Signs of life at Landor?

Landor has started redirecting links to their site that contain unfavorable commentary. Here is but one example.

Who knew they had it in ’em?

UPDATE 4.22.06 : Aaaargh! Landor has stopped the redirects, allowing the links from this post through. And this one. Too bad, they were actually demonstrating some humanity via humor. Until early this morning, they were redirecting our links to them to this page. They were poking fun at us for once and full points to them for that.

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There goes the plumbing

Jennifer Rice is moving in with Igor next Monday. It’ll be just like the Brady Bunch around here, except not as funny or as deep. Or as hip. Or as socially relevant. Or as in tune with the current zeitgeist. But certainly as genuine.

However, all is not lost. Remember back in August of 2005? Of course not. In any event, every month Fast Company picks a topic and then names what it erroneously believes to be the best three blogs on that topic. Last August that topic was branding. Of the three top blogs, one was ours and one was Jennifer’s. So now anyyone interested in branding can waste two – thirds of their time reading the blogs that emanate from this office.

They’re magically lubricious!

Lucky CharmsThere are few convergences within the Julian calendar that portend a force majeure with the same vicious accuracy as when St. Patrick’s Day falls both on a Friday and during Lent. Corned beef and cabbage — or fish? Madonna or whore? Three days of amateurish drinking and lewdity, fueled and volumized by the guilt of Lent. Lock up the cat.

But it’s Monday morning now and my people are hung-over and remorseful. That’s right, they’re lashing out. Fellow Irish descendant Bobby McMahon has written what is labeled a satirical piece in today’s Breeze, but it’s gone right over my head:

Besides his mother and the Blessed Virgin Mary, the Irishman’s wife is the most important woman in his life, and I couldn’t ask for a better mate than me lovely wife Mary. She’s a fiery redhead with good birthing hips and skin as pale as the moonlight, which I think has more to do with her rarely leaving the house than her Gaelic blood. Ya see, between the cooking and the cleaning and the pregnancy, there just isn’t a chance for her to go a’walking through the foggy meadow and get some sun on her face, making her skin whiter than the banshee. Tell ye the truth, I don’t think I’ve bought her shoes in the last 20 years, but then again, it’s not that far of a walk from the bedroom to the kitchen, so I don’t expect her to be complaining much.

Beats me. Full article here.