What your favorite blog says about you

Nick Douglas explains what your favorite blog says about you. Vote Ron Paul!


      1. It depends. You probably voted for him because of his healthcare platform, in which case his administration has been ironic. I voted for him because of his “kill U.S. citizens with flying robot assassins” promise, and I’ve been very pleased.

        1. It’s like missiles, at your wedding party. It’s meeting the man of my dreams, and then meeting his horrible side.

  1. That’s a crap description.  There’s no bananas or steampunk anywhere.

    Vote The Rent’s Too Damn High!

    1.  Nobody who reads BoingBoing is actually particularly interested in bananas or steampunk, of course – I’d say the description is spot on :)

      Vermin Supreme ’12

  2. Just restricting it to blogs, the one I have spent most time at was Daily Intel at New York Magazine. That had a golden age of just riffing on random shit among a group of about 50 people. I think it has become diluted these days, not too sure.

  3. Does anyone have time to read more than one of these? I’ve restricted myself to BB simply as a time-saving measure.

    1. I have maybe ten I keep up on with RSS, but I’m seriously selective about what articles I actually read.

  4. If you have kids, you feel uncomfortable around their friend’s parents.  No wait, is that dangerous minds?

    You know the pre-1970’s sci fi stories parodied in The Simpsons’ Halloween specials.

    If you do eat meat, you know you shouldn’t.

    Confusion reigns, something you welcome.

    You often day dream about how to make a LOT of money from something fun.

    The obscure is comforting.

    You consider the Transmission Mickey to be sacrilegious but secretly want one.

    and, drum roll please…You assume everyone knows what you’re talking about.  Or is that just me?

  5. The thing about the vintage fez is actually creepily accurate. I did win several costume contests in a row with my vintage fez.

  6. When I read this yesterday, I realised I’ve never had the opportunity to vote for a satirical political candidate. *Then* I’d remembered that I was the satirical political candidate at University. The “Don’t Vote, Shoot” party. Good times. Happily mutated.

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