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Add one part satire to two parts sincerity. Sprinkle on a couple of rants. Stir liberally.
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Daily Blah FAQ
Who are you?
I'm the newly-appointed Future editor at Business 2.0 and the former San Francisco correspondent for Time Magazine.
Wow, so does this mean everything you write reflects Time Inc's opinion? Or do you perhaps have some sort of standard disclaimer to the effect that it doesn't?
Naturally, the opinions contained in this blog are not those of my employers. In fact, some opinions may be the polar opposite of my employers. Some may be the same, for all I know. Hey, it's not like I ask my employers their opinions about everything in the news, okay? Let's just say that if this were a Venn diagram with one circle marked "my opinions" and the other one marked "my employers' opinions", there would doubtless be some overlap. But neither I nor my employers are able to pinpoint exactly where that overlap is.
What is this Daily Blah thing?
An experiment for a column I wrote about blogging back in December 2001. All these years later, I haven't been able to kick the habit.
If it's called Daily Blah, how come you don't always write every day?
I am trying harder. I promise. Please don't hurt me.
Mister, you talk funny. Are you one of them furrners?
Why yes I am, as it happens. I was born, raised and educated in Great Britain. I've been living in the U.S. since 1996 and identify as British.
I say, old chap, you forgot the "u" in "colour."
No I didn't. I may identify as British, but I am also an American journalist writing for an American audience about mostly American issues. These two different sides of me are a constant source of tension. Nevertheless, Daily Blah will adhere to American English grammar and spelling.
Praise for Daily Blah:
"It is fun to watch the author's navel-gazing joy." - Sunday Times (UK)
"It's really funny and informative." - Dave Eggers, author
"The Blah is becoming a daily destination for me." - Richard Marsh, Playwright
"I like it, and I don't." - Fiona Hogg, Teacher
"Better than Xanax." - Lessley Andersen, journalist
"Dude, lay off the crack pipe." - Souris Hong-Porretta, gamesmith
Friends, Bloggers, Countrymen ... lend your ears to these people. I come not to bury them, but praise them.
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Wonkette
My TIME articles
All magazine articles (subscription required for older stories)
Online column index
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Daily Blah for... Friday, September 26, 2003
Might As Well Face It
Robert Palmer died yesterday after a long battle with love addiction, a family spokesman said.
Palmer, 54, had led an international campaign to raise awareness of love use since 1986.
Despite earlier statements that he was immune to the stuff, Palmer admitted he was a frequent user. "It's closer to the truth," he told one reporter, "to say I can't get enough."
Symptoms of love addiction include tightness of throat, inability to breathe or eat, insomnia, cardial sweat, grinding teeth, shaking body, a pulse rate twice the normal level, and a one-track mind.
"Really, it's amazing he lasted as long as he did," said a family friend. "Oblivion was all he craved."
The lights were on at Palmer's penthouse apartment last night, but no one was home.
Daily Blah for... Thursday, September 25, 2003
Chips Conspiracy
I love being able to see (via the Extreme Tracking service) what kind of Google searches bring people to this site. But sometimes it's frustrating not knowing why they searched for that combination of words. For example, would the person looking for "Pringles + Conspiracy + Theory" please stand up?
One Unweird Day
We’re in the McDonalds opposite the Space Needle and the Wifi isn’t working. We’re getting a signal, but there’s nothing behind it. Apparently it’s a problem with the WAAS – the Wireless Account Access Server, (pron. “Woz”, as in the Apple co-founder). My Cometa handlers are in calm crisis mode, dialing their cellphones to see if we can fix it. Then, all of a sudden, in walk the Intel Spotters. There are five of them wandering around the city, tasked to give prizes to anyone they find happily surfing in one of the hotspots. They’re wearing these horrifyingly bright pink zip-up shirts – pink, we discovered today, is the appointed color of Intel Centrino. There were pink balloons at many of the One Unwired access points, for what would look to the untrained eye like no reason whatsoever. The effect of five of these pink-shirted spotters walking into this sad little McDonalds together is to make you feel like you’re about to be assaulted by some religious cult. And, indeed, you are. “Hi!” says one brightly. “Are you having a happy One Unwired Day?”
My laptop is fast running out of juice, so I look around the McDonalds in vain for an outlet. Meanwhile one of my handlers explains to the spotter that the access point has gone down. “Yeah,” says the spotter. “We were having the same problem in Tullys.” The handler tries to shush him and points subtly at me. I pretend not to have heard anything and keep my attention focused on the non-existent outlets.
(Un)Wired Welcome
From the Tully's near Bill Gates' house -- a big hello to everyone coming here directly from the Wired News piece my good friend Dan quoted me in. Come on in. Make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back.
Wi-Fi City
I'm here in Seattle for Cometa's awkwardly-named One Unwired Day, in which all the company's new 102 wireless Internet access points are available for free. After today, you gotta pay. I'm going to try to hit as many of the hotspots as possible. Since a great deal of them are located in the city's Tully's, McDonalds and Barnes & Nobles, I'm guessing this is not going to be the greatest day for my diet -- not to mention my rule about not buying any new books. More later.
Daily Blah for... Tuesday, September 23, 2003
Minority Report
The most misunderstood minority in America today? Introverts. According to this lovely little piece in the Atlantic, they make up roughly 20% of the population -- and because public life is effectively controlled by extroverts, the particular needs of innies (like, say, spending a couple of hours alone to recuperate after a party) are being ignored. Or worse yet, stereotyped. Denounced as antisocial. Read the piece, and you'll understand how to cope better with the introvert in your life. When a friend read it to me, I wanted to stand on the table and yell "preach it, brother!" Of course, I didn't. We innies aren't big on pronouncements. You don't see crowds of us walking down the street yelling "introverts of the world, disperse!" Or "say it quietly: I'm introverted and proud."
Issa Irony
As a gourmet of irony, I deeply appreciate the words that spewed forth from Congressman Darrell Issa's mouth yesterday. "If two major Republicans remain on the ballot," he said, "I'd advise you to vote 'no' on the recall."
Stop and swill that quote around your mouth for a moment. Inhale its delightful bouquet. This is the guy who paid $1.6 million of his own money to organize the recall petition and plunge California into its current madness. Without Darrell Issa, there would be no recall election. He already pulled out of the race to replace Gray Davis the moment Arnold entered. This was the preliminary irony, an appetizer, an amuse bouche. A multimillionaire movie actor, it seemed, was going to get a free ride into the governor's mansion on a check cut by the rather less wealthy Issa.
And now, because his party can't unite and Arnold isn't going to win, Issa doesn't want to play any more. He's taking his recall and going home. You have to laugh at his fit of pique. You have to laugh, California, because otherwise you'd have a fit of pique at the $65 million of taxpayer money he caused to be spent on this nonsense, and then you'd probably end up as an angry mob, millions deep, outside his San Diego home with pitchforks and lynching rope. And we wouldn't want that, would we?
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