Online traffic up almost 50%.  The Interweb must be creaking under the weight of all those Kindles flying out the door.

That’s what Gizmodo reports, anyway.  This would be a Google-branded proprietary device.  And I don’t even own a fake iPhone yet!

No surprise who is at the top of this list.  

It seems the terms of the deal changed somewhat drastically.  Mr. Arrington has all the details here.  

Quote: “Am I nuts? What’s the matter with this company? Are they so desperate to look somehow hip and with it that they’ll actually go so far as to make their competitors’ arguments for them?”

Much love to dear reader Mark, who was on the lookout, spotted this, and sent it right in. Well done.

Just back from three days at Tassajara with Sting and Trudie and now catching up on email. Just found this pathetic love letter that Arrington wrote on Thanksgiving, saying that I’m a “living legend” and one of the things he’s thankful for. I sent this to Katie and said, Hey, isn’t this the same dickhead who’s been ranting and raving about how awful iPhone is and how he loves his Android phone or whatever? Katie wrote back: That’s the one.

Not sure what to make of this. Except to say that I’m terribly sorry, Mike, but in this case your man-crush is going to have to go unrequited. Maybe you should aim a little lower — like, I don’t know, flacks or something.

Apparently neither Borg entity is interested in actually ruling a feudal state on the Mediterranean, especially one with such an apt name. No one returned calls to this intrepid blogger over weekend, usually wound up talking to some flunkie from some call center in Spangladishwalla or something. Is that even in California?

Today is a sacred holiday of my people and our womenfolk have had some very strange ways of trying to land a provider in the past, in relation to this day. Don’t ask me where or how these ideas arose. Personally, I think back in the day, their great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grand spinster aunty ate some moldy lysergic communion bread (there was a lot unintentional tripping in those days, made it easier for the church to weave its magic and control the populace) and passed on these hallucinations to their nieces and everything grew organically from there until, like, Galileo re-invented science or “the new magic” and women started landing husbands by making themselves more attractive, which is a very subjective thing even today – I oughta’ know, I read the personals columns in Craigslist, it’s funny, kinda’ sad and pathetic, too.

You know how my womenfolk do it today? They value themselves first and don’t pay any mind to anybody who doesn’t value them the same. They are all hot, they know exactly what they want and get it and they do not settle for assholes nor schmoes. Sure, some get divorced, but they get back on that horse and land another prizewinner.

Right now, I’m trying to figure out how to turn this into an app for the iPhone. We’re calling it the iMate™. Clever, eh? Once we get the bugs worked out, and clear the approval process, it’ll be a guaranteed hit, at least for six months, then an upgrade aimed at all those over-anxious-over-35 crowd who haven’t hooked up in awhile. We’ll call it iPurr™ or iCougar™, or something like that. How much would you pay for an app that could land you a potential mate or at least a roll in the hay?

Call me!

Hey! I’m excited by this! The artificial Big Bang generated more energy than the amount of watts needed to power Pamela Anderson’s hydro-electric thermonuclear superconductive vibrator – and then some. Scientists will either figure out how the universe began,

the number of God’s mobile

or

how to make a really, really, really large sloppy cauldron of cosmic soup.