Monkeys and keyboards aside, one Random + CSS still doesn't make poop.

Happy holidays!

Who wants to take a guess at the number of right-wing morons who buy the paperback anti-Sarah Palin book Going Rouge, thinking it's the official Sarah Palin book Going Rogue?

Even with the subtitle "The American Nightmare" on the front, with a different picture than Going Rogue (which is right beside it), and with how the actual one just came out in hardcover?






A better question, perhaps: Should I be this amused at the ignorance and/or terrible reading skills of Palin fans?

Me: Yeah, she's really bad. Then her boobs almost fall out, her pants start to fall down--
zen_of_nihilism: Going to play my game now!
Me: Come back! It's about to get awful!
zen_of_nihilism: No!
Me: And three . . . two . . . one . . . POON!
zen_of_nihilism: What?
Me: Come back!
zen_of_nihilism: No.


I'll admit, it was amusing for a little while--like, the first thirty seconds of her epically long video. And, as the situation is with many absurdly incompetent people, she appears unable to recognize her own failures. It's not that she can't dance, it's that people don't understand her artistic genius. It's not that her form is terrible, it's that she's the pioneer of a new bellydance system. And the people coming out to criticize her as she gets snippy? They're obviously just trash-talkers secretly jealous of the way she rolls around and smacks her face on the floor.

I'd feel bad for her, but it looks like she insists on not seeing past her little fishbowl, where she builds grandiose monuments to herself. Throw in some flouncing and we've got a result that weebles between annoying and embarrassing.

It really is a pity so few bad dancers are kind enough to drop a wardrobe on themselves.

Sarah Palin's twitter needs a fucking translator. Also, Sarah Palin needs to grow a goddamn brain cell.

Copenhgen=arrogance of man2think we can change nature's ways.MUST b good stewards of God's earth,but arrogant&naive2say man overpwers nature
(link)

Earth saw clmate chnge4 ions;will cont 2 c chnges.R duty2responsbly devlop resorces4humankind/not pollute&destroy;but cant alter naturl chng
(link)

She's worse than Bush. I can't believe people pay attention to her let alone like her.

~~

Braincleaner for the day is silly Oni in snow, along with some of the neat shots I got this afternoon.



He stuffed his head into snowbanks for a good chunk of our walk, then dove straight into a big thicket of something. I was afraid we'd have to cut him out of it for a moment--or that he'd drag me in as well. Choppy film is choppy!

I read Ariana Franklin's Mistress of the Art of Death series again as braincleaner. It's working, and I'm glad she's writing a fourth one.

~~

I read Chuck Palahniuk's Lullaby, finally. It's strange, yeah, but it's interesting--and also functioned as braincleaner. The main character finds himself in possession of a poem that can kill, then finds himself able to kill with a thought. What follows is a fairly convoluted tale of the corrupting nature of power, mixed with the clash between modern media's force-feeding style and a situation where an influx of information can be deadly, and then sprinkled with a heaping spoonful of WTF-gender-and-sexuality and studded with liberal pokes at the fourth wall.

Old George Orwell got it backward.

Big Brother isn't watching. He's singing and dancing. He's pulling rabbits out of a hat. Big Brother's busy holding your attention every moment you're awake. He's making sure you're always distracted. He's making sure you're fully absorbed.

He's making sure your imagination withers. Until it's as useful as your appendix. He's making sure your attention is always filled.

And this being fed, it's worse than being watched. With the world always filling you, no one has to worry about what's in your mind. With everyone's imagination atrophied, no one will ever be a threat to the world. (p.18-19)

I still really wish I'd been at the reading he did at my old college--the one where a number of people in the audience passed out.

~~

I went back and read chunks of David Foster Wallace's short story collection Brief Interviews with Hideous Men, and found myself more appreciative of its frequently overly-wordy WTF than I was in college. He was an oddball, that one, but his writing style's conductive to sitting down and concentrating on what's being said--something I needed.

~~

Mark Millar's graphic novel Old Man Logan wasn't as puerile and poorly-written as Wanted, but somehow was even less cerebral or well-plotted. The story opens up fifty years in the post-apocalyptic future, as Wolverine's non-mutant kids offer to sell their working x-box in order to pay rent.

If you can't get your brain around the idea of an x-box making it fifty years without bricking, this would be a good stopping point. It just gets worse from there. Om nom nom adamantium. Seriously: if I get started, I'll rip the entire story to shreds.

Otherwise . . . I'm not sure if Millar aims for transparent bigotry or just lands there anyway. The bad guys are a black man covered in gold jewelry, a Hispanic girl with too many facial piercings, and the (morbidly obese) Hulk's cannibalistic trailer-park-living kids/grandkids--an emo-haired punker, some rednecks, and a perpetually-publicly-breastfeeding female. The protagonists? All white males. The good women? Sidelined or fridged. The young, attractive women? Evil or whores. Then there's how Wolverine/Logan is a pacifist(!) who hasn't popped his claws in fifty years and who is stomped/stands by placidly as his friend gets beaten down--but he finally turns violent and almost stabs a random bar patron in the face when they imply that he might be gay. No, seriously. And of course, the work completely fails the Bechdel test.

Subtlety, thy name is not Millar.

But at least it wasn't Wanted. Few things can be as bad as a monster made of Hitler's poop or the closing line "This is my face as I'm fucking you in the ass."



For braincleaner from that, I might have to dig up the Wonder Woman comic written by Jodi Picoult.

~

The thing I thought would be novella-sized is going to top out at about 15000 words. Oh well. As long as I finish it.

Today I watched a very small child wandering about the store. He was about a head over knee-high--maybe three years old--and completely unattended. He toddled all the way from the opposite side of the store towards me, veered off down an aisle, meandered back to the main aisle, walked almost up to my counter, headed further into the store to look at a couple of little old Italian men drinking their coffee, turned around, walked back across the floor . . . and, with his parent still not in sight, headed straight for the automatic double doors and the road directly outside.

I bolted around the counter and caught him before he could get past the first set of doors, then herded him back in--which is the point his parent turned the corner looking for him. If I hadn't been watching, that kid could've been road pancakes. Some people really should just not be allowed to have children.

~~


WTF, Dexter season finale. WTF.

I cleaned the rabbits, then stacked their cages in preparation for company tomorrow. Sambunny is now in the window--and has been stomping for the past half hour. Usually it's not so big a deal . . . but since the cages are stacked, with his smaller one on the top, any stomp he makes fucking echoes.

I tried to be nice. I figured he was just scared of new elevations, in the same way he's afraid of the outside and/or open spaces. I went in and petted him for a bit; I fed him banana chips and told him it was all okay. I even got him a box to hide in--something that's always been guaranteed to make him calm down.

Three minutes after I left, he started stomping again. He isn't afraid, he just hates it--in the same way he hates grass, water not in a bottle, feet, and keys.

He keeps it up, I might eat him.



I think I want a Christmas tree. The question remains: Do I get a bag of dirt and replant the tiny sad one I have that I haven't watered in months, in hopes that it will recover? Or do I get one of those rosemary trees I've been ogling for the past few winters?

Things to consider:

The rosemary tree is expected to die in a few months.

Then again, so is anything plantlike that I touch.

Where do I put this bundle of holiday spirit, anyway? On Sambunny's cage?

All of this requires me to go outside, and it's god-awfully cold out there!

ETA: Rosemary was expensive; I picked up a couple Christmas cactus instead. :P

I picked up a piel de sapo from Sam's club out of curiosity--and completely without knowing that its name translates as "toad skin." It's interesting, but amazingly generic in flavor.

This doesn't mean I didn't just eat an entire half of one, of course. You know how with a normal melon, they're not as sweet once you get closer to the rind? This one isn't so much like that. I'm sure the bunnies will be thrilled once I start doling out leftovers. Sharkbunnies attack!

To do:

Bank

Pay student loan

geary barrettes

purple/blue flowers

packages

post office

Sam's club & etc.: bubble wrap, mailers, food, bunny food

put away laundry

do more laundry

dishes (Halfway. Ran out of room in the drying rack.)

photos for mass uploading

gravy boat.



I'm debating trying out Katsucon. They made a tiny little 20-spot area for craft artists, they're charging $100 for an 8' spot, they're putting artists in the vendor room, and you have to buy a badge ($50) on top of that. Add in travel, food, and a hotel, and I'd be looking at a number far too close to one that'd get me across the country for a show eight times Katsu's size.

At least it's not being as douchetastic as Ohayocon, I guess.

From twitter:

Baronetess, aka our KBella: 2,333 views on the New Moon spoof. That's word.

Me: @baronetess - I'm going out to subject more people to our creation. And by "more people" I might mean "bellydance superstars."

newageamazon: @acaseofrandom YOU ARE NOT SHOWING THAT VIDEO TO RACHEL BRICE.

~~

Dear bacon-cheesy jeebus, this weekend was awesome. I kept up with the Rachel Brice seminar, then I overloaded on Mardi Love's subsequent seminar and ended up in the back of the room with a bunch of other overloaded people, muttering on about how this was not Sparta and I was lost. The show on Saturday night was ridiculous--and possibly the biggest turnout for a bellydance show I've seen in the Pittsburgh area. And Zoe Jakes brainsquished the hell out of me on Sunday with the variants of pops & locks, then with the how-to of her choreography from the night before.

Also, I can still walk. I'm astounded. Apparently working out worked for me.

I'm not sure I expected them all to be so personable. Mardi made faces back when I made faces at her and I kept my hands to myself this time, Rachel struck funny poses (and got photobombed) and made terrible jokes and randomly kissed me on the cheek RACHEL BRICE KISSED ME, and Zoe told stories of boobies and misbehavior and fire-setting at Burning Man--stories which, if she follows through and comes to Pennsic, will result in us making the Pyro Pirate Party. And possibly in us getting kicked out for stealing golf carts and/or setting things on fire.

God, I hope she comes to Pennsic.

~~

Also, Pittsburgh's Southside being what it is on the weekends, I got to watch a drunk douchebag assault a city bus. The show started with him standing in the middle of the crosswalk like some smashed, overly territorial pigeon, yelling at nothing. No words--just yelling.

"AAAAAAAAAAHHH!"

Someone went out and tried to move him before the light could turn. He resisted, squirmed loose, and kept yelling.

"AAAAAAAHHH! AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

The would-be savior left, a bus pulled up at a nearby lane . . . and the kid launched himself at it.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

At first he just waved his arms at it--then flattened himself to its windshield and slapped the glass. Still yelling. The light turned, but for some reason no one moved.

"AAAAAAAH! AAAAAAHHH!"

This is about the point where the cops pulled up.

For some reason, this is also about the point where the kid got very quiet.

They tried to guide him off the street, he resisted, one pointed a taser at him, he bolted--and immediately hit the concrete. Last I saw they were cuffing him. Snarky commentary was provided by me, random street musicians, and a panhandler. ("Don't tase him, bro!"--"Tase him, bro!")

~~

Also: The cheery take on fmylife.com is itmademyday.com. I won't say it because it'd be redundant. :P

As I've mentioned before, Mark of Buzznet has been reviewing the Twilight series chapter by chapter. He's sworn at it, he's snarked at it, he's macro-spammed at it, he's written his own autopsy and claimed his death was caused by the books. But I think this is the first time I've seen him be so outright, clearly, pointedly angry.

What'd he get into to make him this pissed off?

Oh, just SMeyer's writing about how Mexicans are violent awful people (as opposed to the "civilized" north), and how being a vampire automatically makes you white.



This shit makes me tired.

I've realized I've picked up a horrible habit of writing characters who have to make really awful decisions.

I've also realized it's pretty hard for me to write my way out of these really awful decisions.

. . . I also know that pulling these things off will make for a much stronger storyline.


It's an awful slew of things, too. From possibly justifying genocide, to stripping away a person's free will, to a group out to trick society into a religious revolution, to this terribly fucked up ficwreck that takes a half an hour to explain the setup for let alone write . . . Sometimes I wonder why I never get anything done.




(But if I get two of three of those done, there's a very high likelihood they'll be marketable. Just need to get back to work.)

Today, two young women got dramatically offended because I suggested a book to them that wasn't Twilight.

It seems Twilight means very much to them; so much that it was untoward of me to suggest other reading material.


Dear bleached-blond bottle-tanned Barbie-wanna-be Twitards,

Why so serious?











We're gonna get flamed so hard. It took less than a half hour for us to get our first flame. :D

Me: I'm outside your houuu-seeee!
newageamazon: Okay!
Me: With my pants in my lap!
newageamazon: . . . What?

~~

Also, it appears the publisher Harlequin has shot themselves in the nuts. They added on a new vanity publishing wing--a wing towards which authors who are rejected from their commercial branches will be funneled. Reactions seem to vary from "But self-publishing isn't bad!" (which completely ignores how this isn't self-publishing, it's vanity publishing, and yes it fucking is) to the hardcore, as the RWA (Romance Writers of America) has (have?) revoked Harlequin's recognized publisher status.

I'll be the first person to mock the romance novel section, sure--but that's still one hell of a shitty thing to do to potential authors: lure them in with an established name, reject their novel, then flip them over and shake them for whatever money may come out while telling them that this is really the best way for their career to start.

(You go, RWA. Rock on with your bad, frequently badly written selves.)

~~

Also, Gunnerkrigg Court ate my brain. It's much fun.

Poll #4604 So . . .
Open to: All, results viewable to: All

If Random really wants to be healthy, what's the least healthy thing for her to keep doing?

Things to keep in mind:
Cloves are awfully hard to get in the states anymore, and make me hungry.
The Chinese buffet has all-you-can-eat sushi.
The doggies need exercise.
So do I.
I can't read the warnings on my clove package--these ones are from Indonesia--but I know what they say about all the awful things that can happen to smokers.
A typical buffet run involves two plates and me whining about a food coma for an hour afterward.
I am gimping ever closer to the day when I will be a cranky old lady hitting people with my cane.

The worst best WTF moment of the day is without a doubt Regretsy. It takes the spirit of failblog and applies it to all the shit over at etsy that makes us say, "Wait, you're charging how much for what?"


With this site in mind, I feel it is my civic duty to rescue this goat. Look at the poor thing's face. It obviously wants to eat that awful coat and die from intestinal blockage.

This is one of Fanhistory's pages on the fanartist Sockii, Sockii Press, and some of the 'zines produced by Sockii. Sockii in all their forms gave Fanhistory express permission to use these 'zine covers on Fanhistory.

This is Fanlore's page on the same work of Sockii's. As you can see, it was lifted directly from FH--art and all.

Clicking through Sockii Press's links shows that this isn't the only case--and that I am in no way linking to the only two examples. Wiki-lifting aside, keep in mind that OTW's people are lifting fanart they don't have the rights to or permissions for, and are claiming it for their site.

Sockii knows; Sockii is the one who found the stolen artwork. Sockii and FH aren't currently doing anything because of OTW's response to the Yuletide debacle--where if you don't want your fanworks moved to another hosting area or location outside of your control, they don't want anything to do with you and don't want you to be a part of their exchange--and how their response to fanzine creators who don't want their 'zines to be part of OTW's archive is pretty much "Sucks to be you!" with an added, especially unbelievable side of "We won't scan it or post it online without your permission!"


In short, Sockii doesn't expect a site with no DMCA takedown procedures (and with this sort of response to fannish concerns over artistic rights) to give two shits about their feelings and rights as an artist.


Yup. This is what OTW, parent of An Archive Of Our Own & the Fanlore wiki, absorbers of both the Yuletide fic exchange and previous Yuletide fanworks (no matter artists' wishes to control the locations of their own work), and self-proclaimed defender of fandom rights and the proverbial fannish little guy gal, is up to.


I . . . find myself not at all surprised.




Where is the outrage? Is it because these people are supposedly fans? Fanlib said they might copy parts of &/or a work to a different location and people flipped the fuck out. These people lift artwork without permission and run roughshod over the 'zinemakers, the people who helped really get this fannish boat sailing to begin with, and I only hear about it from a friend of Sockii's? How do any of us know that our fanworks, in any format, won't be lifted for their site/archive under the guise of some sort of historical importance?

We don't. Not anymore.

How the hell does this work?

I usually don't look at let alone click on banner ads, but this . . .

Lollyphile.com might just be the place I go for Christmas shopping this year. Absinthe lollypops? Wasabi-ginger and Chai Tea lollypops? Maple syrup bacon lollypops? If I thought they gave out samples I'd be on their stairs with a little alms bowl.

I decided to exercise more to prepare for the upcoming Weekend Of Pain where The Indigo shall summarily kick my ass. I did a billion curlups and ran for miles on the elliptical and changed none of my eating habits and gained five pounds.

I decided to decorate my sorta-kinda exercise regimen with a return to the GI diet variation thing, where I eat lots of beany things and less processed sugars and breads and which, if I stick to it, results in my dropping about a solid pound a day.

. . . I want a donut. Instead I'm gonna try to get through Rachel Brice's yoga warmup without calling her an evil skinny little woman. I think.




Chances of my writing fic instead of doing Nano, or yoga, or listing more etsy things, or going out and finding an elliptical . . . growing.



Also, I finally gave up and got a twitter account. Now to see if I can use it to do businessy things and not to argue on the internets.

My to-do:

Put in supplies orders

Paperwork. I've got a pile that needs beaten back into shape, sorted, and filed.

Clean house

Start thawing a turkey. Did you know they're $0.40 a pound at Wal-mart? I got two good-sized birds for a laughable amount. I don't think either'll fit in the crock pot, but I'm gonna try.

Not buy the glass fuser kit from Pat Catan's. I don't need it. It will in no way help me make fabulous shiny things. I did it--I looked the beast dead in the eye and realized that it won't make the kind of pieces I really want. (Even attempting to make them with this particular method would involve me putting metal in the microwave, which would be a somewhat bad idea.) Maybe next year.

Sand ring bases for a sturdier epoxy attachment, then start making more steampunky rings

Etsy listings--necklaces, steampunk rings

Work on Nano

Food shopping!

Dremel bits, brass keys, screw eyes, and possibly more resin molds, since the glass thing won't work out

Start playing with Windows Movie Maker to cobble the Dramatic Fight Scene together, and trim what scenes need trimmed into easily-pasted segments.

Friday & Saturday--start to finish up filming for NMOMWH



Does anyone with bunnies know why bunnies will suddenly and randomly start to stampede? The two housebunnies have taken to freaking out and chasing each other every few minutes. I wouldn't care, except they keep waking me up and throwing their litter all over the place.