So I mentioned that I was re-vamping my Tumblr from having a no real purpose to having a purpose. In the past 2 days I’ve gained nearly 500 followers.
Granted, it’s Tumblr, so following is easy and doesn’t necessarily lead to connection or interaction with contact. It’s like Twitter that way. Of all those followers, there are only a handful of likes, and I think one reblog. But I only have 654 Twitter followers, and I’ve been tweeting for years.
To what do I owe this success, such as it is? I think the following:
- People get what my Tumblr’s about, and are interested. People like talking about music, and my posts are short and to the point.
- Bro, Do You Even Tag? In doing music reviews, it always helps to tag the band name, the song name, the album name. Then people who check the tags see the content, and decide to follow if they like what they see.
- YouTube is the New MTV. After (which is to say, above) every review, I do a separate video post which has either a favored deep track or a live version or something else that I think noteworthy. YouTube is great at giving you options, and people like to hear music when they’re done reading about music.
So, Focus, Reach Out, and Consistent Content. Hopefully this continues.
Check out the noise at Every. Damn. CD.
He covers all the basics in a short period of time.
This struck me:
Brian Aldiss believes that if you look at the life of any novelist, you’ll find an early traumatic break, and mine seems no exception.
Because I think everyone can examine their childhood and find moments of sublime clarity, when reality takes its mask off and murders the idyll in front of you. So I don’t know that such is restricted only to novelists. Perhaps novelists access it fastest.
This amused me:
Google me and you can learn that I do it all on a manual typewriter, something that hasn’t been true since 1985, but which makes such an easy hook for a lazy journalist that I expect to be reading it for the rest of my life.
Journalists are the laziest bastards on the planet. They find a hook, and then stuff everything else through that hook like it was a funnel. A plague on their houses.
Read the whole thing, if you’re a Gibson fan and you’ve never hit up his web site before. It has an archaic, Geocities-ish design that’s almost charming.
The “Disasterpiece Theater” series at The Decider begins with a good choice.
In a lot of ways, Dune has a lot of the same problems as Star Wars: Episode I – The Phantom Menace. Hear me out… Both were made for a rabid science fiction audience. Both films boast beautiful production design and talented casts. However, the biggest problem with both films is that they spend more time providing exposition about tedious political plots and religious superstitions than they do establishing characters and relationships. Dune spends almost a half hour telling you about houses and treaties and spice and navigators before getting to the tense gom jabbar scene (which Herbert begins on, like, page 5). Lynch just drops you into Paul’s world and you go with it because he doesn’t quite know what’s going on, either. You’ve got a relatable protagonist to latch onto, use him!
Lynch’s Dune is visually stunning but a narrative mess. And I’m a big fan of the series. I even like God Emperor of Dune (But not any book after that. The last two novels that Herbert wrote feel tired and meandering, and all the works written by Brian Herbert and Kevin Anderson just feel wrong). But even I find almost every line and acting choice weird and off (plus Patrick Stewart as Gurney Halleck? What?).
Yes, it should be watched. Actually, it should be watched several times:
- What? Who’s that? What’s going on? Why is this so BORING? Ugh, Never again!
- Actually, there’s some neat things to see here. It’s got a cool look. I might watch this again; it might grow on me.
- No, this is a bad movie. I’m done. Wierding modules? What were they thinking?
Virgina Madsen is gorgeous, however…
Lou Reed in 1977, for no good reason.
I have a Tumblr for reasons that I never understood. It was just a thing to get, and a direct violation of my actual purpose in having a single blog with my name on it. But there’s a problem that’s never quite been satisfied.
I had, at one of my old dead blogs, a music writing project that I tried to import here and never fully did. I never fully did because my life got twist-turned upside down when I became a dad, and summoning the eloquence to write about R.E.M. and the Rolling Stones felt like work. And when you’re a blogger, work doesn’t feel right.
So I’m going to re-charge the project. I’m going to rate and review all of my CD’s. In the following order:
- By Genre
- Within Genre, alphabetically by Artist Name
- Within Artist, chronologically by release date.
It’s called Every.Damn. CD. and what’s going to make it change is I’m not going to try for eloquence or knock myself out for insight. Every disc gets a paragraph, a grade, and a youtube link if I happen to feel like it. I’ll go for knocking them out once or twice a week or so.
I’ve got a diverse music collection and I used to care about it. Let’s see if anything interesting falls therefrom.
Roofies are rape culture, obviously.
Nail polish that detects roofies? Also Rape Culture. Because women shouldn’t have to “prevent rape”. Men should just not rape.
Because rape denies women agency over their own bodies, anything which gives women a means of protecting or ensuring that agency is also part of rape culture. Like, duh.
Also rape culture: women carrying weapons, mace, or rape whistles to protect themselves from assault. I mean, they’re even called “rape whistles.” How Rape-Culture can you get?
Also rape culture: women fighting back from being raped at all. She should not have to do that. Do you get it, male pigs of the Patriarchy? SHE SHOULD NOT HAVE TO DO THAT. Better to close her eyes, think of England, and then call the cops.
Except she shouldn’t call the cops, because cops are totally Rape Culture. Cops arrest men for rape, which is too damn late. The rape has already happened. MEN SHOULD JUST NOT RAPE.
Rape is very bad and should not happen. Until all men know not to rape, all men are guilty of rape. That’s completely logical and not at all reminiscent of the reasoning of racists, right?
It is not the job of women to prevent rape. It is the job of men. The job of women is to talk about rape and demand that men do something about it. Women must forego their patriarchally-imbued sense of self-preservation and responsibility for their own lives and depend upon men to make things safe for them.
Megan McArdle, illuminating a very real issue:
Very old debts are very difficult to collect, because they disappear from credit reports after seven years, and after a state’s statute of limitation on debt collections expires, the collector can’t even sue. So these wily collectors either hope that the debtor feels bad about being a deadbeat and wants to clear his good name . . . or that he doesn’t know the law. And when hope fails, collectors frequently resort to less savory tactics such as threatening to sue (legal), threatening to have you arrested (it may be legal to make the threat, but they can’t actually make good on it) or impersonating a law enforcement officer who is going to come arrest you (very, very, very illegal).
I had this happen to me about seven years ago: some clown with a very suspicious accent demanding that I pay a debt they claimed I owed the phone company at my last apartment in Pennsylvania. I knew it was preposterous, because when I moved from Pennsylvania I made a determined effort to clear all debts that I had compiled, and even put a note in my Quicken of the “last phone bill” I paid. These fools cared not one wit: They had bought debt that had my name attached to it, they didn’t know any more about it than that, and they were going to call me and harass me over the phone until I gave in.
They did not know who they were dealing with. I told them to go ahead and sue me countless times. They called back. I dealt with them politely. They called back. I told them to perform acts physically impossible and morally heinous. They called back. What they refused to do was provide one solitary piece of evidence that I owed anybody anything.
Finally, I contacted my local Federal Trade Commission office. The gentleman there pointed me in the direction of a piece of legal boiler plate demanding validation of the debt and cessation of contact until debt was validated. I sent it via certified mail so they could not deny they had received it. The next time they called I told them I had sent that letter and would not say anything further on the phone.
A few days later I received a note from them claiming they had passed the imaginary debt on to some other set of sharpies who never contacted me.
Don’t let the bastards bully you.
So Matt Walsh made the mistake of tacking against the wind during the Internet’s mourning of a beloved celebrity’s demise. This means, of course, that he is a horrible person and a religious nut. It also means we have to pretend that we didn’t spend the last few years of that beloved celebrity’s life making fun of him; WE’RE LOOKING AT YOU SETH MCFARLANE!
Matt has chosen to respond by saying “Hey, you know, suicide is not a thing we should be honoring.”
And he’s right. And we hate that he’s right. So we’ll kill the messenger. It’s what we do.