Unlike Stupid Bowl 2010, an occasion on which your bloguero’s use of various intoxicating liquids led to an uncharacteristically spectacular flame out and a gigantic, public crash, in which the biggest injury was self-inflicted embarrassment that would persist unabated for a full calendar year, Stupid Bowl 2011 was mild. It ended in relative quiet and probity, and was quickly eclipsed by the excitement of AOL’s buying Hufflepuffle and, much more important, Egypt’s Televised Revolution.
As usual, your bloguero had no idea what the week would bring. Self absorbed, he was thrilled that he would not spend the year until Stupid Bowl 2012 in penance and vain attempts to apologize for his unfathomable folly and excuse his bad behavior. No. He would be able to move on. What a relief. But he admits it: his having committed to writing this Digest did cause him some slight concern. What, he asked, would happen if he couldn’t bring himself to write anything this week? What if the writing muse were on vacation and the story warehouse were padlocked? Maybe he could avoid this potential problem be being abducted to someplace in the Caribbean with coco palms and warm beaches and, best of all, lacking all Internet and/or electricity. Alas and alack. No such luck. No space ships. No armed kidnappers. Not even an invitation to escape. Nada.
If you look at the last week in The Dream Antilles you will find:
A Haiku about snow. Because of ice and sleet, my dog friend was finally able to walk on top of our deep snow cover. A brief reflection on the canine world.
Huffpo Bought By AOL. The news that the beleaguered, dinosaur of dial up, AOL, bought Huffington Post and made the doyenne of coy self promotion, Ariana, even richer. A $315,000,000 deal built at least in part on the backs of those who blogged and wrote for free, who were, of course, screwed in the deal.
Sorry, Ariana and Markos, No More Free Content For You. I didn’t write anything at Hufflepuffle, but I was sure that when dailyKos was eventually sold to a group of investment bankers and venture capitalists-I think this is now likely– I wouldn’t be paid for all of the writing I posted there, that Markos would argue that I got the “exposure” I deserved and that nothing further not even a propina piquena was required. So, though I think the GBCW genre has fallen on bad times since ErrinF penned her immortal screed, I waved my middle digit in the rear view mirror and rode away on a cloud indignation. This was surprisingly easy.
Skewering Spiderman. How often can you find a review that says this? “Spider-Man” is not only the most expensive musical ever to hit Broadway; it may also rank among the worst.” Ouch.
Brian Jacques, RIP. A children’s author I really loved to read to my kids passed on. In his stories good always triumphed. He will be sorely missed, though I’m sure that for generations to come parents will enjoy reading his works to their kids.
Mubarak To The World: I Fart In Your General Direction. No Nixonian adieu for the perennial tyrant. No. Instead, defiance and indignation even as he was secretly packing his bags and moving his money around getting ready to do the Mobutu.
A Haiku about a subzero night sky.
A Haiku about Haiku.
And Now Algeria? wonders whether the demonstrations we saw on Saturday in Algiers and elsewhere are the starting bell for events like Tunisia and Egypt.
A Piece Of Internet History marks the end of dKos as we know it, and the transformation into what I think amouts to “Left Coast FacebookTM.”
This essay about what is on The Dream Antilles. It’s supposed to be a weekly Sunday morning very early digest for the Writers Port Alliance. As you can see, today is Saturday. I’m putting this up now, because I won’t be able to on Sunday. See you next week, if the creek don’t rise. On Sunday early.
