I just realized I have a set of miscellaneous 1960s issues of LIFE, all featuring the Apollo program in some way or another, on my coffee table where one would expect to see my New Yorker and Consumer Reports and whatever.
They accompany the Starstruck book, Captain Easy Sundays Volume 2, and the new Pogo collection. There is a theme here.
Starting Starstruck – it is inexpressibly delightful to have all that material in this beautiful book.
I guess I read the issues and the graphic novel just after reading Dhalgren for the first time, and somewhat concurrent with the comprehensive Epic series covering Moebius’ work to that date.
I would still like to see a screen adaptation that had the resources to match the ambition of the work on paper.
Tape deck and turntable once again hooked up and operable.
Can’t delete the YouTube app from my iOS devices. Fuck this, fuck tablets, fuck it.
I can’t wait!
A day split between wresting with a/v cabling a la Laocoon and accounting scrubbers and scullery. My back hurts, my brain hurts, and my wallet hurts.
Hm, I’m not following the Woody Code. Tut tut.
I read somewhere that after forty men generally develop a less testosterone driven affect, one in which it’s easier to take things as they come and is less likely to be led by day to day events in a manner which creates urgency and rage.
I am waiting. Because, geez, must be nice.
I swear, at 45 I am if anything more irritated about the various things in the world that are obvious failures of humanity than I was at 18. I strongly doubt I am wiser than I was back then too, just slower, fatter, and less quick on the uptake. I think it would be exceedingly fair to say I am more cynical, though.
A friend only-seriously pointed out I have been “rage-quitting” Internet things lately. He’s totally right. I suspended my MetaFilter membership in September (I think), Facebook in November, Twitter in December, and just tonight I took Google+ out back by the dumpsters and emptied it out.
That leaves Flickr and a mix of ancillary and core Google services. Between 1999 and 2005, I gradually moved all my web services stuff to Google or other providers after deciding trying to run an SMTP server on a ten year old Mac laptop was not a wise use of my time.
I don’t envision totally nuking Google as a web services provider, but the time has come to split. Google may not be doing evil yet per se, but I am sure as shit that they are about to. I assume that this actually reflects that wellspring of post-testosterone-addled wisdom men of my age are said to take as their patrimony. Or else I’m just as pissed off about stuff most folks don’t notice or care about as I was when I was 18. Actually, I’m pretty sure it’s because I am stupid and lazy.
Out of the blue, I was informed via forced UI that I had to migrate my hardly ever used YouTube account data and some other crap I did not care about, such as some Google Analytics accounts, from the pre-Google userid to, get this, not my primary Google account, but to the google-managed own-domain email ID I used to set up the accounts. There was no way to associate the accounts with my primary Google account.
Naturally, I spent an hour figuring out how to just delete the fuckin’ accounts.
It is, oh hell yes, time to jump ship. Google is over. Eric, Sergey, thanks for the ride, but this is my stop. Good luck with that whole hyper millionaires in space thing.