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At Paperboy you can translate international newspapers into "English" - which leads to the following:

Fight for US president shank becomes the duel between Gore and Bush

WASHINGTON, 8 March. With convincing victories with the preselections on Tuesday Gore and the texanische governor George W. Bush their positions removed US vice-president aluminium clearly as favorites in running around the American presidency.

Vice-president aluminium Gore celebrated his victory in Nashville with the democrats. (photo: Reuters/Larry Downing) of far ones.

aluminum Gore?

The headline says Iranians buy Soviet 'killer' dolphins. I'm having trouble with the concept of Shamu and Flipper as mercenaries, somehow.

i don't know about you, but i prefer ibc. read all about the root beer challenge and decide which you prefer.

looking for a company name? check the us patent and trademark office's trademark database before choosing something that's already in use.

To scare some joyriders the police faked an accident involving their relatives:

"Some of the boys wept when they saw police and fire and ambulance crews battling to save their relatives. Others were simply transfixed by shock. The scene was so dreadful that the 10 teenagers, aged 14 to 17, needed counselling on the spot."




15 February 2000

This morning I brushed my teeth with Tom's Fennel toothpaste and now I have breath like an old French drunk. Damn-- that stuff tastes like absinthe. It even leaves my mouth numb.


10 February 2000

I bought a book in the airport because I liked the title, Wrong Information Is Being Given Out at Princeton. It was a very good purchase.


05 February 2000

Last night we went to The Nuyorican. I felt like I'd left Manhattan. I didn't realize how exhausting is the uber-cool world of the Village and Soho until I felt my jaw unclench over the course of the evening. I fell into a sleepy sort of reverie and just let the words wash over me as I occasionally met the quiet gaze of the woman facing me. She was tall and thin and her limbs moved relative to one another in an arresting syncopation... I had momentarily forgotten how much I miss the other places: the bar on Burnet where we danced while the seven old men drank beer in cans and said nothing; Juan in a Million, where Victor once let me ask for two tacos just to see the look on my face when Juan and the waitress came back with my 6-inch high tacos, each on its own plate; El Nopalito, where we used to escape from first hour Theology class in high school...

I finally got around to shopping for and making some winter clothes. I'm having a nice time buying sweaters with super-long sleeves and making things that look like fishing nets to wear. I am satisfying a questionable, but longstanding need for Concept clothes. That is, they are fascinating and beautiful and way too artistic to condescend to flatter my figure. So, I cheerfully go around looking like a paper bag with streaks of latex paint on it (sometimes I modify them a bit-- that's where the latex paint comes in), but boy do I look like a Concept. Sharon Wauchob is making some lovely Concepty clothes... that I can't and / or won't afford.


Move over, Samuel Pepys

april 3, 2000. Blogs. Weblogs.

If you don’t create them, you may not even be aware of them. But once you encounter one that piques your fancy, you’ll visit it often, just as you would a good friend.

They’re "a clipping service without portfolio," according to YAWL (Yet Another Web Log), a website maintained by Vicki Rosenzweig.

Or simply "a webpage where a weblogger (sometimes called a blogger, or a pre-surfer) 'logs' all the other webpages she finds interesting," says Jorn Barger, whose Robot Wisdom site coined the longer term in 1997.

No, a blog is much much more, enthuses Julia Keller of the Chicago Tribune. It’s a "like an independent film on an endless loop. It's like a memoir of the future."

On the contrary, fumes Ben Brown at Teeth, it’s much much less. If you’re a blogger, "you're just a dork who can't come up with anything more than a paragraph or two to say every day."


Confused? A blog is a webpage of links, usually compiled by one person, often interspersed with comments. A blog transformed what was an unwieldy opening section in print into a concise, efficient transmission of information online.

Except for occasional review logs such as Epinions, blogs are refreshingly noncommercial. The more interesting sites are idiosyncratic and often highly personal, a record of online and offline events in a blogger’s life — a private multimedia journal for public consumption. They are prime examples of nonlinear thought, forming a true web of ideas and images. And they may be the most subversive element of our neonatal electronic age.

Much has been made of the internet’s ability to connect dissenters in ways so subtle that heavyhanded bureaucrats cannot control them. And much has been made of the internet’s capacity for changing the way we do business. But at the heart of this new scientific development lies a shift in modes of thought. When you compose an argument using hyperlinks, it’s unnatural to speak of on logical progressions from A to B to C. When your statements are linked not only to the statements of other people but also to all their ramifications, there is no way that you can insist on intellectual property rights. There’s only an intellectual process. And somewhere in that process, hierarchy loses its power. To a person in the political catbird seat, this is a pretty scary prospect. Governments are no longer able to count on one of their traditional sources of strength — the control of information. Spin.

Where do bloggers fit in this schema? It’s easy to see them as happy-go-lucky spiders, busily spinning a shiny new web. Or actually, a wide world of webs, each different, which — when bound together — will create a framework that even the most determined multi-eyed agent of oppression cannot break. In this battle of wills, the winners probably won’t even know they were participants.

In the fourth century B.C., Plato warned in his best don’t-rock-the-boat voice, "Any musical innovation is full of danger to the whole state.... When modes of musical innovation change, the fundamental laws of the state always change with them." The statement is even truer of modes of thought (or perhaps they’re really the same thing).

Late in 1999 John S. Quarterman mused, "The beauty of a blog is it doesn’t have to be good for anything. Nonetheless, lots of people make them and lots of people read them. I wonder if blogs are evidence of something that an artist friend once told me about psychology: random input is the most stimulating." And the most dangerous to the status quo.





Forging ahead.


Another forgotten thing remembered: the piping of the train whistle. Harmonic, lonely, resonant (imagine the sound of a wet finger on a glass rim, but lower and metal edged, as if it were actually produced by the rubbing of the wheels on the damp rails), it is a note that fits the inherent nature of this place. The end of the line. The beginning and end of freight. The sounds heard at the start and the end of the day. Like Burroughs’ drawled lines over the moan of the St. Louis whistle (I've never heard it. Anyone out there who has? Is it different?) the moan of the Canadian Pacific evokes the terminus. The place where culture stops and nature begins.


Reinvention. When I was a kid a bumper sticker educated us to the fact that, "Mining is B.C.'s second industry." Today it appears that metals and ores are out and "human resources" and data are in. According to my friend Hanif, B.C.'s mining money is pouring into the "new gold rush." Well, if Nokia can go from making rubber boots to wireless telephones — why not? Here at least the basic principle remains the same. And you can argue that the industry's reinvention is a step up the civilization ladder; valuable humans have to be coaxed (tempted) from their current workplaces with infinitely more subtlety and care than raw ore.

(Valerie and I had a talk about the subtleties of human recruiting where not money, but the recruiter's receptivity to clues thrown out during the interviews and the company's willingness to cater to the prospective employee's special needs is the chief issue. From her I learned that stock options are also known as "golden handcuffs." This sort of mining is definitely sexy.)

Raw ore: Gradfinder.com