After he retired from superhero work, defeating criminals with crushingly obvious statements, Captain Obvious settled down and got a job in marketing. I know this because of a statement he wrote on a jar of peanut butter.
I think that actually says something about me, when I can go from peanut butter to retired superheroes by association. I wonder what ol’ Freud would have to say about that.
Okay, yes, I made that up, but perhaps someone should have beat me to the punch, because the fogey gap is getting shorter. How do I know? It’s simple: I think I recently landed on the other side of said gap.
Honestly, I rather enjoy sorting through the spam comments on my blog. Most of them are obviously Engrish copypasta, and frankly, they turn out kinda funny. Thus, I present, the Engrish Spambot Hall of Fame!
Remarkable issues here. I am very satisfied to
peer your article. Thank you a lot and I am taking a look ahead
to touch you.
That was the question that I posed to my philosophy student friend, Dave. His response, “No Tweet? Never happened.” Of course, he’s totally kidding (I hope), but it brings up a relatively disturbing point: at what point did social media become so incredibly anti-social?
Now, I’m all for using the internet to communicate with other people (I write this blog, don’t I?) My company’s workday is about 95% telecommuting. I keep in touch with my friends around the country and the world via Facebook and Twitter. Besides that, I’ve moderated several forums and an IRC channel over the years. I know how much good can come of social media. I also know how much bad can come of it.
There are basically two ways a social media platform goes down: A) quietly, without so much as a death whimper, or B) in a fiery explosion of flaming and ranting that leaves everyone ticked off. In my experience, it tends to be the second.
Motion pictures. We want them to be funny, provocative (whatever that jargon means), thought-provoking, and containing no less than one (1) mandatory helicopter explosion. Or at least that’s what I gather from the movie reviewers. By that token, though, if you stare at a wall long enough, you’ll begin to see patterns emerging from the spackle, too. If you’re staring with someone, you’ll find yourself debating (read arguing) about those patterns.
Maybe this is why the bar keeps getting lower on movies. The experts have spent so long in the theater, the prolonged exposure to loud noises and popcorn dust finally got to them. Either that or their bloodstreams are now 70% Big Gulp sodas.
About a month ago, I donated blood for my mother’s surgery. Since we share so many life-threatening allergies, she could not take blood from the main bank (nor could I donate INTO said main bank). During the experience, I kept remembering the classic Bugs Bunny cartoon “Transylvania 6-5000”. Small wonder.
The experience started with filling out a medical questionnaire, which concluded with an agreement not to share my answers with anyone. I asked the receptionist about this, and she said it had to do with patient confidentiality.
“Might I emphasize, it’s MY patient confidentiality?”
“Yes, that’s true.”
So, in essence, I was agreeing in writing to never share my age, weight, or (albeit nonexistent) history of controlled substance use with anyone ever again.
Someone didn’t think this through. (more…)
Someone, somewhere, in the back cubicle of a marketing firm must have been having an off day. They needed to figure out how to promote another one of those miracle exercise gadgets. “I need a name that evokes the toughness of this equipment, something that’ll encourage the user to get into shape.”
Then, in a flash of inspiration, this marketing person shoots up out of his chair. “I know! THE RACK!”
I know this must have happened, because I encountered this marketing disaster in the sporting goods department at Target while trying to find a Thermos. The Rack came complete with a big picture on the front of the box of some sweaty, shirtless dude exercising in an abandoned warehouse.
Sure, yeah, your run-of-the-mill muscle man looks to do their workouts in the seclusion of a massive, abandoned building. Or is this supposed to tie into the whole torture theme that the name alludes to? (While we’re at it, don’t people consider exercise a form of torture ANYWAY?)
As you all know, the world ended yesterday (December 21, 2012). I’m writing this from the other side of oblivion (God has great wi-fi). Considering some of the world’s servers are in apocalypse-proof shelters, we may all be dead, but we can still get our e-mail! It would be so inconvenient to enter into eternity without an inbox full of Canadian pharmacy offers and urban myth forwards, wouldn’t it?
“I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.” ~Psalm 139:14 NIV
As comedian and inspirational speaker Ken Davis often says, “I’m not right.” Well, shoot, I’ve known that about myself for almost half of my life. I’ve never fit the standard we all know as “normal,” and I’ve learned, especially over the past few years, to take joy in that fact.
Then I got to thinking: what IS normal? How would you define it?
Is it just me, or is our population actually getting dumber?
Actually, it was the moderator election over at a programmer’s forum that brought this up. Over the past year, I’ve noticed an increase in the population of Programatticus Takeoveriticus and P. Newbieflamerous. (If that just threw you for a loop, read my post “So That’s Why They Call It Windows”)
I actually got shredded by one P. Newbieflamerous last month for having the audacity to answer a question he deemed stupid. Granted, more than one person believed the question should be closed. Yet, the nice thing about that place is that it is community run. I answered before it was closed, a very acceptable practice.
Unfortunately, this dude figured the world should agree with him. To be honest, the whole thing was kinda funny, what with him saying “I must be new there,” when I have over six months on him in membership, and that I should “read the FAQ” when he himself missed entire paragraphs of it. In both cases, he must have been a hybrid between P. Newbieflamerous and P. Noreadicus. The moderators dealt with him, thankfully, but that type of thing is NOT an isolated incident around there.
To be honest, I’ve dealt with worse…like the forum moderating job in which I was accused of inventing the rules of Greek debate. (True story. That was a keeper!) Still, the sheer mass of stupidity in today’s society is…well…staggering.