Complaining on the Internet

Note from 2022 Rachel: Love that I thought I should complain about not getting credit for something I didn’t make.

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About a week ago, I posted a photo. Cut to 616 “notes” on said photo, and literally all of them seem to link back to the first reblog, TumblrBot.

I love you TumblrBot, but the reblogs crowd my inbox with email notifications, and I don’t even end up with attribution for posting the content. Also, the source link, which was Nedroid, seems to be gone on all the reblogs.

There’s no real point to this post, I just think it’s sort of lame.

MagicSchoolBusIsBack

I Just Want To Say That I Hated Every Moment Of That Piece-Of-Shit Show

Great shirt, or GREATEST shirt? (I want one.)

No Parking Sign Lists Incredibly Severe Consequences at someecards.com

Source unknown

New Wikipedia Game, Brought to you by XKCD

“If you take any article, click on the first link in the article not in parenthesis or italics, and then repeat, you will eventually end up at "Philosophy”.“ - xkcd

The game, then, must be played thusly:

  1. Click Random Article from the Wikipedia sidebar.
  2. Click the first link in the article not in parenthisis or italics.
  3. Track how many clicks it takes to get to the article on ”Philosophy“. The fewer clicks the better.

First round:

From the random article on Kaga, Ishikawa, I got to “Philosophy” in 18 clicks. For added fun, track the path you took to get there:

This game proves that all things begin with Philosophy. (I once made up a variation of this game using the article on “Baby Got Back”. That proved nothing.)


This shirt is a pixelated “Princess Bride”/video-game reference. That you can buy on the Internet. It’s everything I love. (via Woot)

Dear Tina Fey

Note from 2022 Rachel: God I now absolutely hate this post

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In your book (which is wonderful, by the way), towards the end (SPOILER ALERT), you mention a theory:

I have a suspicion—and hear me out, ’cause this is a rough one—I have a suspicion that the definition of “crazy” in show business is a woman who keeps talking even after no one wants to fuck her anymore. … This is the infuriating thing that dawns on you one day: Even if you would never sleep with or even flirt with anyone to get ahead, you are being sexually adjudicated by these LA creeps. Network executives really do say things like “I don’t know. I don’t want to fuck anybody on this show.” … (To any exec who has ever said that about me, I would hope you would at least have the intelligence and self-awareness to know that the feeling is extremely mutual.)

There is also a point in your book where you address some ass-hats on the Internet who’ve written you ill-guided, semi-illiterate missives. So in the hope of becoming one of those ass-hats, I just wanted to say:

Every smart, funny, attractive boy I know between the ages of 18 and 60 wants to fuck you. Literally every boy.

I just thought you should know.

Good luck with all your future endeavours, and thank you for being super-great.

Sincerely,

A girl who sort of wants to be you (kinda. a little. totally.)

The more New Yorkers like something, the more disgusted they are. “The kitchen was all Sub-Zero: I want to kill myself. The building has a playroom that makes you want to break your own jaw with a golf club. I can’t take it.”

Tinay Fey, on New Yorkers and getting a manicure, in the absolutely wonderful Bossypants.

It’s so unfair! I have eight other senses, but I’d trade them all, even smision, to be able to taste.

-Bender, The 30% Iron Chef

The 7 Emails You’re Ignoring In Your Inbox

What’s this? Some sort of new image sharing site?

Note from 2022 Rachel: It was, but it is now defunct

My MlkShk brings all the boys to the yard.

[dead link]

Nope.

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