a ringing endorsement for the product. But at least he can give the pleasure to every woman. The pleasure of what, I’m not sure. The pleasure of criticizing how he is hardly penetrating, perhaps.
Ah, the joys of cooking with spam.
How to keep your office mates from pestering you: eat a bowl of spicy kung pao for lunch, chased down by diet Pepsi. Have a snack bag of Spicy Nacho Doritos for dessert. I guarantee people will leave you alone.
Because this blog is so dead, I had to write this.
I post a lot of photos on Flickr. A lot. Some I edit down later. And I’m often surprised by the things people mark as favorites; the same Yosemite shot that is easily shot by every tourist, for example. Nothing special, unless you’ve never been there, and haven’t seen these same shots before.
The interesting thing about Flickr is that it’s so much more than a place to store your photos. There’s an entire community of people posting in groups and commenting on each other’s photos (sometimes nastily). It’s an interesting way to meet people, or find some really stunning photos and be inspired to take some of your own.
It’s fun to see that people have favorited a particular shot of yours, even if you don’t like it as much. It’s also nice to get comments. I often randomly comment on photos if they catch my eye. It also helps bring people to my photos, so they can comment or perhaps make me a new contact.
As part of this networking, occasionally someone might ask to use a photo. Because I mark them all as creative commons, that means that I allow anyone to use them for free, as long as they meet certain criteria. Like crediting my work, or at least asking my permisison first. I’ve had a cat picture used as part of a blog entry, another couple of cat pictures have been posted to a photo map.
Sometimes it’s a surprise. I googled myself to find that my photos had ended up somewhere I hadn’t expected them, on a travel site, but hey, they’re creative commons. Fine.
A couple of months ago, someone contacted me to use a photo I’d taken in Ventura, Calif. He was planning to use it for something with a shoe company’s web site leading up to the World Cup. I agreed, and he said he’d send a link when he was finished.
I saw it just the other day, and was surprised by the use. I didn’t know what to expect, but it ended up being used in a promotional blog. My journalistic nerves are jangled a little, but in the end, I know it’s an advertising site, so I guess it’s OK.
And it’s somewhat gratifying in a narcissistic sense, even if no one knows that it’s really my photo or that it’s in California and not Tunisia.
One day, I will make this list….Todd
David Horowitz’s List of 100 Most Dangerous Professors in the U.S.
The Professor’s Colleges and Universities
Arcadia University: Warren Haffar
Ball State University: George Wolfe
Baylor University: Marc Ellis
Boston University: Howard Zinn
Brandeis University: Gordon Fellman, Dessima Williams
Brooklyn College: Priya Parmar, Timothy Shortell
Cal State University, Fresno: Sasan Fayazmanesh
California State University, Long Beach: Ron (Maulana) Karenga
City University of New York: Stanley Aronowitz, Bell Hooks, Leonard Jeffries, Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick
Columbia University: Lisa Anderson, Gil Anidjar, Hamid Dabashi, Nicholas De Genova, Eric Foner, Todd Gitlin, Manning Marable, Joseph Massad, Victor Navasky
When there aren’t any posts in a while…
Mel B. goes crazy. It’s late. She’s got a password to the blog. There isn’t a category that really fits insane tripe.
What happens when she sees a picture of Donald Trump, these thoughts come tumbling out.
My fantasy is that someone will sneak into the Donald’s sumputous bedroom
one night and give him a haircut.
Every time a see a picture of him, I look, in vain, to see where the bald
spots would be. Sometimes I imagine I can see something through a trick of
light.
I’m just tired of guessing.
Have some respect. We don’t believe that haircut. Many men look sexier bald (though I don’t believe it would help you.)
And if it’s really your hair, then get a decent haircut. It’s like a small
furry animal died on your head.
Now that I’ve written this, someone will carry out my evil plan and the
Donald will buy and sell and buy and sell me a dozen times.
Ah well. At least my curiosity will be satisfied.