easter

had a wonderful long weekend. on thurs night I went to bingo with my bookclub

fri night I went for a ride with bikefun.org

caught up with a bunch of friends in melbourne town

then yesterday I spent the day with my dad

Shit.ly loves you

Dear soon-to-be-former user,

We’ve got some fantastic news! Well, it’s great news for us anyway. You, on
the other hand, are fucked.

We’ve just been acquired by:

[ ] Facebook
[ ] Google
[ ] Twitter
[ ] Other: _________________

As you are aware, we’ve always provided a free service, and have never even
tried offering a for-pay option. This means we’ve never had any income and
have been operating at a loss for our entire existence. Since any schoolchild
can see this is unsustainable, it should have been more-or-less obvious to you
from the get-go that we were either going to crap up the site with ads at a
few cents per-click, or that we’ve always intended to be an acquisition target.
You can do the math on that one.

Your personal data which, until just now, was critical to our core business
will be deleted:

[ ] Immediately
[ ] Within a week
[ ] Within 30 days

We are excited to continue our core mission of connecting people with
solutions at our new home. Please realize that this is so vague a statement
as to be completely meaningless. But we just made so much money that at the
moment we genuinely believe this horseshit. In reality, you will never hear
about us or anything we create ever again. We are probably going to end up,
like, implementing a new scrollbar for Google Reader or something.

Thanks so much for making our business so valuable and enticing to a much
larger company with more money than sense.

Now grab your data while you still can and get out of here,

Shiny happy Shit.ly management ninjas
Connecting people with solutions
“Shit.ly loves you!”

The Year of Magical Thinking

just started reading “The Year of Magical Thinking” facinating study

“Didion’s husband, the writer John Gregory Dunne, died of a heart attack, just after they had returned from the hospital where their only child, Quintana, was lying in a coma. This book is a memoir of Dunne’s death, Quintana’s illness, and Didion’s efforts to make sense of a time when nothing made sense. “She’s a pretty cool customer,” one hospital worker says of her, and, certainly, coolness was always part of the addictive appeal of Didion’s writing. The other part was the dark side of cool, the hyper-nervous awareness of the tendency of things to go bad. In 2004, Didion had her own disasters to deal with, and she did not, she feels, deal with them coolly, or even sanely. This book is about getting a grip and getting on; it’s also a tribute to an extraordinary marriage”