Facebook is launching the option to “memorialize” (spit, shudder) the profiles of members who have died. When was a kid, dreaming of the future, I always knew it would be like this - that even mortality wouldn’t interfere with the business of being online and thus within constant and instantaneous reach of friends, family and spam requests to play Word Twist.
"When someone leaves us, they don’t leave our memories or our social network," said Facebook’s head of security. When I read that, I didn’t know whether to burst into tears or go round there and punch him.
The enemies of reason - which describes itself as a “massive Brooker rip-off” - compares the anti-BBC headlines in certain tawdry tabloid newspapers over the last couple of days, spouting outrage at how Nick Griffin was given airtime, with other recent headlines in which they … spouted outrage about immigration (my favourite being, from the Daily Star: “BBC puts Muslims before YOU!”) in a manner that would probably have made the BNP proud. Smell the irony.
“These days, a several-megabyte file on my computer is starting to feel as much of a burden, as much of a physical thing to cart around for the rest of my life, as a CD or a cassette or a record.”—The £10,000 playlist - Streaming music: it’s the future, kids. But Phil Gyford has his head screwed on tightly enough to see both the good and the bad points.
“It’s a happy result that should bring even more cheer to Johnston fans than the news, reported recently in The New York Times, that he has a new cat.”—Pitchfork reviews Daniel Johnston’s new album, and gets things in perspective as it does so. A new cat, yes.
I’m sure Hain means well, but he clearly has a faulty understanding of democracy and free speech. The BNP are a political party who won two European Parliament seats earlier this year thanks to voters (bigoted racist voters, admittedly). So they have, regrettably, a right to air their abhorrent views on TV. Rather than banning them from appearing and letting them play the victim, let’s just hope that odious Nick Griffin manages to hang himself on his own blinkered opinions during the debate.
“If you already have a blog, make sure you spray-feed your URL in niblets open-face to the skein. We like Reddit bites (they’re better than Delicious), because they max out the wiki snarls of RSS feeds, which means less jamming at the Google scaffold. Then just Digg your uploads in a viral spiral to your social networks via an FB/MS interlink torrent.”—Subject: Our Marketing Plan
The Master Singers: Weather Forecast - the weather (and shipping) forecast performed as plainsong Anglican chant. This actually hit the British charts in 1966, and was swiftly followed up with a version of the Highway Code. (There’s a similar slideshow of their weather report available on Youtube - but, well, I don’t know, I just find purely listening to it rather more entrancing than watching.) [via miketd on Twitter]
To be clear, the recent death of Boyzone ‘star’ Stephen Gately meant nothing to me. Boybands, Irish or otherwise, aren’t really my mug of hemlock. But reading the words of Jan Moir in the Daily Mail (oh, what a surprise) made me sick. By all accounts, Gately was a completely inoffensive person - butter wouldn’t melt, etc - but Moir makes clear her opinion that the reason he died was simply because he was gay. And the fact that he was in a respectable civil partnership matters not a jot to her either, because the star’s untimely passing merely “strikes another blow to [that] happy-ever-after myth”.
Come to think of it, if Jan Moir gets run over by a bus tomorrow, we’ll know it’s because of her lifestyle as a world-class bigot, won’t we?
It’s simply not fair. In today’s celebrity culture, I want to be famous enough to be admitted to a private health clinic suffering "from a severe bout of nervous exhaustion". Maybe I need to join the Sugababes first, though.
Stephen Fry is praising this initiative on Twitter - so it must be a good thing, right? Well, far be it from me to disagree with such an eminent personage as Mr Fry, since we’re generally on the same wavelength about most things, but no - a new range of 'Get Well Soon' cards for people with mental health problems, produced by the highly respected Royal College of Psychiatrists, instead smacks rather of an idea that was probably dreamt up in a highly animated brainstorming session, no doubt with the highly laudable aim of trying to remove some of the stigma that surrounds mental illness. The problem is that in all their enthusiasm, clearly no one paused for a moment to wonder whether the whole plan might come across as being in bad taste, and whether in fact it might just make less informed people think that mental health problems can be ‘cured’ with a bit of tender loving care, a cup of tea and a nice lie-down.
As some readers may know, I am ‘tragically afflicted’ with the terrible condition of Only Having One Leg. So I am going to suggest to the Limbless Association that they should launch a range of Get Well Soon cards for amputees containing the message: “Thinking of you at this time. Hope the missing limb grows back soon”.
My favourite definition is undoubtedly: “The act of getting incredibly excited about some project, creation or invention, usually to someone at a pub, bar or party, that deep down you know you may never even begin, let alone complete”. This is my life, ladies and gentlemen. This is my life.