I MAY NOT BE HEMMINGWAY...
... but apparently this blog is still pretty damn masculine. Of course, that may have something to do with my recent posts extolling the virtues of paintball rifles, SWAT teams, bad hair-metal nightclubs, and, of course, monkeys.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go run with the bulls. Or maybe the monkeys.
Monday, March 29, 2004
Tuesday, March 23, 2004
CLIFF'S NOTES
This is disturbing. Not only did some desperate collegiate hack, undoubtedly on Double Secret Probation and hepped up on Mountain Dew, write a term paper on an article I wrote what seems like a zillion years ago, that term paper is now for sale (scroll down).
Called Online Classifieds: A Descriptive & Integrative Analysis, the term paper offers -- what else? -- "a descriptive and integrative analysis of Mark Toner's 'Online Classifieds'. Included are: author background & purpose, methodology, results & conclusions, significance and 'real-world' application." It even has nine -- count 'em, nine! -- footnotes, so you know it's well researched.
With all that, the term paper is a steal at $44.75, which is about $44.75 more than I've seen from the original article.
In the interest of helping the scores upon scores of academics busy analyzing my vast body of professional work, here are equally helpful summaries of some of my other groundbreaking reportage. (It's all free, though if you want footnotes, that'll cost you...)
This is disturbing. Not only did some desperate collegiate hack, undoubtedly on Double Secret Probation and hepped up on Mountain Dew, write a term paper on an article I wrote what seems like a zillion years ago, that term paper is now for sale (scroll down).
Called Online Classifieds: A Descriptive & Integrative Analysis, the term paper offers -- what else? -- "a descriptive and integrative analysis of Mark Toner's 'Online Classifieds'. Included are: author background & purpose, methodology, results & conclusions, significance and 'real-world' application." It even has nine -- count 'em, nine! -- footnotes, so you know it's well researched.
With all that, the term paper is a steal at $44.75, which is about $44.75 more than I've seen from the original article.
In the interest of helping the scores upon scores of academics busy analyzing my vast body of professional work, here are equally helpful summaries of some of my other groundbreaking reportage. (It's all free, though if you want footnotes, that'll cost you...)
- Blogs are kind of like memoirs, except when they aren't. But they're online. Which memoirs aren't.
- The great thing about comics is that if they're drawn well enough, they don't have to be funny.
- Trucks move stuff.
- If someone comes to you and asks you to fork over $20 million to mail free computer scanners to people who might not have computers, it's probably not a good idea.
- Small newspapers make their reporters write about some really strange things.
- People who don't like Microsoft often do like penguins. Also, Paul Revere's heroic ride for freedom and an online grocery delivery van dropping off a carton of Ramen noodles may be compared unironically if it serves a facile metaphor.
- Nekkid people are funny.
Friday, March 19, 2004
SO MUCH FOR THE NIGHTLIFE
A while back, in mentioning how I'm far too sophisticated to fall for trendy chain bars during my frequent nights out on the town (but not sophisticated enough to avoid aging ex-Monkees), I mentioned that the local Burger King had a bitchin' ball room.
It also has a bitchin' SWAT team.
Let me explain. I was there with the kids on a Saturday night, at the incredibly dangerous hour of 6:30 p.m., when no one but the toughest soccer moms and ballet dads ply the mean streets of Reston(tm) in their nitrous-boosted minivans, playing Boyz N the Hood on their in-seat DVD players. We got our sackfuls of crappy food and sat down in the glassed-off play area, and before you could say "supersize me," about a dozen cops wearing bulletproof vests with STATE POLICE, ANTI-GANG UNIT and SHERIFF’S DEPT in block lettering on their backs started pouring into the store through two or three different doors. This being anal-retentive, homeowner association-obsessed Reston(tm), I immediately wondered if I had painted the trim on my house the wrong shade of battleship gray, but they made a beeline for some other guy and pinned his neck to the side of a crappy plastic booth, then cuffed him and dragged him out. So it was serious. He must have put plastic lawn statuary in his yard.
All joking aside, this would have been frightening, except that like in some bad movie you might see at 2 a.m. on basic cable, the kids had their back to the whole scene of bedlam and were utterly and completely oblivious to what was happening. I watched the whole scene unfold over their shoulders as they scarfed down their chicken nuggets.
So to all my smug, urban friends who mock our simple lives in the outer boroughs, I say this: come hang out with me one night. You might see some stuff go down, and even if you don't, there's a bitchin' Macaroni Grill at the Town Centre(tm).
A while back, in mentioning how I'm far too sophisticated to fall for trendy chain bars during my frequent nights out on the town (but not sophisticated enough to avoid aging ex-Monkees), I mentioned that the local Burger King had a bitchin' ball room.
It also has a bitchin' SWAT team.
Let me explain. I was there with the kids on a Saturday night, at the incredibly dangerous hour of 6:30 p.m., when no one but the toughest soccer moms and ballet dads ply the mean streets of Reston(tm) in their nitrous-boosted minivans, playing Boyz N the Hood on their in-seat DVD players. We got our sackfuls of crappy food and sat down in the glassed-off play area, and before you could say "supersize me," about a dozen cops wearing bulletproof vests with STATE POLICE, ANTI-GANG UNIT and SHERIFF’S DEPT in block lettering on their backs started pouring into the store through two or three different doors. This being anal-retentive, homeowner association-obsessed Reston(tm), I immediately wondered if I had painted the trim on my house the wrong shade of battleship gray, but they made a beeline for some other guy and pinned his neck to the side of a crappy plastic booth, then cuffed him and dragged him out. So it was serious. He must have put plastic lawn statuary in his yard.
All joking aside, this would have been frightening, except that like in some bad movie you might see at 2 a.m. on basic cable, the kids had their back to the whole scene of bedlam and were utterly and completely oblivious to what was happening. I watched the whole scene unfold over their shoulders as they scarfed down their chicken nuggets.
So to all my smug, urban friends who mock our simple lives in the outer boroughs, I say this: come hang out with me one night. You might see some stuff go down, and even if you don't, there's a bitchin' Macaroni Grill at the Town Centre(tm).
Tuesday, March 09, 2004
Monday, March 01, 2004
A DILEMMA
Here's the thing. I -- I mean, a friend of mine -- was bored one day last year and created a fake blog that was supposedly written by a semi-famous person who was in the news a lot at the time. It got linked to by a couple of hipper-than-thou Web sites, and suddenly it got lots of traffic -- lots more than this, I mean his, site.
Anyway. This particular person's back in the news at the moment, and I'm--I mean, my friend is getting e-mails from news organizations, thinking he's the actual person who's being parodied. It's not like I -- I mean he -- is the master of subtlety, mind you, so it's pretty clear the site is a fake. And if it wasn't clear, the word "parody" in the rail should have dispelled any lingering doubts. But all of the sudden he's getting e-mailed interview requests from the like of Fox News and something that the reporter called "the Newsweek of Brazil." It's only a matter of time before a real news organization drops an e-mail my--I mean, his--way.
My friend -- let's just call him "Earl" -- is kind of bored at the moment, so he's actually tempted to take these folks up on their offer and see how far he can play this prank out. I mean, who's going to know the difference in Brazil, right? Of course, by an incredble coincidence far too bizarre to contemplate, "Earl" is a journalist, too. So doing so would be, as they say in the biz, "bad."
Oh, well. Maybe once "Earl" retires and devotes the bulk of his writing to crotchety letters to the editor, he'll be able to engage in such shennanigans. But for now, this will have to remain the most closely guarded secret since this incredible conspiracy.
Here's the thing. I -- I mean, a friend of mine -- was bored one day last year and created a fake blog that was supposedly written by a semi-famous person who was in the news a lot at the time. It got linked to by a couple of hipper-than-thou Web sites, and suddenly it got lots of traffic -- lots more than this, I mean his, site.
Anyway. This particular person's back in the news at the moment, and I'm--I mean, my friend is getting e-mails from news organizations, thinking he's the actual person who's being parodied. It's not like I -- I mean he -- is the master of subtlety, mind you, so it's pretty clear the site is a fake. And if it wasn't clear, the word "parody" in the rail should have dispelled any lingering doubts. But all of the sudden he's getting e-mailed interview requests from the like of Fox News and something that the reporter called "the Newsweek of Brazil." It's only a matter of time before a real news organization drops an e-mail my--I mean, his--way.
My friend -- let's just call him "Earl" -- is kind of bored at the moment, so he's actually tempted to take these folks up on their offer and see how far he can play this prank out. I mean, who's going to know the difference in Brazil, right? Of course, by an incredble coincidence far too bizarre to contemplate, "Earl" is a journalist, too. So doing so would be, as they say in the biz, "bad."
Oh, well. Maybe once "Earl" retires and devotes the bulk of his writing to crotchety letters to the editor, he'll be able to engage in such shennanigans. But for now, this will have to remain the most closely guarded secret since this incredible conspiracy.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)