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On Controversy.

Translation of LJ News Post

SUP, a Russian company, buys LiveJournal

If I am remembering and interpreting correctly, the beginning of my presence here was after "Strikethrough" and "Boldthrough" and have, so far as I can tell, missed much of this negativity. But I see by popular opinion that this area of cyberspace seems to be degenerating in more ways than one. The above hyperlinks lead to two pages expounding upon such matters. The first is somewhat satiric in nature and certainly influenced by the original poster (the "OP"), and the second contains both humor, conspiracy theories, and a variety of other hyperlinks—including those to news articles—related to these recent events. It appears nearly impossible to separate what is fact from fiction, understandable concerns from mere hysteria. Even without sorting through the evidence and reading every user's opinion on it, one can at least determine that this change is not seen positively.

I think it is unwise for people to flutter about, like a cockroach on its backside, and making rash decisions like immediately leaving the site. Still, the fact that this SUP company seems to have some ties or other to Mr. Putin of Russia is not comforting. The first second that any foul play occurs (particularly restriction on freedom of speech), there should be some sort of revolt.

On the lighter side of things, I was recently introduced to something called Literati, which seems to be near identical to Lexiko Scrabble. It is not too bad of a diverting game, but it is difficult to find an opponent with elevated enough vocabulary for a genuine challenge.

Didot is following me. Literally.

Chere France,

When you started erecting unflattering statues to me, I said nothing. My school years were frustrating ones, but did I complain when you started naming schools after me? I did not. And when the university went so far to the right, did I point out the frustration of being associated with "Fascist U?" Well, probably. But I never made a fuss about it.

But now you've named a Tramway stop after me and placed it next to a stop that uses the same name as the codename of the man who betrayed me.

Here's an idea. Next time you would like to do me the honor of naming something after me, run it by Daniel Cordier first. If he laughs until he risks snorting red wine on his keyboard, take that as a bad sign.

Yours most devoutedly,
Mssr. Moulin
I thought some of you might be interested in the community lolhistory.

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451?

For the Record...

I spent much less time half-naked than my sculpted tributes would have you believe.



(But when I was half-naked I looked exactly like that. Yes, it's really quite uncanny. MmHmm.)

Just wanted to clear that up. Any more like this and the naked sculptures may threaten to usurp the scarf statues.

Introduction

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Hello, fellow dead, I am Tristan Tzara 1896-1963! Being dead has not stopped me from continuing in my anti-art [DADA] sentiments; rather, I have adapted to new mediums! These days, I haunt the internet, spreading crackfic plot bunnies and creating macros.

I have created a self portrait:
DADA Blingee Revival 1: Self Portrait
Make custom Glitter Graphics



Give it a try yourself, or else I'll Blingee you! It is my intent to make this cafe as lively as the old Cabaret Voltaire!

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Well.

A bit quiet, are we? What are you all up to?

As of late, I've been in a driver's seat of a vehicle. Granted, I'm not technically the one driving, but I'm close enough to doing so. Automobiles have certainly changed since my time. They come in different colors, and they can be painted even more! I have witnessed such horrible shades as neon pink, pea soup green, and godlessly bright yellow, not to mention flamboyant purple, carrot orange, and gastrointestinal brown. Was there something wrong with black? It was not too bright, not too flashy; these modern Americanos seem appallingly attractive to precisely the ugliest colors one can imagine. The libido of the ugly has not died.

Then again, happily, many cars are also generic colors. I see plenty of black, white, silver or gray, and blue. Those variations are not nearly so bad, though I have the notion that cars of the white and light silver persuasions are difficult to keep properly clean. Then, yet again, there are mechanic car washes and millions of car washing products available. It is almost unbelievable how much so many Americans must pay for these improved devices, as well as their utilities and accessories. More, some groups, particularly of the East, derive a perverse joy in attaching glowing lights to the undersides of their cars and other such customizations.

Technology never ceases to annoy.

I also do not understand this "need for speed." What is despicable about driving about 30 or 40 m.p.h? Why does everyone fly down roads at the rate of at least 60 m.p.h.? Not only does it defy the posted speed limits and known laws, but it is somewhat dangerous and wholly unnecessary. It makes the stunts people pull on the Autobahn ridiculous. Cars going 215 m.p.h! Do these drivers have such a strong will to death? Such daredevils ought to relinquish their infantile desire for cursory thrills and instead focus on something worth dying for.
As it is past midnight, Eastern Standard Time, my birthday has passed, and although that is the case, I say drinks for everyone! (I'm partial to scotch, but I enjoy all alcohol. Everyone is free to have whatever he favors.) [Starts on a highball.]

The whole day was not a huge event, and I did not expect or need much anyhow. My main gift consisted of a "German chocolate cake" from a nearby grocery store. It is hardly authentic; neither the appearance nor taste are very Germanic—but it was a mass of chocolate. I am unsure as to what cake they were seeking inspiration from, as it has an extremely vague nod to the Black Forest cake sort, but the rest seems a mischmasch. I'm almost inclined to accuse the bakers of taking their cue from their so-called Boston Creme Cake, only with a thin layer of coconut added. Well, I should not complain. It was an effort to get me the cake at all, and that was the best anyone could do. It is dreadfully difficult to find the proper ingredients for Germanic cooking in this area, and God knows it's impossible to get something prepared outside of the home that is genuinely Germanic.

I received birthday wishes from a couple of lovely ladies, as well as one of my heroes and influences, Mr. Mark Twain (or Samuel Clemens) via that MySpace contraption. I ought to invite the gentleman here. He may enjoy himself, and I am certain I would not be the only one that would be pleased to have him.

I did not receive a tangible gift of any kind, but I do not care for that either, especially in death and lacking an actual body of my own. The aforementioned people's actions, coupled with the additional association with a few other lovely, intelligent, and humorous ladies, were the greatest gifts I could ask, considering my state. I look forward to another birthday like this, should I somehow still "exist" for another year.

Caesar's Return

My wife and I followed our young scribe to Greece this summer, then spent the month of August in Italy, looking up old friends. We met with P. Vergilius Maro--how well I remember the sadness of the day of his death. He is currently residing near his birthplace of Mantua and has no living scribe, although he is somehow always corresponding with another poet whom I did not know, a Dante Aligheri. He was always shy and retiring, dear Vergil, which keeps him away from the crude atmosphere of cyberspace, even such an attractive place as this taverna. I can't say I blame him.

Yet I have hopes, gentlemen, of bringing more friends into our company by the date of my birthday, September 23.

A picture from Athens is here.Collapse )