Categories
Stuff

An obese Gina Lollobrigida

Things too good to pass up:

The Life Issue I checked out featured some fun ads, including one for a portable TV that looked like a tank, and one in the back by the American Petroleum Industry about the cheap cost of gas. The issue also featured stories of the time, including the recovery of a kitten washed out by a ocean wave, and the explosion of the world’s fastest seaplane.

The main focus of the issue, though, was on a story and photos of the beautiful Gina Lollobrigida, still considered one of the sexiest women of all time. The magazine covered her extensive wardrobe, and described how she created a catalog of our her outfits in order to make it simpler for her maid to fetch the correct one. She even drew pencil sketches of the outfits, annotating them with numbers so she could call and ask for the outfit by number.

The magazine described Ms. Lollobrigida as a perfect size 12. I choked at that, because in a recent discussion about “plus-size” models, several people accused a size 12 model of being “obese”. Something for James Fallows to consider in his ongoing series about obesity and America.

Categories
Burningbird Specs

Site problems, HTML5, and LC Realities

Well, that was exciting. I wasn’t sure what was happening with my sites, since Drupal throws up a maintenance page automatically when it can’t get a database connection. My ISP is still investigating what caused the problems.

In the meantime, the WhatWG IRC log is interesting reading today, including the following quote about HTML5 and Last Call, from Philip:

AryehGregor: Hixie, are we still scheduled for October Last Call?  
Philip: If there's a delay, we can just redefine October 
           to match the reality of the spec's status  

So there you go, if someone asks whether HTML5 will make Last Call in the next few weeks, you can answer, Yes—secure in the knowledge that it’s always October, somewhere.

Categories
Connecting

Just close the browser

 

Years ago, when I lived in San Francisco, I was sitting in my favorite chair one day, listening to music and typing into my laptop when the door to my apartment opened. A man enters, sees me and stops, half in, half out. He stares at me, I stare at him, waiting for him to say something along the lines of “Oh, excuse me! Wrong door!”

When he continues to stare and look around the apartment in confusion, I ask, “Can I help you?”, being sure to put a little ‘you’ve walked into my home, bud, and what if I had been nude’ tone into my voice.

He starts laughing and says, “I’ve come to the wrong floor! I live on the second floor and must have got off on the wrong floor. I live in 222!”

Sounds reasonable. Easy mistake. Just shut the door on your way out.

“I was so surprised. I couldn’t figure out who you were.”

Well, cool. Please leave now.

“How funny! You must have really been surprised, too.”

WHAT THE HELL DO I NEED TO DO TO GET YOU TO GO!

I got up and walked towards the door and the guy still isn’t leaving. Friendly, not harmful at all — just chattering away. Being a polite soul, I respond to his chatter. Yes, funny coincidence. Yes, I do sometimes forget to lock my door when I bring groceries in. And, yes, weather has been nice…now move your butt outside my door!

After I herded him out, and just as I’m closing the door he calls back, “Well, nice meeting you!”

I locked the door and started to walk away. Stopped. Turned back and threw the dead bolt.

We are a society that is, above all, polite. We have raised courtesy to an art form, honing it into fine-edged usefulnes. Our words become knives as we fight a duel called “conversation” — victor and victim equally bloodied. We circle and stab, and then commiserate with the pain, apologize for the sting.

We pommel each other with argument and viewpoint, all the while debating the finer points of etiquette. We hammer at each other with opinion; we blast most eloquently, and always with the highest regard, the deepest sincerity.

We hold mirrors up to show others their flaws, only to find that the silver has flaked off, the glass is transparent.

You know what I like about being online? If you read something you don’t like, or something that irritates you, or a piece of self-righteous garbage, you can close the browser and it’s gone. You don’t have to be polite. You don’t have to read, react, respond.

Just close the browser.