Where Are We Going, And What’s With The Handbasket?

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We’re here because we’re smart and funny and lovable. All of us. We like talking about issues of the day, books and movies, and bitching about our spouses or lack thereof. We give each other advice and support. We post pictures of hot guys and gals, posh rooms and clothes, incredible shoes and cars. There’s a recipe exchange. Can’t find a backsplash tile? Post a picture of it and someone will track down the manufacturer. What should you wear to a summer wedding? Post your budget and preferred hemline and I bet you’ll have it narrowed down to three by lunch. How to deal with a bitchy coworker? Everything from going to HR to toxic tahini will be suggested. Did your kitty die? The Rainbow Bridge ends right here. (PS – when you’re ready, rescue another kitty from a shelter, k?)

If Crasstalk was a party, it would be A-list. Not because we exclude others, but because we include them. Yes, most of us are liberals from a social standpoint, at least. But a rational conservative wouldn’t be given the side-eye. Just no bigotry, plz.

Being told that we are worthless to
Gawker, despite the fact that we have enriched everyone that works there both monetarily and intellectually, had to hurt a little. I know I was offended. But there’s some satisfaction:

We know that Gawker will now be a place more akin to a zoo because we aren’t there. Congratulations, Nick! You said we made this place a ghetto and were peasants. Now you have feces-flinging angermonkeys instead. Hold onto your banana, and good luck posting another Peyser hit piece.

I will never ever again have to deconstruct a moronic post made by a whingy-whiny above-the-law social misfit who got a well-deserved speeding ticket and therefore thinks all cops are bad. Also, my efforts to educate people about how to behave during a road stop to reduce the likelihood of getting a summons will now only be given to people who deserve it. Though you all probably know this already.

We won’t be limited by comment boxes.

Creativity will be encouraged.

We can actually do something about trolls rather than trying to shame them.

No more Cheetos and Black Swans and Spartacus ads slowing pages as they load.

And best of all, we won’t be lining the pockets of people who treat us with contempt.

Welcome.

Tribe Vibes

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Back in 1997, an obscure label called Strictly Breaks put out a two-disc compilation of songs that had been sampled by A Tribe Called Quest. Unfortunately, it’s almost impossible to find these discs today (though they can be found as torrents if you know where to look). Continue reading →

The Night Watchman Open Thread: I

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Hello Vampires. Welcome to the late night open thread.

I am going to post a few good scary stories for you to think about before you surrender to the monsters under the bed.

First off, an educational film that explains why the Denver Airport is the center of evil:

Next we look at the threat posed by the elite New World Order:

I would be remiss if we did not have some information on the Reptilian threat:

Finally, I will leave you with the scariest Art Bell call ever.

Sleep well Crasstalkers.

Roommate Wanted

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Hey there! I’m a fun-loving girl (but not too fun!) living in the Boston metro area. I hardly drink at all, except for the rare Monday-Sunday when I’m stressed. I’m bit messy, but I definitely keep the common areas reasonably clean, and would like you to do the same. Unlike my last roommates! I’ve had some bad experiences, so I’m going to try and be very specific about what I want!

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Some of my dislikes include:

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Shooting animals and tanning them in the living room.

Last time this happened, we couldn’t get the smell out of the carpet for days. And I think there’s still bits of fat ground into the hardwood!

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Letting your dog chew my things, and when I scold it, telling me “We’re only using positive reinforcement.

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Inviting your crust punk friends to sleep on the couch, and then never asking them to leave.

Last time this happened, we couldn’t get the smell out of the carpet for days. And I think there’s still bits of fat ground into the hardwood!

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Coming home drunk in the middle of the night and knocking on my door to tell me about your coworker who you’re worried you’ve started to think of as a mother figure, which is probably clouding your professional judgment, and also you’re so drunk haha, and hey did I hear you using your vibrator? Also you’re soooo sorry you let the 50 year old man you’ve been sleeping with walk into the kitchen naked, and oh, did you not tell me that before? Anyway, oh wow, I think I’m going to be sick. Bllerggggg

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Forcing me to call the police on you, for any reason.

Just go ahead and use your imagination here.

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Likes include David Bowie, 30 Rock, and roommates who have never possessed the phone number of a crack dealer. If you think we’ll get along, send me an email!

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Science is sexy is a student in the Boston area. While all of these are true stories, photographs have been altered to protect the guilty. The very, very guilty. Add your roommate horror stories in the replies!

Testing one two one two

Patience

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I know how excited everyone is to jump into the fray here, and write posts, and add cat videos and help us find the location of Osama bin Laden.

I like your enthusiasm! (Slaps you on the butt.)

That said…. please, please, please try to be patient with little bugs you find or requests for author accounts or whatever issues you’re having. This isn’t Gawker Media. We don’t have a team of incompetent professionals handling technical issues. We have a team of one incompetent amateur working on solving all these problems. So bear with me.

  • If you requested an author account, I’m not ignoring you. I’ll be setting you all up tonight.
  • If you posted your first comment and are waiting for it appear, please be patient. We’ll approve it and then after that your comments will appear immediately.
  • If you’re interested in getting an author account, read this.
  • If you’re having problems posting comments, please read this.
  • If you’re having problems viewing the site, let us know at [email protected] and tell us what browser you’re using.

When Trolls Make Sense

142 comments

I just saw a comment on Gawker CT, wherein I got name-checked by someone I’ve largely considered to be an obnoxious troll. (She was addressing the CT community at large.)

I have to admit that what she said made sense to me. There is a fine line between enjoyment and addiction, and maybe CT was more of the latter for many of us.

I feel very grateful to Botswana and everyone else who has been sustaining Crasstalk, because this seems like it might be a more creative (and more balanced) alternative to Gawker.

After you read the following quote from Total Package (!!), I would appreciate it if you would share your own thoughts/insights regarding the fine line between enjoyment and addiction. (Does not need to be specifically related to the internet; any life experiences you’d like to share are most welcome.

“You people are all acting like a bunch of low rent, trailer trash tranny hookers who just got their dimebag of black tar heroin taken away from them by their pimp for not turning enough tricks. LISTEN TO YOURSELVES!!! You can’t tell your anus from your mouth cause you are spouting shit out of both of them all day long!!! You are totally addicted to this site!!! (And I dont mean just you Salome Valentine…we all know how many times you’ve tried to pull yourself away.) Why not use this screwup as a final attempt to break free from your addiction. Otherwise if you are willing to stick with Gawker even after this mess you are slaves for life.”

What do you think?

If You Can’t Teach It to Others, You Don’t Really Understand It

37 comments

A few years ago, I decided to stop being a hopeless fuckup. “But SiS,” you might say. “You seem so smart! You know so much! You’re definitely a contributing member of society!”

Except when I wasn’t. I spent years being what might charitably called “a gigantic fucking mess.” A trainwreck, if you will. So when I discovered science – first molecular biology, and then neuroscience – it was a little like if dead John Candy dug himself out of the ground and decided to become a figure skater. My friends laughed that humoring, slightly sarcastic laugh you laugh when your couch potato friend announces she’s going to start going to the gym every day. A 1 in 10,000 chance. Maybe 1 in 100,000. Maybe lower.

But fuck those guys, and fuck my natural tendency towards intellectual sloth, and fuck my natural sleep schedule of 4 AM to noon, and fuck the fact that I’m so distracted I frequently forget to eat or shower, and fuck the fact that my hands used to shake so bad I could barely tie my shoes, let alone direct a miniscule pipet tip into a tiny well in a block of gelatin. Fuck difficultly. Fuck self-doubt. Fuck embarrassment over asking a dumb question, over showing up at a professor’s office hours to ask him if he believes in free will, over needing help, over failure, over crying from stress and exhaustion, over saying no to every offer to go out during the week, over lifting my legs up to let the library janitor vacuum under me at 1 AM.

I didn’t find Jesus. I didn’t get myself a boyfriend. I didn’t start with a new therapist. I didn’t do it for my family, or my friends, or my (theoretical) kids. I didn’t make excuses. I didn’t listen to anybody.

If I can go from a druggie waste of oxygen to a neuroscience student, then you can do anything. You just have to find what you love. It’s out there.