A symbol of distress
What quonsar said(*). Or, in a little more length and detail – “America, oui! Bush, non!”
What quonsar said(*). Or, in a little more length and detail – “America, oui! Bush, non!”
Ed takes the piss.
[this is good]
Following in Bb’s footsteps, here is my state of the union address :
Thank you.
If this comment made today on an old post about the plight of migrant workers here in Korea is real, it makes me very sad.
I’m sorry Qaiser, I have no job to offer you.
This is going to be one of those posts that starts : “So, I….”
I usually hate those kinds of posts.
So, I get an EGR send in my inbox today. Rageboy – or Locke, or whichever mask he was wearing when he hit ‘send’ or ‘go’ or ‘cry havoc’ or whatever the button said (assuming that both personas are masks, to one degree or another, and assuming that it was an actual button he pressed) – included a couple of quotes in the header, and I got as far as
before I got distracted, as seems to happen so often to me. All that youthful experimentation has left me with an attention span that is somewhat unreliable, I’m sad to report. Don’t worry your pretty heads, though, dear readers : I make do.
So, this Jung quote (I did read a lot of Jung when I was young – har!) is one that I’ve never run across before, oddly, unless of course I did run across it, but forgot about it because I was in the middle of one of those youthful experimentation sessions I mentioned above. My memory has a few holes in it too, unfortunately. Again, though, I make do.
It resonated in the echo chamber behind my nose and I was keen to see what had been said, and when, and by who. It seemed to apply to something I’ve been turning over in my mind lately : one thing that a filthy foreigner in Korea who spends any time watching his hosts will learn quickly is how inspidly sentimental these folks can be. I loathe sentimentality, but I’m keen to understand more about it, ’cause, you know, I’m such a groovy guy. The other bit of data is the fact that Korean soldiers, in the Vietnam War and elsewhere, were universally feared for their ‘casual brutality’.
So, off to Google. Shiver me timbers, boy wonder, who should be at the pole position for this interesting phrase, gunning his virtual engines, but the excellent Jonathon Delacour!
He was talking about warbloggers in his post, which interested me not at all at that moment – “We’re on a mission from God, ma’am.” – but he does quote the equally splendid Joseph Duemer :
Now this sounds like the kinda dirt I’m trying to dig up, here, tonight. This sounds like words I can get behind, and apply to something that at least has the odor of insightfulness.
But then, I notice this in the comments :
and I wonder if that’s true. Does sentimentality have a positive connotation for most Americans? And how about for Koreans? And am I unusual in hating it so?
Back to Google I went, feeling the need to dig some more, and came up dry. Serried ranks of quotable quote pages, with no commentary to sink my nose into, truffle-hunting webpig that I am.
Then I tried a bit of wiggling with my search terms a bit, and found this :
This set me back for a minute or two, and led me to remembering my wife’s stated reason for sticking with me, when asked why she had a couple of years ago, despite her parents threatening to disown her, in the face of her friends’ avowals that she was nuts to shack up with a nasty foreigner, ignoring the stares we got when we walked arm in arm down a Korean street. She said that she remembered me saying one night not long after we first got together something along the lines of :
Love is love is love. Mother for child, friend for friend, lover for beloved. It’s all one, even if it is different in the ways that it is shown and shared.
That simpleminded belief of mine dovetails micron-close with this ‘jeong’ idea, doesn’t it? Not that I had the faintest idea at the time that such a belief existed and was so important to so many Koreans. It’s not particularly insightful, certainly, but it’s true, or true at least for me, and that’s more than enough. It was enough for her, too, it seems.
So. At this point I kind of ran out of steam. I lost track of what I had been thinking about when I went off searching for some background on the Jung quote (which was probably going to end up in something mean-spirited anyway) but I ended up remembering something that has made me a better man.
And Rageboy? Well, I guess I gotta thank him, for starting me wandering down that track this evening, which ended for me in a happy memory and a cuddle with my woman. And feel ‘jeong’, a bit, for the guy, because the very public road that led him to his pressing that ‘send’ button today hasn’t – at least as far as I know – as happy an end as my short road did tonight.
After having lived in Broadband Sibera (the land down under, where techies moan and telcos blunder), and paid extortionate prices for competely inadequate service, Korea has been a pure joy in terms of bit aquisition. Reading this, I was reminded that even porn-thirsty America is way behind the curve : US$95 for 3.5 Mbps? I get that now, for about US$20, with no download cap.
Shortly, though, I’m moving to the recently-introduced VDSL service. It comes in 10, 20, 50 Mbps speeds (and higher, I think), and the 50 Mbps pipe will cost me around $US30 a month, unmetered.
Of course, Korea’s way out ahead in terms of wireless broadband, too. There are some compensations for the hassles of living here, if you’re a geek. Sorry to gloat, but wheeee!
[in a brainfart almost completely unrelated I recall my Grizzly-Adams-esque mountain-man friend and roommate (with whom I have since lost touch, sadly), back when I lived in Whistler BC for a few years, insisting that almost anything was forgiveable while skiing (or doing anything else for that matter) except saying ‘wheeeee!’. Sorry, Brock.)
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“At Imaginative Pastures, we’re trained to think outside the commons.”
I’m not sure what that means, but it sounds good to me! Strong, and good, and right! Make no mistake. Our mission is to stop the bad people, and protect the good American public and their strong copyright freedoms. We are strong, and good. Really really good. Strong, too.
Go pass on some felicitations to one of the good ones, won’t you? Happy Birthday, Jonathon, ya bastard†!
† Aussie-style camaraderie. Use only as directed. Void where prohibited by law.
One of these songs is about me me me. If you can figure out which one, I promise I won’t deliver a merciless beating to your sensitive and private parts. Choose carefully, friends.
I guess I should be blogging my tits off, here, proving to all those visitors from the bloggies that I’m The Hardest Working Blogger In Show Business, but f–k that noise.
I got me a bottle of cheap whiskey, it’s Friday night and I’m on the elevator gooooooin’ up. Leave me be.
All the kafuffle about this bloggie stuff makes me giggle like chrome-plated steam-powered giggling machine, though, I gotta tell ya. Go, look how worked up some people get about these silly things. [via OW™here] I don’t know who these people are, but they really need a tall cool glass of perspective and soda.
Hey, you big boneheads! If you’ve got all that energy to spare, why not try getting worked up about the bumbling corporate turd masquerading as a president, sitting in the White House, chuckling like a waterhead, and jerking off over his (laminated, crayola-bright) plans for war, instead? Or the continuing determined erosion of your rights and privacy by his wingèd minions, maybe? Or even about the fight over copyright law, which is a massive wank as well, in this wonderchicken’s opinion, but not nearly as gargantuan a waste of time as these awards. Save your vitriol for the things that merit it, kids.
And have a drink, on me.
Edit : Or if you’re not the drinking type, amuse yourself by reading this semicoherent ramble from last week, which in light of this Bloggie nomination, is Ironic As f–k (now featuring Comedy Capitalization©).
Edit again : Or : what the ever-reasonable mathowie said.
What I don’t need is another shiny thing to distract me, but this is some kinda fun, pilgrims. I know it’s been around for a bit, and the alpha is almost over, but it’s new to me, and it’s very cool, and scary addictive. Reminds me, in a good way, of IRC (to which I’ve never been that attracted), crossed with the mind-expanding, imagination-tweaking, eyestrainy old days of all night text-adventuring on my big grey TRS-80.

I really sucked at text adventures.
I’ve discovered thanks to my gadgetry over on the right that I’ve been shortlisted for a Bloggie this year, in the Asian Weblogs category, along with such noble and noteable friends and neighbours as BWG, Cheesedip, Weblog Wannabe and Geisha Asobi. Last year, when I was nominated but didn’t make the cut, I threatened to perform acts of random and extreme violence on anyone who actually voted for me. Which had a certain chilling effect on my popularity, I’m guessing.
This time around I’m not sure how to react, given my recent semicoherent rantings about popularity and such. The cool kids all feign disinterest, I know. Me, I guess I’ll just sincerely thank whoever nominated me, and thank those who put me on the shortlist, and have a celebratory beer or 12.
[Jeez, now I feel like I oughta actually write something more about Asia….for those who are interested in that stuff, my musings about Life in Korea are here.]
Edit, the next morning : I guess I should make clear that even though I am pleased to be given some recognition for my fiddle-f–king around here over the past coupla years or so, I am firmly aware that popularity contests of this kind are a massive wank, and destructive to community feeling in a multitude of ways.
I do not take this seriously. What I do take seriously is the conversations among very smart and very kind people in which I’ve been allowed to take part as a result of having this weblog, the things I’ve learned, the skills I’ve honed, the friends I’ve made.
I’ll let my nomination stand, and I will gladly accept your vote, with thanks – because, goddamnit, I kick ass – but I say to you once again, with flashing eyes and floating hair, I do not for a freaking second take this seriously. If I win (which I’m pretty damn sure I won’t) it won’t be because I’m better than any of the others nominated, or better than a multitude of other creative people out there howling into the void, it’ll be because I bribed people with sexual favours I have way too much free time, and spend it on this pointless but enjoyable hobby, and have settled in for a wee drink or two with friends all over the virtual place in my time.
But it’s life that counts, and the careful stewardship of your soul, my friends, not pretty words and tricked-out css. And beer, of course. Crikey, let’s not forget about the beer.
I wish there were some way that some sort of reliable device for parsing out and evaluating text could be created, one that was capable of remotely applying painful shocks to the testicles based on the results.
This device – let’s call it the Fiery Parser of Comedy Justice™, for lack of anything else that comes to mind – would deliver the scrotum-singeing amps say 7 out of 8 times that it caught someone posted an ‘amusing’ one-liner to Metafilter, just to help them be certain that they were indeed posting Comedy Gold and it was worth the risk.
(I feel comfortable in choosing the testicles, as I’m pretty certain this is a Boyzone phenomenon.)
Ideally, it would be 6 or 8 metres high, with a huge On/Off lever, be topped with buzzing Tesla coils, and throw off random crackling bolts of electricity through the darkness. A tiny almost circular 50’s-style cathode ray tube would sit at its foot, connected to the main apparatus with monster alligator clips and greasy, wrist-thick cables, casting a small, comforting, #006699 glow on the broken concrete and piles of skulls nearby.
I’m aware that this probably won’t happen. Pity.
I am also fully aware that (pot, kettle) probably 80% of my MetaSchtick for the first year I was there was rubber-chickening and merry pranksterism, but that was before it became an epidemic. The monkey house (and god bless its every byte) was created to siphon away all that stuff, but now there’s a whole new generation in the blue, this growing and seemingly unstoppable crapslide of quipsters who seem bent on being The Wackiest MeFite, and they’re beginning to give me the sh-ts.
OK, I’m done now with my little rant now. Just had to vent. Back to the (much-beloved) ‘filter I go.
Edit :
Things like this, over at MeFi, are part of the reason I keep going back there, even after I have a little half-serious spaz-out like I did earlier. It may be a hoax, but if not, I am fascinated in equal measure with being repelled. It’s a strange, wonderful, horrible new world we’re building ourselves.
Another Edit : See, this MetaTalk discussion about the previously mentioned thread is a great thing too.
“Some very rough notes on a potential future blog entry […] what follows is nothing more than the usual rubbish and bird dirt on the sidewalk…”
Or : essential talk and think and link. Kent hides his light away, as usual. Dig it, cats.
Dong! Resin! Speaks!
[May not be suitable for children. Void where prohibited by law. Do not operate heavy machinery while taking dong_resin.]
Also : ARE WAR PROTESTS UNPATRIOTIC?
I voted yes, yes it is unpatriotic to protest against killing, just ’cause I like to play the irredeemable asshole. Apparently about a thousand other wacky funsters had voted the same way. Oh those effervescent yanks, full of happy hijinks. God bless ’em, eh?
When I actually tried to leave a comment about how patently undemocratic (if predictable) the very implications of posing a question like that were, I got this :
That’s about right.
Steve and Alex have revealed their novels-in-progress, and I know some other friends and neighbours are girding their loins to do the same.
I’m just drunk enough at the moment to be tempted to open the kimono too on the humble beginnings of my thus-far-unrevealed (except to a few blogly amigos) semifictional tale of the vida loca del pollo magnifico, but it’d be deeply embarrassing if it sucked, so perhaps I’ll just wait a while on that….
I’m still trying to figure out if I stole the cheeseriffic title, which has been circulating in my brain since the early 90’s – The Night Smells Like A Dog – from the Beatles of Surrey, No Fun, or if they stole it from me.
Recently, Burningbird, who’s been having some major stresses in her life and thus can be forgiven for being a bit cranky, had this to say about blogrolling and linkloving, and the whorespiders like Daypop and its ilk :
After being a smartass :
I actually started to think about it, again, and why I…well, if not disagree precisely, see things a little differently. Part of the reason it was on my mind this morning was that the night before, I’d made a post here, linking to the PBS show on blogging (starring OW™ and Anil Dash and others), with the sole comment being ‘Oh, f–k off.’ (There was also some goofy sh-t about Orson Welles eating your soul, but that’s not germane at the moment.)
I deleted that post almost immediately – there goes my blogging verité credibility – but my unthinking nasty response, seemingly at odds with what I believe about the no-impact socialization implicit in what we do with links, continues to disturb me a bit. I’m happy for Anil and Oliver, although I think they are two very different kinds of blogistanis, in many ways, which was perhaps the point, in part.
I’m not attempting to characterize either of them, here. I’m just following my somewhat muddled thoughts where they take me.
Where they take me first is on a bit of a tangent : there are those with ‘personal web sites’ or journals or blogs who pay little to no attention to what others are doing or saying. There are those too who whore themselves – who use links exclusively to curry favour, or elusive popularity, or the strangely compelling ghostly yardstick of blogly self-worth that is measured in hits. There are bloggers – a lot of them – who seem to do give recognition to others primarily – or exclusively – to increase their ‘juice,’ and spend most of their time trying to attract that sort of attention from others.
I mean, most of us do a bit of that sometimes, probably, and sit somewhere on the fence. But the true ‘look at me! look at me!’ folks – amusing and enjoyable as their antics may be – are the ones who spoil the game, because when some people start to think they can win a game that in its very nature is designed not to have winners, it starts to poison interaction. It’s just like Real Life™, ain’t it? Having a drink with a group of folks, one (or worse, two) of whom will not stop jumping up and down and pulling faces, or steering the conversation inexorably back to themselves – that just ain’t no fun, and it kills the joy of socializing.
I guess that it’s this kind of behaviour that set BB off. It’s this kind of behaviour that makes me want to withdraw from the whole game, too, sometimes. But I don’t. ‘Cause there will always be folks who are more into self-aggrandizement than conversation, and folks who are more into grandstanding than socializing, and you have to choose to get with ’em, or ignore ’em. Hell, get a few drinks into me, and I can be one of them myself. But one can choose to ignore the siren call, and the bleating of the self-nominated popularity contest participants, and get on with the hardcore relaxation, and the slow to and fro of languid conversation.
I think my kneejerk reaction to the PBS thing was somehow spawned both out of my utter contempt for the Old Media and my feelings about blogging and bloggers in general : that we’re people who are sure that we have something to say, whether or not anyone else thinks so too, and damnit, we’re going to say it, and self-promote so that as many people as possible are going to hear it. If that’s one of the core motivators for all of this for many people, it’s only natural, annoying as it may be sometimes, that there is going to be a subset that push the envelope, and cross the line into Human Brands. And I have always been resentful of people who are recognized for jumping up and down and shouting ‘look at me!’. I’m not accusing Oliver or Anil of doing this, I hasten to add. I’m just thinking this through, aloud.
Despite this, I do still think the blogosphere is a meritocracy. Merit is most assuredly not measured in hitcounts or rankings. It’s pretty clear that hitcounts and blogrankings are a factor of how good a self-promoter you are, how much juice your virtual neighbours have, and only in small part how much merit can be found in your actual creative output. There are bowel-looseningly good writers out there who get little to no traffic, and there are determinedly mediocre ones who are inundated in visitors. This, we all know. Life ain’t fair. But merit in this place (an old discussion about what kind of place it is comes to mind), one way or another, whether it’s quality of ideas or writing or simply the honest goodness of the person behind the words shining through, well, it seems to me that that’s recognized eventually, organically. Mostly.
Back to the issue of linking and blogrolling and Blogdexery, again taken from my comments on Shelley’s post of a few days ago, and written in part in response to this comment from Mike Golby, who said :
I said, in semi-rant mode :
I don’t think of this as a zero-sum game, smart-assery aside. It’s an infinite game – a game in which one of the tenets of play is that the game should never end, and in which a goal of play is to keep everyone playing.
The more observant amongst you might notice that I’ve got, if not the longest, at least one of the longest blogrolls in christendom blogaria. This is due to simple policy : if you link to me, I reciprocate, when I find that link. If you pull me off your blogroll, I don’t care. You linked to me at some point, and that hasn’t changed. If you publicly declare that I’m a lame goat-blowing sh-tweasel, I might pull you, but then again, I might not. It’s not a zero-sum game. There are no winners, and that’s the way it’s meant to be. It’s not political, it’s just common courtesy. When someone speaks to you, you acknowledge them. If they engage you, you have a conversation. If not, you make eye contact, nod, and move on.
In weblogging, the nods leave tracks, is all.
[Edit : I sense that this is a bit disjointed, but I don’t have time to edit it right now, so I’ll just leave it up, with apologies if I have been unclear.]

There are some very smart things being said by some very smart bloggers around the neighbourhood, apparently spurred at least in part by one of my occasional, typically-crude brainfarts. This pleases me, even if I’m not too interested at the moment in going meta and joining the conversation. What my bloggerly friends have to say is a pleasure to read, and although I find myself agreeing for the most part with them, I ought to make it clear that I had nothing so erudite in mind when writing the post. Just singing my song, you know?
Anyway, some Deep Thoughts and Worthwhile from the completely unsh-tweasellike Tom, Steve, Jonathon, and AKMA. I love these guys – they make me look like I’m clever, when really I’m just voluble and profane and tediously honest.
[Edit : Add The Happy Tutor to the discussion…]
In the comments attached to this post (made while feeling no pain whatsoever last night, but I’m a great believer in blogging verité, so it stands), fellow 9622.net monkeyshiner readymade links to a Real Life Tale of beat poet encounters, drugs, and nudity. Some of my favorite things, those. Hooray! Go, read!