Under strick instructions from Jason Kottke I went and checked out Matt Groening’s Top Ten Simpsons Episodes. I don’t agree with a couple of them – Frank Grimes was appalling – but there are some classic moments here. “We have reached the limits of what rectal probing can teach us!”.
Best site on the web? My ass…
What kind of advice is this: Mystery Meat Navigation: An Introduction. People are always asking me, “What’s the best site on the Web?” My response is “There is no best site because the best site is the one that as soon as someone clicks a link to go there, money is automatically sucked out of their wallet.”?
Well I am afraid Barbelith operates on a non-corporate principle, as I think do most of the very best sites on the net (at least the ones that I visit). So I am therefore more than happy to be (in the words of the man who I quote above) a web site that sucks.
My first experience of a G4…
British Telecom finally did something useful with the web. I know it is a shock, but it’s true! No longer will I be paying 50p a shot for directory enquiries when I can go to www.bt.com/phonenetuk.
Yesterday a new G4 arrived in TimeOut.com’s offices. I am in awe. Lust lust lust lust.
What's the point?
The point of weblogs is to talk about other weblogs – actually no, that is completely not the point. Still – never mind, eh? Metajohn thinks I am nice. Drat Fink has said in response to yesterdays ravings (and I quote): “i hate it when im confronted with intelligent thoughts on other blogs, then im forced to actually use my brain, which only reminds me that i hadnt been using it prior to that point”.
The domain name www.year2000.com has been put up for auction on eBay. I think bids closed at around $10,000,000 [Full Story]. Why do I suspect barbelith.com will never be worth a penny? Huh? Answer me that!
I am adding stuff to The Bomb as we speak. It might be in your best interests to go and have a look!
Internet Time (Part Two)
I am back at work, and thrilling it is too… I am really taken with the way that metajohn has incorporated the date information into his blog. I may be forced to steal valuable sexy ideas from him.
INTERNET TIME PART TWO:
So the response to my first conception of Internet time wasn’t particularly overwhelming. People seemed (how should I put this) … confused … by its purpose and/or functionality. Looking over it again they are probably correct.
So I have a new and better idea. Imagine this – you wish to organise a meeting with someone at 1pm your time. You decide on e-mail. You click on the new e-mail button, write what you want, and when it comes time to put in the time of the meeting you click on the clock icon on your toolbar. This icon triggers a “realtime” plugin which would bring up an image of a clock which you could click on, thereby selecting a time. This then writes a small piece of code into your e-mail which you would see as 1pm.
However this code at the OTHER end would be read by the plugin and automatically translated into the equivalent in their time-zone – thus your meeting partner would view it as 3pm (for example).
This plugin could then be added to any number of packages, automatically translating a particular timecode into what time it should be in the place where it was read. (Packages like word processors and web browsers are obvious examples – you can do something on the web like it with applets or javascript, but they go no further).
If you added to the functionality of the plugin by having it check the time against some form of authority (such as GMT) and automatically setting the computer’s internal clock accordingly, you could have a really handy nice little device that would completely invisibly generate a standard for Internet Time.
And to make it more entertaining, you could have any number of additional translation timescales in place – you could specify you wanted to see times sent to you in Swatch Internet Time (automatically translated with Swatch’s permission) or any number of wacked out systems. Think of it – on your home computer you could choose to work completely in StarDates (with the permission of Paramount of course). And if you wanted to extend it to dates, you could operate in a completely different calendar (although that might get a little too confusing). And it wouldn’t matter at all, because to the people who you communicated with would all think you were making all these appointments in whatever system they preferred as well!
Is there anyone out there interested in developing such a mini-app? I even have a snappy name for it: THERMIDOR, after the month of the French Revolutionary calendar in which I was born.
More ravings tomorrow.
Internet Time (Part One)
Mr Blair, the prime minister of the United Kingdom, has given his approval to the creation of GeT Greenwich Electronic Time. The site for this is incredibly boring, and I can’t help feeling rather misses the point. I mean of course it is handy to have a standard to measure time on the net, but Swatch‘s system seems to me to have more going for it (although it isn’t particularly intuitive). It seems to me that one of the functions of Internet time must be to make it very easy for people to agree to meet online without having to take into account regional time differences. Therefore the system must be intuitive enough for people to be able to understand, while different enough from the standard layout of time to not be confused with it. It’s important that people can say lets meet at XXXX and understand where that is in relation to their own time even when their own times are very different.
So here is a preliminary statement regarding BIT – Barbelith Internet Time. My suggestion is to keep with the 24 hour clock (because people have to be able to work out its relation to their own time when things like daylight saving and stuff kick in in the real world), keep it running from Greenwich (why the hell not, everything has done for years anyway) and only abstract its presentation. Something like 3113 for 1:13 pm GMT, minutes first, hours second. I know it seems ridiculous, but it should make time translation really easy while not allowing it to be confused with local time. Six figure numbers would have the seconds at the front – hence 003021 would mean 9.30pm exactly GMT. Someone who currently uses Eastern Standard Time would be able to say to someone two hours ahead of them to meet at 003018BIT which would be half past one EST and half past three for the other guy.
Has anyone got any other ideas?
Where were you at midnight?
Powazek has politely pointed out that he has written two new pieces for sf stories. I am an idiot. While we are at it, why don’t you tell the fray where you were at midnight…
On Millennium Eve and how dumb it was…
I wanted to get a new relaunched barbelith up today, but the site is so far away from being completed, that I just can’t. Which is a pity. Happy new Millennium people. Use it well.
Last night in a nutshell:
- 6:00 Start to get tense about various people not having contacted me about what I should be doing in the evening. Tension a direct result of over self-analysis in the face of large NUMBER.
- 7:00 Hear that the party that I thought started around 11pm, I shouldn’t be going to until 1pm having done SOMETHING ELSE. Desperately try to think of something else to do. Decide to join Toby in Central London.
- 7:30 Arrive in Central London – look around in an incredibly scared way. Trawl through mud to find several people I know sitting on inflatable sofa in Jubilee Gardens overlooking the Houses of Parliament and next to the London Eye ferris wheel.
- 8:00 Already slightly bored, I am delighted to see that something is actually going to happen as Tony Blair sends a signal from somewhere in London which starts the London Eye amid explosions of fireworks. It is very cold. There is a flyby by Concorde which is extremely noisy but completely invisible as the cloud is so heavy.
- 9:00 It’s even more cold now, and muddy and boring. Nothing is happening. Drink is scarce (which is partly my fault), but the absolute absence of anything to actually do is beginning to drive me insane.
- 9:30 My friend Fenner has a girlfriend called Sally. She has been wandering around for about an hour and a half trying to find him. She finds us just as he ducks off. She goes ballistic. He comes back, she is a pussycat. Women are weird.
- 10:00 People say that they want to walk around rather than sitting on inflatable sofa in middle of mud. Toby looks at them as if they are insane. Fenner admits to me that he is incredibly bored.
- 11:00 One hour to go and I suddenly realise that getting away from this central location after the fireworks is going to be appalling and will result in me being cold and bored for even longer than I feared. I suddenly decide that this is intolerable. Toby tells me that if I go anywhere else I will completely miss midnight. I decide that I don’t care and go for a wander. The crowds are incredible, heaving all over Central London. I go to Waterloo tube station, but they won’t let me in. I go to Waterloo bridge and it is closed for the night. They tell me that three bridges away you can cross the river. It’s half an hour walk which would leave me in completely the wrong part of London. I am trying to get to Bond Street to go to the party earlier than I was supposed to.
- 11:30 Getting increasingly convinced that I will miss midnight (but finding the running around much more interesting and warming than the sitting around) I finally find access to Waterloo Underground. It is all clean and new down underground, and almost completely empty because people are trying to get INTO London rather than out of it.
- 11:45 I arrive at Bond Street feeling mildly smug and wander down the road to the party. When I arrive I discover that it is a very small party which followed on from some kind of dinner party. I know almost no one there, but they are all really nice. The flat is astonishing and filled with very expensive looking period oil paintings, a dining room with dark mirrored walls and lots of strange corridors. Everyone is smoking and eating satsumas. I smoke a cigar for the first time ever and feel mildly ridiculous.
- 12:00 Midnight comes and I watch it on TV, while explaining to everyone exactly why I left the events we are watching in order to be at their party. They all ask about the people I am supposed to be there with. I look slightly sheepish and hope to myself that they will arrive shortly. Three major figures emerge at this point, Tiffany, who is a friend of a friend and extremely drunk (and who keeps changing the music on the stereo before her previous selection has even ended), Annie and her boyfriend Matt. Annie and Matt are both incredibly beautiful, with Matt being short with scruffy looking hair (which endears him to me immediately).
- 1:00 Kate and Nick arrive. Nick takes over immediately although he knows no one there at all. I gratefully recede into the background a little and try not to say anything too stupid. Kate and I play around like lunatics, giggling at straight men’s inability to dance.
- 2:30 I try to hide by myself for a while as I am suddenly tired and wishing that Max was with me, which he clearly isn’t. Get a bit maudlin. Three people come and insist on talking to me. I smile in a rather pale fashion and wish they would go away.
- 3:00 Kate, Nick and Tiffany decide that we should all go down to the river (which I left a mere 3 hours earlier). We never make it. Tiffany is too drunk and lears suggestively at every man we pass. Many of them lear back. Nick decides to be very ebullient to passers by. Kate handles everything extremely well, but is basically tolerating them. We walk around Central London for an hour without actually getting anywhere near the Thames.
- 4:00 Get on a night bus and arrive home around 4:30am!
- 11:30 Wake up. Have horrible lavatory related dietary problem. Decide to blame Toby’s cold sausages from many hours before. Go back to sleep.
Etoys lawsuit…
Today’s barbelith celebrates etoys decision not to press its utterly ridiculous law suit. Bear in mind though that the precedent probably still stands.
Mystery Men review…
Oops. I accidentally wrote an epinion on Mystery Men.