Spent most of this week in San Diego with Melissa’s family, trying not to read emails all day.
I commit a few hours to it at night, and I am steadily working my way through a hundred or so at a time in the hopes of catching up to the present within a couple weeks.
We had drinks on the rooftop deck of Mister A’s tonight and debated whether or not communications technology is enhancing human interaction or destroying it.
This is as far as I can get: I believe humans are happiest in small, tightly knit communities where we have frequent daily contact with a group of a hundred or less. And yet here we are living in a time when the whole planet is hopelessly intertwined — when a purchase at Starbuck’s affects someone in Kenya or Jamaica or Papua New Guinea. Our lives did not used to connect, but now they do, and we can’t go back. All we can do is try to make that connection into a positive thing.
…but it’s driving us bonkers. It’s making us lonely and depressed and overwhelmed. I don’t think our pea brains are designed to comprehend such a vast world.
Basically, I think we need to evolve into beings that can cope with the idea of global community instead of constantly trying to block it out. And we need to do it fast before we kill each other.
I used to think all bed and breakfasts were run by little old ladies. I now realize the little old ladies have died out and sold their businesses to gay couples.
The airport in San Diego is oriented in such a way that the planes descend right through the middle of the city. There are certain street corners where you can almost throw rocks at them as they come down. It is a combination of incredibly annoying and unbelievably spectacular.
During the fireworks yesterday, we stood on the roof of an apartment building and watched commercial jets descend into the mayhem. It had a real sense of urgency, as if the city was being evacuated under fire.
I found everything one needs in life a block from where we’re staying.
That looks to me like an ideal set-up.
Melissa’s sister, Summer, runs a company called Brew Hop with her boyfriend. They do brewery tours for drunk people, carting them around from place to place in a fancy vehicle and corraling their nonsense. They took us on a tour of Stone Brewing Company even though we weren’t drunk. I learned what hops looks like.
If you book a tour with her, I’m sure she will dance for you.
We visited Melissa’s grandmother in Hemet and took her out to lunch to celebrate her 153rd birthday. Red Lobster. For the seafood lover in you. We showed her the video. She seemed to dig it, although it’s possible she was just pretending.
They’ve stopped measuring temperature in Hemet. No one can go outside long enough to read the thermometers. Pedestrians spontaneously catch fire.
This video finally materialized online, though it seems to start autmoatically on every page load, which is less than desirable.
It’s a panel I spoke on at ROFLCon back in April. It’s me and the Tron Guy talking about our experiences in "surviving internet fame."
I really like Jay. He is a very sweet and decent and smart guy. He’s also hilarious — tron suit aside. It was an honor to be in his presence.
Some spoofs have started cropping up.
I think that one is clever, though it’s a little unnerving that some people actually think it’s me.
This one I am less fond of.
I showed it to Melissa (around the time a dozen of her co-workers were passing it to her as well) and she laughed the whole way through, which was a relief.
I know I need to have a sense of humor about it, and I do, but I’m not entirely comfortable dragging her — or even the idea of her — into this arena without her willingness. And I’d certainly prefer to have it done in a way that is respectful of her contribution. To my knowledge, her role as producer involved minimal cuckoldry.
Also, I don’t think the concept is terribly funny. But I know I sound like a total weenie when I say that.
Anyway, the spoof thing is a new wrinkle. That’s not something that really happened with the past videos. There were lots of tributes and imitations, but nothing I can recall that was deliberately satirical.