Fucking ass Facebook is coming for your 90s web nostalgia.
Reading this pitch by Adele Peters for Accessory Commercial Units reminds me of something I read in a book at some point over probably the past year that I feel I must have highlighted but I can’t find it in either my Kindle or Kobo highlights. This means I can’t remember what city was under discussion (I’m fairly certain it was somewhere in Asia; big help, I know), but the description was of dense urban living space where the resident’s lease included an empty workspace or stall on the ground floor, beneath their housing. Basically, they could do whatever they wanted with it: rent it someone else, use it as an office (although in context I don’t think there were many office workers in this scenario), open their own shop or food stall. This is not, of course, the same as an Accessory Commercial Unit as envisioned by Peters; it’s just that the post reminded me of this other thing.
In what thankfully became the end of it, I took a deep breath and girded myself for another call to Xfinity. After fifteen minutes of the first guy repeatedly refusing to listen to what I was telling him and transfer me to the escalation queue or specialist, he finally did that. The new guy tried a couple of new things, and then decided we should just roll me back to my original gateway, have me send back the new one I never asked for, and forget about it entirely. So that’s what we did. My nerves, however, remain very tightly wound on a spring-loaded hair of a trigger. For my troubles I receive a whopping $15 account credit.
Status: I’ve now been more than twenty-four hours without Internet because the new gateway Xfinity sent me that I didn’t ask for but I guess they require now only coughs errors during setup and therefore does not function and none of the “Comcast Cares” reps have been of any help whatsoever, when they bother to talk to me at all rather than go silent in Twitter DMs for anywhere from two to fourteen hours at a stretch, or after half an hour of phone “support” brush me off with a “if it’s not working in thirty minutes call back”. Meanwhile, of course, their system also now won’t recognize my old gateway, so I can’t even just put that back in. And at this point, with no service — in both meanings of the word — and no recourse, I am rapidly falling now into the danger zone when it comes to my anxiety and the cognitive rigidity and emotional dysregulation that can come from being autistic and I am flailing to find a foothold to keep from dropping into a full autistic meltdown. I feel almost exactly like I do when I wake up in the morning and literally my eyes will not open.
Yale Union, once home to XOXO Fest, and down the street from where I lived for a decade, soon will be no more, as it “repatriates” the historic building to Native Arts and Cultures Foundation, a Native-led nonprofit. My favorite bit from the Artnet coverage (via Andy Baio) is the bit where someone tricked the Puget Sound Business Journal into thinking something similar happened with the Seattle Art Museum.
Balaji Srinivasan, after apparently coming across this post, messaged me on Twitter to link this tome (when saved to Pocket and read on my Kobo, it is 77-pages long; for some reason it was published on Substack), but Jeremy Arnold lost me on what for me was page twenty.
That said, there’s apparently been a new employee push to oust her, this time also predicated on a culturally insensitive Pocahontas Halloween costume.
The “her” here of course is Steph Korey. Arnold loses me here because this costume isn’t “culturally insensitive”, it’s just plain racist appropriation.
It’s theoretically possible that Arnold’s novella is not just, “It’s about ethics in journalism!” but if you can’t even get racism right, I’m not going to read your next 57 pages.
The thing is, I’d retracted the good will I’d offered that white-people band that changed their name from Lady Antebellum to Lady A, because it turned out they didn’t bother to google and learn that Lady A already existed and she was a Black musician. Apparently, the two sides had been in talks about usage for both parties going forward that now have completely broken down. Here’s my thing, though: I don’t really fucking care that the white-people band trademarked Lady A back in 2010, when the real Lady A has been Lady A since 2001 at least. I feel like there’s possibly a story in here somewhere about access to intellectual property lawyers and privilege. There shouldn’t have to be a challenge: the band could have googled, their manager could have googled, the trademark office could have googled. The band’s usage as a nickname from 2006 onward postdates Lady A’s usage in her trade, period.
“Whatever happened to Jennifer Trynin,” I wondered to myself as I went down a musical nostalgia hole once again, and then I googled, and now I know: the music industry did.
If you, like me, had ebooks from MIT Press sitting in a wishlist somewhere and recently noticed that they’d disappeared, I’m told by Bill Smith (their Director of Business Development) that they’ve switched ebook distributors. If you search, you should find your wishlisted books re-listed.
Why can’t we order cold pizza?
All that remains of the window displays of The Aspire Project, which offered “affordable and accessible dance programs and fitness classes for all ages” in downtown St. Johns. Already shutting down in June, SARS-CoV-2 cancelled its final Spring term.
So if “bix” is such a premium name that Jason Fried can charge nearly $400/year for it on HEY, why am I living off a family member’s fixed income? My life doesn’t feel very premium.