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PERFECTLY FRANK
The Melbourne Age has been online for 10 years. The highlight from 1995 is an invitation to send comments or questions about the site to .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address).
Just “frankâ€?. We lived in simpler times back then. Everybody went by just the one name; some people didn’t have names at all!
Ah yes, I remember the days when The Age website was delivered by couriers on horseback.
We could only read it in the daytine because fire hadn’t been discovered yet—but pity my grandparents, who couldn’t read it at all because reading hadn’t been invented.
Posted by Evil Pundit on 2005 02 03 at 04:00 AM • permalinkPig’s arse it was simpler ... my email address 10 years ago was in X400 format, it had so many characters in it that it couldn’t be printed in one line on my business card and therefore was printed in very small type on the back. Anyone else have a X400 email address to corroborate this?
And the mail gateway was so flaky that it might take a few days for email to be delivered or received. Come to think of it, that might be a worthwhile feature to resurrect.
as a child i was molested by a man called frank. can we just stop this here?
Posted by Lucky Nutsacks on 2005 02 03 at 04:38 AM • permalinkMy email address (the secret one that nobody knows, which makes it entirely useless) is eight letters long, including the @ and the .
Mind you, I’ve had it since 1997, shortly after we discovered electricity. Email was far less efficient prior to that; I’ll leave it to you to imagine what the “e” stood for in those dark times.
Mail names are not vocatives, so not true names. At best they’re personalizing decals put on mailboxes, like a flower decal on a secretary’s desk; it lets you know that an airhead works there, but it’s not her name.
A step up, cat names, on the other hand, aren’t vocatives either, but rather titles of the cat books they write. So you might say that blog names are essentially cat names.
With a dog name, you have a true vocative. If I say ``Annie’’ right now, Annie would show up in a couple of seconds, from under her comforter on the living room chair, a Doberman called into being.
A cat named with a dog name is a cat who has been made into a clown, as Jon Hollander put it.
In 1995, I was known as C578038038, by the Department of Social Security (aka the dole office).
Back in the days when I was a useless bludger, I wouldn’t have even needed an email address with one name in it.
Now I have a work ethic, I have four of the buggers and the one I use the most has nearly all my name in it.
Point being? I have no idea. I’m still trying to work out whether Roscoe is being serious or not.
Posted by Major Anya on 2005 02 03 at 05:52 AM • permalinkFrank hasn’t died (although The Age might smell that way these days), he is now a blogger ... http://fcprain.blogspot.com/ Good grief!
Just imagine if a human from 1995 could be brought forward to today! The sights they would see, the Internet, the Railroad, Penicillin…. Of course hominids from that era cannot be considered modern humans and would have a shocking appearance to us, and their primitive language systems would prevent them from communicating with us.
...
Gilliam: Well we had it tough. We used to have to get up out of the shoebox at twelve o’clock at night, and LICK the road clean with our tongues. We had half a handful of freezing cold gravel, worked twenty-four hours a day at the mill for fourpence every six years, and when we got home, our Dad would slice us in two with a bread knife.
Idle: Right. I had to get up in the morning at ten o’clock at night, half an hour before I went to bed, eat a lump of cold poison, work twenty-nine hours a day down mill, and pay mill owner for permission to come to work, and when we got home, our Dad would kill us, and dance about on our graves singing “Hallelujah.”
Palin: But you try and tell the young people today that… and they won’t believe ya’.
Courtesy (and probably copyright) of Monty Python ... full script can be found at http://www.angelfire.com/scifi/theaterscripts/L13wewerepoor.html
Even though that’s probably the 100th time I’ve read or heard that sketch, it still raises a smile. :-) Darlene ... Tim has banished the smileys! You bastard!
Speaking of email, some pinhead tried to register using the email “me@here.com.” Of course I got the “mail not delivered” bounce message. His or her login sits in the pending list. You know what? It will be deleted in a week, just as I say right there under the login/register links. Just how fucking difficult is it to understand the phrase “you must use a real email address to register”??
Note to prospective members of this blog: I will not take pity on you and register you if you are too timid to use a REAL email address. If you’re that afraid of being found out, don’t register.
Posted by Andrea Harris, Administrator on 2005 02 03 at 07:49 AM • permalinkI know a guy named Frank who is utterly clueless. For example, he truly believes that Bush is Evil, and that Kerry was the best presidential candidate ever.
But he lives in the USA, so does that count?
Posted by The_Real_JeffS on 2005 02 03 at 09:03 AM • permalinkAh, the good ole days… Back fall of 1995, when I was easing into online life, for a lark I sent a blank email entitled “test” to some organization or other. They replied, with a cheery acknowledgement that the test was successful.
Posted by The Sanity Inspector on 2005 02 03 at 10:57 AM • permalinkRonald Reagan’s Social Security Numnber was 3.
Hey, it’s his own joke…
Posted by richard mcenroe on 2005 02 03 at 11:24 AM • permalinkHere in Jersey, everybody answers to “hey.” Sometimes to “Fuck you, you fuckin’ fuck.”
Posted by Gary from Jersey on 2005 02 03 at 04:09 PM • permalinkI grew up in the country - our phone number was 66. The town was so small all the kids safely rode bikes to school from day one kindy. You could go home for a hot lunch if you wanted to, thanks to a full-time at home mum. Of course as we grew to the ripe age of 10 or so, we graduated to pastimes like shooting rifles, canoeing in the river, and trying to show off by diving off the high tower at the pool. And (shock, horror!) there was no TV.
The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
It isn’t just one of your holiday games;
You may think at first I’m as mad as a hatter
When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.
First of all, there’s the name that the family use daily,
Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo or James,
Such as Victor or Jonathan, George or Bill Bailey—
All of them sensible everyday names.
There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,
Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:
Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter—
But all of them sensuble everyday names
But I tell you, a cat needs a name that’s particular,
A name that’s peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?
Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,
Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum—
Names that never belong to more than one cat.
But above and beyond there’s still one name left over,
And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover—
But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name.—T.S. Eliot
Posted by Brian O'Connell on 2005 02 03 at 05:19 PM • permalinkTotally off-thread (but hey, Timmy’s AWOL), and apologies to Non-Oz readers, but what do you make of the weird ‘new-look’ news shows simultaneously unveiled on ABC and Ten? Who the hell wants to see a newsreader’s trousers? The first night on ABC, the reader had trousers that didn’t match his jacket and tie, so he looked like he’d just come off the golf course and only bothered to dress the top half. What’s next? A Sharon Stone leg-cross for the female newsreaders? (Although there are a couple, even on the ABC, that you wouldn’t object to.)
Vicki Hearne rejecting T.S.Eliot on cats’ names
``But I think that Eliot had lost, in his passage across the Atlantic, perhaps, or somewhere on the streets of London, the realization that the world responds to names, that something is supposed to happen when a genuine name is genuinely called.’‘
_Animal Happiness_ p.312
Bah, in the old days, we didn’t have mirrors at all.
Had to get someone else to scratch a charcoal picture on the cave wall.Posted by Old Grouch on 2005 02 03 at 08:25 PM • permalinkVicki Hearne sounds like a boring old sourpuss.
Posted by Andrea Harris, Administrator on 2005 02 03 at 11:53 PM • permalinkOld Grouch, you mean you actually had fire to make charcoal back then?
Posted by The_Real_JeffS on 2005 02 04 at 03:13 AM • permalink
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My grandfather’s first phone number was 48.