Beauty beholden and beheld
- May 18th, 2010
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I saw Iron Man 2 last night…
…but rather than give a two-weeks-late-to-the-party review, I’d like instead to focus on the scene depicting Stark Expo ‘74. In the first place, they were off by about 10 years–the aesthetics of that scene were lifted straight from Walt Disney’s Epcot promos, and while the park didn’t begin until 1978; the promo film Jon Favreau wonderfully stole was Disney’s 1966 introduction to the Epcot Plan. The “work here, live here, play here” designs of today’s urban renewal projects look like lipstick on a mixed-use chicken compared to the underground roads, automated people movers, and nuclear powered hair salons of Disney’s fabled tomorrowland. I know it’s been said before, but really, 40+ years later, where’s my fucking jetpack?
In the second place, I will never stop loving the optimistic aesthetic of the post-Kennedy 1960s. Nothing says “Don’t worry; things are getting better! Tomorrow will be great, next week amazing, next year unimagiable!” quite like white plastic countertops with tangerine and lemon appliances.
Building upon the atomic-era kitsch-style of the 1950s, refining the passive Formica patterns boomeranging around barely understood physics, beyond the naivety of McCarthyist optimism came the hyperreal idealism of the 1960s. That bright, glowing, everywhere-can-be-Florida look that congealed a decade later, heralded by Tang and other artificial living. An aesthetic that triggered science, a look that compelled exploration; rather than providing just a limp metaphor for emotion, the color swatchbooks of the 1960s worked to actively trigger those emotions.
For example, take a look at Josef Albers’s 1963 Color Harmonies paradigm. As Albers understood, “feeling blue” isn’t just sadness, it’s melancholy and serious and reflective. Or, looked at another way, when I’m melancholy, I may also be a little bit serene, serious, reflective, or even mighty, but I won’t be lucid. If I think I’m feeling both melancholy and lucid, I’m not—I’m serious or reflective, instead. Sounds about right, doesn’t it?
But that was a paradigm for 1963; that was how things worked in a just-after-Camelot duck-and-cover world. In today’s world we have a different sense of beauty, a stranger brand of optimism, a more sophisticated way to feel. It’s not only new words like “disordered, dysfuncitonal, and dysemic” that we need for these awkward new feelings, but wholly new shades of rose to color our glasses; a Pantone Matching System to accompany the DSM-V; a new way to process the colors of our lives.
Colorformatics: Précis on Color as Information
You’re afraid of the dark (or at least you used to be). But why? What’s waiting for you in the dark? Is it the primordial beginning trying to reclaim you? The fairytale forest hiding wolves and ogres that want to eat you? The urban legend backseat where a man with a hook waits to maul you? Maybe. Or maybe the dark is more basic than all of that. Maybe, I would like to suggest, the dark is nothing but a simple lack of information, and our fear nothing more than cautious erring in a low-information situation.
If the color—the space, the emotion, the mood, the condition—of low-information content is black, then it’s corollary—white—is the color of input, the color of information, the color of data, the color of light.
City night streets after a torrent of rain; the pavement is slick, puddles and miasmas of wetness abound. Each drop collects, reflects, and refracts the little light that’s available, doubling, tripling, n-tupling the red of the stoplight, the halogen coral of the street lamp. Each drop multiplies the mid-century-modern data of the scene. At times there’s so much reproduced information that a cacophony of light erupts; too much to see, too much to take in, too much to process.
This is the basic dichotomy, the balance between everything and nothing, information available and wanting. As light becomes dark, as white gives way to black, we need a new vision of the color wheel to capture this emotional infotech chiarascurro. And thanks to the wonders of blog-world, I think I’ve found it.
Although based on Nemcsics’s 1974 Coloroid Model (left), the 2001 Revised Color Wheel of an anonymous blogger from a decade ago (right) has really captured my heart. This weird graphic is surely the way I feel, the semiosis for my infinite being. This isn’t just a pretty picture or a color-theory dorkathon, but a whole new way to think about the metaphors we live by.
Looking at the unnamed blogger’s Escherian stairway of color you find you’re “green with envy” precisely because you have a lot of the information for a given situation, but not enough to understand the truth (and, depending on how much you know or don’t, your envy takes on shades of feeling yellow or blue…). The “purpled royalty” live woefully uninformed about the ways of life of the peasants you lord over. The bright orange traffic signs provide exactly the information you need—Caution!—but no more, while the red of a stoplight tells you to learn more before you continue. The red of anger, likewise, is born of knowing 100% of your side of the story, but almost none of the other side. And what about those cases where you’re suffering from a surfeit of information—knowing nearly but not quite all? You grow yellow with cowardice in times when all you lack is knowledge of the outcome, while if you know so much that your mind can’t let you sleep, but not quite enough to reach the white light of nirvana… well, that’s what the yellow wallpaper is all about, isn’t it? And there in the middle, the compass rose pointing to all the other colors, is the silvery gray of a mirror; giving back exactly the information put into it, no more, no less.
And me? I’m almost in the dark. I know where I’ve been, but not where I’m headed. I don’t know if what’s happened before will help, hinder, or even be applicable to what will happen next. I don’t know what I’m supposed to think; I don’t know how I got here; I am lacking information. That is, I’m feeling blue.
More slices of the aesthetic wheel
This post was kicked off by my recent purchase of Enoch Light’s Provocative Percussion vol. 4, with a cover design by Josef Albers.
Though, really, Suzanne Vega’s Night Vision would have been equally appropriate.
A thorough Googling of Josef Albers came up with these two most informative posts:
A review the Hirshhorn Museum’s Josef Albers exhibition on Artblart & DesignBloom’s summary of Albers’s stained-glass windows exhibit at Musée Matisse. Looking at Albers’s stained glass in light of Colorformatics, we see the black and white bars become the request and dissemination of information, a conversation against the backdrop of a certain mood.
The Handprint website? blog? course-notes? of an unknown author (Benet?). This is where the 2001 Revised Color Wheel comes from. I am deeply indebted to this unknown writer.
The Tecta products page… marketing desk lamps inspired by Albers.
A wholesome dose of beautiful retro-futurism from the Formica Corporation. Click on the typewriter icon and go to Retro Gallery. It’s well worth it.
And finally, the cartoon that really formed my aesthetic mind, Bugs Bunny’s Hare-way to the Stars:
Why, yes, I know how to type…
- May 13th, 2010
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I’m stuck…
…in a dead-end, low-paying, unskilled office labor job. Frankly, the job is beneath me. That’s not me being uppity—even though I have a ridiculously high IQ, 5+ years of experience as a programs manager, and a god-damned Ph.D.—the job is beneath all of my seven co-workers as well (well, almost all of them). It’s a piece-of-shit job and we’re being tossed the lips-and-assholes at this asswad company’s steak dinner. I won’t even go into my distaste at working for a publishing company where no one on the actual payroll (that’s right… I’m a ‘temp’) knows the difference between “who’s” and “whose.” I don’t want my blood to boil any more than it already is…
With that in mind, I’ve been seeking other options and, a few weeks back, I thought I had found a good one that was going to pan out. The job, as described, was for a computer repair technician—no experience needed—at slightly fewer hours per week, but 175% of the pay of my current job. Sounds good to me. Making more, working less, doing something I would actually enjoy, using my phenomenal problem-solving skills for good… y’know, adult-type work.
So, I go through the motions, send off my resume and cover-letter (cover-letter, n. : the most pointless 500 words I’ve ever written; now written hundreds of times in the quest for a decent work-life), and wait. Weeks I sit, hearing nothing from anyone, which actually feels better than hearing “You have a Ph.D.? You’re overqualified for this job. Sorry.” which is what I heard over and over again in my last major job-hunt, the one that landed me in the proofreading idiotarchy, six months ago. And then, luck be with me, about a month ago I got a nibble.
“Hey, Doug. Sorry it took me so long to respond to your e-mail, things have been hectic around here. We’re interested in you as a job candidate, just answer these five questions about customer service in the computer repair industry and if we like what you have to say, we’ll set up an interview.”
So I answer the five questions. I respond succinctly but well, thoroughly researching, editing, and proofing my answers, and send off the e-mail. I wait another week for the response—a response which comes at 9am.
“Hey Doug. We really liked how you answered our test questions. Could you meet us today for a lunch interview? Say around 11?”
Yes, of course I could meet you for an interview. That’s what this whole this is about, right? RIGHT? Even though you’ve given me a scant two hours to respond, shave, shower, dress, and prepare myself. Yes, yes I could meet you at 11. Sounds great. See you then.
The lunch interview, all 25 minutes of it, goes great. Two nice guys from the small six-person company; I choke down a couple of their “hot receptionist” jokes without going off on my ‘Don’t assume I’m straight’ rant, etc etc etc. It ends thus:
“Okay, well, we think you’re probably the best candidate for this position. The problem is, we haven’t told the manager yet that we’re looking to hire someone. He knows we should, though, and he knows we need to, but we just have to find a way to break it to him gently—he kind of freaks out sometimes when something isn’t his idea. So it might take a couple weeks for us to get back to you. Is that okay?”
You haven’t told the *manager* yet? You have to break it to him gently? WTF? But, of course, I haven’t got anything else on my plate, so sure, why not? Take all the time you need.
Another week passes by. On Thursday of the second post-interview week, I get an e-mail:
“Hey Doug, sorry for the short notice, but it’s taking forever to really get this process going. Could you go ahead and come into the shop for about three hours this Saturday? You’ll get paid $30 and we wouldn’t ask you to actually fix anything yet, just come in, hang out, see how the shop is set up, stuff like that.”
Yes, I can come in on Saturday. No, sadly, I didn’t have any other plans for my one real day off. Sounds great; I’ll see you then.
“Oh, PS. Just to warn you, we’re not always tremendously prompt in opening, so if you get there right around 10 and it looks like no one is there, don’t panic. A receptionist by the name of Janelle will be opening. Just wait around outside for her.”
At this point, I’m feeling good about my potential new job. 1/3 of the office I’ve already met and like well enough, they don’t open promptly so one assumes they’re pretty laid back… all is well, I am excited.
I get there, promptly, at 10 and the shop is not yet open. I’ll be waiting another half an hour for the shop to get opened. It goes downhill from here.
Long story short, the manager (who you can read about here), who had to have the news of my hire ‘broken to him gently,’ still hadn’t had the news broken to him and, therefore, had no idea I was coming in. Neither did anyone else, apparently. And no one but the receptionist was going to be in all day. So I sat there for three hours, doing nothing, chatting with Janelle, the 24-year-old receptionist with two too many layers of hungover whorescara on, while she answered phones, told me about her daughter, and gave me the low-down on my potential new coworkers. The potential new coworkers ran the gamut of awful, including but not limited to:
• the owner, a recently recovering (we think; he disappeared for a couple months last fall and claimed he’d gone into rehab, but who knows?) crack addict who regularly tries to cheat his workers out of their paychecks;
• the manager (see link above);
• coworker Neil, who often forgets to come in because he’s trying to smoke himself into a higher plane of being, but don’t touch his blunts if you see them lying around—he’s protective of his stash;
• coworker Kevin, an overweight man in his late-30s who snorts Ritalin off his work desk (HIS COMPUTER REPAIR STATION WORK DESK), collects parrots and other rare birds, and has an omitted fondness for well-developed 15-year-old girls. Yes, the pictures of Emma Watson and Jodie Foster (from Taxi Driver, natch) are his. I wouldn’t go into the bathroom after him if I were you.
Are you kidding me? Is this what the job market has come down to? Working for functional idiots or miscreant non-idiots? And the real punch line? I still haven’t heard back from them about the job. I’ll probably get an e-mail with my work schedule sometime next month. Please let me have another job by then…
-doug
More Fuzzy Logic
- April 29th, 2010
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When bad science begets bad journalism
This just in… journalists over 30 mislead readers and misinterpret sources to support their belief that “Kids today are worse off because that’s not how we did things in my day!” Meanwhile, the irony of dissing the Internet on a newsBLOG is as unchecked as reporters’ facts!
Seriously, though, today saw the report from a “study” conducted by “researchers” at the University of Maryland – College Park called: A Day Without Media. This class assignment, now being blown completely out of proportion by both the original authors scientists teachers (? what do you call the instigators of a simple class assignment that’s getting interpreted as valid scientific data?) and by every scare-tactic journalist this side of a keyboard (some examples are listed at the end of this post), apparently asked students to, and I quote the Washington Post here, “go without social media for 24 hours.” The result? 18-21 year old students appear to be “addicted” to their iPods, smartphones, and Facebook.
But hold up. Before you go reblogging and sharing and RTing whichever newssite’s ‘fascinating report’ hits you first (for me it was, oddly, CTV’s report), let’s try to separate fact from fiction.
First and foremost, the facts. Although nearly every article I’ve read points to “social media” as the target of the study, the students in question were actually asked to give up ALL FORMS OF MEDIA: internet, cellphones, iPods, magazines, newspapers, and *music*—that’s right, MUSIC. Here’s how the assignment was actually written:
THE ASSIGNMENT: This week your assignment is to find a 24-hour period during which you can pledge to give up all use of media: no Internet, no newspapers or magazines, no TV, no cell phones, no iPod, no music or movies, etc. And definitely no Facebook. Although you may need to use the Internet for homework or work, try to pick a time when you can go without using it. This should be an interesting experience for you and examining your own dependencies, so really try to give yourself a chance to do the whole 24 hours.
And before we suggest that students would interpret this as just modern, or social, media, what did students have to say? How about this:
“I do believe that the iPod touch is the greatest thing ever invented, having thousands of applications which allow me to check my email, check the weather, play games, and listen to my 16 gigabytes of music, half of which have probably never been played. It is genius, it fits in my pocket, and if there was one thing other than not playing guitar that was going to make this assignment impossible, it was not having my iPod on me.”
While Washington Post blogger Valerie Strauss uses this quote to support her snarky asinine dismissal of the value of an iPod, I, instead, see how this student not only gave up his iPod, but his guitar, as well. That’s right; he followed the assignment as written and gave up all music, along with all other media, for the 24-hours of this mandatory assignment.
So, let’s see… a day without Internet, phone, music, movies/TV, newpapers, or magazines. What’s left? Going outside and enjoying the beautiful day? The beautiful, upper 40s, windy outside, late-winter Maryland day? (That’s right, even basic fact checking would tell you that the week of this assignment, Feb 27 – Mar 4, 2010, wasn’t the warmest part of the year by any stretch… not to mention that with the closing ceremony of the Vancouver Olympics and the Chilean earthquake, would *you* really want to have been cut off from ALL MEDIA for 24 hours? [seriously, UMCP IRB... how did this "study" even get passed?])
But I digress. Back to my point. If you’re asked to cut off ALL MEDIA for 24 hours—what’s left? Some students reported to reading books during the 24-hour blackout, but I don’t see how books, the ur-media, would be considered acceptable while playing guitar would not. This discrepancy of what is and is not “media” I think underlines the heart of my problem with this study. It was poorly thought out, poorly designed, poorly controlled, and yet has been taken as producing valid scientific results.
Although one jungenblogger for ZDNet, Zack Whittaker, thinks the methodology was ‘pretty rock solid’, I heavily disagree. While Whittaker makes a good point that the term “addiction” is being improperly used by reporters relative to this story, I’d suggest that the entire study was set up to achieve exactly the kind of “addiction-terminology” that students reported. While I can’t comment on whether the classroom dialog preceding this “experiment” was biased or not, take another look at the wording of the assignment (emphasis mine):
…This should be an interesting experience for you and examining your own dependencies, so really try to give yourself a chance to do the whole 24 hours.
There’s no question that a phrase like “dependencies” will bias the student reports towards addiction-based terminology; the students, after all, just want a good grade.
It’s the unexamined implications at this most basic level of fact checking and interpretation that really gets my goat. While we can hem-haw all day about whether the Internet is a positive or negative social influence, about whether constant access to quick and easy media, connections, and communications are a boon or a bane to our society at large, while we can continue to ignore the blatant hypocrisy of pejorative comments about the Internet on the Internet, we shouldn’t be so quick as to overlook the fundamentals of good science and good reporting. Get your facts straight first, please.
Perhaps most disheartening of all, Susan Moeller, the instigator of this study, should know better. She specializes in (apparently… according to her website, which I’ve been wasting my time reading when I could have been “doing something real” offline) “US and global media and public policy, especially in regards to violence, conflict, war and disasters; terrorism and WMD; human rights; photojournalism; trauma, ethics.” One would think that someone with these credentials would be better equipped to not only responsibly conduct this study, but responsibly respond to its misinterpretation and sensationalization as well. But apparently not.
There is value here, however. Professor Moeller could take her own report and the newscloud surrounding it as a TEACHABLE MOMENT in bad journalism and bad science. Perhaps she could end with a comparative study on the effects of media on an older generation. I imagine the headlines would go something like this: UM School of Journalism staff asked to give up all media for 24 hours; show the exact same “addiction discourse” as 18-21 year olds, doesn’t make news because report lack “darn kids today” angle
I dunno, maybe it’s just me. Maybe it’s just that because I fall on the pro-Social Media, pro-Internet side of things, I knew how to do the 5 minute Google search to get at the heart of this report, while the “darn kids don’t know how to log off!” sympathizers got lost in the sea of information and blamed the ocean for the holes in their sinking ship.
Links not yet mentioned above:
The study’s own blog: http://withoutmedia.wordpress.com/
The study’s methods: http://withoutmedia.wordpress.com/about/
The Chronicle of Higher Education: http://chronicle.com/blogPost/Students-Denied-Social-Media/23561/
CTI Career Search: http://www.citytowninfo.com/career-and-education-news/articles/college-students-addicted-to-social-media-10042801
University of Maryland Newsdesk: http://www.newsdesk.umd.edu/sociss/release.cfm?ArticleID=2144
UM’s online description of the course in question: http://www.sis.umd.edu/bin/soc?crs=core&sec=ie&term=201001
Finally, the only balanced report I’ve found in my 10-minute search, Discovery Channel News: http://news.discovery.com/tech/is-online-social-networking-good-or-bad.html
-doug
Talk talk talk
- April 23rd, 2010
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So, I was talking…
…with my Significant Lover the other day, too early in the morning for us to be cordial, and, well, things got ugly… here’s how it went:

SL: This granola tastes like coffee.
me: It’s toffee.
SL: Yeah, it tastes like coffee.
me: Yeah, it’s toffee.
SL: You got coffee flavored granola?
me: No, toffee.
SL: That’s what I SAID. It tastes like coffee!
me: NO, NOT COFFEE, *TOFFEE.* IT’S TOFFEE GRANOLA.
SL: Oh, you’re saying ‘toffee.’ I was saying ‘coffee.’
me: Yeah, I know, I’m not deaf.
SL: Huh?
It’s conversations like these that remind me of the slippery nature of language and communication (as well as reminding me that Significant Lover and I should never wake-up within 45 minutes of each other, nor try to communicate with each other until both of us have been awake for at least 45 minutes… meaning that since he tends to wake up later than I do, I need to rise-and-shine at least an hour and a half before him. I swear, on the days I oversleep, this 90-minute delay turns him into some nocturnal lemur, shipped here from somewhere four time-zones to the east, waking up mid-day to confusedly stumble into the bathroom…). Anyway, being so reminded, in today’s issue I present a language-theme. We begin with a brief political diatribe on ‘fuzzy language’ and then head into a boatload of link-blogging all about language and communication.
[All pictures on today's issue, btw, are created by me and taken from the Texas English Project's Texas English Interactive website.]
Political Diatribe – Fuzzy Language
I love a good metaphor (remixed or original version) as much as the next communicative sentient; sometimes it’s nice for things to be described as if they were something else. There’s just something so delicious about “my coffee tastes like it was brewed inside an infected urethra” that really captures my distaste better than if I had only described what the coffee taste IS rather than what it’s LIKE, even though I, living under the normal circumstances of Western Society, have no idea what a beverage brewed inside a urethra (infected or otherwise) might taste LIKE.
But still, there are there are times when describing something as being LIKE something else doesn’t add to, or even add color commentary to, our understanding of the world and, in fact, only hinders our comprehension. Take, for example, the recent revelation that our US Supreme Court Justices are apparently as clueless about modern communication technology as a narwhal is about 15th Century movable type. Yet there they sit, expected to make rulings on how this technology should be used and to what standards it should be subjected legally.
However, I do not (as the article I’ve linked does) think the problem lies with the justices’ venerable ages. I think the real problem here is with the “e-mail as letter” analogy (New for 1991! Try E-Mail! It’s LIKE writing a letter, but using your Personal Computer and the World Wide Web!). But e-mail is NOT a letter, nor is it really even LIKE a letter. E-mail is something completely new. When you send a letter, the information contained in it is encoded by the sender and decoded by the recipient; only two people are necessarily involved. But when you send an e-mail, it’s not LIKE that at all. Instead, the information in an e-mail is encoded by you (the presumed sender), and then in the course of being ’sent’ gets further decoded and encoded by your e-mail program, your server, your ISP, your recipient’s ISP, your recipient’s server, your recipient’s e-mail program, and finally, only after a long chain of these intermediaries, your recipient. That is nothing LIKE mailing a letter, Mrs. Oleson steaming open her neighbors’ envelopes aside. If anything, an e-mail is more LIKE a phone call (which also travels through multiple links in the sender-to-receiver chain), but it’s not really like that, either, because there’s not necessarily any storage of the information in a phone call at each intermediate step. So, e-mail isn’t LIKE anything. It’s a totally new thing.
Same goes for the Internet more generally. Last week’s This Modern World presents a thought-compelling “What If Real Life Were More Like the Internet” sketch, and, while I get where the humor is coming from, it comes off a bit too “Andy Rooney” (minus the satire) and does a huge disservice to both real life and Internet life in the process. I mean, just nit-picking, but where’s the panel that shows how in real life you’d sit down at a cafe and after about five minutes of looking around find someone whose ideas intrigue you, whose words give voice to your thoughts, who could make you feel less alone no matter what patch of remote middle-Americana you lived in…? ‘cuz that’s what would happen if real life were LIKE the Internet.
Of *course* real life isn’t LIKE the Internet; the Internet is a new thing, wholly unlike anything else.
And I suppose it’s not really the metaphoric language that I take umbrage with. Indeed, I’m squarely of the camp that metaphoric thought is the only kind of thought really capable of generating new ideas and new connections—the kind of thought that drives us as a species (How is my writing desk like a raven?). So maybe what we need is a new word. Let’s not call all metaphoric language “metaphor;” let’s call the kind of fuzzy-thought metaphoric language I’m talking about “dumb-downic” or “surface-undertandic” language… after all, talk such as this is as much LIKE real metaphor as macaroni art is LIKE a Degas.
[NB: The link on 'dumb-downic' is my attempt at satire... linking to a poorly written piece about the effects of the Internet on intelligence that's unintelligently written and misunderstands both language and the Internet.]
Lainquidj Leengkzs!
Starting with some controversy, Debbie Tannen suggests that men and women interpret language differently across the board:
SciAm Mind Preview: He Said, She Said
He said, she said, but then a foreigner said something and I couldn’t follow:
Accent Trumps Skin Color
Metaphor, symbolic thought, and language in the ultimate Other– Neanderthals:
SciAm Mind: Neanderthal Symbolism
So, then, how is my language like both a raven and a writing desk? It’s got something to do with music (for the record, I think music is the basis that separates human language from chimp communication…):
PLoS ONE: Perception of sung words
(…because even though the link between language and gesture is really important…)
SciAm Mind: Talking with Gestures
(…chimps seem to have gesture pretty much covered)
SciAm Mind: Chimps Talk with Their Hands
And while we’re on the topic of how language is LIKE stuff… how is language LIKE language?
PLoS ONE: The Accuracy of Austronesian Language Relationships
And as long as were statisticsizing language, let’s talk about Zipf…
PLoS ONE: Random Texts and (one of) Zipf’s Law(s)
…and a really random text that we still can’t crack:
PLoS ONE: Analysis of Indus Script Using n-Grams
Maybe the Indus Script is like the Voynich Manuscript… maybe both are really old conlangs!
io9: Dothraki Conlang and
io9: Avatar Dictionary
…neither of which I can bother my head with, because I’ll apparently never forget them:
SciAm Mind: Once Learned, Never Forgotten
So, yeah, thinking about language…
-doug
P.R., sweetie!
- April 21st, 2010
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Getting the word out.
Just a quick note this time… I’m working on getting the word out about Boilerplate 3.0 (aka, the blog you’re reading now) and Life After Ph.D. (my webcomic). I’ve entered my webcomic in two forums recently: io9’s Robot Art Contest and Whitechapel’s uber-list of webcomics. The theme of the io9 contest was “We welcome our new robot overlords,” in honor of the upcoming RoboGames. I think I did a pretty good job capturing the theme while still keeping with Life After Ph.D. particular comedic style. You can see my submission for io9 here. Whitechapel was just a list of webcomics; my entry is here.
The funny thing is, this whole blog & webcomic were really started as a way to promote my blog-novel, The Apophenia of Modernity, but I can barely keep up with updating it, let alone promoting it. Oh well… that’ll be next week’s task, I suppose.
LINKS
Ha! No links today.
-doug
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