This was on metafilter, so you’ve probably all seen it already: The Internet Is Shit. You may not have seen plasticbag.org defending Fair Internet’s honor. It seems that other people have also spent a great deal of effort crafting arguments on the relative beings of shit and the Internet, but such efforts are unwarranted. The Internet is clearly not shit, as this simple comparison table shows.

There are more differences, of course, but if you’re ever confused about whether something is shit or the Internet, this should be enough to help.

Incidentally, when I first saw the domain internetisshit.org, I thought Hey! That’d be a great name for a blog! In some ways, blogs are the new garage bands of the 21st Century.

In the spirit of meta-meta calendrical hoo-hah, I will say this: two years is both longer and shorter than you think it is. And I hope you don’t expect me to back that up with any genuine meaningfulness.

While I’m posting fluff, a few details. First, a vote for Rana in the new microbe contest. Second, I opened an account at one of those yucky large banks today, and they had the kind of lobby furniture designed to imitate a vanishing-line perspective. It looked like the little mauve chair was about to fall into the floor. Third, I have one nibble on my resume, which means it’s time to purchase an interview suit. Pinstripes, or no pinstripes?

They have come to fix the wall that the crazy drunk guy crashed into. They’re jackhammering at 8 in the morning! It’s so exciting, I hope it continues for several days.

Also, why the hell am I listed on buyshavers.com? This is deeply nonplussing.

I made some watermelon popsicles last week, and finally opened one up today - all kinds of tasty! After reading some unknown internet recipe that suggested adding a cinnamon stick to the boiling sugar syrup, I decided to dump in a random amount of cinnamon powder. The overall effect is almost certainly more cinnamon than God ever intended - rather like a watermelon-based horchata. Mmm.

The popsicle molds (don’t know where they came from) have an exceptionally clever catch-basin at the bottom, to gather up drips. You can drink the melting remnants from a straw. I’d insist that such devices be installed on all disposable popsicle sticks, but it would ruin countless little-kid crafts, so I won’t.

It is wrong for people my age to be getting married. Conservatively religious people seem to be an exception to the rule, though, and since it can’t be because they’re not people, it must be that they age differently than us liberal folk. The theology presented at Jane’s wedding didn’t touch on that, unfortunately, so I’m left in the murk on how exactly to translate between “Jesus years” and normal time.

As for the theology that was presented: every time I hear that bit about husbands being the heads of their wives, I picture little tiny men standing on mannequin-style necks, waving their arms and squeaking out Falwell-style cliches. And I’ve never figured out just where the wife’s head goes in the picture - packed away in a closet, maybe.

Regardless: those two kids on the altar were glowing so brightly they made my eyes water. Their love and happiness is contagious, and I wish them all the best.

*throws rice*

There oughtta be an eBay equivalent to the best of Craigslist - too many people are using eBay as a venue for silly jokes and performance art, and too many of those posts are getting junked for being outside guidelines. Anyone care to take bets on how long nothing will be for sale?

Let me draw your attention to the elegant, intelligent text ad in the side bar. I’m experimenting with supplemental revenue generation. No great expectations, but then again there’s no great cost, and I’ll be quite happy with the miserliest of pittances.

For you, loyal readers and misdirected Googlers, this represents an excellent chance to instantiate your appreciation of me, my blog, trees, flowers, or rocks. A mere fifty cents will buy 500 glorious advertisements - enough exposure for Poochie Poodle’s Doggie Den to leap to cult internet stardom! Or, spend that same $0.50 on ten guaranteed doggy-lovin’ click-throughs. Either way, I will have made enough money for a bowl of lentil soup. And I promise to convey your appreciation to the trees, flowers and rocks.

Those of you who need your fifty cents for coffee are encouraged to click on ads that interest you…

I now live on a medium-sized residential artery. My window, which must remain open at all times due to lack of air conditioning, is right in front of a traffic light. So far, the bumpin’ thumpin’ is running about even with the mariachi.

The other night, a drunkard ran the red light and smashed into the corner of the retaining wall around my yard, leaving bits of windshield on the lawn. I heard the honk and smash, and went outside with a crowd of goggling neighbors. No one was seriously injured, and I went back inside while orange lights flashed around my room. The driver was handcuffed and taken away.

As a welcome wagon, it left a little something to be desired.