This is the coolest bike
in the world for short trips around town, the Strida.
Folds in seconds, relatively light, rolls when folded,
stores easily, grease-free Kevlar belt (instead of a
chain), able to fit easily on subways and buses. I've
had mine for almost 3 years and love it! Perfect
for NYC. Click here
to visit the site.
So, after writing the post below, I went for a run, in part because I'm fat (really), but also to shake my gloom and clear my head. Here's what I came up with:
Please insult me. It's for my own good.
At first, I thought maybe I could make myself feel better writing something like "Nick Denton is fat and runs like a girl," to demonstrate that it really wasn't so mean what I did, as I figure Nick can take a joke, and besides, he was the one who had the New York Times reporter call me for the story (see below). But somehow that just doesn't do it. Then I realized what was missing is that I really didn't know how my friend felt at seeing my insult about him in print. If I was really going to have some perspective on how he felt, the shoe needs to be on the other foot.
Of course, this is going to do nothing to redeem myself in my aggrieved friend's eyes -- in fact, it may well just make him madder, as I'm apparently flipping the whole ordeal into blog stunt for myself. But this is no longer about him, it's about me. (Oh, who am I kidding? I'm a blogger: it's always been about me.)
So I humbly request that if you have a blog, please, let me have it. Ruin my name on Google forever. Slashdot me, Instapundit me, get "Rick Bruner is fat and runs like a girl" on Daypop and Blogdex. Here are some ideas to get you started:
Rick Bruner is a shit stirrer who doesn't know when enough is enough.
Rick Bruner represents everything that is wrong with blogging.
Rick Bruner is an object lesson for the rest of you.
You get the idea. Feel free to use any of these, or better yet, invent your own cruel insults. The truer the better. Spare me nothing. Then email me or leave a comment here so I know exactly how you feel.
So here's a first: the Bruner Blog makes the New York Times. In fact, the first two words of the article are "Rick Bruner." So why am I not pleased? Because the subject of the article is how blogs can screw up personal relationships, and my mention in the lead is to the effect that I once used my blog to tease a friend, and it went down quite badly. In fact, the article writes "their friendship barely survived the episode," which is true, but said "friend" now informs me that our friendship has not survived my having resurrected the sordid tale for the New York Times. (The writer wanted to hear both sides of the story, so I email my friend to see whether he'd agree to be interviewed. No way, no how. So he's known this was coming. The fact that he's treated anonymously in the story apparently has not softened the blow.)
I would just as soon not have even acknowledged this story at this point (although I doubt it will escape notice in the blogosphere), but I want to make a fervent request to any bloggers out there who know me and might remember this incident from nearly a year ago. While it may be my opinion that said "friend" is over-reacting to this whole thing, its his opinion that ultimately counts in this context. Therefore, I beg you please, please, please resist any temptation to identify him in relation to this fiasco. That would be about the only thing that could possibly make him hate me even more.
The only silver lining, such that it is, would be that a search of "fat and runs like a girl" on Google renders nothing, and likewise a search of his name remembers nothing of the post (which I quickly took down as soon as it became clear how distinctly unfunny he found it). For the record, he is neither fat nor does he run like a girl. It was only supposed to be a joke, albeit a mean one. And, without retelling all the details, lest you think he's hopelessly thin-skinned, I was indeed meaner than simply calling him names as recounted in the Times -- I stooped so low as to steal a photo of him from his apartment (among a pile on his coffee table at the time) and posted that, too, needless to say without permission, which I have no trouble recognizing in retrospect definitely crossed a line between funny and just wrong.
So there you have it: my 15 minutes of fame (or infamy) is for being a bad friend.
I'm in a bad mood. I've had trouble lately finding things wroth blogging about, and now I'm about to get a lot of traffic this Sunday, for all the wrong reasons. I'm sorry "friend." He doesn't care that I'm sorry, though. He's going to be mad forever. Nothing more I can do.
The church was created six years ago by businessman Michael Gill, 34, of Southampton in southern England for use by a nightclub chain as a promotional gimmick.
That deal fell through, but Gill said when he saw the finished product he realized its potential as a venue for weddings, christenings or even engagement ceremonies.
. . .
Gill, who plans to build several more of the inflatable churches, said he also plans an inflatable nightclub and inflatable pub as well as inflatable mosques and synagogues.
UPDATE: I missed the fact that this stupid thing actually has its own web site, not surprisingly at InflatableChurch.com
Incredible as this sounds, New York Times right-wing columnist and language expert William Safire apparently reads my favorite frivolously snarky blog Gawker. In his latest "On Language" column in this past Sunday's Times Magazine, he does a whole bit on the verb "to jones" (slang for to crave, as in a drug), in which he mentions the recent use of "zeta-jonesing" in Gawker (meaning, "to eat ravenously"). I'm unclear, however, whether he actually reads the site or not, as he referred to it as "Gawker Stalker," which is, in fact, the name of a frequent section of the site, not the site's name itself. (I wonder if they'll push for a correction?)
I'm only bitter that he has so far overlooked my recent post coining "the 3-1-1."
In writing about the documentary Divan (see post below), I forgot to mention the kick-ass party, sponsored in part by the Hungarian Consulate, at the Bulgarian Disco (which, apparently, the Hungarian consul wasn't thrill with as a venue on nationalist reasons). Many thanks (and curses) to the consulate for providing a bottle of Zwack palinka (high quality Hungarian brandy) on every table. Everyone seems to have gotten rather snockered, which was fine, except that it was a Wednesday.
Find more pics like these (if you care) at ManhattanHungarians.org -- Magyar tax dollars at work entertaining me and my friends with cultural activities like, well, getting us drunk on pear brandy.
Shout out to my buddy Richard Hoy, who has just started a new blog. Richard and I have known each other since around 1997, when he was the original moderator of the Online Advertising Discussion List, a leading resource of Internet marketing news. A few years ago, he put his vast Internet marketing know-how to work at BookLocker.com, an online publishing company he runs with his wife. I look forward to staying tuned to the new blog to see what insights he stirs up.
