Treehugger is full of great news and editorials about green living, and that’s wonderful; but all of that is secondary to what I saw while looking at their site this evening. According to one of their articles, a gentleman by the name of Szymon Hanczar has invented a ‘global warming sled’ which doesn’t need snow.
This is very cute of them to highlight, but let us review the product outside of the context of its topical cleverness. It has 1) a flat wooden surface, 2) a metal frame, and 3) small horrible wheels.
Matt Jurns studied library science at Kent State University. We made him read blogs for the first time. Today he reads Gawker.
What is Gawker’s deal? I know what Gawker Media does, and I know what each of the blogs in its extended family do; but Gawker itself is baffling. Is it just all the stuff that doesn’t fit into the niches of the other sites? Is it Nick Denton’s Tumblr?
I know it says ‘gossip’; but that seems so vague as to be meaningless. Even the ‘about’ page doesn’t describe it, it just has a supercut of people on the news saying ‘Gawker.com’. It reads like an everything bagel tastes, there are so many things that I can’t pick out what’s going on. This isn’t my write-up, I’m genuinely confused.
Discussion question: When did you stop reading Gawker, and how many times has its readership doubled since?
The Awl resides in New York City, in a third floor walk-up of a brownstone somewhere in the East Seventies. Its bookcases, bought secondhand, are of the simple, solid, and charming style that used to be common but now require a pocketful of cash and the right antique dealer to acquire, unless you know a guy. The Awl knows a guy. I sat down with The Awl last night, and it offered me a can of beer. We got to talking.
The Goings on About Town section of the New Yorker got into a car accident with the Cobra Snake. Instead of exchanging insurance information, they just stood in the middle of the street talking about how cool they were.
“Come see beautiful resorts at snow capped peaks!” Curbed cries. A link assures me that fifteenth-century French manors are up at auction. Having only just arrived, I’ve settled into the idea of that Curbed is a blog for the Robin Leach crowd, and am ready to begin perusing the glories of Louis XIV’s reign, when directly beneath the advertisement for the Sun King’s leavings I’m confronted with “Instructions for how to build a gingerbread brownstone”.
There seem to be only two types of cell phone. The first, owned by most people, are smart phones and have the benefit of being able to do everything.
The second, owned mainly by me and conspiracy theorists, are of a design last seen in an episode of Friends; and their main benefit is that they can be thrown into the river after you’ve made a call, in case the Man is after you. As such, I don’t do much texting.
At parties, I will sometimes approach a group of acquaintances already engaged in conversation. This is a gamble, as there is always a chance that they will be speaking on a topic in which I’m not particularly well versed. On these occasions, I feel trapped by polite obligation. They didn’t ask me to join their conversation, and by walking away after only a few moments I fear that I am tacitly implying that I find them uninteresting. So I stay for a bit, nod my head and say “Hmm”, and “Really?” until I can come up with an often awkward observation to justify the time spent standing there. Then, having completed whatever social penance I feel that I owe them, I walk away as politely as I can.
This morning, I spent 30 minutes perusing Jezebel. Did you know that they are sponsored by ABC Family?
There are some neighbors to whom I’ve never become properly acquainted. I’ve heard their names, recognize their faces, and have a vague idea as to their profession; but if I saw them around town, I would hesitate before saying hello. These people are known to me, but I don’t know them. Laughing Squid is the same way. I’ve seen it around, of course; but like a street painter whose work I sometimes admire in passing, I’ve never stopped to say hello or really see what’s going on.
Matt Jurns studied library science at Kent State University. We made him read blogs he hadn’t heard of. Below, Matt tries to describe TMZ.
The Internet, 11:36 pm. Dr. Conrad Murray’s mother is pleading with a judge for mercy for her son. Says he’s a good man, that he never drank or turned to drugs, that he’s heartbroken over Michael Jackson’s death. In the side-bar, there’s a picture of a woman laughing. The caption explains that she’s Lindsay Lohan’s lawyer, and that Murray shouldn’t serve a four year sentence. Below, there is a crudely photoshopped picture of Leonardo DiCaprio’s head on Lady Gaga’s body, riding some kind of ox against the backdrop of a desert twilight.