There’s a lot I love about the web. And as passionate as I am about attribution and misappropriation, I’m still kind of smitten by the way an image can take on a life of its own.
Case in point: Back in 2007, my laptop was stolen. Mainly as catharsis, I posted these selfies from the webcam of the replacement computer: The five stages of grieving for your stolen MacBook. Continue reading
I think what I admire most about Santa is how he uses every part of the reindeer.
Licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution International 4.0 License. So feel free.
Back when my grandmother was a stringer for the Toronto Star, she sold them a story about a Northern Ontario family that had trained a groundhog to pull a little sled behind it.
Here’s the YouTube era’s version of that story, as told to promote the Aukland, New Zealand SPCA‘s dog adoption program.
With well over 10,000,000 views, it’s blown up since it was posted a little under a year ago. But as Beth Kanter and Katie Paine will tell you, what really matters for your organization is whether it yields results — in this case, more adoptions.
Which is why they had me draw this cartoon for their book Measuring the Networked Nonprofit… which shows you exactly how to tell whether your online efforts are yielding bottom-line, tangible positive change.
Apparently, Data’s encountered the GOP before.
Just sent this to the folks at Mimoco, makers the MIMOBOT flash drive:
Hi, lovely MIMOBOT people!
I just picked up the 8 GB Series 4 Darth Vader flash drive for my daughter. It’s her first flash drive (and the first time I’ve ever seen one show up on a list of school supplies).
Everything is fine with it, except it seems to be empty; there was no zipped file of digital extras, which I was going to use to deck out her computer desktop.
My current theory is that the Series 2 Princess Leia MIMOBOT stole the file and hid it on the R2D2 MIMOBOT. But if you happen to have a copy handy that I could download, you can save everyone a trip to Tatooine, for which we’d be grateful. (With all due respect to the Tatooine Chamber of Commerce, if there’s a bright center to the universe, Tatooine’s the planet that it’s farthest from.)
Here’s the best thing: I sent it with the subject line “I find your lack of digital extras disturbing.” Little Sweetie countered with “I find your lack of file disturbing.”
And she’s right. It’s better.
I just got copy-edited by a 9-year-old.
Sophomore Georgia Tech student Nick Selby welcomed this year’s first-year students in unforgettable style. There are lots of things a speaker or speechwriter could take from this clip: the use of crescendo, knowing your material cold, owning the stage, using your body as well as your voice, using a callback (“the shoulders of giants”) and so on.
Those are all worth reflecting on. But here’s the biggest thing that struck me.
Mr. Selby could have delivered the same achingly sincere address you’ll see at a bazillion such events. An opening joke, a reminder of the greatness that has gone before them, a quote from Oh, The Places You’ll Go — and he’d have been applauded and thanked warmly. He could have just met the crowd’s expectations.
But instead, he left those expectations choking on his dust. And he gave his audience something they’ll remember for a long time to come.
That’s what I take from this. Whenever you have the opportunity, don’t just rise to the occasion. Rise past it. That’s how speakers become remembered.