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August 16th, 2007

Nosey Parker

Last night I looked up the origins of the phrase "nosey parker". I vaguely hoped that the phrase was derived from the character Charles Parker in Dorothy Sayers' Lord Peter Wimsey mysteries, as I admire the way in which popular fiction of the 1920s in a number of genres introduced so many cool ideas and words into the mass culture.

In fact,though the architecture was more "artist unknown" than "mystery novel Gaudi".
Wikipedia suggests it could be a long-dead Archbishop of Canterbury, apparently particularly concerned with, of all things, the sanctity of one vestment versus another, or it could be a derivation of "nose poker", which sounds like a rather interactive card game, but in fact is a reference to folks who poke their noses where they don't belong.

From time to time, I feel more than a bit "nosey". Today is one of those times.
Although in many ways it's more useful to just read journals and learn what the journalist wishes to share, I sometimes want to cut to the chase.

I have questions. Do you have answers?

They may be inane or incisive. They will rarely be sensational. They may require a one word answer or a few paragraphs. I may have one. I will not have more than five-ish.

You may answer in the comments, in your own journal, or not at all.

But I hope you'll answer, as it's more fun when you do.

I'm reading, and I have questions.

Would you like to supply the answers?

If so, just indicate as much in the comments, perhaps with "fire away".

social networks and high school

A very productive hard-working day. Rain tonight. People face challenges. They do. Nobody is the only one who does, and some lack the money to endure them.

Between work and free legal clinic, I joined this odd facebook thing. It's interesting. I hope that I discover, somehow, everyone I ever knew but lost track of and said "I wonder what happened to.....".

I never see these social networks as in competition. Livejournal is like that friend in high school or college to whom one wrote long, long-hand letters about personal philosophy and inner doubts.

Myspace is like that bulletin board on the college campus where you posted the ads for people who wanted to buy your used bike or share your hobby, and snipped little tear- away phone numbers in the margins. The only problem with it is that people keep posting "for a good time call" spam over the best ads.

Ebay and Craigslist are what pennysaver papers used to be, writ nationwide.

Twitter is what those cute girls used to do in 7th grade, and you never understood them or it then, but you wished, a little, you were as cool as them.

Deadjournal is that guy you knew in high school with a fascination for switch blades who secretly loved pets in a saintly way, more than life itself.

Dmusic is what happens when band geeks grow their hair long and then have children.

Youtube is a lot like those talent shows where everyone sang and danced in community follies.

Deviantart is those kids in 10th grade art class who could make the most amazing things, but then spent all their time setting up cliques to worry about quality control. Just like back then, some of the most self-satisfied painters mix sparkle into their oils.

Google is the best friend you talked about the meaning of lyrics with.

Wikipedia is you, in third grade.

You never graduate high school, really, you just keep increasing the grad(ient)e.