Recently, I made a new friend across Cyberspace: a very nice man named Mr. Chris. Well, at least I thought he was a friend. For a week, it looked like we were going to become best buddies. But sadly this story of fleeting friendship has a heart-breaking ending.
You see, Mr. Chris is a documented Internet Scammer – listed on web sites for trying to con people out of their money by offering to overpay with a bad check or stolen credit card, and asking the victim to send back a check in return for the overpayment. Your classic Internet scam.
What made me suspicious, you might ask? Well, I think it was his first email which I stumbled onto in my SPAM mail folder which lacked any name in the “to” field. His email asked aboutpricing for BLEACHERS.
Arizona Governor Jan Brewer recently signed into law a controversial immigration reform bill that has stirred up strong emotions from Republicans and Democrats alike. Underpinning much of the debate is the concern by many that this new law will unleash a tidal wave of abuse as racist rogue cops and INS agents target Hispanics – reminiscent of the roundup of Jews in Nazi Germany in the 1930s. There are protests from some unusual corners: Several prominent Hispanic Major League baseball players are asking other players to boycott next summer’s All Star Game (slated to be played in Phoenix) or at least pledge not swing at anything outside of the strike zone.
(* Translations for the TI– “Twitter-impaired”: OMG: “Oh My God”; GR8: “Great”; Twttr: “Twitter”; IC: “I see”; LOC: “Library of Congress”; Itz: “It’s”; 4: “for”; Deets: “Details”; TTYL: “Talk To You Later”; RLWNM: “Random Letters With No Meaning”)
In a critically important and bold act of government intervention, it was announced last week that the US Library of Congress (henceforth LOC) will soon be digitally archiving the entire collection of public tweets dating all the way back to Twitter’s inception in March 2006. How many tweets will that be? Twitter processes more than 50 million tweets every day, many of which are vaguely intelligible, with the total to date numbering in the billions. It would take the average person reading 16 hours a day over six thousand years to read all the tweets posted to date or a long weekend to read all the ones having any remote historical significance.
Last week, Apple began shipping the much hyped iPad, the sexy-looking, wafer-thin tabloid computer that Steve Jobs himself has called “the most important thing” he has ever done. While some detractors scoff that it’s nothing more than a larger version of the popular iPod Touch handheld device, the overwhelming sentiment of most people who have seen it is along the lines of “If I promise you my first born, will you let me leap to the front of the line?” Before the device was even on store shelves, Apple had already received a quarter million pre-orders. Some analysts forecast they could sell 5 million units in the first year, making it the most successful new product launch in history.
The evangelical fervor is bordering on hysteria. Some techno geeks who have never had a date in their lives are already calling it the greatest invention since Gutenberg printed the first Bible some 600 years ago. Others are simply calling it the Jesus Tablet, because of the almost mystic, spiritual aura surrounding this seeming “holy grail” of computer gadgetry. If that’s not enough of a Biblical connection, why is it that the Bible even has an entire book named after Apple’s founder, the Book ofJobs? At the risk of comparing apples to oracles, this leads me to ask the obvious theological-technological question: Which is better, Jesus or the new “Jesus Tablet”, the iPad?
Did you happen to catch the mean-spirited Super Bowl ad by those bastards at E*Trade making fun of poor Lindsay Lohan? You know the one. It features a toddler boy talking on the phone with his toddler girlfriend who gives him grief for not calling her the night before. The girlfriend, suspicious of his behavior, confronts him and asks “And that milkaholic Lindsay wasn’t over?” just as another baby girl appears onscreen saying, “Milk-a-whaaat?” Here is the ad.
Well, hello! Could it be any more obvious this was a direct, mean-spirited frontal assault on the reputation of the quiet, publicity-shy mega-star? Of course not. So the 23-year old celebrity actress did what any average private citizen who owns five houses, a lear jet and their own line of fashion footwear would do when an ad mentions someone who shares their first name – she sued ‘em. Yes, she filed a totally justified lawsuit against those insensitive jerks at E*Trade for their blatant efforts to defame her in this commercial. Can you blame her? It’s obviously a direct character assassination, poking cruel fun at all the past media hype about her personal struggles with addiction to alcohol and cocaine and pain killers and stimulants and cough syrup and nasal spray and cosmetic surgery and changing her hair color and going to night clubs without wearing any underwear and … (Editor’s note: the preceding passage has been abridged due to space limitations.)
Deep thought of the day: “I kept wondering why the Frisbee seemed to be getting larger and larger… and then it hit me.” Normally that always gets a laugh out of me. But not today.
Pardon my melancholy mood. Perhaps the greatest American inventor of the 20th century just left us. Of course, I am referring to Walter Morrison, inventor of the Frisbee. Actually, he called his invention the Pluto Platter – before he turned over the concept (and what would have been his future fortune) to the nice folks at Wham-O Incorporated. Mr. Morrison passed away last month at his home in Utah at the age of um…. old as dirt.
Recently, I made a new friend across Cyberspace: a very nice man named Mr. Chris. Well, at least I thought he was a friend. For a week, it looked like we were going to become best buddies. But sadly this story of fleeting friendship has a heart-breaking ending.
Last week, Apple began shipping the much hyped 
Did you happen to catch the mean-spirited Super Bowl ad by those bastards at E*Trade making fun of poor Lindsay Lohan? You know the one. It features a toddler boy talking on the phone with his toddler girlfriend who gives him grief for not calling her the night before. The girlfriend, suspicious of his behavior, confronts him and asks “And that milkaholic Lindsay wasn’t over?” just as another baby girl appears onscreen saying, “Milk-a-whaaat?” 
Deep thought of the day: “I kept wondering why the Frisbee seemed to be getting larger and larger… and then it hit me.” Normally that always gets a laugh out of me. But not today.
