July 1, 2009
Groove while you can
Hey, have you noticed that the GrooveShark music service doesn’t suck yet? I was astonished, myself. Don’t worry, though—they are being sued, of course; soon they’ll be driven out of business or legally required to suck, and all will be right with the world again. Until then, here’s some nice stuff I found there:
(Via @kristinhersh)
In other news, you know you’ve been at the computer too long when you go into the kitchen to get ice cubes and think, “Okay, so, I shouldn’t wash my hands, because I’ve got that chunk of code on the clipboard that I haven’t pasted yet . . .”
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Wow, what a beautiful service. I’m looking for somewhere to put my music when I’m ready to do that, probably in the next few months. So far, I’m still looking at myspace as the main place that people still put their music, and it just gets the google hits and it is recognisable. The player is horrible and the page is horrible but it hasn’t been done away with yet and I think this is a pity.
Thanks for the writeup! At Grooveshark, not sucking is a top priority, and I assure you that come what may, we will always do everything in our power to not suck.
@Lucy — check out our new promotions platform for Artists at http://artists.grooveshark.com – you can upload your music, track its performance on the site, and use our pay-to-play service to have your music played alongside artists you think are similar to you in users’ “autoplay” sessions.
–Chris+Grooveshark
Huh. I was not aware of this site. Thanks, India.
I really need something that doesn’t suck, so I signed up. Thanks India! Good site.
Kathy: Do you want my busted vacuum cleaner, too, for backup? It’s just sitting here . . .
Andrew: A large part of my time on the Internet is spent in a secret race to find something you might like before you can find and post it yourself.
What does a vacuum cleaner do?
It’s a cat toy.
I don’t have a cat yet, so I don’t need one.
(I did, however, spend about an hour yesterday standing outside the window watching kittens at the East Village animal rescue place. There was this one little tortoise-patterned guy . . .)
go.adopt.that.cat.
exactly. what. i. was. thinking.
But what. About its. Stripey. Sibling?
you. need both.
The MGS and I find that three is comfortable number of cats to have manage your home. Get Kitty, plus its stripey sibling, and whichever other one MEEOWWS at you most convincingly.
Better living through feline home management.
Yes, we also have three here in Clare. They wander around in their dressing gowns all day, scaring the dogs.
Just got home from work. The mouse is all sticky and there is a new GrooveShark account up, screen name DogChapsMyAss. I’m guessing Gracie, but I could be wrong.
India, take care the new kitties can’t access to your VISA.
Living with kittens is like living on the circus train.
Just make sure to get a flying trapeze.
Yeah and just don’t download anything. They’re suing people these days.
It has come to my attention that I have misdescribed the cat I was ogling the other day. I referred to it as “tortoise,” because when I think of tortoises, I think of this sort of pattern. In cat parlance, it seems that the pattern I was trying to describe is, in fact, called “tabby,” although when I think of “tabby,” I picture this.
Well, not exactly. But you get the idea.
I apologize for any confusion or distress my inaccurate description may have caused. Carry on.
There is, of course, an international dimension to this topic. In Europe, we sophisticats differentiate between, for instance, tabby and tortoiseshell, though in fairness I think that Americans have another term for tortoiseshell, I’ve just not been moving in hardcore cat circles in the US.
Also, you better not call that ginger cat a tabby to his face. I’m just sayin’. But thank you for the picture. It helped a lot.
Yes, exactly—that is what seems to be meant by the word “tortoiseshell” here, even though it looks Nothing. Like. What an. Actual. Tortoise. Looks like. I would call that “a cat that needs defragging,” myself—but I guess a so-named cat-egory wouldn’t be considered competitive at a cat show.
I suspect the ginger cat is attacking the nonginger because the latter just called the former “. . . nothing but a fucking tabby. An orange fucking tabby. So there! Ginger, my ass.” To which the ginger replied, “I’ll hand you your ass, motherfucker!”
You see, I have a very intuitive understanding of cats.
Lena is considered a ‘dilute (or grey) tortoiseshell’.
Perhaps the victim in the photograph had jeered, “Ginger cat! Ginger cat!” one time too many, promoting the ginger to fight back against ginger-bullying.
Yes, India. You need some. This from a person who has a cat sitting on her right now, um, enacting her kittenhood too-early-weaned issues on my shirt. Ow.
Ditto. From one who is flanked by a large ginger cat (sprawled on a printer) and a Heinz 57 dog (sprawled on the floor.)
I am a guest in a household possessed of three resident cats (Archy, Betty, and Veronica), two visiting cats (Mo[zart] and Jada), and a part-time resident dog (Raleigh).
A litter of new born kittens were thrown in a bin here a few days ago!
I was fiddling in the 2′X6′ patch of dirt I call a garden, it contains an orange tree and a Hibiscus along with numerous other smaller plants – I was picking away when I was hissed at, on closer examination I saw one of the local cats along with kittens that were that small they must have just been born, one was pure white. I went got some food in case mum was exhausted and went to bed – more food was left first thing – I went to check mid morning to be told by my neighbour that the kittens were gone. I asked where – I was told in the rubbish!
I rather hope that my neighbour who is a gentle charming man at least killed them first – I suspect not.
He was probably doing the mother a favour who is partially disabled anyway – she would have struggles, the kittens would have struggled and been pregnant whilst still kittens. The trouble is, well, not the trouble – this is Crete, they don’t see them in the way us Brits and Americans do – it somehow seemed okay and yet at the same time was terribly upsetting.
The mother looked for them for a few days but no seems okay – no doubt she will be pregnant again in a few weeks and so the cycle continues. 35 Euros to get a cat spayed – on the whole no one is interested.
I felt the urge to share – for what it’s worth.
Phil I dealt with this kind of situation when I lived in Dublin. I took care of a colony of feral cats; fed them nightly, got them all spayed and neutered one by one in a painstaking process of catching them individually in a special cat trap/ sneaking them into my flat/ bringing them to the vet/ keeping them in my flat for a couple of days afterwards to recuperate/ rinse and repeat. I was piss young, doing all this. I have a lot of stories from that time.
I think I could not live in a culture that treated animals so indifferently as you’re talking about in Crete. I know enough about myself to know that would be very hard indeed.
Also: then when I moved to Denmark, I was constantly running into people who had dogs who had been rescued from Greece. There is clearly some charity rescuing these animals and repatriating them.
Lucy, there are a few foreigners here that are doing what you did – catching a few and making their lives happier, even a few Greeks doing the same, but, in the more remote villages it is still a problem.
Yeah, different mentality – dogs have it slightly better but not a lot.
You often see at the airport people shipping dogs and cats out – it is difficult and at times heartbreaking.
There is a British woman locally who does what she can with food and the like – she told us she is getting through 40Kgs of dried food a month – we always buy her a stack before we leave – scraping at the edges really, but, you feel you have to do something.
Yes, it is brutally hard. I had to walk away from that situation. I was too young to be so absorbed in it. Our three cats here came from that time. When I moved I brought them here and they pad around in their dressing gowns here every day.
Re: 40 kgs of dried food a month, I would go up to a butcher on Meath street and get 30 or 40 pork hearts every tuesday, put them in a very large backpack and store them in my fridge. There’s a lot of blood in pork hearts. I didn’t eat meat. I learned a lot about anatomy though.
What a depressing conversation. Here’s something to cheer us up:
(Via Elisabeth)