It's Spam-Tastic! (How to tell)

Call me harsh, but if spammers want to do a propper job, they need to step up.
** Red Points By Me

Dear Friend, a real friend would never say "FRIEND"

This mail might come to you as a surprise and the temptation to ignore it as
unserious could come into your mind but please consider it a divine wish
and accept it with a deep sense of humility, I am the manager of bill and
exchange at the Foriegn Remittance Department of Bank Of Africa, Burkina Faso-West Africa, In my department we discovered an abandoned sum of US$10M (Ten million US dolloars) in an account that belongs to one of ourforiegn customer who died along with his entire family in a plane crash. This entire paragraph is one scentence! This is totally fake!

Since we got information about his death, we have been expecting his next of kin to come over and claim his money because we cannot release it unless some body applies for it as next of kin or relation to the deceased as indicated in our banking guidlines and laws but unfortunately we learnt that all his supposed next of kin or relation died alongside with him at the plane crash leaving nobody behind for the claim.

It is therefore upon this discovery that I and other officials in my department Super Vuege Identification of No One now decided to make this business proposal to you and release the money to you as the next of kin or relation to thedeceased for safety and subsequent disbursement since nobody is coming for
it and we don't want this money to go into the bank treasury as unclaimed
billbecause the banking law states that, if such fund remain unclaimed for many
year's and then, the fund will be transfer into the bank treasury as
unclaimed bill.

I agree that 30% of this money will be for you as a foreign partner, in respect to the provision of a foriegn account, and 60% would be for me,while 10% will be for expenses (if there is any) There after I will visit your country for disbursement according to the
percentage indicated. Therefore, to enable the immediate transfer of this fund to you as arranged,you must apply first to the bank as relation or next of kin of the deceased
indicating your bank name, your bank account number, your private telephone
and fax number for easy and effective communication and location wherein the
money will be remitted.

Upon the receipt of your reply, I will send to you by fax or email the text of the application to fill and send to the bank. In other words... they will take your banking info, and run with it. You'll never see your money again. I will not fail to bring to your notice that this transaction is free risk and you should keep this transaction (TOP SECRET) and do not let the bank notice that, I contacted you to claim this fund but I will be giving you all information from the bank until the fund is transfered into your account.

This transaction will only take us 14 banking days enough time for me to set up shop with your money elsewhere because as a banker, I know what to do and move the fund into your account without any delay. You should not entertain any atom of fear as all required arrangements have been made for the transfer. Who talks like this on planet earth? You should contact me as soon as you receive this letter.

Yours faithfully.
Mr.ALHJI  DANGOTE No space after the Mr.
Bill & Exchange Manager, ( B.O.A) Who??? I found a website for them... but it looks totally fake: http://419.bittenus.com/SalifAli/
Call Me on this Number after reading this mail You mean reading this "email?"  Phone +226 76 36 15 20

Still think it's legit?
Click Here

Hide Your Potter Book

Haven't "come out" yet about your Harry Potter addiction... Here is a vital resource for those who want a more "masculine" look to your 30lb book on the subway.

Click Here for the Full List

Huffel the Puffel

In today's amazing saga, I walked to the mall, driven by a deep desire to find Hagen Daz Ice Cream. I was sucked into three stores along the way, in search of Harry Potter Swag. They had Gryffindor shirts, Hogwarts Mouse Pads and "magic" wrist bands... but darn it... no one had any Huffelpuff shirts... and it looks like all the cool kids are in Slytherine or Gryffindor. Not one gold and black badger laden shirt for me to buy.

Lysdexics Untie!

i cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it dseno't mtaetr in waht oerdr the ltteres in a wrod are, the olny iproamtnt tihng is taht the frsit and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it whotuit a pboerlm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Azanmig huh? yaeh and I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt! if you can raed tihs forwrad it.

 

 If you can read this, your brain is 50% faster than those who can't

"When They Grow Old"

How Pets Affect Us
A Tribute to Dakota


Twenty years, it's been since I found her in the parking lot of a flea market in Santa Cruz. She was a small ball of stripped fur; the tinniest in the litter of clawing, mewing, begging kittens. She was the only one with a pumpkin patch on her head; the only one who did not wiggle to break free when I held her close. She purred.

Many of my childhood memories are foggy, like the grey haze that comes in the Aptos mornings, so thick you can forget almost anything. But Precious, my cat, I remember.

The purr lasted all the way home in the loud, clanking roar of a red Ford truck. All the way home as, nineteen years and six months ago, Adam and I drove her home to San Francisco where she was aloud to live in the comfort and warmth of our apartment. That purr which lingers even now, as I hold her shivering in my arms. She trembles.
The purr stops for only a moment as she gasps for air. I hold my breath but I do not want to set her on the floor. For days now, I have heard her coughing in the other room, her purr elevated from a soothing hum to a scraping strain. For days I have awoken and checked, every morning, to see if this is the day she would not wake up.

The doctor said it was a tumor under her trachea. It would slowly suffocate her. Eventually she would pass out and die.
But we all die. We all die someday. So why does this, this small ball this runt of the litter feel so alive, even in her death? Why can I sit here thinking she is still a young cat and that at any time she will leap from my arms and chase the little ball of cat nip in the other room.

But I wait and she does not leap. She looks up at me and then back at the floor. Her breathing is labored. The little stripes that line her stomach move in and out like tiny prison bars, much wider and slower than they had, even a week ago.

Not yet, I think. Not now. And yet I have already called the humane society. I have already learned where I could take her if "things go bad." $40 for her to be put down. $140 for a personal cremation. $50 for mass cremation.

Not yet, I think. You are still here. Your eyes do not weep to go to sleep. You still use the litter box and walk to the food dish. You still try to follow me into the next room and watch me. And I know that if you could, you would shadow me as a four legged ghost, watching and waiting for me to reach down and rub your tiny shoulders. You only know life. You only know now.

I've even thought about cloning you. Your genetics are strong and your DNA would serve other generations well and I would feel like some part of you lived on. But it wouldn't be the same. Like me.
I feel somehow that we both survived. That we both made it farther than anyone would have imagined.

I rescued you but I know you have rescued me and that no other cat would ever be like you. You are not a cat to me, but a friend. And I do not feel ready to say farewell to this friend. Not yet.

It's past midnight, almost morning now. The sun will be coming over the black horizon soon; a time wen she usually plays with her toys while running around the house.

But she will not play this morning. I know she will breathe easier if she lays on the floor under the bed, but she is still sitting in my arms, purring. She never sits this long with me.

I think about what it will be like to drive her to the humane society.
But she still feels alive and no matter what I know otherwise, I can not set her down.

Farewell Dear Eds

Today, as announced by Cartoon Network, was the "Best Day Edder," as beloved show, Ed Edd N Eddy is officially over. As all cartoon shows eventually do, this beloved show has seen enough episodes that the network has decided to stop investing money into its creation. Created in 1999, by Danny Antonucci, the show was originally slated for four seasons, but Cartoon Network ordered two more. Result: longest running original cartoon on Cartoon Network.

The show, is about three middle school boys and their struggle to make the most of the cul-de-sac, where they are at the bottom of the pecking order. With fast paced writing and an over-the-top coping with every day situations, Ed, Edd and Eddy find themselves regularly conflicting with Plank, Jimmy's inanimate friend, evil Sarah; Ed's baby sister, and Kevin, the groovy bike wielding elder of the cul-de-sac.

Personally, I will dearly miss the show and I hope that Danny's next adventure saga will be as insightful and fun as Ed Edd N Eddy.

Fast Food Justice in a Full Service World

Yesterday I went to In-N-Out Burger for breakfast, (not typical, I know). The San Francisco air was damp and cold and rain had begun to fall. I wanted a burger... but not just any burger... I wanted what amounts to a holdable salad. If you frequent In-N-Out, you might be familiar with their "Protein" style burger, a burger wrapped in lettuce instead of bread. This is a great burger, however, yesterday I wanted a meat-free, Protein style burger... and this, I felt was too complicated to order in the drive-through.

Shadowfp

Before anyone ever looked at her sideways, laughed behind her back or refused to share a school bus seat with her, Aurora knew she was different. One day, while sequestered in the dusty school library, something happened Aurora could not explain. "Tell us about the unicorns Aurora," said a sharp-shouldered boy. His friends giggled behind their unread library books. "Explain to us," he continued, "how to hex someone."
    Aurora's pale hands trembled, clutching an open copy of Magnificent Myths of the Ancient World. Her eyes darted across the text but the boy across the table stared her down. "What a looser," said one of the snickering boys, "she's got no friends." The sharp-shouldered boy, however paid no notice. Something had caught his attention and glittered towards him from below the dark folds of Aurora's backpack.READ MORE

No Seal Overlooked

At the San Francisco Zoo, there lives an old seal. He is one of the oldest known seals (27) and he is blind. Every time my fiance and I visit the zoo, we make a special stop to the seal paddock. Several people pass, on their way to the penguins and the bears, but we usually spend a good amount of time watching the seal swim in his pool. He seems quite happy and enjoys his worn paddock and daily workout. While the seal is overdue for a new paddock, zookeepers have decided it is in the seal's best interest to keep things familiar. If you wait long enough, the seal will usually poke his head out of the water and say hello. Once you meet him, he's hard to forget. In today's fast-paced world, I like to think there are those of us who take the time to notice simple pleasures. I would like to think that if I had devoted my life to entertaining the public as a swimming seal, that I would still be appriciated and loved at the end of my days. I would like to think that that there is still room in this world for an elderly blind seal to be loved and appriciated. So, if ever you go to the San Francisco Zoo, look for the seal. He's still there, in his small round pool, behind what's left of the elephant paddok. Hopefully he'll be there for years to come.

Quilting Today

Last year unexpectedly I attended the Gilroy quilting festival and was expecting to find quaint "Americana" style patterns with dull fabrics. What I found however suprised me. Bright modern patterns and origional designs filled the festival. Quilts featuring abstract art and portraits hung from their wooden frames and and hosted impressive attention to detail while maintaining overwhelming aestetic beauty. The quilters I met were very informative and also impressed with the 1934 Lone Star quilt I brought to show (see pitcure). Quilting judges told me the Lone Star pattern was not only a difficult pattern but, if done well, was usually a woman's "magnum opus," and accomplished in the final years of her life. "If it were a piece of furniture, of such quality," one of the judges told me, "it would be worth $30,000. However, since it is a quilt and made by a woman, it would only sell for about $300 on eBay." Needless to say, I'm keeping the quilt.

R You My D2?

Recently sighted in San Francisco, this R2D2 Mailbox proves that the force is strong in the marketing world! I'd like to know... when did the Jedi need a mail delivery system? Didn't Princess Lea send DIGITAL messages through R2 in Episode 4? Calling all Star Wars Fans... Tell me I'm not alone.

Finding Moore

Fiber Arts in Today's Culture

Looking for custom quality fiber art quilts? Visit:

Linda Hannawalt Designs
http://www.lindahannawalt.com

How To Filmography

PNN's un-official guide to getting the most out of your story idea. If you want to cut through the confusion and get straight to moviemaking... this is for you.

Grizzly Morning

Today, December 24th, I went to the San Francisco Zoo to shoot pictures of the animals. Armed with my Nikon D70 and a zoom lense, I wanted to get close enough to capture expressions. This Grizzly came to the San Francisco Zoo as a cub. I remember not to long ago, when this cub was hardly bigger than a bucket. Now, as this picture shows, he has filled out into a happy adult.

Pet Quilts Are Here!

I've started making pet quilts. Here is my quilt page.

http://quilts.pnn.com

Television and Childhood: A Snapshot

There was once a time when I joined forces with anti-television campeigns and "burried" a television set. Yes, an old black and white set met it's end and now rests in a shallow grave of dirt and weeds. I was in grade school, and very impressionable. This was also the year our teacher had us make planters out of old sneakers. As a young and curious child I enjoied climbing trees and exploring my semi-wild back yard in Northern California. The goal of the school led, anti-television campeign sought to keep me in nature and out of harm's way.