Fuck the MAN!

Up against the wall, Okut. The King is back: new Karl Elvis account. I got fed up. I’m finding “I was deleted” and “I was suspended” groups on orkut now, and I can do more to FIGHT THE POWER from the inside. Friend me. I’m trying to limit how many I go friend too fast […]

Up against the wall, Okut.

The King is back: new Karl Elvis account.

I got fed up. I’m finding “I was deleted” and “I was suspended” groups on
orkut now, and I can do more to FIGHT THE POWER from the inside.

Friend me. I’m trying to limit how many I go friend too fast to keep outta jail. But if you’re reading, you’re my friend.

My friend Ray mailed me some great sentiments on how to make orkut work from the inside. With his permission I’ll post some of it later.

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Boo-Ya!

Ok. We have style-switching. Thanks to scott from movablestyle.com for the code and some pointers to how I’d done it wrong, and to Seth for doing the web server config for me even though he’s got much more important things to do with his time right now. Do me a favor. Since I’ve spent my […]

Ok. We have style-switching. Thanks to scott from movablestyle.com for the code and some pointers to how I’d done it wrong, and to Seth for doing the web server config for me even though he’s got much more important things to do with his time right now.

Do me a favor. Since I’ve spent my stupid saturday working on this stupid thing instead of being in the sun or playing laser tag with my kids (kids with lasers!). Play with the style switcher. Tell me what you like and don’t like. Tell me your favorite styles. Which one you want as default. Tell me you love me and want to bear my children (yeah, you too Lee).

This has been an orkut-free posting. We return to bitching shortly.

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And now a geek interlude

You may notice we’re now outside the matrix. I’m working on Style Switcher again. I’m close. So damned, fucking close. Patience. We’ll have that matrix style back in the switcher shortly, for those as liked it. Hang on. Any second now, one more tweak, I’ve got it. I can feel it.

You may notice we’re now outside the matrix.

I’m working on Style Switcher again. I’m close. So damned, fucking close. Patience. We’ll have that matrix style back in the switcher shortly, for those
as liked it. Hang on. Any second now, one more tweak, I’ve got it. I can feel it.

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Obsession – Sweet dreams

Ok. If I were a little different, I might be ashamed to admit this. But I – as some may know – have no shame. I actually had an erotic dream about someone from Orkut last night. And no it’s not you. Those of you who just assumed it was. Though get in line, if […]

Ok. If I were a little different, I might be ashamed to admit this.

But I – as some may know – have no shame.

I actually had an erotic dream about someone from Orkut last night.

And no it’s not you. Those of you who just assumed it was. Though get in line, if I have my way, next time, it will be. Oh to be able to lucid dream and have control of it.

But no, it was someone sort of randomly outside the circle of people I really know and hang out with on Orkut, though of course it was someone on my now-missing friend list. And yes, I already told that person in email, so if you’re still wondering if it’s you, check your email.

But I guess this could mean I’m a little obsessed. Hell if I know, I majored in getting stoned, I skipped class the 8 years we studied dreams.


So other notes –

“Just a gigolo”, quoted a couple entries back. That’s the real version. Not recent covers. No disrespect to Diamond Dave, but that song’s all King Louis’.

Updates on the saga of the suspended account? Fucking bupkis.

Though by all means, tell orkut’s Powers That Suck to let me the hell out. Note that there’s a help case number there now which may get your opinion registered in the actual ticket. Or may not, who knows.

Now I need to go write some dirty stories while I pretend to work. And pause now and then to shake my fist in mute impotent (heh) fury at the universe.

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We’re here to help you

Here’s the response. After my beating and beating and beating at them, and after all-y’all’s beating at them, here’s what I get from Orkut’s support staff, who, I might add, put one in the mind of the Bastard Operator: We’re sorry about the difficulties you’re having. Could you please send us your username and the […]

Here’s the response. After my beating and beating and beating at them, and after all-y’all’s beating at them, here’s what I get from Orkut’s support staff, who, I might add, put one in the mind of the Bastard Operator:

We’re sorry about the difficulties you’re having. Could you please send us
your username and the full name that is displayed in your orkut profile so
we can take a look at your account?

Well. Gee. How many times have I told them that already?

Sigh.

I guess that’s progress. We’ll see.

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What will they say about me?

There will come a day And youth will pass away What will they say about me When the end comes I know they’ll say just a gigolo Life goes on without me I’m just a gigolo, everywhere I go people know the part I’m playing paid for every dance starting each romance oh what their […]

There will come a day
And youth will pass away
What will they say about me

When the end comes I know
they’ll say just a gigolo
Life goes on without me

I’m just a gigolo, everywhere I go
people know the part I’m playing
paid for every dance
starting each romance
oh what their saying

And there will come a day
And youth will pass away
What will they say about me?

No word from orkut. Not a fucking PEEP.

How do I loath thee? Let me count the goddamned ways. Nuff ta drive a man ta the drinkin’ if-you-know-what-I-mean.

But you people? You rock. Love you each and every one.

Keep those cards and letters going to admin@orkut.com. Protest.

And ladies? Send me the love. Send kisses. Send panties!

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Rejected by Orkut!

I got this page when I logged in today: http://www.orkut.com/accountsuspended.html Account Suspended. Why? They’re not saying. They’re not responding. No fucking idea. Don’t like it? I don’t either. Let admin@orkut.com know how you feel! Fuck you, you fucking fucks! Update – There’s now a ‘Free Karl Elvis’ community. See? It pays to have 200+ people […]

I got this page when I logged in today:

http://www.orkut.com/accountsuspended.html

Account Suspended.

Why?

They’re not saying. They’re not responding. No fucking idea.

Don’t like it? I don’t either. Let admin@orkut.com know how you feel!

Fuck you, you fucking fucks!


Update – There’s now a ‘Free Karl Elvis’ community. See? It pays to have 200+ people on your friend list.

On ourkut? Join up and share the love!

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Songs of the Cellblock

I swear to god, I’m leaving orkut, I really really am this time. Really. I hate it. ‘I’m gonna start tomorrow I’m gonna kick tomorrow… I’m gonna kick tomorrow…’ For some reason being in orkut jail saps my will to do anything else. I don’t want to write fiction, I don’t really feel that much […]

I swear to god, I’m leaving orkut, I really really am this time. Really. I hate it.

‘I’m gonna start tomorrow

I’m gonna kick tomorrow…
I’m gonna kick tomorrow…’

For some reason being in orkut jail saps my will to do anything else. I don’t want to write fiction, I don’t really feel that much like blogging – other than about fucking orkut fucking jail – I can’t concentrate on the email to friends I want to be writing, and worst (or best), I can’t seem to get any work done either. So where you’d think I’d be using this time and nervous energy to kick some ass around work, I’m task-swapping so fast I’m not doing any processing.

Funny thing is, this is spreading like a disease to other blogs. Is it a virus?

I even have a cool picture with lasers in the eyes made up by Rossana  Fischer
(www.wumanity.com). And I can’t even put it in my profile. I’m like Captain Jack Sparrow all locked up while Barbossa shells the jail. And yeah, I look just like Johnny Fucking Depp too, only with lasers!

Hell. Damn. Blast.

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You can get anything you want

“And can you, can you imagine fifty people a day,I said fifty people a day walking in singin a bar of Alice’s Restaurant and walking out. And friends they may thinks it’s a movement. And that’s what it is , the Alice’s Restaurant Anti-Massacre Movement, and all you got to do to join is sing […]

And can you, can you imagine fifty people a day,I said
fifty people a day walking in singin a bar of Alice’s Restaurant and
walking out. And friends they may thinks it’s a movement.

And that’s what it is , the Alice’s Restaurant Anti-Massacre Movement, and
all you got to do to join is sing it the next time it come’s around on the
guitar.

A girl said to me (and let’s call her Squid Girl, because why not call her that?), the other day, she said:

“I find the blog phenomena really interesting (…) Tell me why you do it.”

And I said to myself (yeah, of course, because when ever I get to use this line), “Self,” I said…

It got me thinking though.

My flip answer was that I think blogging is stupid. And honestly, I sort of do think that. Most people have nothing to say. God knows don’t think I have anything much to say in a journal. That’s why I’ve never kept one apart from a few attempts while traveling.

So why do it?

First, let’s clarify. I don’t think all bloggers are wasting time. I can think of a good few people out there who really have something to say, who write well, or who are just doing something entertaining. They are, in effect, columnists. Like Dave Barry or Carl Hiaasen or Herb Caen or Jon Carrol or – insert your favorite. They just muse; that’s what these people do. They think about things, in writing. And if the writing is good, sometimes it doesn’t really matter what the thoughts are.

The problem is that blogging has turned into a “Phenomenon“. A – to quote old Arlo up there, a “Movement“. Which means simply that everyone is doing it.

And frankly, like 40 year old women dressed like toddlers, like men who wear sans-a-belt slacks, like people who think that clothes fit just because you can get into them; like all those people, some just shouldn’t.

I’m one to talk, right?

The thing is, I don’t have my shit up on clix. I don’t have it on livejournal (well, ok, there’s a link there, I keep forgetting). I don’t publicize it or tell people to go to it, and I’m honestly a little shocked when someone says “I read your blog”. I do this stuff for myself only.

Why do people read these things? I don’t know. Is it like reality TV? Is that what blogs are? We wanna take a voyeuristic peek into some else’s life so we can scoff (*scoff*scoff*), so we can empathize, so we can say, “There, but for the grace of {insert deity of choice here} go I“?

Why else?

Of course people who blog about sex, that’s obvious. You might read something dirty and get a little thrill (and that’s what disapproval is, a thrill), without stooping so low and to read dreaded pornography. So let’s set that one aside.

So what is it? We’re not all really that interesting, us humans. Most of us are so mind-numbingly boring that it’s a wonder we can go through the day.

But people have to be reading. Or else there would not be so many sites dedicated to blogging, so many tools, so many orkut groups. So many services that can actually *charge* people to host a blog. If no one is reading, what’s the point in all this?

So why do I do it?

Why the fuck not, right?

Honestly, that’s how much sense it makes.

This all started as geek curiosity. I wanted to see how Movable Type worked. Was curious about the interface and the tools behind it. So when I moved my web page to a new server and was offered a blog, I said – yeah, sure, but I won’t do much with it.

And I didn’t for a couple months. Fiddled with it. drove it around, kicked the tires. And then I got bored and decided to write an entry.

And you know what? That was kind of fun.

After that, I said to myself (wait for it…), I said, why not try using this as a writing project, keep the chops up, maybe it will help me get back to writing the fiction I want to write. If not, at least it’s a good exercise in writing essays.

So I started doing it. At first to muse about writing itself, but you know how I get distracted. So then it was just for the hell of it, if I had an idea I wanted to write about, or just because I felt like writing.

But people found it. Not that I was hiding or anything, I actually was sending out notices about updates for a while. But people I never told accidentally tripped and fell in. Which was a shock to me.

So what is it with the “blog phenomenon” (I want reverb on that)? When’s it going away? How many of it’s fifteen minutes are up?

All I know is, when I first heard about it (from my friend Mickey Sattler, whom I know from the Utilikilts mailing list), I was derisive and dismissive. And yet now, I have a growing list of blogs I try to keep up with. And to my amazement, I’m doing this.

And still have no idea why.


So ObOrkut commentary.

I swear to god it’s a drug. When you have it you want more, when you are jailed and can’t get it, you need it like a spike in your skinny white junkie arm.

More. And more. More friends. More groups.

But you know what? I’m actually making real friends there. That’s the shocker. Because that’s sort of what it was made for. And even though we’re all out to twist and pervert and use the system, I’m finding – hell, I like some of these people. Some of ’em I’d very much like to actually hand out with.

Alas, most in faraway places like chicago or australia conecticut or brazil or canada. Or maybe not alas in some of these cases to save me some – ah – trouble. But still. I’ve met some bitchin’ folk.

It’s funny though. How quickly the place is developing a culture. It’s been around only a few weeks and already there’s cultural ebb and flow, there are celebrities and villains. There are laser beams in people’s eyes.

It’s nutty. In some ways it’s akin to the glory (hole) days of usenet, only in extreme fast forward. Like it’s going through the development and propagation; any day now we’ll have the equivalent of when AOL hit usenet, and the slide into stupidity will begin. I’m counting the days or weeks that is stays so giddily entertaining, it can’t last. But for now it’s as much fun as I’ve had on the net in quite a number of years.

Not only that, but I get to write like a hillbilly in phonetic broken english. How often do you get a whole bunch of people all doing that?

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Distractions

I have the attention span of a woodpecker. Which is to say I’m easily distracte — ohh! Shiny! (I’m sorry, I stole that joke from my friend Beano, but she can have it back, she does it better) This is why I sat down today to make an entry – no, wait, that was yesterday […]

I have the attention span of a woodpecker.

Which is to say I’m easily distracte — ohh! Shiny!

(I’m sorry, I stole that joke from my friend Beano, but she can have it back, she does it better)

This is why I sat down today to make an entry – no, wait, that was yesterday – wait, saturday – ah, whatever fucking day it was – and instead spent two days fiddling with cascading style sheets, php, javascripts, and blah blah blah ginger.

So this why it’s possible you are now reading this with a too-cool-but-sort-of-annoying matrix look to it, unless I’ve already grown bored with that, or unless I have gotten really ambitious (and fucked off a lot at work) and gotten the style-switcher function in place so you’re seeing this any damned way you please.

But we were talking about distraction. I must have gotten — oh, Shiny!

This is what happens to me. I sit down to write something and will take any excuse not to. Oh, first I need coffee. Wait, now I need some food. Oh, this music isn’t right, where’s that first album by, oh, man, these CD’s need to be organized, I’ll just — Ooh! Look! I forgot I had this one, I should play it. Wait, I need to hook up the stereo to the good speakers and…. And I need some more coffee now.

Yeah. It’s like that. And that’s the horror of the internet for people like me. The tools of my trade, and the tools of my – um – whatever writing is, hobby sounds wrong – are also the greatest source of distraction in my life. Here, clickity-click, is my email, some music, shopping, porn, an article on the mating habits of the capybara, political diatribe, computer-date-matching, (I’m an elk, looking for a wombat, for casual dating and maybe cross–species monkey business. Mmm, with monkeys!), porn, chit-chat, discographies for bands I don’t even like, dictionaries (don’t get me started, I’m gone for days once I’m in a dictionary), blogs and porn and recipes and – well, porn.

Some days I think I should cut the damned wire and turn my computer back into a fancy typewriter (which is sort of how my mother-in-law thinks of it).

But you know, that might be right when the email comes in, the one I REALLY REALLY NEED to READ RIGHT NOW.

So here’s were I should talk about exactly how far broken safety glass can go in a garage (any garage – ok, my garage) when it’s flexed beyond it’s natural range. But that story might make me look stupid. Let’s just say that the majority of my day, when not working on making the blog nobody reads user-configurable, was spent sweeping up a tiny, tiny hash of shiny (Oooh! Shiny!) fragments of safety glass from my garage floor.

And you know what? Now, it’s sure to rain. That always happens when I take the top off my jeep, even when I don’t break the mother fucking rear window of the hard top. If there wasn’t enough weather mojo just from removing the top, this seals the deal. 40 days and 40 nights, call me Noah, and load up the ark with goth girls, two by two.

You know, my garage floor is swept really clean now. At least there’s that. Only, I’m sure to be the one who finds the shard I missed, and I’m sure to find it with my foot. Because that’s how luck is running. Trip to vegas? Nah, not this season.


So I promised myself I would not blog about orkut ever again. That lasted – oh, what time is it now – at least a few minutes. But I’ve entered a new phase as an orkut user. I’m no longer simply trying to collect my friends and show off how cool I am by which communities I have. I’ve crossed over. I’m now a friend slut. I’m friending people I don’t even know because they 1) up my friend count, and 2) look good in my list of friends.

“Hi, I’m Karl Elvis, and I’m an Orkut Friend Slut

Somebody stop me. Please.


Ooh, slap the cuffs on me.

I just got put in Orkut Jail.

More on the whys and hows of this later, but it seems some automated evil-doer filter caught me in the nefarious act of posting something (the horror!), and now my account has been suspended and my picture replaced with this image.

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