With all the drivel and vitriol technology spreads, it puts a real (Sara) smile on my face when I see it used for something honest and pure and good. And smooth. So, so smooth. This week, new Twilio employee Michael Selvidge, with a friend, created Callin’ Oates, the Emergency Hall & Oates Helpline. Works like this:
Call 719.26.OATES (62837)
Press 1 to hear One on One
Press 2 to hear Rich Girl
Press 3 to hear Maneater
Press 4 to hear Private Eyes
I did it (I did it, I did it, I did it), I did it in a minute and it make-a my dreams come true. Gosh, it’s refreshing — rejuvenating, even — to be so thrilled by a meme. I don’t care how much irony played into the app’s going viral; I’m just glad it got to me. It’s on my speed-dial list (I can’t resist).
Happy Monday, as they say. Ride hard.
While commuters and the news channels were gearing up for Occupy’s subway takeover this afternoon (sayeth the website: “Facing the most brutal assault on our Democracy since 9-11, New Yorkers must once again stand as one!” end quote), another storm was brewing outside the tony office towers of Manhattan’s 6th Avenue.
Protesters lined the street today in front of publishing powerhouse Time & Life, raising placards of dissent and voices in riotous chanting:
Bradley Cooper is just fine but Ryan Gosling is divine!
Following People Magazine’s contentious release of the Sexiest Man of Alive special issue, Ryan Gosling fans gathered to rally against the injustice of those responsible for putting Bradley Cooper, of The Hangover fame, at the top of the list of lust-worthy leading men. Donning Gosling masks, available for printing here, the small but boisterous crowd took a 99%-esque approach to the cause, minus spirit fingers and drums, plus unified message.
And like the Occupiers, the group railed against unfair banking practices. Spank banking practices, that is.
I’m sorry; since when do republicans tag?
…and 1-percenters ride the subway?
Yeah, this tea pot featured on HazelandMare.com is awesome. Obviously. You want to leave a comment that says so? Sure. Knock yourself out. Doesn’t really get us anywhere, but always nice to hear a chorus of good cheer. But I’ll never understand what compels people to make comments like this:
Hahaha, oh this is awesome. My brother was such an A-Team fan when he was a kid. Feel better!
Who gives a fuck about your brother? How is this pertinent or enriching in any way? I wish I could regain the thousands of cumulative seconds I’ve lost reading meaningless commentary online (which is why I typically avoid comment sections all together … unless I’m really avoiding work) — don’t you, Pointless Commenter, wish you’d spent those precious moments saying something that wasn’t inane?
I don’t mean this as a personal attack. I mean it as a general attack. There’s no going back now, I recognize that. But once upon a time we spoke to each other in person and tried to avoid the vapid sputterings that brought conversation to an uncomfortable standstill. Imagine the faces of your friends when you’d say something stupid. The staring. The cough in an awkward silence. Conjure and reflect: The whole internet is staring at you. The whole internet just cleared its throat.
Oh, and not for nothing, but whose brother wasn’t really into A Team as a kid? Newsflash: No one’s.
I truly believe this week’s New Yorker cover should be passed into law. It’s a pedestrian-traffic solution I’ve often dreamed about (while power walking in the middle of the street, fuming and muttering obscenities), but couldn’t summon the inner Swift to bring to light. Thank you, Bruce McCall, for doing in paint what I could never do in…well…anything.