And they say jocks didn’t study in class…
UPDATE: Okay, okay, it’s a quote from Animal House, but what gets me is just how little reaction it gets. I mean, not even a chuckle?
So a week ago, I asked you to participate in a fundraising event in which I spared you from the guilt trip of asking you for money. Instead, I promised to give away my own money in proportion to how much you helped to inflate my ego by subscribing to my RSS feed or following my Twitter account.
Kind of like those emails that say Bill Gates will donate money if you forward them. Only this one was real.
I gave you a week, so that news of my good deed would spread far and wide and everyone would have a chance to let themselves be counted.
One week later, here are the results: The number of Twitter followers has gone from 3,816 to 3,854, an increase of 38. Subscribers to my RSS feed haven’t changed, and could possibly have even declined.
So my grand total to be given to charity, under the generous formula I set, would have been $38. Enough for a family of four to … have dinner at a McDonald’s.
Seriously? I can’t get you lazy bums to do something as effortless as hit “follow” or “subscribe” even if I’m paying for you to do it? At that rate, I’d wonder if you’d even remember to breathe if there wasn’t an unconscious brain function that forces your lungs to expand and contract. What do I have to do, deliver a pizza? Show you porn?
Look, I know, lots of people already follow me, and not everyone has more than 3,000 Twitter followers. Well, I’m not everyone. My extended family (which includes a lot of those aunts whose sole purpose in life is to initiate awkward converstaion) thinks I’m some sort of Internet superstar, and my attempts to dissuade them of that notion are interpreted as false modesty, which only makes it worse. Put simply: I have a reputation to build, and such a piss-poor participation rate in a yearly charity exercise is embarrassing. Like a reader poll that only gets two responses.
And if those great aunts stop believing in the legend of Fagstein, they’ll move on to even more uncomfortable questions, like wondering why I’m not married and don’t have kids yet.
So you know what? Screw it. Screw the whole formula. Screw the “subscription challenge” and counting Twitter followers like some narcissistic douche.
The Gazette Christmas Fund is getting a cool $1,000 from me this holiday season, which will be used to write eight cheques for $125 each to families in need. And I’m not going to put something like “on behalf of Fagstein readers” as the name that goes on that list of donors, because you had nothing to do with it. If you couldn’t care enough about these families to even get off your ass and setup a few hundred fake Twitter accounts to follow me with, then you don’t deserve to be associated with this donation in any way.
You want to make Christmas brighter for someone, you’re going to have to do it with your own money this time.
That is, except for the 38 new Twitter subscribers. To you, I thank you from the bottom of my ever-expanding credit card balance.
To the rest of you, you can all go to hell.
You might have missed it because you were on vacation or something, but the ad agency écorce put together a form of online advent calendar in December with … let’s call them interpretations of things that happened online in 2010.
It was kind of hit and miss, but there were a few gems among the videos that were done for this:
Une fille inoubliable, by Les Appendices. My favourite sketch comedy fivesome, the stars of the Télé-Québec show covered an awfully written and awfully-sung song from a video that was posted to YouTube but later taken down (fortunately, the Internet keeps copies of these things). Even though they use the same lyrics and roughly the same music, the Appendices version is actually pretty good. At the very least, it had a much higher budget.
Contrat d’lezz, by le Girly Show. You’ve seen Contrat d’gars, right? The show that goes so over the top with the testosterone you can’t help but laugh. It’s hard to parody something that already doesn’t take itself seriously, so Le Girly Show just turns it on its head and has women playing the lead roles. It’s not much funnier than the original, but it has the same magic.
L’Année 2010 selon Carole. Carole aide son prochain is a straight-faced comic web series that … I’ll be honest, it’s kind of hit and miss, though I like the concept. In this video, she takes on that lots-of-celebrities-political-message asking for a moratorium on shale gas exploration with some simple but effective satiric criticisms.
The rest of the videos from this project are listed on this page, and lots of other non-video-related recaps are also worth exploring.
(Did I miss something awesome? Think one of these videos is stupid and uninteresting? Tell me off in the comments)
I’m not necessarily in favour of spending millions of taxpayer dollars on massive air conditioning systems for the three or four weeks a year they’ll be useful, but I have to admit this Projet Montréal video is damn funny.
(The original, for those who haven’t seen it)
You can find the party’s dossier on the subject on its website. It includes those pictures of people holding up giant thermometers on the metro.
If only all public policy discussions involved dancers (and am I the only one who thinks it’s a missed opportunity that we don’t see Richard Bergeron, Luc Ferrandez and Peter McQueen prancing around a fake metro car?)
In the beginning, there was a bit of nervousness. It was my first time. … balls, I felt good. … a lot of balls … I felt I dominated … making her run … put a lot of pressure on her …
I have a dirty, dirty mind.
You know what, I have to admit the Olympic Stadium actually makes kind of a cool futuristic-looking spaceship.
This is the starship Entrecrise of Stade Trek, part of the end-of-year special of Et dieu créa … Laflaque. It and the other new year’s eve special programming of Radio-Canada (Infoman, Tout le monde en parle) is available for online streaming until the end of January.
Jon Lajoie’s latest:
Somehow I doubt it’ll get much airplay on the radio.
Besides, I still prefer the original:
Not sure if it’s epic win or epic fail, but it’s definitely epic … something.
From Manny Maris.
Oh, and I should add a link to the Bluffer’s Guide in Monday’s Gazette, courtesy of yours truly: The moon landings: fake or fact?. Choosing a news-relevant topic was enough to get my name above the fold on Page 1 (all part of my master plan).
UPDATE: This story surfaced just after I filed that one, showing that there are indeed pictures of the moon landing sites. But, of course, those are all fakes. (Thanks Ha!)
The Justiciers masqués took a bunch of hit songs and translated them word for word into French. “Quand on comprend les paroles, c’est moins bon,” they say.
Is there something inherently appealing about songs in languages you don’t understand, is music magic lost in translation, or are these songs just written badly to begin with?
Here’s one that’s been making its way around the viral Internet (especially since a mention on Boing-Boing): Auto-Tune the News. It’s pretty much that: taking stuff from TV and applying Auto-Tune to it to make it sing. Add a bit of remixing and editing and you got yourself some music videos.
Other speeches that sound better with Auto-Tune:
Now that the Supreme Court has ruled there’s no expectation of privacy in trash put by the curb, people who aren’t police officers are going to have to come up with innovative ways of protecting their privacy.
Some bitter yet somewhat funny notes edited onto STM’s single-use fare cards, from blogger Stony Curtis.