Asking Ms. Dewey

I saw a more interactive search engine, with Ms. Dewey as the search engine.

I put in the words "clothing optional" and got a funny skit.

If you want to get her to curse, type in "ho." You get an earful. Or if you type in the word, "Ricardo" a few times and get different things. You can find "Easter Eggs", but really, the Easter Eggs are not well named because this is an interactive video. It looks at all searches and does something. I mean, if you clicked on her chest and she removed the bra through her arm hole and shot it at you, that would be an Easter Egg. The woman is Janina Gavankar, and she has been on Maxim Radio, as well as other places. She recorded about 600 video clips over three days and now you can see these flash videos on a search engine. And apparently, she is a television character on a show called The L Word.

Okay, I don't know if the television show is regular television or cable (I am thinking cable). It just sounds like a cable show – apparently she is a lesbian that has lots of lovers. Show sounds interesting, but alas, I am a bit of a Luddite.¹ Of course, it is fairly ludicrous to blog using a computer about being someone who is rallying against technology that is threatening jobs.²

Back to the interactive search engine.

Frankly, I want a search engine that gives me links to the sites I am searching for. Is that too much to ask? I don't think so. So I typed in "Leesa's Stories" to see what I would get. First was my blog, of course. Then I typed just Leesa, and my blogging buddy, Bitch Leesa, is first on the list. I am second, but I don't mind being second to Leesa, so at this point, I am okay with the search results.

I did several other searches and the first few results looked okay. But the problem is that it only gives you a few results. So why I think the technology behind Ms. Dewey is cool in a creepy kind of way, it doesn't seem to be real useful.

Personally, I can see having this type of search engine take off if the following changes occur:

1. You have the ability to easily turn off her voice. [edit: I did not see the mute button because the normal view was a bit larger than the view in my browser and I had to scroll to see it. Perhaps they should use a most standard size.]
2. Instead of taking up the whole screen, the interactive Ms. Dewey should be much smaller so that you can see many more results on the first page.
3. When searching, the first result should always either contain my blog, a site that has Orlando Bloom shirtless, or Shakira dancing.

Until then, I will continue to protest by destroying textile machines.

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¹ From Wikipedia: "The Luddites were a social movement of English textile artisans in the early nineteenth century who protested — often by destroying textile machines — against the changes produced by the Industrial Revolution, which they felt threatened their livelihood."

²Computers allow people to be more productive, thus impacting the livelihood of others.

Kiss the Girls

I met someone the other day who kisses girls for fun. Not a guy, but a girl. I know, I know, there is nothing special about that. Lesbians comprise 10% of the adult female population (please don't look this up; it is a wild-assed guess). But this woman insists she is not a lesbian.

I once found a definition about lesbians I once liked. Something like "a lesbian is a homosexual woman. Lesbians are sexually and romantically attracted to other women. One could argue that one is not a lesbian (as a noun) but lesbian (as an adjective). This would depend on self identification, and is different for most lesbians/lesbian women." Definition provided by Wikipedia, and meant for Prata. He is all over definitions.

Oh, and the woman wanted a kiss. This troubled me for two reasons – (1) I thought I no longer was giving out my slut pheromones, and (2) how did she know that I have kissed another woman. I was a little freaked out, and I said something like, "I don't kiss women. I am happily married." And then I wondered if my past was following me. I really wondered about that. You know, you do sexually deviant things in the privacy of a guy's car, and you think it is left there on the car seat, with the used rubber and the cum stain. Okay, that last sentence was for effect. But still, when do you stop being who you once were.

See, to me kissing is cheating. Not a peck on the cheek to someone from Romania who greets people that way. But when you are using tongue, and you have to resist putting your hands in other places, it is cheating.

Getting back to women – I think women look really good kissing one another. You know, when I was surfing for porn the other day, the hottest pics were of women kissing one another. On the lips, and not their lips down there. Just joking about surfing for porn, but you know what I mean. "Women kissing" is erotic, probably more erotic than when couples kiss, unless the man is Orlando Bloom. And you are the woman kissing Orlando Bloom. Yummy. You know, everything good makes its way back to Orlando Bloom. Can you tell I am in lust? Er, love.

I got an email yesterday, saying that I was "most likely to be contacted on August 31, 2006, from Blogsinspace.com.



Here is what I think. Bloginspace just wants me to buy something. But just in case, if I disappear after August 31, 2006, I may be in space, on some cold aluminum table, being poked and prodded by a space alien who looks suspiciously like George W. Bush. I know, too much information. Perhaps they will want me to kiss space alien girls. Or Orlando Bloom. I can wish.

Your Angel is a Centerfold

I may have mentioned this before, but when I was growing up, me and my friends would look at Playboy at other people's houses. My parents did not subscribe to the magazine, but a lot of houses on the block did. And when we were growing up, this was a source for our sexual education. Most of our parents did not talk about sex, and I did not have any slutty friends who had sex yet, so we poured over the pages of Playboy to get answers on the mysteries of sex.

And part of what we were doing, is projecting who we would be in a few short years. We would see these tanned women, purportedly in their early twenties, and they looked like Venus coming out of her orb (please see the Botticell painting for references). We wanted to be these women, and I think each of us assumed that our bodies would develop into copies of the images we were viewing. For most of us, this was not sexual; it was educational. And we would read about them as well; we mostly turned the centerfold over to get a summary of her qualities. For instance:

BIRTHPLACE: Savannah, Georgia USA

BUST: 36"

WAIST: 25"

HIPS: 35"

HEIGHT: 5' 2"

WEIGHT: 138 lbs

AMBITIONS: To become so successful as a novelist that my likeness appears on the Simpsons. Orlando Bloom will call me, hoping to have sex with me so I can write about the experience.

TURN-ONS: Massages, fondue parties, intelligent men, humble people, nice smiles, saxophones in jazz clubs, and sunsets on the Riviera.

TURNOFFS: Dishonesty, apathy, egotistical people and jealousy.

FAVORITE CITY: Having traveled through Europe, I appreciate all cultures, but Venice, Italy remains my favorite because it's so tranquil. [Playboy was always Euro-centric; imagine knowing the world by traveling around Europe.]

FAVORITE AUTHOR: Mystery writer Agatha Christie. [The women always picked an author who was popular or one a high school English reading list.]

FAVOITE MOVIES: Breakfast at Tiffany's and My Fair Lady. Audrey Hepburn is who I aspire to be.

I'M PARTICULARLY WILD ABOUT: Mountains in the springtime; sitting around a campfire while someone plays a guitar; listening to the world wake up on a camping trip.

Over time, we found out that our bodies did not become airbrushed, our boobs were not exactly the same size, and we did not lie around in nothing but rabbit ears and panties with fluffy tails. We became real. Sometimes I wonder what men want – the fantasy or the reality. Would it be better for us to be the bunny or the wife?

Turn Signals and Orlando Bloom

Okay, I posted early for Monday. I think I actually posted on Friday afternoon for my Monday post. Partly because I didn't want to chicken out, partly because I really wanted to take Monday off. Oooppss. Did I just write that?

This morning, coming to work, I saw someone who was pulled over by the police. A really bad spot, near an intersection. Well, I figured he was stopped for speeding, but here is the interesting part. After the police got back in the car, and he started, he made a right hand turn without turning on his turn signal, and the police officer stopped him again. Can you think to yourself: son-of-a-bitch? And it looked like there was a couple in the car – a man and woman at least.

I would have to bite my tongue were I in the passenger side seat. "So one ticket was not enough, sweetie?" How do you break another driving rule when you were just stopped? I don't get it. And I am not all over the police officer in this one. I mean, the person was violating a traffic rule.

Not sure if you have ever been to Georgia, but we Georgians drive differently. You see, we never use our turn signals. So if you see one of us slow down, odds are good that we are going to turn. See when a tourist slows down, it normally means they are looking for a street or are lost – we just want to turn. Now, I don't drive like a Georgian because I don't assume that people are psychic – I mean, some of these people are South Carolinians, and it is a known fact that these people can't read minds. Heck, half of them can't read. Okay, that was a little bit over the top – I am just pissy because if I look at things objectively, South Carolina has a heck of a lot to offer. I mean, the difference between Charleston and Savannah is that you are far less likely to be murdered in Charleston. I actually think that is in their ads.

Well, I did want to write a bit this morning, if nothing else but to give those who have commented yesterday a chance to read a bit of fluff. I mean, I can't always write deep stuff, especially because I pour my blood into certain posts. Part of me just wants to ask Shakira to sing "Hips Don't Lie" to me while I get a massage by Orlando Bloom. I mean, what girl wouldn't?

Spam Riches, Microsoft and Orlando

Dear Readers,

It looks like I may not be here much longer. You see, Mr. Rahim Allen, the head of auditing and accounting section of Union Togolaise de Banque Lome-Togo in West Africa, and I may be entering an agreement in which I could earn millions of dollars. All I have to do is give Mr. Allen, someone who I only know from a piece of spam (below), some money, trust the guy, and wait for him to give me my money. Soooooo, maybe I will be around a little longer, with a few less dollars in my purse. Unfortunately, by blogging about this, I have already killed the deal. You see, this is no longer "top secret." Crap.

Last week, I spent thirty minutes updating MS Windows. I don't know a lot about software – but I don't really like Windows. I was reading Prata last week, and he had a link to another blog (not like mine, there were no discussions of cum stains, lesbian lust, or philosophical discussions on the best way to trim pubic hair). Anyway, even though there seemed to be no useful information, I started reading the blog. It was all about Windows, and the entries I was reading concerned the little "security fix" that I was installing.

The "patch" was a tad deceptive. You see, first you install some type of "software authentication application" (by the way, this is all from memory, so if I get it wrong, just deal with it – you are reading about software from someone who is much more interested and experienced with hardware – and an expert on turning it to software with just her tongue and mouth). Well, you download this little application – and MS gives you a description like, "install this before you can install patches (without the patches, your computer will ignite the next time you turn on the computer)". Again, I may be wrong on this description, but just chill, especially if you are a lawyer for MS. So after you install this little program that you can never un-install, you have basically said to MS, "you can look inside of my computer any old time you want (which happens to be every time you power up the computer).

Well, for OCD people like me, I feel like never turning on the machine again. That way, Mr. Gates and his cronies can not sift through my files. And those naked pictures of Orlando Bloom are for research purposes, and Orlando gave me those pictures; I did not hide under his bed and take the pictures without his knowledge. Oh, and I am not the Leesa who has a restraining order against her. Promise.

Back to my intellectual discussion on MS. Well, afterwards, I had something like 18 "patches" to make Windows safer, which means that it takes 30 minutes for a hacker to disable my computer and use it against the Department of Defense or Ebay. I found a quote that Bill Gates said a decade ago about his Windows software: "There are no significant bugs in our released software that any significant number of users want fixed." (Focus Magazine, Oct. 23, 1995) I am sure his stance on this issue has not changed.

So now, not only is my employer paroosing my work machine – they purchased it, they can look at the contents. But now I have MS looking at my machine, just to check every time that I have "authentic MS software on my machine". And for those who think this is no big deal, here is something Mr. Gates said about China and software piracy:
"Although about 3 million computers get sold every year in China, but people don't pay for the software," he said. "Someday they will, though. As long as they are going to steal it, we want them to steal ours. They'll get sort of addicted, and then we'll somehow figure out how to collect sometime in the next decade." (On software piracy in China, July 1998)

Looks like they figured out a way to catch those in the US – but they get access to everyone else's machines as well. I am sure they will not use this information for other purposes. Like marketing. Or looking at Orlando Bloom's perfect butt.

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FROM MR RAHIM ALLEN.
AUDITING AND ACCOUNTING UNIT.
FOREIGN OPERATIONS DEPARTMENT.
UNION TOGOLAISE DE BANQUE,UTB.
LOME- TOGO.

Dear Leesa,

I am Mr. Rahim Allen, the head of auditing and accounting section of Union Togolaise de Banque Lome-Togo in West Africa with due respect and regard. I have decided to contact you on a business transaction that will be very beneficial to both of us at the end of the transaction .

During our investigation and auditing in this bank, my department came across a very huge sum of money belonging to a deceased person who died on 26th December 2004 in Tsunami that happened in Sumatra island, Indonesia. From the information that our bank have gotten so far, the Tsunami killed him with his entire family and no none relation have been identified. The person that he used as his next of kin was his 17 year old son who died along side with the family.

Although personally, I keep this information secret within myself to enable the whole plans and idea be Profitable and successful during the time of execution. The said amount was (U.S$9.5M UNITED STATES DOLLARS).

Meanwhile all the whole arrangement to put claim over this fund as the bonafide next of kin to the deceased, get the required approval and transfer this money to a foreign account has been put in place and directives and needed information will be relayed to you as soon as you indicate your interest and willingness to assist me and also benefit your self to this great business opportunity.

In fact I could have done this deal alone but because of my position in this country as a civil servant (A Banker), we are not allowed to operate a foreign account and would eventually raise an eye brow on my side during the time of transfer because I work in this bank. This is the actual reason why it will require a second party or fellow who will forward claims as the next of kin with affidavit of trust of oath to the Bank and also present a foreign account where he will need the money to be re-transferred into on his request as it may be after due verification and clarification by the correspondent branch of the bank where the whole money will be remitted from to your own designation bank account.

I will not fail to inform you that this transaction is 100% risk free. On smooth conclusion of this transaction, you will be entitled to 30% of the total sum as gratification, while 10% will be set aside to take care of expenses that may arise during the time of transfer and also telephone bills, while 60% will be for me. Please, you have been advised to keep it as a "top secret" as I am still in service and intend to retire from service after I conclude this deal with you.

I will be monitoring the whole situation here in this bank until you confirm the money in your account and ask me to come down to your country for subsequent sharing of the fund according to percentages previously indicated and further investment, either in your country or any country you advice me to invest in. All other necessary information will be sent to you when I hear from you.

Yours faithfully,

Rahim Allen.

Repentance and Naked Pictures

The other day, I got an e-mail from Orlando Bloom. You see, during the filming of the new "Pirates of the Caribbean" movie, he and some chick named Keira Knightley ….

Okay, I am full of it. You see, I told a bit of a lie and now, let's see, I need to consult my Catholic guidebook, I need to repent.

I actually got an e-mail from someone else to talk about this issue. Apparently he has nakkid pictures of ~Deb and Montana Leesa, and he is willing to send them to me if I post about this today. Crap, sinned again. You see, I am not sure I am the right person to talk about this today, though if you think about it, being a good Catholic, I have repented my ass off because of my actions, my thoughts, and Orlando Bloom's abs.

Oh, back to the post.

Today, I want to talk about repentance. Okay, we have established I am a good Catholic girl (and we are not talking about role-play with knee-high white socks, a short plaid skirt and ponytails), and I actually have read some of the Conciliar Documents that explain the Church's view on certain issues. And my viewpoint is a bit difference from the Church's teachings on the subject. Please take this as a disclaimer – these views are in conflict with some teachings of the Catholic Church.

A long time ago, there were things that the Catholic Church taught as "unforgivable sins." Suicide is really the only unforgivable sin, according to the Catholic Church. But it is not unforgivable because it is worse than other sins. It is just because in the Catholic rule book, you do not have the opportunity to repent after you committed the sin, mostly because you are either in a bathtub full of blood, are in a deep sleep due to the pills you took, have fallen off a building, or whatever. Anyway, these words have nothing to do with what the Catholic Church teaches – I understand what they teach, love reconciliation, but I just think some of it is against the nature of God.

Repentance? I don't think repentance has anything to do with entrance to heaven. And that's what people focus on – how can I get that ticket into heaven. Repentance deals with making things right with God, that is reconciling with God, and I don't believe that is the price of admission to heaven. On the final day, I can see lots of Christians pissed because this sinner got in, this non-believer got in, and it does not seem fair. The only thing I can think is that I would be laughing my butt off if God used this as a test – you are pissed, please take the escalator downstairs to the home of my fallen arch angel. Okay, I don't think this would happen ever, but it makes me giggle.

"Though your sins be like scarlet," Isaiah said, "they may become white as snow" (Isaiah 1:18). Repentance isn't a supposed to be a negative concept; it signals a return to God. It reveals your genuine sorrow for having sinned, plus a sincere desire to do better in the future. And if you fall again, so be it, in my mind.

I am sure you have heard the trite saying, "God's ways are not man's ways." When I first heard that, I thought it was a load of crap. Now, I wonder. I really think that repentance is for our good, not God's.

Ticklish Subjects

I am catching up on some reading – hubbie and I tried having sex for 72 hours straight, and since I did not want to get any goo on the laptop, I have not been looking at blogs this week. Sorry. Anyway, I was reading Joe's blog, and he had a picture of a young woman in body paint.

Body Paint
Unlike the guys who were trying to make out her nipples or whatever, I began to think about the experience of being body painted. I have seen some people with body paint on, not like the picture, but bikini-clad women with paint on their tummies. But I was thinking – okay, fantasizing – about being a model, and having me body-painted for a photo shoot. Now, in this model-fantasy, I am okay about being nude. I figure, you have to dress all day long for photo shoots, and so you are in and out of clothes all day long. So lots of people must see my boobies. Not a problem since I am making ten grand per day. Remember, my fantasy. Oh, and as long is this is my fantasy, Orlando Bloom is waiting for me – he wants to take me clubbing afterwards. Yeah, life is a bitch.

But I could never get body-painted because I am so ticklish. The artist would be painting and then I would be giggling, and all of a sudden, his masterpiece is ruined. I mean, I am so ticklish that he would apply just a bit of paint, and then all of a sudden, I would have a line drawn across my tummy. Not good.

Word Verification
I have also noticed a new feature for Blogger/Blogspot, which is way cool, the accessibility feature in word verification. It looks like this:

You see, all you have to do is click on the image, and then instead of typing in the letters that you see, it gives you numbers by audio. At first, I thought the audio was going to have stuff like trains in the background or birds chirping, children playing, or Shakira lyrics. No, instead, it is just audio that you can actually hear. I don't know about you, but I fail with the word verification about half the time. And the trouble is that I know my ABCs – I learned them in elementary school. For the life of me, I can't guess some of the letters. I sort of think some programmer who hates people (okay, all programmers hate people, so I am being a tad redundant) purposefully puts some function in his work that makes even correct word verification answers fail 35% of the time.

Personally, I don't use word verification – and now I get all these posters wanting me to purchase male enhancement stuff. Not sure what that is all about. No one ever suggests breast enhancement cream. Why is that?

Paris Hilton
I just found out that Paris Hilton has a sister. Okay, having a sister is not that special. Okay, it is special – she can braid your hair, paint your toenails, find out who likes you when you are in grade school. Perhaps she even knows a ninja-bunny dentist.

Okay, I dislike Paris Hilton. No secret there. And, really, I don't think she is that hot. If she were to come into my work today and offer to orally please me, I would say "pass." Even if she were going to videotape the entire experience. She just looks like someone who has had too much tweaking – with Botox and otherwise. If Barbie ever came to life, instead of who I would want her to be, she would be exactly like Paris Hilton.

And then someone told me that Paris is not even the hot Hilton. So I googled Nikki Hilton, and got a view of her. Okay, I know I am going straight to hell for using Google and oppressing the Chinese people, but Nikki looks better than Paris. And I think Nikki is a slut, too. I am not much into pop culture, but the question in my brain is, "Why is Paris so much more popular than Nikki?" Is it that darned little dog she keeps under her arm? Was that sex video that was "accidentally released" that good? Who knows? Must be a marketing scheme or something. I remember when video tape recorders came out, there were two basic kinds in the US – Betamax (or was it just Beta) and VHS. They were completely incompatible. At the time, I thought they were about the same – you put a tape in a machine and watched a movie. My family got VHS, and a whole lot of other families did the same. They ended up dominating the market – thing was, I read later, is that Beta-formatted machines were technologically better – clearer image, etc.

Happy Friday! I think I am going to use the audio word verification on sites I read from now on.

Cars, Bikinis and Cheesecake and a Wire Wisk

I was in the supermarket the other day, and I know I had to pick up a few things, but instead of doing the same routine (get cart, go through veggie isle first, go down isle 3 next, etc.), I just grabbed a hand-held basket and walked down isles randomly.

One of the isles I rarely ever travel down is the magazine isle. And so I am just looking randomly at the magazines. And the ones that first catch my attention are the auto magazines. There are like 50 thousand different auto mags, and they sort of all look alike to me. I mean, if not alike, very similar. Car or truck on the cover, with hot girl or girls in bikinis next to the vehicle or on top of the vehicle. My first thought is, "darn, I hope the hood is not hot because it will leave a nasty burn mark." And my next thought is, "Life is not fair."

Press release: life isn't fair. Yeah, I know, we have learned this all of our lives. But come on, the women have little to do with the cars (men's minds are thinking, "without the car, I can't get the bikini-clad hotties"). The target audience is men, and they get to look at eye candy.

And I don't think women have the same.

Here is what I want – I want a woman's hobby magazine to be more like men's car magazines (the cars are hobbies, aren't they?).

Okay, next time I am at the supermarket, I'd like to see a cover photo of a 22-year-old hunk with rippling muscles, Pyrex bowl covering his package, and the title, "Measuring up." I mean, I don't know if the measuring cup with make his wee-wee bigger or smaller. I was in physics in high school, and concave verses convex; I don't know what the different lenses do to images. But wouldn't you buy the magazine? I mean, for the recipes of course.

Or some cutie in an apron and nothing else, wisking some eggs, with the title, "Taste My Cream Sauce." I know, I know. This is not marketable. Women don't like to look at men. To that, I say under my voice, "B----hit."

You could have an article on glazes, and pics that would include a glaze on Orlando Blume. I mean, as long as we are being fair. You could have men talk about their favorite deserts, full of sexual innuendos. I am talking sexually playful, not hard core.

Now, I don't know what the car magazines are about, but it is still about the cars. The hobby. You would still need to write good articles with helpful info. But give us a bit of cheesecake to go along with the recipe. That's all I am asking.

Oh, and "There's a weasel chomping on my privates."

Science and poop

I heard something the other day that gave me pause to think – it concerned a student's science project.

Student’s science project finds more bacteria in ice than toilet water
In summary: A project entered in the Florida state science fair by a seventh grade student finds that ice at some fast-food restaurants contains more bacteria than water found in toilets at the same establishments, USA Today reports. For her project, 12-year-old Jasmine Roberts collected water samples from self-serve ice machines and drive-thru widows at five fast-food restaurants in South Florida and compared them with samples of toilet water collected from restrooms at the same facilities. Laboratory tests conducted with the help of a professor at the University of South Florida confirmed that toilet water contained “less bacteria than the ice 70% of the time” and that three of the five ice samples contained fecal coliform or E. coli bacteria. The professor from USF who assisted with the project says the findings are “not surprising” because toilets are routinely flushed, which clears bacteria, while ice often passes through hands and containers that harbor bacteria. He notes that consumers should “not be overly alarmed” because it takes far more bacteria than the amounts found in the ice samples to cause illness, but he advises people to make an effort to ensure that food and beverages are “handled properly”.

So a local government official responsible for food inspection had the following to say:

"Ice machines are part of the health inspections," Luebkemann said. "There are a lot of factors that have to be considered, like how accurately did she gather and test her specimens. Plus, comparing the ice to toilet water can be misleading because there are acceptable levels of bacteria for water."

Two things that I immediately thought of:

1. Acceptable levels of bacteria for water? Can you imaging wanting water dirtier that toilet water?

2. I am sure this grown up is sweating because of a little girl's science project. Sort of makes me giggle.

And when I read stories like this, after imagining ~Deb reaching for her gas mask and rubber gloves, I begin to wonder if we get too much information about dangers in our world. Mass murderers terrify me, but in the grand scheme of things, the odds of a mass murderer affecting my life directly (killing anyone I know) is very, very small. I have better odds getting laid by Orlando Bloom. And I don't live in California.

But after letting you know about this, I was wondering, what would cushion the blow. I mean, say, you are listening to this, eating your Burger King Whopper at your desk, sipping on your Diet Coke, laced with bacteria and fecal material. After accidentally spitting your Diet Coke concoction on your screen, what could you think of that would make this seem less gross.

For those of you with no aversion to anal play (and that is not me, you could think, "At least I don't know if my drink has fecal material in it. When I was tonguing my boyfriend the other night, I know I was licking poop."

Or, for those who like opera, you could think, "Holy cow. I like opera and drinking poop. I am going to hell." Okay, perhaps we don't have a lot of opera divas here. And opera is a form of torture, not a poorly constructed web browser.

I am trying to think of the positive spin to this story – perhaps we should stop frequenting fast food restaurants. Good for the waistline and you don't swallow poop. A win-win situation.

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I think Mikey spends more time on the Internet than I do. Well, I sit on office e-mail, but I don't really explore much of blogland. Every once in awhile I do, but that's when I am bored. He wrote about a site that rates other blog sites, and when they rated his site, he did rather well.

I thought, what the heck, I will have them look at my blog (which they have done). And the review that looked at my blog did not like it at all. First, they mentioned that the template is boring – which it is. But I don't think they held that against me. What they did not like was the content. They gave one example of, admittedly, a weak post. And they are right. It was weak. But I am sure they looked at other posts. No additional contents. Basically I am someone, in their estimation, that tries to be philosophical, and fails. And, after being initially hurt, they are right.

I noticed a lot of people I normally read or occasionally read being reviewed. Although I can see how the reviewer got it right with me, some of the others are off the mark. Perhaps the people who run this site are just mean. Some constructive criticism, and some gratuitous criticism.

I mean, I have some funny posts, but because I post every day, some of the posts are crap. Heck, this one focuses on crap you drink at fast food restaurants.