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Very cool and quite practical introduction to dumpster diving on Kuro5hin

kuro5hin.org || technology and culture, from the trenches

Dumpster diving: an Introduction
(Culture)By durkie Thu Jan 30th, 2003 at 01:38:04 AM EST

Dumpster diving, rather than the physical diving implied by its name, is actually more along the lines of fishing - it is as relaxed or competitive as desired, follows many seasonal trends and localizations, is an excellent social activity, and may just leave you with something interesting or tasty. Dumpster diving consists largely of rummaging about through others' trash. It at once allows you to challenge and take advantage of the fact that people as a whole are very, very wasteful. And while poking through your neighbor's trash this very moment would be a perfectly acceptable, if perhaps somewhat awkward, dive, there is a fair amount to know in order to keep the diving experience safe, enjoyable, and fruitful. For many, the thought of going anywhere near a smelly dumpster, let alone touching, wearing, or eating something from inside of it, is revolting. If you find yourself with interests duly piqued and revulsion to a minimum, then read on for a guide to the excellent world of dumpster diving.

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Check out the Blizzard in England

"Snow ploughs have been out on many roads"

From BBC News: Snow and gales cause travel chaos

Terry Jones is losing patience with his neighbors too

Guardian Unlimited Observer | Comment | Terry Jones: I'm losing patience with my neighbours, Mr Bush

For some time now I've been really pissed off with Mr Johnson, who lives a couple of doors down the street. Well, him and Mr Patel, who runs the health food shop. They both give me queer looks, and I'm sure Mr Johnson is planning something nasty for me, but so far I haven't been able to discover what. I've been round to his place a few times to see what he's up to, but he's got everything well hidden. That's how devious he is.

As for Mr Patel, don't ask me how I know, I just know - from very good sources - that he is, in reality, a Mass Murderer. I have leafleted the street telling them that if we don't act first, he'll pick us off one by one.

Some of my neighbours say, if I've got proof, why don't I go to the police? But that's simply ridiculous. The police will say that they need evidence of a crime with which to charge my neighbours.

The Shifted Librarian on RSS and YOU!

The Shifted Librarian: Tuesday, January 21, 2003

This is all Jenny below, but the source she quotes is too interesting to edit any of it out! So whatever you do, remember it is all Jenny below, and JD, and the American Press Institute, in that cascading way of blog snowballing.

It's RSS day here at TSL! Well, I suppose every day is RSS day at TSL since I couldn't possibly maintain my site without it, but an article over at the American Press Institute is also singing its praises:

Scott Rosenberg: "So, Saddam, when did you stop beating your wife?"

Scott Rosenberg's Links & Comment

So, Saddam, when did you stop beating your wife? Confirming evidence that our government is now taking its rhetorical plays directly from the pages of "1984" comes with this CNN report from defense secretary Donald Rumsfeld's press conference yesterday:

The failure of U.N. arms inspectors to find weapons of mass destruction "could be evidence, in and of itself, of Iraq's noncooperation" with U.N. disarmament resolutions, U.S. Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld said Wednesday....

Why Bush's proposed tax cut sucks so bad

This from Brad DeLong on Bush Tax Cut: Distributional Issues.

Getting Philosophical: AKMA's Random Thoughts: Matrullo is Italian for Beautiful

From AKMA's Random Thoughts: Matrullo is Italian for Beautiful

AKMA also pointed to a set of citations from Jonathan Delacour connected by the theme of historical ignorance. The piece by Joan Didion speaks for what many have less eloquently felt.

Visual Edge 2002

http://www.visualedge.org/2002/

Stunningly photographic site, with excellent use of sound and widescreen interactive graphics and text to explore multimedia journalistic storytelling. I can't tell if this is a course and if some are paying customers, or if it is a colloquium at the Poynter Institute.

Flash load times can be a drag, and I have DSL. On the other hand, I've always been a bandwidth pig myself. Most photographers are.

Blogosphere: the Emerging Media Ecosystem

From OpenFlows:

How Weblogs and Journalists work together to Report, Filter and Break the News

Remembering Oscar

   May 1992-December 2002 One of the first Internet dogs, because on the Internet no one knows you are a dog. My best little boy was taken from me too soon, with a raging pneumonia he somehow got during 2 days in the kennel the weekend before Christmas.

Oscar was smart, too smart most of the time, but easier to potty train than some daschunds. Mostly he was a live wire that filled a room with light and kisses (always trying to slip some tongue). He bounced, sofa to floor to loveseat to window, ready to give an overwhelming greeting to whoever might be there. He was a cuddler, a covers hog, and sometimes even, if he'd been sleeping awhile, a grump.

The week before he died, he'd done a mile walk with my big dog and me in the park, chasing squirrels, bobbing like a goof in the tall grass. He had that way of cocking his head when you talked, as if he somehow understood words, and maybe he did.

 Even at the end, when I had to make the decision to put him to sleep, the vet brought in one last X-ray to see if there was a stomach blockage that may have caused the vomiting that led to what we thought was aspiration pneumonia. He was on oxygen and barely seemed to know me, but when the vet clipped the X-ray up on the lightboard, Oscar lifted his head, cocked it and watched her intently, as if he understood that what she was pointing to and talking about somehow had to do with him.

Mister Man. Baby Bird. Little Shit. Fruit-Juicy. Boo-Boo. Mr Boo. My baby boy. My sweet little baby boy. You were only 10. You didn't have to leave yet. You could have stayed with us a little bit longer. You could have stayed.