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December, 2009:

Could I just point your attention towards…

Just as humans evolved from apes, blogging evolved from lists of links. And while it’s nice to have speech, art, and tools at our disposal; sometimes it’d be fun to shed all our clothes and swing about in the trees for a while.

There’s been something missing from my feed reader for quite a while now (since July of this year in fact). And that something is NYC Watchdog’s Sunday Smorgashboard. While there’s no way on earth I’d want to take up such a mighty mantle, I do think that there is value in pointing out things that you’ve enjoyed from within the blogosphere once in a while. People don’t link to each other enough any more in my opinion.


First up is Heather from Notes From Lapland who has made my blog reading about 300% less frustrating with her post 5 tips to make blog reading, commenting, subscribing faster and easier. Primarily by pointing out how to deal with reading truncated blog feeds while remaining within Google Reader:


Read and comment on blogs without leaving Google Reader – comment shows up on blog
.

With the FireFox extension Better G-Reader this is now possible.

  1. Add Better G-Reader FireFox add-on.
  2. Re-start FireFox
  3. The add-on pop up box will appear when you re-start.  Click on the Better G-Reader add-on and click options.
  4. Under the general tab click on the ‘preview item (click button or headline)’ box, click OK and exit (the ‘preview item automatically’ option doesn’t work for me)
  5. Open Google Reader and click either on the little blue arrow next to post title or on the ‘preview’ button at the bottom of the post.
  6. The blog will now open inside google reader.  You can read and comment as if you were on the actual blog and your comments will show up on the blog as if you were too!

Read the full post here

This is especially exciting to me as my new blog project (Lee and Dan’s Midnight Movie Club, opening this Wednesday) is going to have to have a truncated feed due to the unique way it’s formatted, and I’ve been feeling very guilty about it.


Andrew Collins (writer, 6 Music DJ, and co-host of my current favourite podcast) wrote a marvellous rant about the campaign to make Rage Against The Machine Christmas number one rather than the X-factor:

Others on Twitter seem to think that Simon Cowell’s “empire” needs “toppling.” Why not Google’s empire? Or Amazon’s empire? Or Microsoft’s empire? Maybe they think those empires need toppling too. I suspect not. Because those empires provide things that people on the left approve of, whereas manufactured pop music – eek! – is for idiots and plebs, who are too stupid to know how bad the music they like is, and the choices they make on iTunes or in HMV are in some way inferior to the choices made by Rage Against The Machine fans. (By the way, the #ratm4xmas campaign seems to have little to do with Rage Against The Machine, and plenty to do with the fact that the song has “fuck” in it, which isn’t magically going to be played on Radio 1 or the Christmas Top Of The Pops anyway.)

Read the full post here


Ian from Single Parent Dad wins my award for vaguest half hearted film review made by someone who can’t be bothered watching the film:

Santa Buddies has been on, but did not really engage us, we had visitors – including girls, aged four and two – and none of them appeared very enamoured for very long. And I was too busy roasting a gammon joint, answering the wishes of the little ones and nattering to our adult company to notice much about it.

Read the full post here

I had to sit through that monstrosity this week Ian. I demand you do likewise


Mrs W from Clinically Fed Up has some very interesting insights into the nature of grief:

When you’re 19 you also think that these things always happen at Christmas. At Christmas there’s always a house fire that wipes out a family, a new born baby found abandoned, a car crash. It’s only with the benefit of years that you realise these things happen all year round. They are, however, highlighted at Christmas, aggravated by their incongruous setting at this happiest of times. When we are so full of goodwill and joy it’s just worse. Which is why my tummy flipped and my heart grew heavy when I read a report on the BBC website on Saturday and I mourned the tragic passing of three strangers in a car accident in the Highlands. A mother and her two sons, here one day and just gone the next. Like that.

Only it turned out they weren’t strangers.

Read the full post here


And finally, my brother Sam, of Rabbit Confused With Raisins fame, has been out walking again, and took some pretty stunning photos too. All the more impressive when you consider he is a complete imbecile.

See the rest of the post here


And that’s all I have time for now, although there have been a multitude of other great posts this week. The “Letter to a 16 year old me” meme that’s been going round has been particularly facinating, although I wouldn’t like to pick out just one for praise.

I’m, not sure if I’ll be doing this kind of thing again, but I better make a sort of standard disclaimer: just because you are not listed here doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy your post or don’t think it’s as good as or better than the ones I have mentioned. it just means that I didn’t list you this time, that’s all.

Star Wars: A Small Hope

Evan started talking about Star Wars this morning, and so I introduced him to it’s glories via selected highlights on YouTube. I still can’t believe that I’ve only just realised that I no longer own a copy of the original trilogy. And I call myself a geek!

Anyhow, watching it reminded me of a video that I shot with Amy back when she was about two years old:

See, I had too much time on my hands even back then. Perhaps it’s time for a sequel.

A Confession

I have a confession to make.

For the last few weeks I’ve been having an affair.

I know you must be disappointed in me. I’m a little disappointed in myself if I’m honest. But sometimes a man just can’t get everything he needs from just one place. He has to spread his wings. Sample the fruit from other trees.

It’s not like it hasn’t happened before. It has, three times. Four if you count that brief dalliance surrounding the Dales Walk.

But I’m afraid it’s true. I’ve been cheating on All That Comes With It by starting up a brand new blog.

What? Why, what did you think I was talking about?

How dare you.

My antipodean pop-culture guru Lee and I have been collaborating on an exciting new project harnessing the power of Google wave, copious amounts of caffeine, and classic popcorn movies of the 70’s, 80’s and 90’s.

Official launch is on Wednesday, but here’s a sneak peak. Click on the picture to take you to the site.

Moonraker coming soon to the midnight movie club

(I really hope Kerry reads this post beyond the first few paragraphs)

Hair today

These are two, seemingly identical, photographs of me:

Dan, Ireland, July 1980

Can you spot the difference? I know it’s a tricky one, but if you look really closely you might just see it…

Yes that’s right! In the first photo my hair is blond, and in the second it’s a sort of brown. Well spotted!

The second photo isn’t a particularly good one of course, but seeing as though I was searching for one that showed at least a smattering of head hair I’m surprised I came up with anything at all.

The point is I used to have blond hair, and now I don’t. I’m not actually sure which point in my childhood my hair turned from beautiful shiny blond into drab and dirty brown, but I suspect it was probably at around the same time that I became responsible for my own personal hygiene. Whatever the reason, I turned.

In fact these days I’m showing signs of switching hair colour yet again. I keep finding an alarming number of grey hairs in my beard. But surely that can’t be right? I’m not old yet am I? I must be one of those people who turn grey early, like Steve Martin. Yeah, that’s it. That’s almost cool in a way isn’t it. Isn’t it?

Anyhow…

This is a photo of Evan. Notice his beautiful hair.

IMG_2757

But last night Kerry found a solitary traitorous brown strand buried in his mop of golden hair. Say it ain’t so son, say it ain’t so.

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On a different note, and because I can’t be bothered posting twice in one day, I’d like to point you over towards the folks at MyChild.co.uk who have very kindly interviewed me this week as part of their ongoing spotlight on parent bloggers. You can read it here

(N.B. I would just like to point out in their otherwise judicious editing of my answers the people at MyChild substituted the word “computer” with the letters “PC”. I would like to make it clear that I do NOT own a stinking PC. Its Apple all the way baby, Apple all the way)

A Christmas Conundrum

I was all set to write a post about how I’m going to struggle getting into the Christmas spirit this year. Then I had a quick trawl through my archives to see if I’d used the smutty “chestnuts roasting on an open fire” gag before (I have, twice), and realised that every December since I started this blog I’ve written a post about how I’ve been struggling to get into the Christmas spirit. So I suppose there is nothing new there really.

Apart from this year, for the first time since I’ve had children, I’m going to be working on Christmas day. From 1:30pm until 11pm to be precise.

To quote the ever perceptive Tricia Honea who responded to my complaints about the situation on twitter, this “Sucks balls”. In fact I might even go a little further than that. I think you’ll find Tricia that it actually sucks great big hairy monkey balls.

Still, I work in a 7 day a week, 365 day a year service. Somebody’s got to do Christmas day and I’ve been pretty lucky in avoiding the duty up to now. Plus, as Lee pointed out to me on Google Wave (I hope I’m impressing you all with my web 2.0 credentials here) at least I’ll get some karma points for doing it.

Still sucks monkey balls though. Plus due to various family members being away, working, or not doing Christmas this year, Kerry will be on all on her own with the kids after I leave. Even more ball suckage.

So we’re thinking about moving Christmas.

I’m not working Christmas Eve or Boxing Day, so either of those would be good. I mean the kids aren’t going to know. It should be easy enough to fool Amy with a bit of creative advent calendar fiddling, and Evan’ chooses to name his days according to who’ll be looking after him rather than any archaic conventions based on obsolete gods (is it Daddyday today or Nurseryday?).

But still, moving Christmas? Is that acceptable? I mean we move the kids birthdays to convenient weekends, but that’s small fry compared to messing with the big X. Although, thinking about it, there’s no reason we shouldn’t. We’re not in any way religious, and even if we were it’d make no difference as Christ was supposedly born some time in January anyhow. And don’t other nations make more of a big deal about other days in December rather than the 25th? I know Arjan gets his presents from Sinterklass on the 5th of December.

So what do we think then? Move Christmas and then try to pretend the 25th is just a particularly good TV day, or stick to the rules and try and cram as much seasonal cheer into the morning before I have to go sit miserably in my office?