“I MEASURE A MAN BY THE SIZE OF HIS NECK NOT HIS HEART”

Which photo of John Gruber should I use for my upcoming article about the contribution this multimillionaire made to the ostracism and isolation his dear friend Textism suffered before the latter finally committed suicide?

Colour and black-and-white photos (the latter wearing glasses)

While you’re making your selection, consider adding your own 50 bucks to the $250,000 Gruber and his partner grossed in a single week via their new subscription podcast.

The foregoing posting appeared on Joe Clark’s personal Weblog on 2020.05.30 12:23. This presentation was designed for printing and omits components that make sense only onscreen. (If you are seeing this on a screen, then the page stylesheet was not loaded or not loaded properly.) The permanent link is:
https://blog.fawny.org/2020/05/30/gruberheadshots/

It is extraordinarily complex to buy memory for Macintosh computers. (Give it a shot. Can you get it right on the first go?) After four visits to stores and dealers, I gave up and ordered from the ostensibly-well-reputed Newegg. The RAM manufacturer was Nexim.

The RAM, which took weeks to arrive, was defective. My Mac was in the shop twice, in the latter case for six weeks, trying to diagnose the issue. It never was diagnosed. Only when I removed the Nexim RAM, and lived with not enough memory, and then later replaced it with another manufacturer’s, did this machine work correctly.

I asked for a return and a refund. It cost 18 bucks to mail back the RAM, which, incidentally, had been shipped via postal mail in a regular padded envelope. (I used a box.) The destination was somewhere in Bumfuck, Florida, in an industrial park. (I checked Street View images.) The delivery confirmation stated the item had been left in a storage locker, implying the destination is the sort of thing one would have used as a dead drop during the Cold War.

Nexim and Newegg then proceeded to:

  1. repeatedly ask for the tracking number of the package, including after it had been received

  2. repeatedly pretend not to be able to read or manipulate that tracking number, despite dealing with somebody who does not top-post and avoids HTML E‑mail, and who ultimately wrote it out in military alphabet

  3. issue a refund on an internal system, sent me umpteen notifications of same, then sent me a notification stating the refund had been cancelled

  4. keep my money

Newegg’s CEO (it has one) was keen on informing me of its pandemic preparedness plans. Given two months to reply to two requests for comment, he did nothing.

Newegg and Nexim are fly-by-night operations. Do not spend money with them.


(I have learned through this tribulation that Apple’s unreasonable prices for memory are a good deal overall. If remotely possible, buy a machine with all the RAM you will ever need present out of the box and ordered through and installed by Apple.)

The foregoing posting appeared on Joe Clark’s personal Weblog on 2020.05.13 12:03. This presentation was designed for printing and omits components that make sense only onscreen. (If you are seeing this on a screen, then the page stylesheet was not loaded or not loaded properly.) The permanent link is:
https://blog.fawny.org/2020/05/13/nexim-newegg-scam/


Jack Mason hosts the Perfume Nationalist podcast with his brother and a girl nicknamed Jugs. In other words, Mother, Jugs & Speed cohost the Perfume Nationalist. (She’s the in-house anti-Semite, joined by a special-guest-star anti-Semite for a number of episodes.)

Originality is overrated and underrated all at once, but the show achieves actual originality by “pairing” a varietal of perfume with one or more movies. Jack’s rejection of neoliberal morality as mere play-acting, particularly by females, is as recognizably gay as his voice, with which he delivers bon mots at breakneck speed. He reminds me of the late Prince of Queens.

He also mispronounces things constantly and just uses the wrong words. His brother, a sound-engineer hobbyist, handles everything technical, and subjects listeners to a sound collage on each episode prefaced by a piercing pure tone, but cannot quite figure out that a filename like 2019_09_04_TPN_s01ep33_Rose_Clouds_
of_Holocaust_w_JUGS_n_Ty_E_TEASER - The Perfume Nationalist
is a complete nightmare.

Jack appreciates avant-garde cinema and makes a strong case for the true artistry of works and performers, from Knots Landing to Lens Dunham, derided by bien-pensant lamestream critics. He appreciates Thirtysomething, for which I handwrote a 330-page episode guide, and adores C. Paglia and F. Lebowitz.

So you think we’d get along like a house on fire.

No. What he doesn’t have is continuity with cultured eldergays, of whom he knows none. His boyfriend certainly isn’t one. Lebowitz unoriginally observed that AIDS killed all the cool people (I know who gave her that line), and further observed, this time originally, that AIDS killed off a high-connoisseurship audience that has never been replaced. But Jack forgets Fran Lebowitz’s own life history (as retold in Public Speaking):

I was interested in older people. I always had friends much older than me. I had friends so much older than me that, by the time I was 40, many of my closest friends had died of old age already. But it was because they were older than me – in other words, because they could teach me something, you know, but not because I thought they were going to do the new thing. That was my job, you know? That’s how the work used to be split up.

Jack derides White wymmynz’ performative allergies to perfume and their endless elective ailments, like fibromylagia. He instant-messaged me to basically tell him to stop funnelling corrections his way, at which point I told him he could block me.

Jack’s an expert on perfume (I still do not know what ouds, fougères, and chypres are, but at least I can pronounce those words, along with “Fassbender” and “chthonic”), while his brother is adept at sound design. Jack’s allergy to other forms of expertise is performative and elective and traces back to the unbreachable chasm caused by having no cultured eldergays in his life to guide and correct him.

(I added the public Perfume Nationalist episodes to the Internet Archive, where Jack’s brother’s insane URLs are prominently displayed. All my corrections were and are correct and his ire is purely elective, but I’m a paid subscriber to the Perfume Nationalist nonetheless. And despite Jack’s hubris, some brigade of trannies, a word often used on the podcast, are going to get him booted off Patreon, which will then seize all his money.)


Update

(2020.05.01) “You know someone is cool when their big thing is owning people by correcting pronunciation,” Jack writes.

Option 2: Learn and improve. Surely Old Spice is just like Yatagan?

The foregoing posting appeared on Joe Clark’s personal Weblog on 2020.04.19 13:15. This presentation was designed for printing and omits components that make sense only onscreen. (If you are seeing this on a screen, then the page stylesheet was not loaded or not loaded properly.) The permanent link is:
https://blog.fawny.org/2020/04/19/oud-chypre-fougere/

  1. Handsome lad in glasses holds Labrador-retriever puppy, snow-dappled mountains in background
  2. Guy in pup mask and jockstrap does double-bicep pose against fur draperies
  3. Well-muscled bearded man in greenhouse inspects a philodendron
  4. In a car, man in passengerseat buries his head in shoulder of driver, who wears an orange ballcap and a tank top revealing endless back and neck hair
  5. iPhone lock screen shows sun-dappled nude man with Roman nose, knees up by elbows, looking off to the side

The foregoing posting appeared on Joe Clark’s personal Weblog on 2020.04.01 12:11. This presentation was designed for printing and omits components that make sense only onscreen. (If you are seeing this on a screen, then the page stylesheet was not loaded or not loaded properly.) The permanent link is:
https://blog.fawny.org/2020/04/01/aesthetic/

Robotic camera takes picture of itself in mirror at museum

The foregoing posting appeared on Joe Clark’s personal Weblog on 2020.03.31 10:26. This presentation was designed for printing and omits components that make sense only onscreen. (If you are seeing this on a screen, then the page stylesheet was not loaded or not loaded properly.) The permanent link is:
https://blog.fawny.org/2020/03/31/camerainmirror/


The formerly smashingly cute Mr. MATTHEW BUTTERICK, on Once Upon a Time in Hollywood: “Hated it. A rancid reactionary fantasia of pre–Baby Boomer American masculinity.” (He misrendered that adjective chain.)

Few now recall how, as a young/hung/full-of-cum designer, Mr. BUTTERICK slaved away in Roger Black’s hothouse. The consternatingly dapper and accomplished Mr. BLACK is of course one of the few homosexualist graphic designers, said profession being as hetero as roofing but with less of a raison d’être. Like John Du Pont, about whom I wrote a “Talk of the Town” piece for the New Yorker that Brendan Lemon couldn’t quite manage to run, Mr. BLACK operated a flat-out harem in the 1990s, with a staff made up of cute young things like Mr. BUTTERICK – and the dyspeptic Michael Goff, whose looks have fallen off a cliff but whose editing skills were always in the gulley alongside the flattened corpse of Wile E. Coyote, whom he indeed now resembles.

Given the history, Mr. BUTTERICK’s post-teenage-girl American self-hatred disqualifies him from passing judgement on men. The name “Butterick” is a masculinity disqualifier on its face. Remind us again how important it is, in the Drumpf era, to centre Black trans wymmynz’ lives in American discourse, and how some men have vaginas.

Why do I bother promoting his book Typography for Lawyers, which I did as recently as a fortnight ago?

The foregoing posting appeared on Joe Clark’s personal Weblog on 2020.03.09 12:26. This presentation was designed for printing and omits components that make sense only onscreen. (If you are seeing this on a screen, then the page stylesheet was not loaded or not loaded properly.) The permanent link is:
https://blog.fawny.org/2020/03/09/butterface/

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