The smutters aren't out yet. Neither is most anyone else, but the little snap-crackle-pop hand jive, albeit somewhat rhythmic, is not missed in the least. But I take solace in that rainforests are destroyed every day just so that consumers can quickly peruse their wares before tossing them on the sidewalk. Who needs recycling? And the t-shirts are a nice touch. I haven't seen them for sale in the gift shop of the Flamingo Hotel & Casino.

Gameworks is still here. I figured it was gone. I remember a visit here years ago where I was in some kind of flight simulator game, where I was pretty much upside-down the whole time because I could never get my bearings. Vomiting did not take place, but it definitel was an option.

Carrot Top is even scarier on a huge Jumbotron than on a 27' television. Mathematically speaking, as his image doubles in size, his creepiness grows tenfold. Scary enough to cure the childhood fear of that clown from Poltergeist. Can you imagine if present day Carrot Top got the role of that fucked-up clown that attacked that kid. Bedwetting would start to be considered a hobby, and Freddy Krueger would have his own nightmares.

I'm not sure what fuels Carrot Top's perfect storm of steroid use, combined with a dual addiction for cosmetic products and cosmetic surgery. Maybe that's what it takes to be called "Comedian of the Year" by the casino that employs you.

There's a some sort of sculpture near the Mandarin Oriental that looks like the Squidoo logo, unless it's a statue of one of those Sentinels from The Matrix.

The yellow shirt and white shirt security teams are out on bike at 6:30 am. The red shirts must have already gotten killed by then.

Next run I need to go over that mini Brooklyn Bridge in front of New York New York for the Vegas artificial version of running the New York marathon.

That was all my observations, at least all the ones I can remember.

Yeah, don't get all excited and tweet about or anything. I just stopped by today, because I'm probably avoiding on working on something else that I don't feel like working on — NOT TRUE! I've already been doing that for about an hour and a half and decided it was time to jump over here and write a post.

So this is a conscious effort. I blame Twitter for the state of this lonely outpost, and I'm sure I can blame plenty of other things, but I don't want to play the blame game. That's reserved strictly for politicians to accuse others of when they're really doing it themselves in a backhanded sort of way. Assuming that politicians don't do everything in a backhanded sort of way.

But, that's all. Maybe this should be considered a long-winded "Hello, World" 2.0.

I just lost a whole post about this David Carson clip. It was kind of personal and discussed how I ventured into design in order to write. I got distracted along the way because of designers like David Carson. And the writing went away for awhile. I can't recreate that post, so you get this one. I'm not going to apologize. I'm just going to be glad when I move to WordPress and I won't lose a post if I accidentally click "Back" when I'm in preview mode reviewing a post. I'm really pissed, and I'm trying to not let it get to me right now, especially since there was a lot of other work I need to finish up, and instead I wrote this posts , not this one, but the one that's now gone. And now we're all stuck with a lesser, and less personal post.

The shame of it all is that I remembered the title and that this post actually had a point to make.

I've been two timing this here blog with my new gal I like to call twitter. But I've come crawling back since I know where my bread is buttered, and where someone always leaves a light on.

I was perusing some web comics as I prepare for the New York Comic Con this weekend. Warren Ellis, hustler of culture that he is, had a page over at WhiteChapel for web comic creators to post links to their wares.

That's where I came across...Registered Weapon. They had me at:

Part Cash Register,
Part Robot,
All Cop.

Sheer ridiculousness trumps all.

The election's over and I'm glad that there will be no third term for George W. Bush. I'll be happy when he's served his eviction papers by the local sheriff's office, vacating the premises for Barack Obama and family. I hope W. doesn't get his security deposit back. It won't even put a dent in paying for the damage left behind.

Let's just hope all the celebrating doesn't let us forget that there's a bit of a mess to clean up with all the entrails of the Constitution lying around on the floor. We got to pick up those guts and shove them back in there, and let's not miss any. No matter who won the elections, they're still a bunch of politicians with fatter wallets than me and you. Remember these folks are still "public servants", and are supposed to be working in the best interests of those who elected them, and not just those that bankrolled them through the election process. I'm actually gushingly happy, but my cynicism remains intact. Make sure those you've chose are still listening.

Don't go completely autopilot, if you want your country back, roll up your sleeves, because on Tuesday all you did was volunteer to be on the committee. This bake sale ain't happening if no one shows up with any pies.

I'm looking at my notes for the "My Blog is a Business?" session, the one hosted by Rob McNealy, Chris Brogan, Jeremy Wright, and Nina Yablok. In the past, I've gone to many a seminar, and upon returning to the real world completely abandon whatever materials made the return trip, yet knowing that there was good information there.

So this time I figure if I read and actually create content based on these notes, then I'll be able to put some of this advice into action. Or someone else will, and as far as I'm concerned, that's just as good. Somehow that provides a good segway to one of the points I've highlighted.

You have to be willing to give the advice for free.   more »

In the future, Sarah Palin will create Internet memes on the daily. oh wait...it's already happening. Surely her foreign policy experience won't be the last. You don't get that kind of experience by osmosis or proximity. I live next door to a doctor, if anyone would like me to perform open heart surgery on their loved ones, feel free to twitter me. And I've seen a lot of Speedy Gonzales cartoons as well, so that should probably qualify me to be our next ambassador to Mexico.

Nerve Endings Firing Away took the "As Putin rears his head and comes into the air space of the United States of America" quote quite literally, so naturally I took their graphic to the logical next level, the lolcat treatment.



Who cares about the bailout when we've got this giant disembodied Putin head floating toward Anchorage. It's making me wonder about those weather balloons they used to mistake for UFOs.

The recurring theme throughout everything from the Citizen Journalism sessions on Thursday through the Sunday morning keynotes was PASSION. Passion is key to any form of success, but is especially vital in industries or movements that are somewhere between their infant and toddler stages. The speakers at this event were full of passion. You could hear the passion in the questions raised by the audience members.

I'd been to the Comdex trade shows for the computer industry previously, and there was a lot of loitering, a lot of lemme outta heres, a lot of "where we going tonight?" Sure there was passion. Occasionally. I don't exclude myself from this mix. I was just happy to be there. An East Coast marketing guy who wasn't sure what he was doing at the time, but knew sure enough that he was going to Vegas and it wasn't on his credit card. I worked my tail off, but the passion wasn't there.

It's different when you go to Las Vegas over ten years later, knowing full well next month's MasterCard statement will be a good deal higher than the last, attend every session, hit every event, party into the wee hours with folks who spent their day the same exact way, and wake up again at 7:00 to start the whole thing again. And not use an alarm clock for the entirety of the trip. It means you felt the passion as well. I think nearly all the people I met at the event felt the same way.

I'm taking care of some necessary business, so I can go through my notes and post on this event. I don't regret my 2:30 PM decision last Thursday to get on a flight 3 1/2 hours later for the event. Posts coming real soon. Would love to hear what other bloggers thought of this event as well.

...Stays in Vegas. Probably not this weekend though.

After all, this weekend Vegas plays host to the BlogWorld Expo. If there's one thing bloggers are completely incapable of, it's keeping their mouths shut. Well, their mouths aren't the problem (unless of course their podcasting or vlogging, of course), it's those fingers, because first they'll twitter, then they'll post, and the diggs will follow. So gentlemen, try to remain as such at those gentlemen's clubs, and ladies, keep count of those cosmopolitans.

I was wavering about attending this conference or not, since I'd abandoned blogging and writing for awhile, because of many of life's constant distractions and sometimes derailments, but since I've got a few ideas up my sleeve, and am working with a new magazine on their blog. So here I am in Vegas.

Hell, maybe I'll even find some content while I'm here. Actually I found some already.

Tyra Banks was on my plane. Just saying her name in my head conjures up those old Nike commercials with Lil' Penny, which is kind of interesting since I once shared an elevator with Chris Rock.



I had to stare like an idiot while whatever facial recognition that came installed with my cerebrum confirmed it was indeed Ms. Banks. So like any smooth character would, I saunter through first class on the way to my seat in row 79 which is just a seatbelt strapped onto the rudder, in case you were wondering. But yeah, I lean over and casually say, "Hi Beyonce, I love your music," and continue my stroll to my seat in untouchable class.

Nah, I didn't do that. I didn't think of that until I was hanging onto that rudder for my dear life. I had no reason to mess with her. But pretending to mistake one celebrity for another when approaching them seems like it could be a fun thing. I'm trying to think if I ever did this before, but probably not since my obliviousness would normally kick in.

Tyra looks great in person, by the way, the television does not deceive. One of my rowmates in solitary class, also noted the presence of Ms. Banks, so I consider this celebrity sighting confirmed, and blogworthy. Most of the time I'm oblivious to this sort of thing, until another member of my party tells me afterwards. Actually I was too drunk to realize that Chris Rock was on the elevator with me.

You think Tyra is here for BlogWorld?

What if fonts were people? I've never posed this question to myself or anyone else, but I'm sure glad the folks at College Humor did. And just like anybody else, they don't seem to agree on anything. And they have trouble agreeing to disagree. And then there's this font called Ransom.

Font Conference @ College Humor

Nothing tells people you know a Mac inside and out like wearing a hat. Maybe it prevents the knowledge from escaping through your hair follicles, trapping it so it can be re-absorbed through your scalp.

Don't believe me? Click on the image below to go view Apple's video introduction to their workshops. I counted at least 6 hats the first time. And it's clear that baseball caps are not the best choice. I only saw one of those. It's probably because of the big hole in the back above where you adjust the size. But if you must wear a baseball cap, be sure it is fitted to prevent information leakage.

Today I was pondering a lot of different business/work decisions/ideas through my head on the way to my father's house. And when I arrived there was a blue jay on a wall, with a cardinal about 6 feet away on the grill. The jay was foraging, the cardinal...kinda just hangin'. I was fortunate enough to have a camera with me, but just unfortunate enough to have the cardinal fly off before I could start snapping. Although when I switched the camera to movie mode, the cardinal reappeared for a cameo before darting off again, kind of like what Christopher Walken does in some films.

Not long after, a gaggle of finches (don't know what to call it, but it was quite shy of a flock) came storming by like some sort of multiplayer whilring dervish, you know like binary stars, except with more than two. Must have been a courtship ritual with the young bucks trying to impress a dame. (It's really odd calling a finch a young buck, is it as odd to read?)

They departed as quickly as they arrived kind of like a teenage driver at a tangential relative's family function. The blue jay was completely nonplussed. He kind of looked at 'em like they were a bunch of fools, and went about his business. And yeah, it could have been a she, but I don't know enough about blue jays, except that they supposedly can be pretty nasty, but I believe that's when they perceive danger to their young, and I thing most of us would act the same, pecking on skulls and gouging out eyeballs and that sort of thing.

Anyway I thought this strange coupling may have been a sign that I was on to something with what I was thinking when I arrived, although then again maybe it was just a "Thanks for throwing down some new grass seed at the cemetery today, Son." Or maybe it means I should go ahead to that bird preserve I was thinking about with my son this weekend. You know, once you start thinking too much you tend to ruin everything.

And the thinking never ends. The thing with the blue jays and the eyeballs a few lines back got me thinking about that "slicing up eyeballs" line in "Debaser" by The Pixies. So even though my much imagined mp3 blog, hasn't happened...yet. I'm gonna drop some Pixies on you for a limited time, and if Charles or Kim want me to take it down sooner, I invite them to let me know.

Pixies - Debaser

UPDATE: July, 24, 2008: I now know a little more about birds than I did 2 months ago. My so-called finches were actually sparrows, and apparently I don't have the movie file with the blue jay and the cardinal. Oh well.

"Red Crayon Won."

"Red Crayon won what? The crayons were having a race?"

"Yes."

"Oh!...Where were the crayons having the race?"

"The wall."

The wall, of course. Where else would crayons have a race? This was the conversation me and my two year old had as I was leaning out of the shower recently. Looking at the tracks the racers left behind, it appears to have been a hard fought battle and thankfully it looked like they were doing laps on a track rather than a marathon, so that means less paint, although I'm in no hurry. These are the sort of markings that turn a house into a home.

I can't believe this is now available, and I am without a system to play it. Yes, I could buy a new system, and this is the killer app (no pun intended) to drive new console sales. It was what I was waiting for.

But right now, I have a self-imposed boycott on excessive spending, and unless someone pays me real soon to write about video games, I can't justify the expenditure, when debt reduction is my current goal.

I feel the need to post, because GTA has been the source the majority of traffic to my blog. And most of those posts were written back when San Andreas was released, and they still bring in the most traffic here. The game has pull.

But right now, economics is getting the best of me.

I said right now...for now.

There is a PS3 beckoning me. I hear it. I feel it. It comes to me in dreams. It haunts me. It taunts me. I sense a disturbance in The Force each time a "10" is given in a review somewhere.

Like any addict, I can find a way to justify the purchase, but for now my line is drawn in the sand. I'm not exactly sure how that line in the sand thing works, whether it's me who crosses it, or if I wait for something to cross it, or if it has something to do with the tides, but right now it means I'm not buying Grand Theft Auto IV in the immediate future.

I am a freaking masochist. Reading Kotaku's not helping.