Dollarshort

The Original Bloggers

Back in college [1], when I should have (according to those with social lives) been drinking Popov out of Dixie cups, I instead spent an inordinate amount of time in the library's stacks. In particular, the magazine archive. Even more particular was that my research never had anything to do with my course work, but rather just my interest in the past.

So, imagine my glee when Kottke did a round-up of magazine archives online.

I spent some time on Friday exploring the Time archives and became immediately sucked into the Letters to the Editor. I like to think of blogs as the 21st Century version of Letters to a global, connected Editor, so it made sense that I would seek out the best example of authentic voice.

As you can imagine, there is a great deal of bigotry, chauvinism and small-mindedness in these letters. That's no surprise. What I find fascinating and most delightful to read are the exceptions. Those who question Time's articles (and the general consensus of the day) and assumption.

Here, for example, is one reader's response to Time's "helpful" 1942 article on "How to Tell Your Friends from the Japs."

Sirs: Your warning in TIME, Dec. 22, that the "few rules of thumb" listed for telling Chinese from Japanese are "not always reliable" is an unparalleled masterpiece of understatement. Such absurd generalities as "Japanese are nervous in conversation, laugh loudly at the wrong time," or "most Chinese avoid horn-rimmed spectacles" would have certainly made the eminent Dr. Samuel Johnson apoplectic. ... I feel the appropriateness of an admonishing Tsk! Tsk! ... MARTIN J. KATZ Philadelphia, Pa.

And then there are the little gems that, with a few words substituted could be written in today's Time. Take this letter from May 10th, 1943 that is a response to a story about high school graduates "who had forgotten, mislearned or never learned many details of U.S. history."

Sirs: . . . There are many reasons why students have failed so miserably in the past several years to maintain creditable scholastic standing and make sound academic records. . . . The present generation has been weaned on the comic strip. It has absorbed huge, indigestible amounts of outrageously inane (for the most part) Hollywood movie fare. It has been given cheap, miserably lean radio entertainment. In short, the younger generation hasn't been given half a chance to improve itself mentally. . . . PRIVATE J. A. FALLON Scott Field, III.

While the site navigation of the Time archive is lacking and it's difficult to browse, it's pretty easy to get completely sucked into a decade and its new stories and letters.

[1] Spending vast amounts of time reading old magazines actually started in high school. Magazines were my Internet and I spent hours browsing. Sadly, when I said I was going to the library (on a Saturday), I was indeed going to the library.

Yeah, He's My Cousin Three Times Removed...

Mike Monteiro, like always, is an inspiration for all of us to follow. He read the fine print [1] at Muxtape  and thought to ask permission from the Dead Milkmen's drummer, Dean Sabatino, before uploading one of their songs. Of course everything Mike does is FTW, so you never can be too sure whether he's playing a joke on us.

Update: Mike's added Butthole Surfers to his mix!

Anyway, Mike's action got me thinking. Everyone claims to have one of those friend of a friend who happens to be a famous musician. And with the internet breaking down all those sort of boundaries that used to matter -- like geography and fame -- it's quite possible to be "friends" with the musicians themselves.

In my dream world, Muxtape would have been so much more interesting if it was a challenge about creating the ultimate mix with songs that you do indeed have permission to use. And, I'm not talking about your standard Creative Commons fare or sneakers-in-the-dryer kind of music.

I'm talking about BIG NAMES. Basically, who could -- through their connections -- make the coolest mix with authorized songs.

Since the musician's permission does not equal the label's, this is just a fun what-if pitch. I'm way more interested in seeing who could come up with the best mix using their connections and how name-droppy it would get.

[1] aka as the language that won't save them from a cease and desist.

Giant Beets

From the Ferry Plaza Farmers market, these giant beets! Ever since I had the baby, I've craved beets without end. It's amazing since I detested them previously. Even so, I couldn't convince myself that we could eat all the beet dishes one of these would yield.

Slavery? Really?

Here's something from the "marketing-tips-from-J. Peterman" department -- the Bourbon and Branch "Spring Telegram" that showed up in my inbox today. An excerpt:

RUM By Thad Volger

Pirates, Revolution, Plantations, Slavery, Communism, Smuggling, the English Navy, Colonialism, Beaches, Palm Trees. What do these all have in common? Rum! If this doesn't excite your interest, keep in mind that rum plays a key role in the evolution of what we now refer to as the cocktail...

They lost me at colonialism. Up until then, my interest was quite excited by the imagery of plantations and slavery. Even with that pitch, I'm afraid that I'm a tequila girl -- I'll drink anything that has to do with conquistadors and the massacre of indigenous cultures.

Dollarshort DonorsChoose Challenge

Last September when Six Apart helped sponsorthe Blogger Challenge at DonorsChoose, I wanted to create my own challenge and participate. However, since I was a bit preoccupied with that whole birthing thing, I didn't get a chance.

I spent some time today setting up my challenge and doing some shopping for the future (aka donating). So if you're inclined to give to good causes, please check out the five projects I've chosen and give big.

And if you're a TypePad user and want to set up your own challenge, we've got a TypePad widget that will make it ever so easy to publicize.

A Bumper Sticker View into Somebody's Soul

On my drive to work today, the pickup truck driving in front of me was sporting a partially peeled off bumper sticker that had seen better days. And by better days, I mean the 1980s. I could only make out a couple words from where I was driving so once we hit some traffic I was delighted to finally read the sticker in all its classiness. The sticker read:

I Wonder if You'd Drive Any Better if that CAR PHONE was UP YOUR BUTT?

I spent half of the remainder of the drive trying to imagine if the owner of the truck -- assuming he was not the original owner -- was more embarrassed by the sentiment or the dated reference to car phones. The sticker was peeling, but had obviously been scraped repeatedly in an effort to restore some dignity to the truck.

The other half of the trip ^[1] was spent trying to figure out the text of bumper sticker that would be even *more* dated and embarrassing than "Car Phone Up Your Butt ^[2]". I came up with "I Get More Tail than Spuds McKenzie" and "Alf is My Co-Pilot."

In writing this post, however, I have decided that "Alf is My Co-Pilot" is a pretty awesome sentiment.

^[1] Keep in mind, I was driving alone with Penelope in the back seat. This was a conversation in my head, not with another person.
^[2] I can imagine this phrase has been uttered during the voting portion of America's Funniest Home Videos.

Like a Stick of Buttah

The joy of making butter comes not from the end result, but from the joy of making butter.

Up until last week, when I stumbled upon this blog written by a homeschooling family, I had no idea how easy it was to make butter. A butter churn, I thought, was something enchanted and not easily replicable in a non-farming residence. It turns out I was wrong. After doing some more research and reading up on butter making at The Wednesday Chef and Instructables, I gathered my heavy whipping cream and empty glass jar and begun the arduous task of violent shaking -- shaking for about twenty-minutes.

The process is amazing. You first get whipped cream (I actually whipped it first with a tiny mixer), then a sort of curdled cream and then it gets quite solid and impossible to shake. Finally, when you think you're already done and can't shake anymore, the contents become liquid again! Actually, that's the buttermilk. Floating within that liquid is your butter. After straining your butter and removing all liquid, you're done.

For more writing on homemade butter, check out this New York Times article from last July. Or read up on more butter stuff (Better Butter, Elements: Compound Butter on the fabulous Ruhlman.com).

Proud to Be Me

I didn't win many awards as a kid. When I was seven, though, I awarded myself a homemade prize ribbon fashioned out of a raveling brown fabric remnant. And with my little white crayon, what did I scrawl on this ribbon? "Winner." That's it. Not "1st Place" or "Good Job!" Just "Winner." I guess I was trying to think of the exact opposite of the word loser, a word easily defined as a kid who has to make himself a award. Now, reward that inner loser in you! Welcome to dollarshort.org

That's how I began my very first blog, dollarshort.org, back in 2001. I was twenty-three at the time and figured that I wasn't going to be famous in the real world, so I might as well have a go at it online. Little did I know what I was getting into at the time.

Twenty-thee year-old Mena was a lot different than thirty year-old Mena, thankfully. I spent most of my twenties working on blogging software, reading blogs and helping run a blogging company. I went from being private, to public, to way too public and then to reclusive. Mind you, I was never the wearing-tissue-boxes-on-my-feet or collecting-my-urine-in-jars type of recluse -- just the type that focused on staying off the radar. But when some of the best experiences in my life have come from blogging -- as well as some of the worst -- it's hard to quit completely.

While I've been blogging consistently (and privately) for two years on my Vox blog, I missed doing the public blogging that introduced me into this crazy, often wonderful and sometimes cruel world.

Ultimately, the best experiences are why I'm back.

I'm, as the cliche goes, older and wiser, and amazingly I'm now a mother. My daughter, Penelope, is already growing up right before my eyes and, at five months-old, is such a joy. While the neurotic Mena of 2001 was coming to terms with a lifetime of a 'day late and a dollarshort' moments, the 2008 Mena is a lot more concerned with the day-to-day adventures of raising a daughter and working at Six Apart (after a six-month maternity leave, I now work from home or bring Penelope in with me).

So, here I am.

Welcome back to dollarshort!