plasticbag.org

It’s all change at the BBC in terms of look and feel and structure and IA and stuff. Everywhere’s affected – BBC films for one has been significantly improved…

Oh Jason… Oh 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.

An absolutely stunning piece of Flash work.

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!”

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…

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

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.

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.

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.