Lindsayism.com

drummer in the mist

Having a stressful day? Watch this:

If there were a taxonomy of viral video (or internet memes in general and I don't mean those questionaires on MySpace), this would have the "palate cleanser" designation. It's successful - and viral - partly because it changes the subject entirely. (See also: cute overload.)

(Link via my colleague Chris Principe)

(One of my friends just told me this post was "very un-(me)" to which I say "I have many facets!!" and also "'colleague' was jokey fake businessy language for 'coworker, obvs'".)

Mr. Wizard is in Heaven Now

From his last interview, in Wired:

"WN: You began to include girls in your show quite early on. Female scientists are beginning to outnumber male scientists in some areas. Can you comment on what led you to be so far ahead of your time?

Herbert: Looking back it certainly was a major contributing factor to the show's longevity and success."

I remember watching his show at my friend Sarah's house after school. I know the fact that there were girls on the show who were really into science (as I was at the time, Reviving Ophelia etc etc etc) made a big impression on me, because when I think of the show I only remember it as being a show about girls learning science (I guess I blocked out the boys.) It's a sad day for former little nerds and know-it-alls everywhere!

Doncha Just Love the Internet Sometimes?

I am such a nerd for this kind of shit: blogger freeze-frames Leave it to Beaver and transcribes the text of a letter that was never supposed to be seen by viewers:

"Lew Burdette just hit a home run and Milwaukee leads seven to one in the series. This is the last line of the filler material of the note. No, my mistake, that was only the next to last. This is last."

What strikes me is how contemporary the writing style seems -- the conceit it's based on makes it self-aware and aware of its own cleverness in a way I'm only guessing wasn't as popular in 1958 as it is now. It's like, McSweeneysesque or something.

(still wrong)

In response to the comments on my last post, proof that I AM AN EVEN BIGGER NERD:

lindsay robertson <lindsay.robertson@gmail.com>   Apr 18 (23 hours ago)
    to        mlotto@observer.com    
    date        Apr 18, 2007 12:38 PM    
    subject        how I met your mother    
    mailed-by        gmail.com   

As a fan and longtime proponent of the show, I was happy to see your article about How I Met Your Mother. But:

"and how the Pogues cassette got permanently stuck in the tape deck of Marshall's Pontiac Fiero"

The Proclaimers, not the Pogues.

Yes, I'm a nerd.

Sincerely,
L. Robertson

Electric Sheep, Yes

Last night I dreamed I was playing around on an awesome new website. It was called "fairuse.com" (taken, I bothered) and it was exactly like YouTube, only legal, because before you could upload anything you had to use the (many, awesome) tools provided to slightly alter the video (or song, or whatever), thus getting around copyright laws.

The point is: not that this idea would be legal or would work, but that I'm F**KING DREAMING ABOUT THIS SH*T.

Next week, probably: a sexual fantasy about Search Engine Optimization, starring Clippy!:

(blogger still sucks though)

I recently switched my RSS reader from bloglines to Google Reader. (So did Lifehacker, with all the details.)

I'm a bit of a Google Reader evangelist now -- I've been trying to get all my friends (particularly the bloggers) to switch. I'm writing for three blogs now and I don't know how I ever lived without the tagging feature. My tags include:

"Daily" (What I have to stay on top of no matter how busy I am, and favorites such as Golden Fiddle and Emily)
"Friend" (to keep up with my friends' personal blogs that aren't updated often - very useful as a cheatsheet before attending a party, if you're like me and everyone you know has a blog.)
"Useful" (Includes sites like 43 Folders and MB Toolbox)
"Comedy" (Every comedy site I find goes here)
As well as technorati search RSS feeds for my favorite subjects and people (Amy Sedaris, Patton Oswalt, etc)

The best thing about Google Reader is that in many cases it picks up blogs and sites that don't even have RSS! You just enter the URL of the site and 90% of the time, Google will find a feed.

Anyway, lately my main online timewaster has been looking for time-saving and organizational hacks -- oh the irony.

nerd (cough) nerd (the cough is separate)

Today's guest post on the Jane blog: I find a reference to The Grapes of Wrath in last night's premiere of How I Met Your Mother.

It just doesn't get any dorkier than that, folks.

Current Obsession: Indigo Children

I was listening to the podcast of NPR's To the Best of Our Knowledge yesterday during my commute, and they did a segment on Indigo Children (click the link above to listen). I've been obsessed with the hilarious concept of Indigo Children ever since I first read about them in the fashion and style section of the New York Times in January (a must-read.) Basically, the idea behind Indigo Children is this:

"My child isn't obnoxious, self-absorbed, unmannerly and unlikeable because I've raised him or her with zero discipline, given him or her a trophy for just showing up and allowed him or her to run ramshod over his parents and everyone else s/he encounters rather than damage his or her precious self esteem...no...s/he's obnoxious, self-absorbed, unmannerly and unlikeable because s/he's here to save the world!"

If anything you've ever read, seen or heard about parenting in this day and age is like a big huge Post-it note the size of a Times Square billboard reminding you to refill your Nuvaring prescription, I think you'll find the concept of Indigo children to be the most "of course, now, here, at this precise time and place in the entire history of the world...of course" thing ever. We who are either child-free or in the minority of people who are raising children rationally no longer lack for a one-stop-shop shorthand for the anxiety and ennui we face when we think about what the world will be like when these little tyrants come of age and start being in charge of shit. It's now all wrapped up in one iconic, easy-to-remember-because-it-has-a-color-in-it brand: The Indigo Child.

Anyways, that was my little rant.

I thought it would be funny to make tee shirts ridiculing the Indigo Child "phenomenon" but apparently they're already out there.

Suggestions:
"Indigo means Annoying"
"My honor student beat up your Indigo Child."
"Please Curb Your Indigo Child"
"Indigo F**k Yourself" (okay that's just mean. and absurd.)

I found this interview with an Indigo Child expert who is helping the people of Europe understand their little messengers from the Universe. This part was funny:

SB: How do you explain the truth to the German mothers of Indigos?

CH: This is a problem. In America you can talk of a ''new race'' of children, but you can't do that in Germany. If I'm working with groups in other countries I can speak about this, but in a group of average mothers in Germany you can't talk about that.

SB: Is that because of Hitler?

CH: Yes, that's why.

stirrup pants, or something

Just the other day I was walking in Chelsea with a friend when I saw a woman in stirrup (or possibly stretch) pants across the street. "Oh my god, no, not stirrup pants! It's happened!" to my friend and then I got a closer look and said "Nevermind, it's just an old lady." Well, it has happened at, where else? Urban Outfitters. I think someone should get the name of the Urban Outfitters buyer who pitched these, and force her to wear them.

My favorite, and most worn outfit of 1989 (edited: 1990) was pink, purple and white floral stirrup pants from The Limited, with a matching purple knit top. It was the outfit my Mom bought me to wear to the Leon County Brain Bowl tournament, where my team came in 4th place, which was good for a tiny Christian school. I sucessfully challenged two questions:

In Disney's version of Pinocchio, what was the name of the fish?

Their answer: Figaro
Correct answer: Cleo

and

Who wrote the fairy tale Cinderella?

Their answer: The Brothers Grimm
Correct answer: Charles Perrault

Let it never be said I don't know my fairy tales! Anyway, my point is...stirrup pants...suck. (Thanks to Golden Fiddle for the link)