Well not in all respects of course. Sometimes people die. But before I get on to that… Have you noticed that I haven’t posted much recently? I’ve been on holidays. Wales is very nice, I recommend it. I’ll go again. That is Castell-y-Bere, if you don’t recognise it. Where was I? Oh yes… The thing…

It is most of a year since my last pointless pointless arbcomm case so it was about time for another, and here it is (that’s the current state, which may not work in a year or a day’s time. Permalink to current state). I don’t think it will be very exciting, but I’ve been known…

There is an interesting (if you like that sort of thing) insight into some wiki-politics available from a recent RFA (which stands for [[Wikipedia:Requests for adminship]]. Not to be confused, obviously, with RFA which stands for [[Wikipedia:Arbitration/Requests]]). Admins are the folks who do exciting things like blocking vandals (well, and other. My own log is…

Finally, I’ve been promoted to Rouge admin status. It is a game a little like Mornington Crescent: there are no rules, but it would be a dreadful faux pas to break them. The excuse was quite a suitable one: I blocked a septic who in a huff had said “I’d quite like to be blocked”…

Via Durova I find Wikitruth Through Wikiorder which is worth at least a quick skim if only because, unlike most commentators on wiki, they don’t seem to have totally lost the plot. Durova points out the obvious lack in their analysis: they concentrate on arbcomm, whereas the everyday activity of admins stomping on fools escapes…

Would you believe that people are having an edit war over this [1]? Should the article say “Foam takeout containers are typically discarded after the food has been consumed and are rarely [[Recycling|recycled]]” or not? It is a burning issue. All right, I know: people will war over anything. Meanwhile, [2] is fun.

Well I have been listening to Slim Shady recently: I don’t speak, I float in the air wrapped in a sheet I’m not a real person, I’m a ghost trapped in a beat I translate when my voice is read through a seismograph And a noise is bred, picked up and transmitted through Royce’s head…

So there I was, happily settled in Heffers with a nice large cup of coffee, looking forward to reliving the Newton-Leibnitz controversy via “the system of the world” when I thought I’d have a quick browse of “The Cult of the Amateur” by Andrew Keen, since it was on a nearby rack. It’s the std.rant…