Friday Inspiration 396

Do you remember Clippy from Microsoft Office? Maybe not fondly. What I never thought of, every time I frantically clicked on Clippy to close it out so I could just start typing, was that some guy somewhere designed Clippy. Best comment on this video:
“I love the fact that Clippy went from widely Hated to widely Loved
Truly shows how you can make a 180 on a character so simple” (video)

Screen capture from I Created Clippy


Willy Spiller’s photos of the NYC subway in the 1970s and 1980s are a trip, and his long out-of-print book Hell on Wheels is being redesigned and re-published. It’s about $95 USD, which sounds expensive, unless you’ve ever tried to find a copy of the original book (I did a quick search and one used copy in the Netherlands is $1859 USD). But if you’re not in the market for either of those, you can enjoy this set of photos.

I appreciate several things about this: 1) Tyler Vigen’s curiosity about a little-used pedestrian bridge over the freeway, 2) his incredibly dogged persistence in pursuing the (very elusive) backstory, 3) his documenting the entire process so people like me could scroll through the entire story, reading about a pedestrian bridge in Minnesota as if it’s some sort of murder mystery. I will not spoil it for you. (via

A fan in the front row at a Dodgers game told Mookie Betts that he would name his daughter after Mookie if he hit a home run, and, well, this article is fine, but I think watching the video of Mookie Betts telling the story is better.

Stuff like this always makes me feel like I should try harder to find creative inspiration close to home: Architect Kei Endo creates these beautiful renderings of Tokyo hotel rooms, with exact measurements, floor plans, and watercolor images, and I am not sure why I feel like I need to own this book but it’s now in my cart as I waffle back and forth about another coffee table book.

Here, you, too, can have a good cry at the story of Scout the dog, who escaped an animal shelter several times because he had decided where he wanted to live instead.

Jeremy B. Jones set out to write an obituary for his grandfather, and ended up writing an obituary for everyone who lives “a quiet life,” which is probably most of us, no offense. (thanks, Justin)

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