#423: LINKS AND EXPLANATIONS
Any time anybody mentions Noam Chomsky, I think back to my university days. Isn't Chomsky required reading for all newbie intellectuals getting Arts degrees? My brief flirtation with him led to what, at the time, I thought was a brilliant idea. It was based on this logic:
It would have been brilliant, or so I thought. I imagined Garden Noam's standing watch outside dorm rooms across North America. I saw Garden Noams proudly displayed on bookshelves next to unopened collections of English and Sociology textbooks. I envisioned a few creative souls modifying their Garden Noams for use as water bongs on Saturday nights.
What I did not clue into was that this idea of mine was entirely too obvious to have been left undone. There are also probably some legal issues concerning the use of his name and face without his go-ahead. At any rate, my idea never went any further than talk over cheap coffee at the bohemian café a few blocks from my house. I blame my lack of foresight on the large amounts of LSD I was doing back then. It left me functioning on the high end of creativity and on the low end of reason.
Well, this is embarrassing. I started this point thinking that there would be tons of items making use of this particular homonymous word play. Where are the great swathes of Garden Noams and Garden Noam keychains and pot pipes and planters? That Noam must have amazing lawyers.
And don't e-mail me about it if all you're going to do is tell me about the pervasiveness of advertising and/or how heinous it is that I am trying to gain one physical thing from running this website, because I made an effort to keep the ad part of it not so ad-like, and although I have wanted a digital camera specifically for this website for quite some time, I cannot afford one.
And again, in case you have forgotten after wading through that ridiculously long sentence, if you don't like the picture of that camera up there or the link that it leads to, stop looking at it and don't click on it. It's not flashing or displaying any logos or doing anything to trip your brain into a swell of animal consumerism, so relax. And stop looking at it.
For the rest of you who may be curious about it, I'll tell you why it's there: 1) I like taking pictures; 2) I like posting pictures; 3) I have an SLR camera that I love, but it is expensive to buy the requisite rolls of film and develop them; 4) with a digital camera, I would be able to take photos and download them tout de suite; 5) I don't have much money due to certain financial constraints; 6) I want a digital camera so that I can show you pictures of my cat and the Fiery One and what I eat for supper and my shoes and what died under the sink.
Consider that image link up there to be like a hat, and consider me to be like a busker, only in this case, I don't get any money or used gum or St@rbucks coupons in my guatemalan hat, which is fine by me, because I hate sitting around on a sidewalk blowing into a bamboo pipe* while cement grit pokes my ass through my jeans.
How to check your settings: log in to Blogger and click on the appropriate weblog in your Dashboard; click on the "Settings" tab; go through each of the sub-tabs under "Settings" and make sure all your options are set the way you want them; at the bottom of each page of options, click the "Save Settings" button if you have made any changes; republish your weblog to effect the changes.
In my case in particular, I found that, inexplicably, my "Email Post" link had been turned off, my comments were set to only accept Blogger users, and my backlinks were turned off. Oh yes, and then when I went to add something to my template and hit "Republish", Blogger ate the last half of my template, and I ended up spending part of this morning rebuilding it. Striking out on my own with this website is looking better and better all the time.
* I really did do that busking thing one summer. I loved the hippies I was hanging out with, but the poverty and the resulting excitement about having made three dollars with which to buy organic green onions just did not float my boat as much as it did the boat of the guy who owned the bamboo pipe. He was my boat floater, if truth be told, but that only lasted as long as it took him to run off with a friend to get married on top of some mountain by a self-ordained minister.