Why is Facebook like pizza?

Because it gets cold awfully damn fast? Well, there’s that, but this is a bit more germane:

There’s no question Facebook should have acted much sooner than it did. In case anyone who works for Facebook is reading this, let me clarify that by “act” I mean “act to address users’ privacy concerns, not act to spam our privacy all over the universe.” That said, I see merit to saying less now about what they might do now, and coming back with a much better product then. Talk about what you will do never carries much weight. Talk about what you have done, does. Take the Domino’s example. Does anyone seriously think it would have been a wise move for them to have publicly admitted a year ago that their pizza tasted like crap, and that they would be designing a new kind of pizza Real Soon Now, but won’t we please, please, pretty please with a cherry on top keep buying the old crap in the meantime? Or was it better to do what they did, and keep their new design under wraps until they actually had a better product to deliver?

First person who says “Thirty FarmVille updates, or it’s free” will justify that new theoretical “Dislike” button.

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Flat broke

What makes a pair of flip-flops worth $350?

Musa turquoise and crystal sandals

First, you dispose of the very term “flip-flop,” which reeks of cheap. Next, you encrust it with turquoise and crystal. Finally, you add variations on the theme so people won’t think it’s a one-shot attempt to garner attention.

That said, this, um, sandal will run you $350 from Net-A-Porter, though ShoeperWoman says it’s not for her:

Sure, they’re pretty, but for me flip-flops are the kind of summer-holiday shoe that always ends up looking slightly the worse for wear by the end of the vacation, with lots of sand, and scrapes and sun oil all over them, so they’re not exactly what I’d term an “investment” shoe.

Still, if I see these on you, I promise to be properly impressed, once I regain my composure.

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Saving SandRidge Commons

Nick Roberts floats an idea: preserve the buildings marked for demolition, and relocate the “cubist” structure planned for 120 Robert S. Kerr to Broadway, adjacent to the India Temple building.

This is especially useful for the proposed ground-level restaurant, which presumably would draw a lot more foot traffic on Broadway than it ever would on Robert S. Kerr; but more to the point, streetwalls on both Broadway and Robinson are reinforced, and sightlines, ostensibly a major issue for SandRidge, are actually improved.

And there’s this:

An unpopular, controversial $100 million project becomes a well-loved $50 million project, an asset and a jewel for downtown. Sometimes less is more.

Emphasis in the original.

I think I could get behind this proposal without even breathing hard.

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Work drools

New York’s Metropolitan Transportation Authority reports that fifty-one bus drivers took paid leave last year after passengers spat on them.

Technically, and I suspect legally, this constitutes assault on a driver. And apparently it’s a frightening experience:

“Being spat upon — having a passenger spit in your face, spit in your mouth, spit in your eye — is a physically and psychologically traumatic experience,” said John Samuelsen [president of Transport Workers Union Local 100]. “If transit workers are assaulted, they are going to take off whatever amount of time they are going to take off to recuperate.”

On average, the recovery process seems to take 64 days.

(Via Jacob Sullum.)

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They could always name it “Zooey”

Renault will launch an electric car named Zoe for model year 2012, though not if Zoe Renault has anything to say about it:

Renault is under pressure to drop its Renault Zoe electric car name — from a French woman Zoe Renault.

The Parisian, 23, has hired lawyers to insist that Renault scrap its branding. Renault has previously been the subject of a petition from French women called Zoe to change the name.

“I could not bear to hear: ‘Zoe’s broken down’ or ‘We need to get Zoe overhauled’,” she told Le Parisien newspaper.

Her lawyer David Koubbi has said he will take the case to court unless Renault changes the name.

This is one advantage of BMW: nobody is going to name a child “xDrive48i”.

(Via Autoblog.)

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How equal do you want to be?

Yours truly, five years ago:

Wearing a tie, report legions of guys, is uncomfortable: women should appreciate their pain, they argue, since it’s very much like wearing pantyhose.

This drew considerable scorn, and rightfully so.

But now there’s this:

[H]eight-enhancing footwear has begun to permeate across a broader demographic. For the first time since Glam Rock peaked three decades ago, men of average height are discovering the delights of a few extra inches. Well-heeled shoes of all types, from craftily sized “status” shoes to 21st century platforms, are enjoying a new vogue.

The man-heel — or “meel” as some have termed it — is simultaneously a coming trend in several wildly different milieus.

I have enough trouble with the word “bromance”; I’m happy to pass up a meel, irrespective of milieu.

On t’other hand, or foot, fair’s fair, right? Let’s ask Marc Jacobs:

“If I put heels in a collection I always try them on and walk around the studios in them during the fittings, which take up to 36 hours. It raises a laugh with the team for about five minutes because they’ve seen me do it so many times. But that’s not why I do it. I do it because I want to show that I’m not some misogynist designer designing these torturous shoes for women. The heels are there as a choice and if you want to wear them all the time, some of the time or never, it’s your choice.”

Then again, like many people six feet tall, I’d just as soon stick to flats.

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An insurmountable lede

This paragraph is a couple of years old, but it’s still pretty hard to beat:

The Brevard County doctor who was arrested for groping a woman while dressed as Captain America with a burrito in his pants will not go to jail.

Okay, it’s not “It was a dark and stormy night,” but it will have to do.

(Via Fark.)

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Zero and double zero

Venomous Kate gives Chatroulette a spin, and is not overly impressed:

For some reason, guys who probably can’t even form a coherent sentence face-to-face with other people get all sorts of bold when the only thing they’re exposing are their nads. Which reminds me … if you’re going to show off your junk to total strangers online, maybe you ought to give it a good once-over first and check for things like dingleberries. Jus’ sayin’.

Related factoids:

  • I do own a Web cam. It does work, or at least it did work when I installed it. I think I’ve used it for ten minutes in two years. I have never indulged in CR, and I have no particular desire to do so.
  • I can think of no reason why anyone should want a look at my, um, junk.
  • And even if someone did, it’s a rule of nature: Hot women don’t have affairs with ugly poor guys.

Beyond that, deponent saith not.

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It’s a curse, I tell you

Basketbawful, on the dismissal of Cleveland Cavaliers coach Mike Brown:

Another Coach of the Year casualty. Did you know, four of the past five CotYs (Brown, Byron Scott, Sam Mitchell and Avery Johnson) have been fired, and the one before Johnson (Mike D’Antoni) was, shall we say, encouraged to explore other options. If I was Scott Brooks, I would be getting a little twitchy.

One more note: Brown, in his first two years at the helm, went 50-32 and 50-32. Anyone remember Brooks’ record this past season?

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Zooeypalooza 4!

I’m reasonably certain I don’t have to explain these by now. (And if I do, here are ZP 1, ZP 2, and ZP 3.)

Zooeypalooza 4!

This bottom shot is from a She & Him performance in New York. As is my wont, I have made each of these capable of semi-rapid growth at a single click.

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Take McExit 12

I wonder how well this scheme would work:

Provincial and municipal governments are always looking for additional money, but taxes are unpopular and have unpleasant economic side effects. Municipal governments and school boards also need to assign names to roads and schools.

Why don’t cities simply sell the naming rights to roads, as they do to stadiums?

There would have to be some limitations, of course:

[T]he roads have to be named after people, not corporations, as I could see a segment of society not wanting to live on Pepsi Lane. There may be worries that the person the road named after may later fall into disfavour (Alan Eagelson Road?), but it should be relatively straight forward to put a morals clause in the contract that allows the road name to be changed if the person “engages in acts of moral turpitude.”

I suspect that checks to property owners might make Pepsi Lane a bit more acceptable.

Still, I don’t see much likelihood of this coming to pass Stateside. Philanthropists and such have their names plastered on buildings already; politicians, with the possible exception of Robert C. “Kudzu” Byrd, generally lack staying power; businessmen will object to being on streets named for their competitors.

That leaves, well, me, and I am not worthy.

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Complicated junk

You’ve seen it before: it’s shaped like an envelope, but it really isn’t. It’s some impact-printed piece of crap, and to get at the ostensible message, you have to tear off three edges of the rectangle. I’ve always suspected that this was the preferred vehicle for rebate checks because (1) odds are you’ll shred it trying to open it and (2) if you hate these farging things as much as I do you’ll discard it without even checking to see if it’s a rebate.

Apart from rebate checks, though — assuming people still bother with rebate checks — has there ever been one of these worth opening? (I operate on the assumption that an overprinted “Personal & Confidential” pretty much guarantees uselessness.)

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A faint air of desperation

Mike McCarville is all over Governor Henry’s wacky insurance-camera plan:

Henry’s budget proposal listed the system as the generator of $50 million in new revenue for the state. But in all the discussions, there’s been no public mention that can be found of the tiny barcodes on the new plates.

The new license plates were designed to use the barcodes to allow the use of highway “spy cameras” to read them and identify the vehicle as insured or uninsured, state records show.

Well, actually, it got mentioned here last fall, with an explanation of why it is destined to fail:

Beyond the usual Big Brother considerations, this will not work worth a damn: a substantial proportion of drivers have metal or plastic plate frames that obscure the bar code, and J. Random Deadbeat is a lot more likely to fork over $19.95 for a piece of frippery than to pay for actual insurance.

Hell, the dealer will happily give you one or two of them when you buy a new car.

And inasmuch as the state is effectively admitting here that its current insurance-verification system is toast — how else could they expect to find $50 million worth of scofflaws? — I suspect measures even more desperate-sounding will be up for consideration before too long.

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Aisle be damned

Here comes that month again, the one that rhymes with “spoon.” Hint: there is no spoon.

Addendum: “There is a <0.005% you will find someone on eHarmony. We wish you luck elsewhere."

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dot OKC?

Dirk Krischenowski heads up dotBERLIN, which seeks to get a full top-level domain assigned to the German capital, arguing that Berlin has more Web sites than 150 of the two-hundred-odd country-code TLDs, and that other cities should follow suit as a branding measure.

Three US cities have proposals on the table: New York (.nyc), Las Vegas (.vegas), and San Francisco (.sfo). (Krischenowski maintains a list here.) I’m not quite sure how well this would work once you get into the smaller cities, and Krischenowski cautions that it might be too large an undertaking for them:

The application process for a city top-level domain is not a matter of course. Applicants have to meet a variety of technical, operational, economic and political criteria and must demonstrate that their suggestion has the support of the community concerned. Support or at least a statement of non-objection of the respective city government, as well as that of the relevant national government, is also mandatory for an application. In many cases the high cost of an application (around US$ 500,000 to US$ 1 million) and the annual operational costs for the top-level domain (around the same) means that applications for communities with a population of less than half a million people are scarcely economically feasible.

It seems clear that “destination cities” will find the most value in this technique, and that smaller venues and offerings within those cities will likely benefit the most, since they’ll automatically be afforded the same level of association that accrues to the bigger attractions.

There is, I assume, a limit beyond which the current TLD structure cannot be stretched, though I also assume that technological advances will push this limit farther outward; we now have, for instance, domains named in Arabic script rather than Latinate, and other character sets are on the way. Which could make matters interesting for, say, dot-Bangkok.

(Via the Urbanophile.)

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Strange search-engine queries (225)

In this weekly feature, we sift through the logs and extract whatever search strings make the least amount of sense, then mock them gently. (Note: This feature is not approved by the President of Mexico.)

duke canine dildo:  “Here, Duke! Here, boy. That’s a good boy. Oh, yes, that’s a good boy.”

sonic complaints in hominy OK:  There’s a Sonic in Hominy? Who knew?

looking 4 super fart spray in oklahoma:  Just keep it away from the Hominy Sonic.

mapplethorpe lollipop hessel museum:  Please observe the “Do Not Lick The Exhibits” sign.

back spoiler:  For instance, a very large quantity of hair.

girl sperm tattoo:  Um, you’re doing it wrong.

Newscaster forced to take clothes off:  I’m guessing this probably wasn’t Irving R. Levine.

ugly websites “too many font colors”:  Trust me, font colors aren’t the major issue.

naturist science fiction:  Let’s hope this planet is warm.

Real anal virgins between 18 and 20 years of age earn lettuce by letting guys pop their asses here!  Weirdly, this is about the seventh variation on this theme I’ve seen, and it’s always someone from the States using a Google site somewhere in Asia. Make of that what you will.

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At least it’s not some retread

One thing about Saw and its sequels: it didn’t take much to figure out what they were about.

It will take slightly more, but only slightly, to get a fix on Rubber:

The Wagner/Cuban Company’s Magnet Releasing, genre arm of Magnolia Pictures announced today that it has acquired US rights to RUBBER, a cult hit at Cannes Critic’s Week that tells the unlikely story of a murderous tire (yes, a tire) with terrifying telepathic powers. Directed by Quentin Dupieux (Steak, Nonfilm), RUBBER is the story of Robert, an inanimate tire that has been abandoned in the desert, and suddenly and inexplicably comes to life. As Robert roams the bleak landscape, he discovers that he possesses telepathic powers that give him the ability to destroy anything he wishes without having to move. At first content to wreak havoc on small desert creatures and various lost items, his attention soon turns to humans, resulting in the most gory vehicular-related mayhem inflicted on screen by an “inanimate” object since Christine.

Perhaps he was under a lot of pressure.

The “Cuban” above, incidentally, is Dallas Mavericks owner Mark Cuban; he and Todd Wagner were partners in Broadcast.com, which made their fortunes.

(Brought to my attention by Agent Bedhead’s associate Mr Atoz.)

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Sitting off the bench

Elena Kagan with Senator Amy KlobucharRobin Givhan agonizes in the WaPo over the fact that Elena Kagan, inexplicably, does not cross her legs:

In the photographs of Kagan sitting and chatting in various Capitol Hill offices, she doesn’t appear to ever cross her legs. Her posture stands out because for so many women, when they sit, they cross. People tend to mimic each other’s body language during a conversation, especially if they’re trying to connect with one another. But even when Kagan sits across from Sen. Amy Klobuchar, who has her legs crossed at the knees, Kagan keeps both feet planted firmly on the ground. Her body language will not be bullied into conformity.

She does not cross her legs at the ankles either, the way so many older women do. Instead, Kagan sits, in her sensible skirts, with her legs slightly apart, hands draped in her lap. The woman and her attire seem utterly at odds.

Harriet MiersNot that there’s anything wrong with that. Besides, we don’t know for certain why Kagan sits the way she sits. Perhaps she finds crossing her legs uncomfortable. And at fifty, she’s old enough to have caught at least the tail end of the Conventional Wisdom about unexpected bulges and/or the premature development of spider veins. I refuse even to entertain the idea that, well, this is how proper lesbians sit. (Not that I have any expertise on the subject, but were there a stereotype, presumably I’d have heard it by now.) As for the ostensible “frump” issue, we need only go back to the last time an older woman of putative sub-Hollywood appearance was nominated for this post, and … no, wait, forget about that, apparently Harriet Miers does occasionally cross her legs, and I’m sorry I even brought up the idea in the first place.

Still, if we’re looking for killer judicial gams, we have to turn to the private sector:

Marilyn Milian on the Ellen Show

Taking a moment out from presiding over The People’s Court, here’s Judge Marilyn Milian, out of the robe, doing a guest shot on Ellen. Note that Ellen’s legs are crossed, and she’s certainly a proper lesbian.

(Suggested by Ann Althouse.)

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It’s an ’09 Fugmobile

As Heather and Jessica would say, “Fugly is the new pretty,” and the world’s automakers have come up with some really, um, pretty cars over the years, to the extent that the Booth Babe, having sampled some opinions on Twitter, is now compiling a list of automotive excrescences at TTAC, including such atrocities as the SsangYong Rodius, which, quite apart from being named “SsangYong” — not to mention “Rodius,” which rhymes with “odious” — was described by Top Gear Magazine as looking “like it got bottled in a pub brawl and stitched back together by a blind man.”

By comparison, the nomination I tweeted to the Babe was relatively mild: the 1950s Nashes, “with the ridiculous skirted front-wheel openings that made for humongous turning circles.”

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@#%&*! censors

Well, this was predictable:

With CBS … rolling out a show this fall that hints at an expletive in its title, watchdog group the Parents Television Council is threatening the network’s affiliates with a challenge to their broadcast licenses.

At its upfront presentation in New York on Wednesday, CBS announced “$#*!” My Dad Says,” a new comedy based on the popular Twitter feed “Shit My Dad Says.” The show will air at 8:30 p.m. on Thursday nights this fall. The comedy stars William Shatner in the title role as a curmudgeon who dispenses politically incorrect opinions and advice to his son.

It is of course incumbent upon a watchdog group to bark, and this is the current barkage:

Tim Winter, president of the Los Angeles-based PTC, said he was aware that CBS was developing a series based on the Twitter sensation, but “we couldn’t imagine that a network would actually name a program either with an expletive or with the expletive ostensibly bleeped out.”

“We’re talking here not about a Twitter feed, we’re talking about broadcast television that requires a license to use the airwaves,” Winter said. “There are an infinite number of alternatives that CBS could have chosen but its desire to shock and offend is crystal clear in this decision.”

Some of us are more shocked and/or offended by the fact that a Twitter stream is being turned into a television series.

On the other hand, this is @#%&*! William Shatner we’re talking about. If he wants to come on and read Sarah Palin for twenty-two minutes, it’s fine with me.

In the Fark thread discussing this matter, I find the following excerpt from Larry Niven’s The Defenseless Dead:

Garner’s face twitched oddly. I said, “What’s funny?” He let the laugh out. It sounded like a chicken screaming for help. “Censor. Bleep. They didn’t used to be swear words. They were euphemisms. You’d put them in a book or on teevee, when you wanted a word they wouldn’t let you use.”

I shrugged. “Words are funny. Damn used to be a technical term in theology, if you want to look at it that way.”

“I know, but they sound funny. When you start saying bleep and censored it ruins your masculine image.”

“Censor my masculine image.”

(Title ripped off from Aimee Mann’s lovely 2008 album @#%&*! Smilers.)

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