Announcing An Upcoming Announcement

Democracy Dies in Darkness is the earnest and timely new motto of the Washington Post. Peeps, apparently, die in the bright light.

On Sunday, the Post is set to announce the end of its popular Peeps Diorama contest's 10-year run. According to the Deputy Editor of the Washington Post Magazine, David Rowell, "Hard journalism this was not, but for us the contest offered its own sweet rewards. As fewer submissions began to come in, though, echoing the decline in readership of this feature, we knew that it was time to let bunnies be free again, and we have ended the Peeps contest run."

As staunch supporters of Peeps, and of the contest (several of us having submitted losing entries in years past), we can't stand idly by while Peep sculpture is denigrated as less than serious journalistic enterprise. Nor can we let this rite of Spring simply disappear.

We're not the only ones, apparently. The Washington City Paper quickly tweeted their intent to pick up the Post's sword and fight on, as will local blog Popville (I don't know them any more than they know us). And we're cool with that, because a) our idea transcends Peeps, and b) more importantly, we've always been kind of an NIT-level thing, and so our aspirations are fairly modest.

The Teej and I were in the midst of discussing logistics for G:TB taking over the Peeps Diorama contest when we realized we'd actually started seven years ago. Dave, who's known for a lot of things, but generally not for his prescience, actually prepared us for this moment when he inaugurated the first G:TB Circus Peanut Diorama Contest in April 2010. Here's a copy of the rules:

The rules for G:TB First Annual Circus Peanut Diorama Contest are as follows: 1) while making the diorama, you must be under the influence of at least ONE circus peanut. I ate two. 2) No Peeps allowed.

So we've got a framework, but we're going to make a few changes. We'll announce the complete rules on Monday, which will likely expand the candy palate to the entire Easter ouevre (yeah, that's right, you can use Cadbury Creme Eggs and those crappy thin-shelled chocolate eggs, if you'd like, and Peeps will be allowed). But fret not, Post Peeps peeps, we're here for you. Get to work.

My Apology to Educators . . . But Seriously, You Should Know Better.

One of the joys of blogging is the residual glee generated when something you have set free on the internet makes its way into the limelight. Whether it is a post on circus peanuts or the William and Mary griffin, there is nothing like the satisfaction of knowing that people are linking to your creation. You think: people beyond my retarded circle of friends are enjoying this. Like Dr. Frankenstein, you have created life, and though your creation might be perverse and monstrous, it is still beautiful to watch its span. So I am proud to report that a Greasetruck song has a life beyond my fans at G:TB..

Apparently, biology teachers across our wired nation have been streaming the song "Amoeba Love," thinking it is a cute way to illustrate binary fission to their students. But-- unfortunately for the teachers and fortunately for the students-- this is no cute educational video. Something happens at "00:27" in the video and one commenter remarks that his teacher's reaction was "priceless." And, judging by the number of comments and their different dates, this has happened more than once, and in more than one classroom. Check it out.

Though I apologize to all the educators who were duped by this video, I think your embarrassment is superseded by the joy the song has brought to the students in your biology classes. I won't detail the "00:27" surprise here, you can watch and enjoy it for yourself-- and I should add that the video might not be safe for work, if the people you work with are offended by bad cartoon drawings of genitalia-- but honestly, it's pretty tame.

And if you are offended by the video, let me offer this explanation: I was in a particularly weird mental place when I made this. It was several years ago on a snow day, and my two young children were both napping. I had two hours to compose and record the song and to animate the video. And in the days previous, to my chagrin, I had come to a frank realization-- I was not going to be a great animator. Despite learning to use a pirated 2-D animation program, I saw that my destiny was not in the way of Hayao Miyazaki. Why not? Because I could not draw. And so I gave up trying to animate something wonderful and magical, and decided to portray the only subject I could: an amoeba.

In the end, it is fitting. My amoeba video's digital footprint asexually reproduced on the internet, and then found its way back to me. I created life and it thrived in unexpected places.