BuzzMachine... by Jeff Jarvis

December 29, 2002

Iranian blog
: Thanks to the Blogtalk conference upcoming in Vienna, here is a blog on Iran by an Iranian in Canada: In English or Farsi.

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Babe compass
: Shift magazine crashes a few MeetUp meets in Toronto (ending up at least hopeful about this attempt to get us bandwidth buddies, we strangers in the light, to actually see and hear and not just read each other) and finds a curious benefit to having a sign in a bar that points to bloggers, this way:

At this point, two young women in bicycle gear approach our table. The word "blog," with its amputated-portmanteau quality, has piqued their interest. "What's a blogger?" Needless to say, a lengthy explanation follows.
After they walk off, Tim remarks, "This sign is a real chick magnet."...
Tim then goes out for a smoke. As the door closes behind him, another young woman approaches our table to ask what a blogger is. I shake my head, thinking to myself, "Damn, what if this thing really is a chick magnet?"

: Note, too, that Canada's New York has a Toronto webloggers weblog and they use this as an excuse to get together. Hmmm. Shouldn't New York's New York have such a thing? Or is that Gawker? Then shouldn't there be meet-ups of Gawkers (or are we Gawkerites)?

: Toronto also has a restaurant blog: EatMyToronto. I'm jealous.
: And a subway blog, too.

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GO... to hell
: When you're driving with your EZ-Pass in New Jersey and you see the sign tell you to "GO," you'd think you know what that means, eh? But you don't. "GO" means something's wrong and you may be getting a ticket; "GO" means it's screwed up but you should just go anyway and we'll harass you later; "GO" means just "don't stop." Welcome to the frightening mind of a New Jersey DMV bureaucrat. From today's Star-Ledger at NJ.com.

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Now that you have all this type, what do you want to do with it?
: Dean Allen, the man who brought you Textile (below), also brings you a fine weblog called Textism. It's kinda sorta like y'know Lileks with a Canadian accent (I think) and a French attitude (though this guy abhors Lileks: Mr. Matter, meet Mr. Antimatter). Very good reading, in any case:

A clement Sunday morning paired with the approaching end of hunting season means there’s no time like the present to pack away a few breakfast pastis, fill your flask with liquid warmth and, clad head to toe in military fatigues, head out with your yappy little dog to blammedy-blam the morning away in a vain but manly quest for scrawny pigeon and diseased rabbit or maybe just maybe a big smelly boar because that’s what you do, it’s what you’ve always done. And, putain, why not do it in my back yard you inbred hick, I mean, sure, there might be people asleep in that house, but that just shows at best a lack of initiative and at worst a lack of independent outdoorsmanship. Best let the timeless song of spattering birdshot nudge them to the correct path. If they don’t like it, bohrf, call the cops. But the nearest cops are ten kilometres away. Lunch!

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More font fun
: I'm finding neat sites about typography via German weblogs (some Linotype nostalgia and Textile, both below). Here, via ein Blog, is font(p)age, a quick history of technology and type.

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