On one hand I’m trying to make a serious point about the body images that we all (especially women) are expected to emulate even though they are nearly impossible in real life. On the other hand, I sort of wanted and excuse to search for, download and photoshop these images myself.

Let the record show that the above proves both hands were busy with fairly respectable activities throughout.

We had a burrito truck parked in our neighborhood.

So many people come from so many different parts of town, I half-expected to see some kids dressed as Muni transfers.

How serious is our hood when it comes to getting into the spirit? We had four carved pumpkins, a massive witch hanging from our front door and glowsticks lining our front steps. As the evening got underway, one of the neighbor’s kids walked over, took a look at our entryway and quite seriously asked, “How come you guys don’t celebrate Halloween?”

About 10pm we usually get our last few groups of teen stragglers. Who do you have less respect for: Teens who egg and toilet paper your house before greeting you at the door with a line of B.A.s, or teens who dress up and want a piece of candy?

One year during college, my friend Dave went out for Halloween dressed as me (I was a semi-known person on the Berkeley campus known as the Mic Man). One of the people who recognized the outfit said are you the Mic Man? When my friend replied that he was, the guy said, “Wow, you normally look a lot fatter.”

My three year-old son was dressed as a skeleton and helped me pass out candy for part of the night. At one point, a little girl (a year or two his senior) came walking up our steps. She was also dressed as a skeleton. My son blushed. He stood there staring at skeleton-girl for at least twenty seconds. Then he started piling candy into her bag. One handful after the other, never averting his gaze. Player play.

I like to keep my costumes simple. For the past few years, I’ve gone as the Rainbow Man with the John 3:16 sign who was at all the sporting events in the 70s and 80s (Tho, since I’m Jewish, my sign says Jacob). Hopefully my career doing this ends better than his did.

My three year old son broke his late night record by staying up until 10:30pm. When I finally put him to bed, still in his skeleton suit, his last words of the night were, “Dada, is it Thanksgiving now?”

“Who will be playing the part of me?”

Sure it could be you. But it could also be whatever you the producers feel like creating. There is a line of reality wannabees from here to Hollywood so when it comes to signing a contract, the participant has exactly zero leverage. Feel the producers cheated you out of a victory? Bummer, they can do that. Want to leave the show? You’ve got to go on camera and explain why. Don’t like the embarrassing and unrealistic way you’re being portrayed? Too bad, you signed the line that is dotted. Got an STD while shooting the show? The production company often has a legal protection for unprotected sex too.

So who will be playing the part of you? Hopefully not the guy with crabs who got cheated out of his winnings and forgot to read the fine print.

The Wrap has more including sample contracts.

Scoble makes the following points about the series of posts on this event.

Tragic, my heart is out to everyone involved.

What do you NOT see?

You don’t see any stupid YouTube-style commenters making light of the situation. You don’t see anyone posting pictures that would be inappropriate.

You don’t see anyone entering a conversation that should be viewed on its own in its own totality.

Twitter does NOT have the chat room/forum problem.

The analysis of the chat room/forum problem is probably spot on. But what about the issue not addressed here?

Do we really need to be sharing these kinds of details on our microblogs?

Everyone of course has the freedom to share or not to share as much as they see fit. But the trend of over-sharing has gained massive momentum of late, and I wonder if enough people even question what toll this new M.O. for communication is having on our psyches.

I am positive that “none” is not the answer to that question.

1. No Anecdotal Evidence: This is going to come as shock to many, but having thumbs and being somewhere is not an anecdote.
2. Oversharing is Not Caring. If Obama wins the Nobel Prize and you don’t tweet or Facebook it, did it really happen? I’ve got bad news. The answer is yes. And your tweet was not informative, provided no insight and wasn’t funny. But you need to regurgitate everything that goes into your head because you can’t stop yourself. Translation: You’re fucked.
3. No Party Favors: You’re having a great time at the party? Well I didn’t get invited to the goddamn party and now I know about it and I know you’re having fun.
   Solution: Shut the fuck up.
4. Kid Pro Quo: You tweet about experiences you’re having with your kids. Here’s a tip. Put down the iPhone, turn off the Blackberry and actually have the experience. I don’t want to hear about it and they do want your full attention. Again, I’m not pointing fingers here. The other night my daughter kissed my laptop goodnight.
5. Shaq Track: Five years ago, did you think to yourself: “Man, I really get a kick out a celebrities, football players and pornstars, I just wish I could somehow keep track of their daily thoughts and activities.”
6. Mile Why Club: Now when a flight delay sucks for you, it can suck for me too. I’m not sure of the right reason to tweet or share on Facebook. But I know being bored and too psychologically diminished to spend a couple hours alone with your thoughts is not it. And inflight WiFi? That’s the new mile high club. You’re flying and you’re fucked.
7. Reality Bytes: Ever wonder where all your online time is coming from? Due to the rise of social networks, people are spending much less time with the people in their own households. Reality TV at least requires the family to gather in the same room for a shared experience. If your current behavior is worse for your family than reality television, I don’t even need to explain how fucked you are.
8. Running at the Mouth: Did you just get back from a great run or a long bike ride and then feel the need to tell us that? My immediate reaction is: Fuck no, I don’t care. If you are sharing these details while you’re still on the run or ride, then stop. Sit down. Stay there. Forever.
9. Sad Libs: Every time you come up with an exciting pun or think you have a unique take, you’re just a realtime search away from realizing that you are the eleven-millionth person with the same neat idea. In the real world, you worried you might be boring. In cyberspace, you know it for sure.
10. There’s No I in Me: Still not sure you’re fucked? Then feast your eyes on the Samsung DualView camera. The ultimate representation of this era, the DualView is a camera with an LCD screen in the front to make it easier for you to take pictures of (drumroll please) yourself. Every self-portrait taken with this camera should be watermarked with the words, “Smile. You’re fucked.”

11. Make Up For It In Volume: I don’t need to know which fucking song you’re listening too. That’s why the little speakers in your headphones point towards your head, not mine.
12. TMI: We’ve lost track of the basic hierarchy of where and when information wants to spread. Here is as a quick refresher. First, there’s the stuff that you just think of randomly in the solitude of your own mind. Second, there’s stuff that rises to the level of being worthy to mumble to yourself. Third, you have the stuff that is so amazingly interesting that it’s worth sharing with the bored Two and a Half Men fan in the next cube. Fourth, there’s the stuff that is actually worth writing down. Guess what’s not on the list? Your fucking Farmville pets.
13. Carmen Sandiego Complex: I’m glad you like your GPS, but I don’t give a fuck where you are right now. What am I, roadside assistance? You’re there, you’re alone. Deal with it.
14. Fucked Company: You have a Facebook account. Sarah Palin has a Facebook account. How’s that fucking feel?
15. Digital Memories: You don’t have time to develop any actual memories of an experience before those memories are replaced by a memory of a photo or video of that experience. And let’s be honest, you don’t look nearly as cool in the photo as you did in your mind.
16. Inboxing Match: Listen closely now. No one (and I mean no one) cares about the state of your fucking inbox.
17. Finding Me on Facebook: Look, we didn’t exactly “lose touch.” I changed my name, left town, walked with fake limp and got a face transplant.
18. Phoney Baloney: Quick update on business etiquette: When we are meeting, look up from that smart phone or I will stick a fucking knife in your head.
19. Clouded Judgment: There are two kinds of people who give regular updates about the weather. Meteorologists and fuckheads.
20. Diss-intermediate: Instead of being direct, you vent your loosely veiled personal (and even professional) attacks on the web. Here’s the bad news. The person on the receiving end of the attack also has a computer. And guess which one of you looks like a pussy?
21. Dork Worship: We’ve made internet stars out of people who most likely would’ve been friendless dorks in a non-connected world. Here’s the trouble. Stars get laid. They procreate. Generation X and Y, get ready to meet Generation WTF.
22. Bad Nostalgia: Remember the good old days when blogs were as irritating as it got?
23. Screenshots: I recently forgot to bring my iPhone to the Oakland Coliseum where I sat in the 8th row for a Beyonce show. Instead of watching the whole concert through a tiny screen, I experienced the event. Weird, right? And believe me, I got plenty of mileage out of the mental visuals.
24. Nip Schmuck: None of us can read or think anymore. The most detailed story you’ve read in years was made up of a few status updates on the saga of Balloon Boy. Admit it. Sometimes you’re reading a tweet and, though it’s of some interest, you stop halfway because, well, (like this sentence) it just seems a little wordy.
25. Demi-gogues: Need more proof you, me and our entire generation are completely fucked?
    Two words: Ashton Kutcher.

Go ahead. Tweet this and admit you’re fucked. It’s liberating.

And yes, I desperately want you to tweet about this blog post and to follow me. I’m fucked.

Why don’t I have as many followered as Ashton? Why don’t I have as much access to private air travel as Sergey. Why can’t I convince people to have 3am meetings with me like Zuckerberg? Why isn’t my site as popular as Evan’s? Why did I stop writing my technology blog just before people started to get famous blogging? Why can’t I even achieve a notoriety equal to my cat Mister Winters who pulled a do you believe in miracles-like upset to bring home the Best Tonkinese Premier in Region 2 prize in 2001?

With all of the peephole and sex tapes released on the net over the past decade, would it have been so impossible for at least a cameo? I’m no Lexington Steele, but I’ve got to be worth a few million downloads.

You shouldn’t care. But the web is addictive and weird that way, so you do. If you’re not careful, you focus on being something you’re not. You end up working on stuff that doesn’t reflect any of your personal passions. You become obsessed with every stat. You want, for a reason you could never explain, to be web cool. You start buying up weird new domains in the hopes that, maybe this time, you’ll hit the next big thing.

All of this is especially tempting if you have a few hundred billion to throw at your effort. Which brings us to Microsoft. While there is no doubt that they are getting the better business-terms end of the bargain with Yahoo and that, after years of futility, they will likely become a major force in the search wars, I still wonder if the entire effort is misguided.

I worry that Microsoft’s obsession with Google and search (the same affliction that ultimately caused Yahoo to take it in the Bing) will come at the expense of the businesses where they still have clear leadership. If I were Microsoft, I’d worry more about the cultural, technological, and marketshare explosion over at Apple than I’d worry about search. And to the extent that I’d worry about Google, I’d be more worried about their efforts to move apps online than the search stuff. That’s the big advantage Yahoo got out of this deal. At least they got out of search (which they’ve been terrible at for years) and can now celebrate and focus on all the areas where they hold a leadership position.

All that said, I have a weird feeling that this post could vault me past Gruber.

You’ll hear about cruelty to dolphins that is planned and carried out by a relatively small group of maniacs in this Japanese village. But you’ll also learn of a similar cruelty that might involve dolphins you’ve bought a ticket to watch or ride.

“I get more upset with the dolphin trainers I see there than the fishermen,” O’Barry tells Terry Gross. Japanese fishermen, he explains, think of dolphins as being in the same category as fish — not least, O’Barry says, because the Japanese character for “whale” translates literally into “monster fish.”

“But the dolphin trainers, who are there working side by side with them, look [the dolphins] in the eye every day,” O’Barry says. “They give them names. They spend time with them. They know they’re self-aware.”

Check the trailer and find out when the movie will be in your town.

Catching the suspect in the act involved video surveillance and a vigilante stake out.

Bottom line, not everything in life can be reduced to fewer than 140 characters and this story (for better or worse) brought me back to my blog. Stay tuned.

That’s it. Oprah, fuck Brad.

FWIW, Oprah still out-earned Jolie about by about 10x. So there’s that.

God, why do I read Rush and Newt quotes on Friday nights when I should be shotgunning beers and listening to Springsteen with the kid?