I’ve noticed that since Microsoft decided to “upgrade” MSN a lot of people seem to be using one of the new features. Myspace. It’s a cute idea. It’s just a blog, but the more people in the blogsphere, the better as far as I’m concerned.
However…the immediate problem would seem to be that with very few exceptions, most people who can write, or have anything to say (or in some cases both) are already doing so, using Blogger or some other tool.
So what MSN has unleased is, mainly, a wall of teenage noise. Huge tracts of text are being generated. Most of it…well..I’m not going to say it is rubbish. Some of it is very interesting. I’ve admired blogs and then discovered they are being written, well written by teenagers. Most of it, though, is dire. I have a childminder, an adult childminder who insists on using txt tlk. So she’ll type “thnx” rather than thank you.
I find that irritating. I’ve yet to own a phone that cannot spell better than I can, so there is no need to make senseless abbreviations. Except, it would seem, if you want to be seen as trendy.
And that’s another problem with MySpace. So much noise. So much mispelt noise.
I find myself thinking of Count Olaf when I flick from one page to another. “Soda, Soda, banana”. This is in English, that is in English, for the love of Oreos, what the hell language is tht? Nglsh? Mrns. Th lt f thm.
And I do wish someone would tell them, every last one of the maudlin little souls, that they did not discover Nirvana. Kurt was already dead before they knew his name.
Then again, at least they know his name. IMDB appear to be a little confused about Kevin Kline..
June 21st, 2005
I’m delighted to see that eBay have come to their senses and decided that selling of Live 8 tickets is no longer permissible on their site.
I’ll admit I was one of the few people who reacted by bidding silly amounts to ruin someone else’s auction. I got a few emails from eBayers saying “thank you.”
That puzzled me, until I realised that the way they were perceiving this was that I was making some grand sacrifice, risking negative feedback, or even banishment from eBay.
I was simply counting on the fact that sooner or later eBay would realise that having an outraged Bob Geldolf on TV saying “eBay is evil” every five minutes is probably a bad thing for them in general, and sooner or later they’d do the right thing.
But was this the right thing?
Anyone who was lucky enough to get a Live 8 ticket via the SMS lottery, well..they have fulfilled any obligation on their part already.
By sending that text, they have effectively paid for their ticket.
Once someone owns something (and obviously this might get a bit weird if you think about animals where there are legal and moral restrictions) it is pretty much up to the owner to do what they wish with it.
If I won a pair of tickets and decided to give them away, that is my choice. If I decided to sell them, well…exactly what is the issue here?
eBay themselves said that they would be giving an amount at least equal to their commission on any sales made through them (although they have now said that it will be virtually impossible for them to remove all Live 8 tickets from their site, so how they would be able to work out how much they had to hand over to Sir Bob is anybodies guess).
So we have two options.
Option 1.
Win tickets, go to the gig, give the tickets away, simply don’t do anything.
Proceeds to Live 8 from the winner : £1.50
Option 2.
Win tickets. Sell them on eBay. eBay give money to Live 8.
Proceeds to Live 8 : £1.50 plus whatever eBay give, plus anything the seller donates.
Hmmm. Surely the point of this exercise is to raise funds and make people aware of the cause?
Perhaps I’m wrong, so I’ll just think more carefully about future events from now on.
Which brings me to the sentence “you can always frisk Vic for sausages”.
We (and it’s a bit like the royal wee, as I’m speaking on behalf of my other half, who as I write this is probably trying to not swear at someone trying to return a 15 year old cardigan to her shop) are planning our wedding.
Again.
We’ve planned it before. The plan was good. Goooooooooood.
But a little pricey, and a long way away.
So we’ve brought it forward - the exact date hopefully won’t move again, but that depends on when the paperwork for my divorce finally goes through.
I’m fairly open minded about what I’d like.
I want *her* there. Most other things, not so important.
But I would like it to be vegetarian.
I am trying to be grown-up, reasonable, rational, and not insist on dictating what people eat at the wedding.
But I can’t. And it’s not like anyone else doesn’t do the same - the Bride and Groom mostly set the menu at these things. So it’s not that unusual.
I just don’t want any non-vegetables to be present.
To put it bluntly, I don’t want to sacrifice animals for my big day.
I don’t see this as a problem, mostly.
But with these things there are always people who are simply raised to think that a meal is meat and two veg.
My father was one of them. I dread to think what my mother would say. Although she’d probably be saying she was happy that I’d finally picked the right one, and it is so terribly modern to have one’s own grand children at the wedding of their parents.
Hence the phrase “you can always frisk Vic for sausages” occuring.
I think, to be honest, if someone decides to slip off to the chip shop for a quick saveloy, or sneak a pork pie onto the premises, a blind eye will be turned.
It’ll be a day for happiness, joy, smiles, and if things go right, dramatic landscapes.
I’d bring a coat if I were you….
June 15th, 2005
Eavesdroppers, it is said, never hear good things about themselves.
But it is difficult to not hear snippets of conversations when you walk past people who are lurking near doorways.
On my way home yesterday, I passed two cleaners.
They were at the top of the stairwell of the office, and one was telling the other How Things Are Done.
“…and then we hoover this floor.”
“And this is the top floor?”
“Yes. And the one below us is the middle one.”
“And the one below that?”
“That is the ground floor. Or Top, middle and bottom. Or Ground, first, second.”
“So this the top floor?”
I wish I’d walked slower. I’m still haunted by someone asking for clarification about what floor they are on, as if being next to the top of the stairwell could lead to confusion.
Anyhow, it’s all rock and roll in work. I spend my days fretting over redundancy, drinking “coffee”, and learning new and exciting things.
I’ve also signed a couple of pledges. How about you?
June 14th, 2005
