I gotta make this my manifesto:

The internet is made of people. People matter. This includes you. Stop trying to sell everything about yourself to everyone. Don’t just hammer away and repeat and talk at people—talk TO people. It’s organic. Make stuff for the internet that matters to you, even if it seems stupid. Do it because it’s good and feels important. Put up more cat pictures. Make more songs. Show your doodles. Give things away and take things that are free. Look at what other people are doing, not to compete, imitate, or compare . . . but because you enjoy looking at the things other people make. Don’t shove yourself into that tiny, airless box called a brand—tiny, airless boxes are for trinkets and dead people.

Via Maureen Johnson.

It sucks when Twitter is down, because I don’t know how to express my rage at stuff without being able to Tweet about them.

Alas. We can but hope.

According to Stuff.co.nz:

Indiana Jones 5 will begin shooting next year, and much of the plot line will be centred around the Bermuda Triangle, an area over the North Atlantic Ocean where a number of aircraft are said to have disappeared.

“George (Lucas) and Steven (Spielberg) have been working on a script and it’s almost there,” a source explained.

“Harrison is on stand-by for filming next year. This looks like being an emotional and exciting conclusion to the franchise, with Indy facing his biggest challenge yet.”

Shia LaBeouf played Indiana’s son Mutt Williams, and he will also appear in the new instalment.

Movie bosses have assured fans the film will stay true to the series’ roots, and won’t contain lots of state-of-the-art special effects.

“Shia LaBeouf has a central role again as Indy’s son but this will be a blockbuster made in the old fashioned way rather than the CGI efforts of the last movie,” the source added.

Well, so far, boo to Shia and the film in general; but hey, hooray to no CGI.

I remain opposed on principle, but I know as soon as I see the first teaser, I’ll be jumping in anticipation. Whip-snap! Bum-bu-bum! Bum-be-bum-bum-bum!

Poor Chris Brown:

British officials, citing worries that singer Chris Brown might pose a danger to British citizens, barred him from entering the United Kingdom for concerts this week, a UK border official said.

Brown pleaded guilty last year to a felony charge of assaulting his then-girlfriend, pop star Rihanna.

“We reserve the right to refuse entry to the UK to anyone guilty of a serious criminal offense,” said Barbara Woodward, director of the UK border agency’s international group. “Public safety is one of our primary concerns.”

The 21-year-old R&B singer was scheduled to perform Wednesday night in Glasgow, Scotland, with shows in three English cities — Manchester, Birmingham and London — scheduled for Thursday, Friday and Sunday, according to his official website. He was then scheduled to perform in Cork, Ireland next Tuesday.

Brown vented in Twitter messages posted online to his fans late Monday:

“U ever feel like the storm clouds are too thick for any sunshine to get through?”

“think ima go away!!!!”

I don’t know what galls me more: the pity-party he’s throwing for himself, or how he’s making himself out to be the victim. In any case, yes, please: go away.

(Please note “poor” should be pronounced with extra-heavy sarcasm, and a dash of ire).

Pretty cool!

Former army Capt. Brian Freeman, an expert on the Kokoda Trail – a 60-mile trek through rugged mountainous country and rainforest of the island – said Monday he was led to the Eora Creek battle site where he found the remains of the soldiers.

The site about half a mile from the village of Eora Creek was believed to be the location of the last major battle that was pivotal in Australia’s campaign against the Japanese in Papau New Guinea.

Although the site was known to local villages, jungles reclaimed it after the battle of Eora Creek. Although locals hunted on the plateau surrounding the site, they avoided the 600-square-meter battle ground because of a belief that spirits of the dead were still present in the “lost battlefield.”

I’m a little incredulous that, in a jungle, almost seventy years later, the remains of the soldiers who fought and died there can still be found. Then again, maybe the jungle’s predators avoided the battle ground too.

There is life … and in our solar system! (Well is = might be).

scientists at the United States space agency NASA (National Aeronautics and Space Administration) believe that the vital clues they have discovered indicate the possibility for existence of early stages of aliens (primitive life forms) on Titan, one of the many moons orbiting planet Saturn.

According to researchers, Titan, the largest moon of Saturn, is the only one with a dense atmosphere, but the water on Titan’s surface is frozen and is too cold to support life. Though water is very necessary for any life to thrive, there has been extensive speculation about water being not a strict requirement because astrobiologists for sometime now, have been advocating theories about possible methane-based life.

Two new research papers based on the data sent from NASA’s Cassini spacecraft show hydrogen molecules flowing down through Titan’s atmosphere and disappearing at the surface, and lack of acetylene, an organic molecule that should be abundant in the moon’s thick atmosphere triggered by ultraviolet sunlight.

The findings have lead scientists to believe that something is consuming hydrogen gas and eating the organic molecule acetylene, which fits the hypothesis of methane-based life forms. However, scientists have emphasized that these findings are not proof of life and that a lot of work needs to be done to rule out possible non-biological explanations.

Don’t scoff — extraterrestrial life impossible, you say?

We reside in the Milky Way Galaxy, which boasts four hundred billion stars. From the movie Contact:

“You know, there are four hundred billion stars out there, just in our galaxy alone. If only one out of a million of those had planets, and just of out of a million of those had life, and just one out of a million of those had intelligent life; there would be literally millions of civilizations out there.”

I don’t think the math quite adds up … but it is a huge universe out there, and there are billions of galaxies.

(What’s four hundred billion times a billion? I don’t know, but it’s a lot of stars).

Back at the end of April, my parents (who live in Columbia), went out to Colorado for a week, and graciously lent me my old car back for that time (I sold it to my dad almost two years ago).

Being the conscientious DC resident that I am, I obtained the appropriate visitor’s parking permit from my local police station, and displayed it on the car’s windshield.

Because I never – ever – saw a parking ticket on the car, I assumed the permit did its job. Alas, t’was not the case, as my dad handed me a letter yesterday from DC’s DMV regarding a ticket apparently issued April 26th. And, since it hadn’t been paid, oh, look, here’s a fine doubling the original cost.

Uh-oh.

Particularly uh-oh as I’m pretty sure the visitor’s permit was trashed.

Anyway, the letter states that to contest the ticket, one must travel to www.dmv.dc.gov, which I did. I’d heard from some Twitter/Facebookatti that contesting a parking ticket is a relatively easy thing to do –

– and maybe “relatively” is the key word here.

Anyway, I guess I’ll be contesting by mail:

The relevant sign was missing or obscured

I hope “relevant sign” includes visitor’s parking passes.

In the meantime, I’m going to mail a letter to the DMV requesting a copy of the ticket. At the very least, if I am stuck paying it, I don’t want to have to pay a late fee for a ticket I never knew was owed. (And since I don’t have the visitor’s permit … I’m pretty sure I’m going to wind up paying up, y’know?)

My sister and just-about-but-not-quite brother-in-law were in town for the weekend: both for the annual trip up to Camden Yards to see the O’s play the Red Sox (a game for which the Connecticut/Massachusetts contingent come down), and as a starting point for a trip to Providence, where they hope to find an apartment. Because pretty much as soon as they’re lhitched, they’re packing up their place in Boulder and moving northeast.

As it turns out, yesterday’s game (such a beautiful day for it, too) went into extra innings, but with friends coming to my parent’s house last night, half of us had to leave early to make sure the evening’s celebration could begin on time.

So, forgetting the copious amounts of chili and ice cream and beer I ate and drank Sunday evening, and all the peanuts I chomped on at the game, I am kind of mystified as whether I should be happy or upset with the price of hot dogs at Camden Yards.

Thank you? Thank you, concession prices, for keeping me from eating hot dogs to my heart’s content?

Or fuck you? Fuck you, concession prices, for keeping me from eating hot dogs to my heart’s content?

In any case, my really long walk Saturday morning no doubt came in handy, as of course I had a hot dog. (How can you go to a ball game and not have a hot dog? I ask you).

Last week I weighed in at 239 pounds, a gain of a pound and a half since the previous week. But today? 236.5, a loss of two and a half pounds since last week (but only one pound since week 11), and a total loss of twenty-two and a half pounds.

I know they were there, but I loved coming across the streetcar rails in Georgetown.

… If for no other reason than so that the kid in the Youkilis shirt will shut the hell up.

Boston fans. Only out obnoxioussed (real word?) by Yankees fans.

(But for the record, the Sox ARE my 2nd favorite team).

****

UPDATE: O’s Win!!!!!

There’s a falsehood in the title … But come back in twelve days and it’ll all be kosher.

Seems sort of futile to root for the O’s over the BoSox … But, hey. I do futile good.

Spotted yesterday on my walk (P St NW near 22nd).

Darth Vader.

Fallen Jedi Knight. Dark Lord of the Sith. Mentally Ill.

Oh, I think we all “knew” that. Gotta be pretty fucked up to blow up Alderaan, right? (Okay, okay, that was Tarkin. Still). In any case, a bunch of French psychologists (who apparently have cured all the mental illnesses in France) are making that case.

Um. But – uh, why? I think we’d all agree that torturing your daughter and chopping body parts off your son qualifies someone as really fucked up.

Don’t need some psychologist — French or otherwise — to tell me that.

(Do they have psychologists on Tatooine, do you think?)