I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence
And so the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They're quite aware of what they're goin' through

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Likee-poo knows there can be only one

Buried under work.

Jim Hines is wondering about what is a troll and what isn't. Meanwhile, on the other side of the island, NPR is upping their comment moderation which now includes having to contribute comments to the site a few times without wanting to burn the house down (link grokked from Tobias Buckell). The wild, wild west internet is over. Time to start building churches and roads.

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