So, I was at the WordCamp US party for speakers, sponsors and volunteers, and three times over the course of this evening I was introduced as the woman who was the Blue Screen of Death at WordCamp Philly in October.
Today’s the day. If you’re an American citizen and haven’t voted yet, please exercise that right in a year when the outcome promises to have real consequences for civil liberties, national security and pocketbooks. If you voted already, thank you for being on top of it.
For those still unsure at this point, I’m not going to comment on the candidates or parties. Instead, I offer this: think of yourself as part of a review committee recommending the finalist for the most powerful and difficult job in the world, and weigh your options accordingly.
So, yes, I’m working from home for a few weeks as a favor to my boss. Once or twice a year, as the university processes retirements, promotions and new hires, there’s an office shuffle — basically musical chairs but with no music and boxes of papers instead of chairs.
Author’s note: readers who are easily offended by scaffolding and the setup thereof may want to give this post a miss lest they find it objectionable.
I planned to discuss web fonts in some future post, taking the line that the new choices offered by the likes of Google and Adobe are a treat for the creative among us, but that it’s important to weigh the merits of novelty against the impact on page download times.
Today, though, I need to share something far more urgent: how poor typography, and not only on the web, can completely change the message you’re trying to communicate and potentially harm innocent people whose eyeballs are pointed in the wrong direction at the wrong time.