Last year about this time — specifically, in Vent #437 — I ran a few excerpts from the first few months of daily bloggage at this site, partly to call attention to the fact that daily bloggage had been going on for nearly five years by then, but mostly because I didn't have a topic fall readily to hand when I started typing. The same, as you've no doubt inferred, holds true today, and while I have a topic at hand — "those who are no people," in Deuteronomy 32:21, foreshadows 20th-century Palestinians — the thought of having to expand this into 8k or so without falling back on sheer venom is at the very least daunting.

So it's another clip show for now, from a slightly later period: mid-2001, which, conveniently, is five years ago. Enjoy.

8 May 2001:

Most of the things I pass on to others, or that I mention here, are neither rib-ticklers nor French ticklers; they're simply things I thought were worth repeating. I suspect most operators of serious Web logs (I don't think this little backwater of mine qualifies as "serious" just yet) use similar criteria; they share what they think, filtered (or metafiltered) through their particular worldview, is worth sharing. It's impossible for me to read a good online journal, even if the topics are wrenchingly painful, without being grateful to the person who made it available to you and me.

And this, perhaps, is why I don't worry so much about the Net subsuming all human interaction in a vast miasma of strained superficiality. No, I don't know the writers the way I know my best friends; but were it not for the Net, I wouldn't know them at all. Even with a screen or two and however many lines of wire, of fiber, of code between us, we still connect to one another. Surely that's worth something in this alleged Age of Isolation.

12 May 2001:

The guys who tend my 401(k) have sent me an application for one of their new Web-based checking accouts. It has evidently never occurred to them that the only way I could possibly have built said 401(k) into the low five figures was by keeping my checking account in the high two.

20 June 2001:

Whom the gods would destroy, they first scare spitless.

I got a nice case of dry mouth trying to get home from work today, on the sensible basis that any time you have a fire engine blocking your path, it's a good time to be apprehensive. During the time it took me to do three-lefts-equal-one-right, I managed to go from uneasy to downright panic-stricken, and matters weren't helped much when I saw that the building being hosed down was mine.

However, the mere fact that I'm able to do an update today should tell you that I managed to slide by with an incredibly tiny amount of destruction. (There's a light coating of sooty dust — or dusty soot — on the kitchen floor, and the faint smell of char-broiled furniture from the opposite end of