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Why won't Apple buy me a fucking iBook?

Oh JasonOh Jason, no! I can’t believe you’d sell your integrity for an iBook! More importantly, I already agreed to sell mine for an Apple lap-top over a year ago! And did I get any offers? No!

It’s so unfair – I may not have the reputation, and admittedly my integrity is pretty much shot right through already. But I’ll beg! I’ll have myself tattooed! I’ll be Steve Job’s personal bitch. I don’t care! I tell you, if someone sponsors Jason, I’ll be around his house every twenty minutes demanding a turn. At least 1/45th of that computer will be mine by rights, I tell you.

Let’s review: I don’t get as much traffic as kottke.org, I’m mostly read by dodgy homosexuals, diseased ex-aesthetes and the socially challenged and I only very occasionally appear in the press (and normally for the wrong reasons). But since when has reward been commensurate with talent! Many untalented people get really cool shit. Why can’t I!? The campaign starts here – reward pointless people for no reason. Talent is an oppressive capitalist notion that we must eradicate from the planet.

If you are a representative of Apple and wish to get in touch with me to say how little I deserve the iBook, but how you’re going to give me one anyway, because I’m really such a sweet and cheeky chappy, then my e-mail address is tom@plasticbag.org.

Categories
Random

Stunning Flash work…

An absolutely stunning piece of Flash work.

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Random

The surprisingly pleasant blogaholic quiz…

Ok, so I did the bloody blogaholic quiz, and while I was still offended by the word blogaholic (what – pray tell – is this substance “Blogahol”) I quite enjoyed it. More to the point, it said nice things about me. Apparently I score 60/100 – which makes me: “A dedicated weblogger. You post frequently because you enjoy weblogging a lot, yet you still manage to have a social life. You’re the best kind of weblogger. Way to go!”

Categories
Random

A tiny Stonehenge made from tampons…

Bit of a heavy post that one, so let’s compensate with something completely infantile – how tiny ancient people made a Stonehenge out of tampons

Categories
Family

On searching for 'father'…

Someone’s been searching for ‘father’ on plasticbag.org using the Atomz powered search box (down the bottom of the page). Now normally this wouldn’t be an issue, but of course since I haven’t seen or heard of my father since I was about four or five – and since he has almost the same name as me – and more to the point since if you search for Tom Coates on Google you end up this as the first search result, I can’t help being slightly weirded out. I don’t really know what you do in these circumstances. What if it was my father, Thomas John Coates wandering around the web. What if he’s been reading this site for months and is too embarrassed to come forward. It’s all very strange…

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Random

Where I grew up…

After a conversation with Meg about Norfolk, I present where I grew up

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Random

Roswell reaches peak suckage…

There’s a TV show called “Roswell”. On occasion it doesn’t completely suck ass. On other occasions it sucks ass so heavily that whoever’s ass it is would be literally turned inside out by the strength of the suckage. Which would leave a highly unattractive creature in its wake. I once wrote nice things about Roswell. But I couldn’t find a good word to say about the latest episode if you coated the male leads in body oil and threw them at me.

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Random

The redesign I’m definitely not doing…

You know – if I was foolish enough to do a redesign, everyone would immediately hate it. Like they did the last two times I did one. So I’m not. I’m really not. I swear I’m not attempting a second-birthday redesign party. Honest.

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Random

On misfits, losers and midnight radio…

A song to be obsessed about: Here’s to Patti, And Tina, And Yoko, Aretha, And Nona, And Nico, And me… And all the strange rock and rollers, You know you’re doing all right, So hold on to each other, You gotta hold on tonight…And you’re shining, Like the brightest stars, A transmission, On the midnight radio… And you’re spinning, Your new 45’s, All the misfits and the losers, Yeah, you know you’re rock and rollers, Spinning to your rock and roll. Lift up your hands.

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Random

On seeing Mr Big on screen…

It’s been a pretty bloody bizarre evening. Just been slightly destabilised by an appearance of Mr Big on television. He looks much … shorter … and less sure of himself than he does in person. It’s harder to dislike him on television.