Category Archives: boingboing

So Ends The BoingBoing Pandering

Here we are, on the eve of my one year blogoversary, nearing the arbitrary deadline I have set for myself to be honored on the pages of BoingBoing, like such blogging luminaries as Dr. Monkey Von Monkerstein and Becca.

I have shown the world Super Mario Homemade Macaroni and Cheese.

I have given it a Steampunk bar of soap.

I have even translated a short story into the vernacular of a zoned-out seventh grader, a voice all too absent from our intellectual discourse in this baby-boomer dominated world.

Will my sort of not half-assed efforts pay off? I don’t know.

I do know that if you want to see I, Splotchy BoingBoinged, you have the means within your power.

If you have seen something cool on my site, whether it was yesterday or a year ago, you can suggest it to the tastemakers of BoingBoing here. You’ll be glad you did. Actually, I’ll be glad you did, and isn’t that really the same thing?

If I do not make it into BoingBoing before the arrival of my blogoversary, don’t worry. I won’t wilt like a fragile flower. Sure, there will be weeping, but it will be the strong, silent kind.

And I do have one last trick up my sleeve.

Scroogled, Translated Into The Language Of A Procrastinating Seventh Grader

BoingBoing’s Cory Doctorow is also a fiction writer. He wrote a cautionary tale of Google, security and privacy titled Scroogled for Radar Online (if you don’t want to be bothered to click through several pages for the complete story you can get it in one long page here).

Periodically I will see links to different language translations of this story made by diligent multilingual BoingBoing devotees.

However, I have yet to see a translation of this story done by a procrastinating seventh grader who sort of just skimmed it at the last minute. Until now, that is.


Scroogled!

Greg got off a plane. He was a brown unshaven nut and he was looking good. But then later he wasn’t feeling so good when he was waiting a long time and he was sweaty.

So Google is everywhere. Their doing all security now.

Greg used to work at Google and liked it, but then he didn’t want to work there anymore.

“Hi.”

The officer took his card and was staring at a screen a lot. He had some food on his lip.

The officer asked him about a long time ago, and Greg said, why do you want to know about that.

Greg said what are you talking about model rockets.

Yeah, the officer said.

Greg was kind of sick to his stomach. No, it’s okay.

Okay.

But then the officer was still bugging him.

There was a girl Maya who worked in a chocolate lab. She had teeth and a drooling problem. They had a couple dogs. She was explaining all about the security that Google was doing, and it was really scary.

Greg was crazy surprised. What’s up with Google he asked Maya? They’re supposed to be good and everything? Why are they evil cherries?

Maya said they were evil cherries and Greg should just deal.

They were quiet for a minute.

So Google is crazy mad with the spying Greg asked Maya.

You betcha Greg.

Oh, Maya isn’t with Greg, she is a lesbian, but it’s okay.

So then Greg started working for Google. HE DIDN’T HAVE A CHOICE!!!!!!

Maya killed herself because Google was crazy mad with the spying. But Greg got a couple of days off, which he probably needed.

THE END?!!

Steampunk Bar Of Soap

Who here likes Steampunk?

Well, if you like this subculture, I can happily tell you that you’re not alone. The tastemakers at BoingBoing have a special place in their heart for all things steampunk.

So, dear reader, and tastemakers at BoingBoing, this post is for you.

Behold, a steampunk bar of soap — for the turn-of-the-century adventurer who holds cleanliness as a virtue!

TO MAKE:

  1. Buy a bar of soap (preferably with no label).
  2. Push gold-colored paper fasteners into the soap.
  3. Wet, Lather, Rinse, Repeat!

I’m Going To Be On BoingBoing

The title of this post is not a fact — it’s a positive visualization.

There are all sorts of blogs and websites concerned with all sorts of topics.

An integral part of my blog is talking about or sharing things that I think are “cool”. I never did stop using that word that I first latched onto as a child, though my peers probably stopped using it around the fifth grade.

Cool is cool, and always will be for me.

So, there is this website called BoingBoing, which bills itself as “A Directory Of Wonderful Things”. Essentially, it’s devoted to all things cool.

To many people in the Internet community, having your website or one of your posts linked to on BoingBoing means it is officially cool. And to extrapolate from that, hey, it means you’re cool.

I’m proud to say our very own Dr. Monkey Von Monkerstein was honored on the pages of BoingBoing several months ago. That should come as no surprise, as he is cool.

BoingBoing has a suggestion facility whereby one can submit a website/video/blog post/etc. for inclusion on its site. I would imagine BoingBoing is inundated with suggestions every day, hour, minute and second, but despite this, I tried to submit a couple posts of mine because I thought they were cool.

I only did this a couple times, early on in my blogging career. I told them about a cool thing I discovered about the Watchmen comic book. I told them about my slowed-down, heavy metal version of Toni Basil’s Mickey. Though I still believe these posts are capital “C” COOL, no one from BoingBoing agreed with me.

I truly believe I have come up with a few things on I, Splotchy that were cool enough to be linked to on BoingBoing, but hey, no hard feelings.

However, now that I am nearing my one year blogoversary, I’m struck with my own sense of blogomortality. I need to get listed on BoingBoing, and I need to do it before March 29th!

That’s why over the next nine days, I will be putting up the occasional post tailored specifically to the peculiar tastes of the tastemakers at BoingBoing. It’s called pandering, baby!

And if it doesn’t work, I can at least say I tried, and trying’s cool, right?

Look for the “boingboing” label to distinguish the BoingBoing pandering posts from my non-BoingBoing pandering ones.