it seems there has been much blog chatter of late about what makes a blog a blog. is it about linking, is it about creating new and creative content, is it about what you had for lunch tuesday? my general attitude is live and let live, que sera sera, but with the proliferation of so many bad blogs, i find myself pondering the issue.

about week ago i read a post that took the issue to a whole new level for me. it has been driving me nuts for the past week, so i post this as a clearing house for my own mental health. i am very interested in your opinion.

i am a regular reader of "author a". i have always marveled at her site, and i consider her writings to be very clever. about a week ago, one of her posts had a line that sounded familiar to me. i immediately assumed it was a re-post, but it was not marked as such.

i cut and pasted the text line into google. the first search return led me to a page with identical text. identical down to the punctuation, she had not even an attempted to rewrite it. she gave no link or credit to the original author.

am i wrong in being upset about such a silly thing? is blogging such a casual medium that this is an accepted practice? should i let the person know, that i know the origins of the post? should i just forget about it and go back to duct taping my home (there really are much bigger things to worry about)?

the biggest disappointment is the realization that previous posts may have been plagiarized and the author is not at all the person i grew to enjoy.

you have a promise from me that all content here at ultramicroscopic is my own (and copyrighted!) unless otherwise denoted.

it's another ice day here in dallas. a good time to think about swimming.

above, (and here) my son executes a perfect cannonball.

much of the credit should go to his coach. this is only one of very complicated dives i taught him over the summer.

other dives include...
- the can opener dive
- the screaming maniac dive
- the man reading a newspaper and walking off a cliff dive
- the nestea plunge dive
- the injured teradactyle dive
- the man waiting for a bus pushed from behind dive.

i do not believe the 2004 olympics are out of the question.

the management at ultramicroscopic would like to thank you for an entire year of patronage and participation. we are hoping you will continue to show us the love for another year!

forget nuclear warheads, dirty bombs, and sarin gas. if al-qaeda was really serious about destroying the U.S. they could start with Dallas by announcing a snow day over the radio. snow or not, no one would put up a fight.

20 degrees and an inch of snow. the city of dallas is completely shut down today.

i am alone in the office. no phone calls and one email (a meeting cancelation) since 8 am.

people are already talking about not coming in wednesday morning.

i will roll out the red carpet for al-qaeda.

four situations i have observed you being an asshole.

1. you just poured the last drop of coffee into your 42oz bladder busting insulated mug, would it kill you to spend the 28 seconds starting a new pot? if you brew decaffeinated in the caffeinated pot again, i swear to god i will kill you.

2. that was the third time you have asked the airline attendant for an extra trial size pack of peanuts. jump off your wallet, pay the 2 dollars for an entire bottle before you get on the plane next time.

3. you stood up as soon as the seat belt restriction was released. it will be a good 12 minutes before the gate is connected and the doors open. your genitalia is slapping me in the face and your ass smells like, well...ass. standing or not, we will all get off the plane at the same time, so sit down.

4. friday night at blockbuster you grabbed a movie off the new release shelf just because it was there, then two steps later, you returned it to the shelf because you found a better one, then you returned that one for another. stop the madness, i suggest porky's 3, you'll love it, or come back on monday night, they will have all 300 copies of stealing harvard.

don't go thinking your opposable thumb sets you apart from the weasle.

after several years of wandering around this cube maze, i finally found the cheese. well, i am sad to report it is not actually cheese, due to budget constraints is an orange process cheese food substance.

i have become a disillusioned, bitter, sarcastic old man. the innocence and naivety of youth left me long ago.

upon graduation, armed with a bachelor of fine arts, i truly believed i could make the world a better place.

i once believed proper kerning would house the homeless.
i once believe a solid understanding of color theory would feed starving children in africa.
i once believed the pantone color system would cure colon cancer
i once believed designing with a grid would over throw cuban dictatorship
i once believed the simplicity and elegance of helvetica would free the oppressed
i once believed if we all measured in points and picas it would lower the price of beer.
i once believed proper leading ensured eternal life after our physical death.

older and wiser, i have realized none of that matters. slogging through life on this miserable little planet, and suffering through poorly designed websites, street signs, product labels, and teen magazines is a personal hell that i have been sentenced to by the grand designer.

that being said i do have one small request. can we possibly redesign the governments warning system using proper color theory? if it all is going to end soon, at least let the messenger should look good.

the above picture was taken in the break room. it is 2 paper towels spread to cover shards of broken glass on the floor. it has been there for some time now.

wtf?

the time and effort put into foot sweeping the glass into a pile, finding a marker, scrawling the words on paper towel and covering the debris is probably greater than just sweeping the glass up.

the next time some one asks why our stock is so low, i will display this photo.

i now realize i am exerting too much effort at work. i have decided the walk all the way to the bathroom is unnecessary. now i just shit on the floor by my desk. i mark it with paper towel, that makes it ok.

i have also put too much effort into delivering quality solutions to our clients. today i just decided to hang paper towels on their monitors.

passing time (and a few bricks) in stall three, i listen to the shoes entering and leaving. from behind the stall walls, i can see nothing but my sense of hearing is sharp and enhanced much like a blind person.

squeak, squeak...

rubber soled loafers, size 10, slight limp, 185 lbs - dan from accounting.

oh yeah, i am that good.

this leads me to a new criteria for buying shoes. size, style, and comfort are no longer important. most important is what sound the shoes will make when walking on the tile floor in the men's room.

my current shoes are the worst. patrons of the stalls must assume i am a fly fisherman on break. my shoes sound exactly as if i am wearing waist high wet river waders.

on second thought that assumption may not be completely inaccurate, after all i am standing at the urinal fishing some thing out of my fly.

an alternate use for recently purchased duct tape.

i put the small envelope into her pouch made of pink construction paper. i did it quickly to avoid being noticed by the other kids.

i had made 25 valentines for 25 classmates, whether i liked them or not.

i was confident heidi would notice the way i wrote her name on the envelope. i used all upper case letters. soon she would open it, and recognize the time and effort i had put into choosing that specific scooby-doo valentine. then she would notice the special way i signed the valentine. i put a heart above the "i" rather than a simple dot. all of these things would soon result in her declaring a deep and everlasting love for me, we would be married by the third grade for sure. i even put a nickel in the envelope to clinch the deal.

2 seats over, buzzard watched me intently as i opened my valentines from the class. i hated buzzard, she always stole my hat at lunch and would wear it around school for all to see.

i gave buzzard the velma valentine from the scooby-doo collection. i wrote her name in all lower case on the envelope.

later, i overheard heidi tell a friend she got a nickel in one of her valentines, but could not remember who it was from.

buzzard told me she noticed i had had not capitalized her name and she thought that was special, she also told me velma was her favorite. wtf? who likes velma?

i was going to put a nickel in the wife's valentine today, but i changed it to a dollar so she would remember who it was from.

i and another waited for the elevator down. finally the bell chimed and the doors opened. i glanced down the hall. a suit was walking in our direction but he was a good 40 yards away. too far away to hold an elevator. i entered the elevator and pushed "g". the other guy entered behind me and held the "open door" button waiting for the suit to arrive.

we waited a long time.

when the suit finally entered the elevator the door holder tried to make small talk. it was a pathetic and embarassing attempt to schmooze with the suit. suit never thanked him and refused to be pulled into small talk. it was a long ride.

i wanted the puch door holder guy. why do peple live in fear of the suits? why do people kiss up to the suits? why aspire to be a suits?

word up to my peeps reprezentin' south cubeville. DONT FEAR THE SUITS!

when i get stressed, i just chill with my zen cat box garden.

she believes the garbage disposal is a magical, indestructible, insatiable, portal to another dimension. a dimension she will never vist or worry about.

in repeated conversation i have told her not to put anything inorganic and/or larger than her head and/or falling under the CWC's 1992 proposal to the conference on disarmament.

she nods her head in agreement and puts the bowling ball back in the closet till i am not looking.

in the past i have extracted bottle caps, coins, rings, bones, soil, plastic grocery bags and a few plutonium rods from the disposal.

this time, as i am reconnecting the pvc tubes under the sink, i can hear the dull moan of the vacuum cleaner in another room. suddenly, the moan turns to a high pitched mechanical scream that is interrupted by a loud plastic crack noise followed by complete silence.

another interdimensional portal needs a fixin.

shit.

the blade hovered above his swollen toe. finally he gathered enough courage and quickly moved the knife downward. the skin only offered slight resistance, then gave way to the blade. the hiss of escaping gas startled him. reflex quickly retracted the blade. almost immediately, the hissing stopped and his toe looked deflated. the gas had given the toe form, now it had none.

the pain was gone.

he pinched the empty toe between his finger and thumb feeling for something, any thing, maybe bone but there was nothing. he tried to look into the hole but it was too small. he cut the hole larger, there was no blood. a few off white pebbles fell out of the hole and rolled a few inches across the floor. he assumed the pebbles were once bone.

curiosity over ruled common sense and he made an incision further up his foot where it still had form and volume. small soft shapes and a thick mucus pushed out of the incision. he pulled a noodle like form from the hole and examined it. it was warm, soft, and yellow. it greatly resembled macaroni and cheese, except it smelled very bad.

realization that the self surgery may not have been the right thing to do, he quickly packed the noodle back into the incision and closed the hole with a bandage. he gathered the pebbles and put them back inside the empty toe. he inserted a straw into the hole and re-inflated the toe and sealed it with super glue.

tomorrow he would call a doctor.

son one is in kindergarten. each morning it takes a hurculean effort to get him dressed for school.

nearing wit's end, wife has turned to a popular child rearing technique known as "love and logic". the most basic premise is not to hassle or force your kids into action. let them make their own decisions (within logical limits) and live with consequences. the simple theory being, the children will learn from their mistakes and eventually be able to consider consequences before actions and make better decisions.

today we gave son one the option of wearing the outfit pre-selected by the wife or his sleeping attire. he chose the latter.

he wore a fat chick night shirt to school today.

he will be teased.

we are raising either a future president or a future bell tower sniper.

snapped this picture on my way into work.

dude, good luck with that "non-insurance solution" when a peterbuilt drives up your ass because you couldn't see him through all the advertising shit on your rear window.

i opened my w-2 form.

then i checked my bank account.

what the fuck did i spend yadasixthousandninehundredsixtyeight dollars and fortysix cents on?

a few days before christmas my boys asked me what kind of gift i wanted. before they could finish asking the question, and with out thinking i said "underwear and socks". as soon as i said it, i realized i have become my dad. i always thought my dad just gave that answer because it was an easy one. i now realize he (and now i) honestly want new socks and new underwear.

so any way, i have also found out asking for something specific is a guarantee that you will not get it. kids buy fathers 2 kinds of gifts. the first are gifts that the kids really want for themselves, like a new hot wheels track or legos. the second kind of gift is one that doesn't need to be wrapped because even after unwrapping it you still don't know what it is. this past christmas, my gift was one of those (pictured above).

the "octopus" is designed to massage your head, it took me a great deal of time to discover that. i put the octopus on the closet shelf next to some other dusty old dad gifts. recently my son saw it and asked me if it worked. i had assumed not, but said "yes" and i decided to give him a demonstration.

this thing is incredible. it really works! my scalp shivers and tingles as the tentacles do their work. i find strange noises of pleasure coming from myself as move the octopus about my head. i often have to slow down or stop after only a few minutes, the sensations are too intense. after 10 minutes or so i melt into a puddle and can take no more. the refractory period lasts about 20 minutes, then i will sometimes let the octopus dance an encore.

after watching one of my sessions with the octopus, i asked my wife if she wanted to try it. she said no, she claimed she didn't want any of my scalp cooties. she also said the man with the octopus cart in the mall gave her a demonstration before the boys bought it. i told her it was odd she feared her husband's scalp cooties, but didn't mind the cooties of a thousand flea infested mall rats on which the octopus man had previously demonstrated.

she ran to the shower and is still washing her hair now.

an excerpt from the sxsw web awards email i received today...

THE PEOPLE'S CHOICE AWARD - Each year the People's Choice Award is presented to the online public's favorite finalist from the SXSW Website Competition. Rally your audience to vote your site the best!

oh, now i understand. the people's choice award goes to only one of the finalists regardless of the category (i misinterpreted that in a previous entry)! and, i am encouraged to "rally" the vote! in fact, people can vote once a day!

now this will require strategy, "greg" has the jump on me and has turned airbag into "Airbag Buffy the Vampire Slayer Super Happy Fansite!" quickly garnering the affection of 648 buffy fans. ah, he is a clever one and a worthy opponent!

now "greg" has much to offer you, intelligence, wit, purdy photographs, and even coherent textual posts. i can offer none of that, but i do have something he does not.

i am bootylicious. my fabulous pooper is something to behold. young girls squeal, ladies quiver, gay men giggle, and toilet seats beg for my attention.

that's right, i am resorting to the lowest common denominator, NUDITY. upon wining the people's choice, there will be a full moon rising here at ultramicroscopic. not just any moon, but the most gloriously handsome moon you have ever witnessed.

i say let the people speak! free the moon! vote here!

above is a badge containing subliminal messages. i predict within hours, every page on the internet will contain one.

speaking of sxsw, the best thing about conferences is meeting everyone. i am not shy, but when meeting someone, the first few minutes of small talk can be excruciatingly painful. so, i propose a giant 5 day game of "1,000 blank white cards". here is how it could work...

everyone brings a shitload of biz (or blank) cards to austin. the back of each card has hand written text on it, a simple illustration, and a point value. the text may be simple or abstract. point value is whatever you judge to fit the text.

example 1 - smell like a goat, -150 points
example 2 - use "but crud" in a sentence and receive 2 points
example 3 - fish head tooth brush, -2843.72 points
example 4 - bootylicious people in da house, 12 points

when meeting some one "in the game" you exchange business cards. collecting cards becomes an excuse to start up conversation with people you may not usually do so.

once we all return home, we post point totals on a blog dedicated to the game. maybe even scan and post interesting cards received!

don't be intimidated/frustrated by lack of rules to the game, that is the beauty of it. it is a completely nonsensical game, so it should not breed any competition but perhaps some interesting conversation.

i (and perhaps others?) would be willing to sponsor a couple gag prizes for categories like "player point total nearest to 666" or "player with the most cards containing the phrase 'butt crud'"

i will take the initiative to set up a game blog if we can get a minimum of 25 confirmed players. i am very interested in any game enhancement ideas you may have.

anyone interested?

i also posted this idea on the "sxswblog site", a great place to get excited about the conference.

wow, i received a pleasant surprise via email recently. notification that i am a finalist in the sxsw web awards, weblog category.

the finalists for weblog are...

airbag - i consider myself an Efriend of Greg and i am a great fan of his site. it is rare to see an individual with such broad skills (design, photography, writing, technical, and conceptual). he is one of those awesome designers that can make me feel like i should just pack it up and find another career.

erichian - i was unfamiliar with Erich till today. i am now a regular reader. check out his alter ego DJ-e who ensures erich's day to day life has a non stop erichian soundtrack to keep him going. by day he works at ideo. a place i have always assumed to be the coolest place on the planet to work.

pixelog - it greatly excites me when people push tools beyond the ideas that the tools become confined by. the potential of blogs and blog tools goes far beyond posting what the author had for lunch. this is a blog that challenges the usual blog definition. it is beautiful, clean, and elegant!

ultramicroscopic - a site probably not worthy of being included in such company. crammed with low-brow bathroom humor and a butt ugly monochromatic color scheme. what the hell was he thinking?

whedonesque - this site is what makes the internet great. grass roots, niche communities that know no geographical boundaries. 648 buffy fans, talking buffy, walking buffy, breathing buffy and living buffy.

the winner will be announced sunday, march 9th in austin.

sxsw will also announce a "peoples choice" winner for each category. you can vote for your favorite here.

i have been working on a mathmatical formula that will no doubt clinch a nobel prize. i am making shelf space now.

recently my wife had a colonoscopy (no worries, it's all good all up in there). they gave her photos to remember the experience. not really the type of photos you might put in the family album. these were photo of uncharted territories no person has ever visited (or at least i hope).

now, i have always enjoyed looking at my wifes butt, but these intimate photos did not provide the same enjoyment. infact i would go so far as to say the photos were revolting.

this got me thinking, why were they revolting?

the distance! distance between my eyeballs and the butt. i have become obsessed with find the exact distance when an ass crosses the fine line of interesting to disgusting. so, in the name of science, i have been looking at a lot of ass lately noting the distance/interest relationship.

i have discovered that most butts lose their appeal at the distance of 10 inches. there are a rare few that are still good up to about 6 inches but all asses are disgusting any closer than that.

there are also a select few that are disgusting at all distances.