Author: Aaron Weber

The Boston Globe Magazine published my letter about real estate trends in the Boston area. They shortened it quite a bit, of course, but that’s to be expected.

John Fleck pointed out that I shouldn’t argue when people use the word “ironic” to mean “sarcastic or campy,” since language changes over time, and the word is evolving to mean what people use it to mean.

That’s probably true. I understand that Daniel Webster’s wife once caught him screwing the maid, and said she was surprised at his behavior. His response was, pedantically, “No: I am surprised, you are merely astonished.” Nowadays, astonished and surprised mean the same thing, but at the time, surprise was strictly about catching someone unawares, whereas astonishment indicated … anyway.

The point is, this website is now the #1 result for Google searches for “Ironic Mustache.”

Assault with… milk?.

Elsewhere: A post on SiteAdvisor about a shock site and MySpace hacking, and I got to buy some art by Aaron Flynn as a prize in the StyleFeeder contest this week.

Q: How Flat is Holland?
A: Very
— From the official Dutch Embassy FAQ

Q: What is the least official Dutch national sport?
A: Imitating the Dukes of Hazzard with small cars:

Gethen pointed me to a little throwaway line in Go Fug Yourself, making fun of young men with “ironic” facial hair, and it occurred to me that, since I’ve finally gotten rid of the ‘stache I had for nearly two years, I am in the position to explain the appeal of that mustache, and the reasons that people might get rid of them.

I grew that mustache because it was easier than shaving, because it was softer than stubble, because it was fun to pet, because in very cold weather it was capable of supporting amusing icicles, because it created vertical lines that made my face look longer and thinner, because it made me look tough and dashing, and to a certain extent because it was silly.

But I did not grow it for irony. In fact, there is no such thing as an ironic mustache. Perhaps when people say “ironic mustache” they mean “kitschy” or “campy” mustache; Wikipedia points out that “‘irony’ as popularly used during the 1990s referred to an aesthetic equated with a fondness for kitsch.” But that’s a misuse of the term “irony.” It might be a sarcastic or camp mustache, grown to mock all mustaches and people who wear them, but it’s not ironic.

I did not shave that mustache off because it was ironic. I shaved it off because I grew tired of trimming it, and because I look younger, if rounder-faced, without it. I was also concerned that people would remember the mustache rather than anything else about me. I don’t want to meet people and be remembered as “the guy with the mustache.” I want them to overlook my appearance and focus on my inner qualities, or better still, think that my clean-shaven, youthful face implies that I am honest and trustworthy. Ideally, I want to look as much as possible like the people I am trying to impress, so that they will think I am as wonderful as they think themselves to be. Then, when they’re not looking, I’ll be able to steal their identities and wallets. It would be the perfect unironic crime.

marriedtothesea.com

I’ve just started posting over at the McAfee SiteAdvisor blog. Should be 2-3 posts a week about typosquatters, hijackers, adware, and general internet sleaziness.

The Stranger, September 2006: The Urban Hunt. If you’re going to eat an animal, kill it yourself.

Some people seem to confuse being unpopular with being oppressed. Or perhaps they confuse the moderator of a message board with the government. Or they confuse house rules with censorship.

At any rate, Top 10 deleted a rude and profane post from one of our message boards, and got a new post:

Why the fuck did you take my blog down? It’s my fucking opinion. If I want to spice up my fucking postg with colorful words, why the fuck can’t I? I know where you all live and I will fucking kill all of you. Have a terrible fucking day.
(Posted by: Fucky Fuckenstein)

I’m not sure if I should I call you “Fucky” or “Mr. Fuckenstein,” but either way, let me tell you something: if someone saw that and thought you were serious, you’d be in a hell of a lot of trouble. You’re lucky we saw your post and deleted it quickly, and you’re lucky we can tell you’re an idiot, because you’re posting angry rants to a messageboard for children’s music fans. It’s a shame you put in a fake email address, because if you put in a real one, we’d have sent you a proper warning and you might have learned something.

You want to write that kind of crap? Get your own website.

Simon Rich got a lot of buzz in some circles with a piece in the New Yorker detailing what kids think grownup dinner-table conversation is all about. That story is included in Ant Farm, along with a couple dozen others covering similar ground. The title story, for example, is a conversation between the ants trapped in an ant farm. Other vignettes focus on childhood trauma and triumph: how trigonometry might possibly be useful (answer: only when confronted with madmen), and what it must be like to be one of the enemies inside a shoot-em-up video game (answer: it sucks). One of the best stories mines the emotional vein of parents trying to make up for embarrassing mistakes– but in this case, it’s Abraham trying to convince Isaac that he shouldn’t tell his mother about that whole sacrifice thing.

Ant Farm is the sort of book that shy people shouldn’t read on the subway, because they’ll laugh and attract attention to themselves. They should read it at home. Non-shy people can read it anywhere.