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Public transport, Culture jamming on (or, Metlink announcement from an alternate universe)

Spotted this on the 5.14pm Epping train.

Metlink announcement from an alternate universe

if you don’t arrive at your destination on time please inform our friendly station staff and we promise to refund you the cost of your journey if we dont (sic) deliver the service we promise why should you pay full fare? Thats (sic) why we’re introducing “FARE FAIR” a new system to help diminish our terrible double standards.

A time for everything

I was looking for quotes on the subject of time for an article I’m writing for work when I came across two very different ways of saying the same thing. This, from H. Jackson Brown Jr:

Don’t say you don’t have enough time. You have exactly the same number of hours per day that were given to Helen Keller, Pasteur, Michaelangelo, Mother Teresea, Leonardo da Vinci, Thomas Jefferson, and Albert Einstein.

This struck me as being a touch self-righteous. I much prefer Charles Caleb Colton’s way of looking at it:

Much may be done in those little shreds and patches of time which every day produces, and which most men throw away.

H. Jackson Brown Jr, by the way, is the author of Life’s Little Instruction Book. Colton was a nineteenth century English cleric, gambler and moonlight-flitter.

I know who I trust.

Daleks who know choose iPods


This combines my Dalek obsession with my iPod evangelism, which is all I really ask for in life.


Publishers supporting needy Flash animators

I just read on the Guardian website that HarperCollins are starting to do video trailers for books. Not sure what to make of it except that I don’t think trailers is the right word — they’re more like amped-up PowerPoint presentations than movie trailers, and (I presume) you have to actually visit the website to see them. It’s not like going to see a movie and being treated/subjected to previews of other movies that you may or may not be interested in: it’s a different paradigm altogether.

The ‘true’ book trailer experience would surely have to involve buying a book (the latest Julian Barnes, say), taking it home, brewing a cup of tea or coffee, settling down in your favourite armchair, opening the book to page one, chapter one – and being greeted not with a crisp, elegant opening sentence from Barnesy but with a big fat steaming advertisement for the latest Captain Underpants.