The fact that no one else came for Friday Filosophy gave me some time to think about the possibility of a different format for the weekly congregation.

In addition to the time of day being problematic for a meat/(vegan)space gathering, it seems unnecessarily old-fashioned to confine the conversation to any particular bounds of time and space anyhow. So, in the Kopimist spirit of post-neo-luddite optimism -- I propose that Friday begin a virtual and asynchronous form of worship that can last for whenever you have the time for it before the sudo-minyan meets on Sunday.

Rather than a particular form of chant, I propose the prayer take the form of a 'rant'. Due to the nature of this format, Ray gave a wise suggestion to cap it 2 pages/minutes, [as in 2 minutes of hate (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Two_Minutes_Hate) in Orwell's 1984.]

Given this week's interest in bookmaking, I thought to start off a rant with a parable about the good old days when the people who made the books mattered.

To see into the life behind a fingerprint in the Encyclopédie is to get some sense of how men moved through the obscure channels of working-class history, but Bonnemain's thumbmark also can be studied for its typographical significance. It illustrates a point that is difficult to appreciate in an age of automation: the printers of the Old Regime left their mark on their books -- literally, in Bonnemain's case, and figuratively in all the others. For each workman stamped each page with something of his individuality, and the quality of his craftsmanship affected the success of the product.

Bonnemain's fingerprint really resulted from a typographical trick. By smearing the forms excessively with ink, he and his companion did not have to pull so hard at the bar of the press to get an impression. But the extra ink came off on their fingers and smudged the sheets during handling.