Tag: archivism

What Zalgo Is

Fre­quent­ly described as “Love­craft­ian” or “Cthul­hu-inspired,” Zal­go actu­al­ly bears a clos­er sim­i­lar­i­ty to Shub-Nig­gu­rath or Yog-Sothoth, the lat­ter described by Love­craft as resem­bling

pro­to­plas­mic flesh that flowed black­ly out­ward to join togeth­er and form that eldritch, hideous hor­ror from out­er space, that spawn of the blank­ness of pri­mal time, that ten­ta­cled amor­phous mon­ster which was the lurk­er at the thresh­old, whose mask was as a con­geries of iri­des­cent globes, the nox­ious Yog-Sothoth, who froths as pri­mal slime in nuclear chaos beyond the nether­most out­posts of space and time!

It is a man­i­fes­ta­tion of a ter­ror that is based on insan­i­ty and chaos rather than ordi­nary mor­tal dan­ger — comics, of course, being an apt tar­get for this idea, as their inno­cence and rel­a­tive shal­low­ness make for an espe­cial­ly jar­ring jux­ta­po­si­tion.

Weird­ly, Stephin Mer­ritt of The Mag­net­ic Fields wrote a song about Yog-Sotheth with a side-project he called “The Goth­ic Archies,” a bizarre coin­ci­dence giv­en that the first known Zal­go cre­ations involve Archie comics.

First con­ceived by Some­thing Awful mem­ber “Shmorky” in 2004 as grim mod­i­fi­ca­tions of old com­ic strips, it was embraced by oth­er mem­bers of the forum. After remain­ing in obscu­ri­ty for sev­er­al years, Zal­go appears to have resur­faced in a pair of Some­thing Awful threads (1, 2) mock­ing the web­com­ic Ctrl+Alt+Del, where the prac­tice of Pho­to­shop­ping cer­tain strips even­tu­al­ly evolved into “Zal­go edits,” begin­ning I believe with this post (Google cache) by mem­ber Dammerung in Octo­ber 2008.


A con­ve­nient sum­ma­ry of all these Pho­to­shops was com­piled in this post (Google cache).

The blog Grim Reviews post­ed an overview of the phe­nom­e­non short­ly after its fall 2008 res­ur­rec­tion. The meme sub­se­quent­ly flour­ished on 4chan. A b3ta.com forum mem­ber named Evilscary cred­its him­self with some of the more pop­u­lar and more recent Garfield Zal­go comics, writ­ing in his pro­file:

I seem to be respon­si­ble for the recent surge of ZALGO that has engulfed the inter­net.
I did­n’t cre­ate ZALGO (indeed, he cre­at­ed him­self in a tor­rent of dark­ness and cor­rup­tion) but I cer­tain­ly aid­ed in reviv­ing his fol­low­ing.

And because Inter­net loves Garfield par­o­dies, it was­n’t long before Zal­go became pop­u­lar and there­fore no longer fun­ny. One Some­thing Awful mem­ber even noticed a ref­er­ence to it (Google cache) in the game Space Trad­er.

Maybe most respon­si­ble for the curios­i­ty around Zal­go is the pro­lif­er­a­tion of weird Uni­code dia­crit­ics that accom­pa­ny more recent Zal­go-bab­ble, which cre­ates the illu­sion that what­ev­er Zal­go is, it is now direct­ly affect­ing your com­put­er and that by Googling it you have intro­duced it into your home. Try it and you’ll see what I mean. I’m pret­ty cer­tain 4chan is respon­si­ble for this clever twist on the idea.

With the increased pop­u­lar­i­ty of Zal­go, some­one has come for­ward claim­ing to have thought it up in 1998 as “sim­ply encroach­ing dark­ness” before infect­ing var­i­ous forums with the idea in 2003, though most peo­ple aren’t tak­ing this claim seri­ous­ly.

As a side-note it also reminds me of the 1997 film Event Hori­zon, whose “antag­o­nist” is some extra-dimen­sion­al realm of pure chaos.

More Zal­go resources include:

An open letter to Cakexploder

I apol­o­gize; this has become very, very long and very, very dis­or­ga­nized. Slop­py brain­dump, but hope­ful­ly some jump­ing-off points here.

First I think there are some impor­tant terms you need to make less vague. This might begin with iden­ti­fy­ing the things you read on the inter­net (or in life in gen­er­al) that you feel *do* give you some “tan­gi­ble ben­e­fit.” Are all Twit­ter mes­sages worth­less? Why do you sub­scribe to that per­son specif­i­cal­ly? Are his tweets some­times poet­ic, pro­saical­ly clever, or oth­er­wise men­tal­ly engag­ing? Does he some­times link to news or prod­ucts or ser­vices that you would­n’t have oth­er­wise heard about, things that then *do* pro­vide “tan­gi­ble ben­e­fit”? Is it your fault for sub­scrib­ing, or is it his fault for pro­vid­ing worth­less con­tent? What about his real-life friends who fol­low him, won’t that tweet be of inter­est to them? As a fig­ure in the pub­lic eye, then, should he be required to have two Twit­ter accounts, a pro­fes­sion­al and a per­son­al one? What will you lose by unsub­scrib­ing from him entire­ly? Can the things of val­ue that he does pro­vide be found any­where else on the inter­net? Red­dit? Metafil­ter? TechCrunch? Deli­cious?

On the oth­er hand, did­n’t that tweet of his in fact pro­vide val­ue, since it is one of the things that prompt­ed you to think about this prob­lem and write a Tum­blr post about the sub­ject?

What qual­i­ties does a media item need to pos­sess in order to pro­vide you with val­ue? Are things not worth doing if they don’t alter the way you think or behave in the future? Do things need to be valu­able for longer than the time you expe­ri­ence them? If so, you might start with a brain­dump of all the things you can remem­ber that did change your life for the bet­ter, to begin to iden­ti­fy the qual­i­ties that make these things unique, as well as what chan­nels you received them from.

Where does humor stand in all this? Do humor­ous things, even the most humor­ous, per­ma­nent­ly or even tem­porar­i­ly change how you think and behave, beyond the time that you are expe­ri­enc­ing them? Is val­ue got­ten from re-telling a joke to a friend? From watch­ing a fun­ny movie or TV show with a friend? If so, is it because this involves relat­ing per­son­al­ly, in real-life? If yes, why is meat­space inter­ac­tion more valu­able than inter­net inter­ac­tion? Is it at all?

Con­sid­er this: In Novem­ber of 2007, I went to Lon­don for a week. By myself. I’d nev­er been out­side of North Amer­i­ca, and I found myself with some mon­ey, and decid­ed it would be worth­while. I delib­er­ate­ly did not con­struct an itin­er­ary so that I did­n’t feel dic­tat­ed or oblig­at­ed to see any­thing spe­cif­ic. I just want­ed to be there, for a week, walk­ing around, relax­ing, read­ing, stop­ping into pubs, and tak­ing pho­tos.

What did that do to me? Any­thing of val­ue? Frankly and truth­ful­ly, I don’t know. I know that I enjoyed it while it hap­pened. But am I dif­fer­ent per­son for it? Should I have spent the mon­ey on some class instead? If so, *why*?

I won­der if the prob­lem is that we *think* there’s a prob­lem. We are now, on the inter­net, haunt­ed by oppor­tu­ni­ty cost, and feel more pressed to be doing some­thing valu­able than I believe we would if we did­n’t have so much infor­ma­tion avail­able to us. Why does this change things? If a per­son enjoys play­ing backgam­mon, and anoth­er per­son enjoys watch­ing YTMND ani­ma­tions, why is one per­son bet­ter off than the oth­er? Backgam­mon does­n’t make you a bet­ter per­son. Yet some­how it feels more whole­some or valu­able, does­n’t it? Is it the meat­space thing again? Or do we need to recon­sid­er that maybe backgam­mon is worth­less? What about kite fly­ing? Kite fly­ing is an enor­mous waste of time!

I sup­pose that kite fly­ing has the prob­a­bil­i­ty of pro­vid­ing you with mem­o­ries of being with a friend or friends, some­thing you can look back on fond­ly, while you will nev­er look back fond­ly on read­ing Twit­ter. Or will you?

I’m remind­ed of this Cat and Girl com­ic: http://catandgirl.com/?p=283

I read Cat and Girl every morn­ing. As well as Over­com­pen­sat­ing, Scary Go Round, Achewood, and xkcd. Why? Why do I read them? Are they a waste of time? I was for­tu­nate­ly able to remem­ber this par­tic­u­lar Cat and Girl, as it is rel­e­vant to this dis­cus­sion, but what about all the ones that I don’t remem­ber, or that don’t ever get linked by me in an email? What about xkcd? Is xkcd at least a small por­tion of the rea­son I switched to Ubun­tu? Prob­a­bly. What good is that? I get far less done in Ubun­tu than in Win­dows because it is for­eign to me, but I enjoy the chal­lenge and the open-source phi­los­o­phy. Is that worth­while? Will the things I’m learn­ing about Lin­ux ever pro­vide me with val­ue out­side of using Ubun­tu? Should I care about that? Why can’t I just enjoy it for the sake of enjoy­ing it?

I find myself unable to read long arti­cles on the inter­net any­more. I have so many starred items in Google Read­er that I don’t want to think about it. Not to men­tion my “read­later” tag on Deli­cious. The inter­net has become to me what TV is to so many peo­ple. It’s just the default thing I go to when I don’t know what to do. Or out of habit. 99% of the time I’m at my com­put­er, it’s because I just sat down there, opened Fire­fox, clicked my Gmail and Google Read­er book­marks, and then clicked around until there was noth­ing new to stim­u­late me. Can’t be both­ered to go through my starred Google Read­er items and actu­al­ly sit and read one. Why not?: Because there are too many! Which one should I read, *and why*? Oppor­tu­ni­ty cost.

Maybe here’s the trou­ble: We have too many queues.

Have you ever fan­ta­sized about your hard dri­ve crash­ing? Or your Google Read­er data being lost? I have. In 2003 my lap­top was stolen. It was so refresh­ing! Mean­while I have copies of most Dai­ly Show episodes from the last three years, because I used to tor­rent all of them. Why can’t I delete them? Why do I keep “burn Dai­ly Shows to DVDs” on my men­tal to-do list? Get rid of that shit fer chris­sake!!

Have you ever con­sid­ered how you might go about tak­ing your life offline? How that might look? Writ­ing let­ters and mak­ing phone calls instead of emails and tweets and Face­book sta­tus­es; maybe even a REAL phone at home so that you can’t be both­ered at any minute of any day, and you can speak with friends with the lux­u­ry of a big, com­fort­able hand­set against your ear? No dan­ger of being dis­con­nect­ed? Learn­ing about new music from Mag­net and Fad­er and The Wire, buy­ing the music that sounds inter­est­ing in them, or on their sam­pler CDs? Read­ing arti­cles in Wired and The Econ­o­mist rather than wired.com and Slate? Sub­scrib­ing to The New York Times? Lying on your car­pet lis­ten­ing to records with­out hav­ing to check their Last.fm, Wikipedia, and MySpace pages?

As you think about liv­ing like that, think: What on the inter­net is TRULY irre­place­able? I sent this valen­tine to some­body last week: http://www.presentandcorrect.com/item.php?item_id=195 I only knew about it because I had a sub­scrip­tion to ilike.org.uk in Google Read­er. ilike is a blog that most­ly posts pret­ty pic­tures of retro British archi­tec­ture. What do I get from it most of the time? Noth­ing, oth­er than the oppor­tu­ni­ty to see pret­ty things. But when that valen­tine was linked to on the blog, it affect­ed my “real,” meat­space life, even a real meat­space rela­tion­ship. What would I have sent if I had­n’t learned about it? Does this alone con­clu­sive­ly demon­strate that my sub­scrip­tion to ilike is valu­able? Or does it do more harm than good? How much time do I *real­ly* waste pass­ing over its more bor­ing posts in Read­er’s list view? I sub­scribe to a lot of typog­ra­phy blogs too, just because I like typog­ra­phy. Isn’t it ok to just *like* typog­ra­phy, just because I like it?

I just began read­ing a book from 1978 or so called “Four Argu­ments for the ELIMINATION of Tele­vi­sion,” which argues that the medi­um itself is beyond reform. As I read it, I try to imag­ine that the author is talk­ing about the inter­net, to see whether his case applies here, too. He describes what it feels like to hear a news report of some vio­lence in a dis­tant con­ti­nent, fol­lowed by the sports scores and a com­mer­cial for laun­dry deter­gent. This expe­ri­ence robs the impor­tant sto­ry of any real­i­ty it might have oth­er­wise had. It is com­part­men­tal­ized, con­tained, requir­ing no more thought than it took to hear about it. Isn’t this even *more* true on the inter­net, when every page has dozens and dozens of hyper­links that are clam­or­ing to inter­rupt you?

Or is *all of this* just back­wards, nos­tal­gic, tech­no-apoc­a­lyp­tic think­ing? Peo­ple once argued cen­turies ago that the PRINTING PRESS, *the god damn PRINTING PRESS*, would dumb peo­ple down. And, lat­er, that *type­writ­ers* would turn peo­ple into bad writ­ers. Is this the same thing? Or is the inter­net so pro­found­ly dif­fer­ent in the way that it manip­u­lates our atten­tion that we do need to wor­ry about it?

Also impor­tant to con­sid­er: Is the con­tent itself the prob­lem, or is it the way we relate to the con­tent that is the prob­lem? And how are these two things relat­ed? Is dick­ing around in Google Read­er ok if I set aside an hour to do it in each night, with a beer or a cup of tea and some music play­ing? Rather than just click­ing book­marks like a rat with his paw on the cocaine but­ton?

An arti­cle I read some time ago that I think of occa­sion­al­ly. It’s osten­si­bly about “email addic­tion,” but real­ly relates to a lot of the ways we inter­act with the ’net.

Macbook Wheel Predictive Sentence Technology

The aard­vark admit­ted its fault.
The aard­vark admit­ted it was wrong.
The aard­vark asked for an aard­vark.
The aard­vark asked for a dag­ger.
The aard­vark asked for health.
The aard­vark asked for a ride.
The absinthe arrived by air­mail.
The abor­tion went well.
The actor asked for an aard­vark.
The actor asked for absti­nence.
The actor asked for redemp­tion.
The adver­tise­ment was effec­tive.
The agile aard­vark arrived by air­mail.
The agile aard­vark bathed with beau­ties.
The agri­cul­ture was cul­ti­vat­ed by the coral.
The aggra­vat­ed dri­ver beeped on his horn.
The aggra­vat­ed roost­er scratched the dirt.
The Althusser­ian schol­ar gave his copy of Lacan’s “Ecrits” to the
abor­tion doc­tor.
The ami­able Althusser­ian schol­ar asked the aard­vark for absinthe.
The ami­able croc­o­dile brushed his teeth with a tooth­brush.
The ami­able doc­tor per­formed the oper­a­tion admirably.
The annex was cov­ered with asbestos.
The annex was crawl­ing with bee­tles.
The apple was air­mailed by the doc­tor.
The apple was con­sumed by the ami­able croc­o­dile.
The apple was inquir­ing about the ami­able croc­o­dile’s friend.
The aqua­ma­rine lifevest was not used.
The aqua­ma­rine lifevest was unpop­u­lar.
The arm­chair was uncom­fort­able.
The arm­chair was favored by the ami­able house­cat.
The ass asked for a bet­ter absinthe.
The ass brayed at the moon.
The assump­tive doc­tor did not accept our per­son­al check.
The assump­tive agri­cul­tur­al expert eyed our absinthe sus­pi­cious­ly.
The attrac­tive peanut farmer grad­ed the term paper.
The attrac­tive roost­er preened its feath­ers to attract absinthe.
The aux­il­iary gen­er­a­tor has mal­func­tioned!
The awning cov­ered the agile aard­vark dur­ing the ami­able rain­storm.
The awning was too tall to touch.
The bab­bling baby asked the aard­vark for some absinthe.
The bab­bling baby baked brown­ies with the ami­able croc­o­dile.
The bab­bling baby basked in its moth­er’s affec­tion.
The bab­bling baby bounced the ball at the bab­bling brook.

[req] Perfect Recall

I have a big prob­lem with keep­ing track of the media I con­sume. With all the albums I down­load and lis­ten to, and all the shit I read online, I’m oppressed by this feel­ing that it’s all just run­ning through me with­out being digest­ed or processed. It’s over-stim­u­la­tion, I end up with all this shit in my head that I don’t know what to do with. I could of course just lim­it my intake, but I’m addict­ed to media and I don’t feel like chang­ing any time soon. Plus there’s got to be a way I can apply all this stuff.

I sup­pose tra­di­tion­al­ly that’s what the blog for­mat is meant for, to just kind of shit out every­thing you con­sume in the form of links and video embeds. But real­ly that’s more like just “tak­ing notes” at a lec­ture with a cas­sette recorder, see what I mean? That’s just tran­scrip­tion. I need some­thing to do with it all. This prob­lem is addressed to some extent by my metic­u­lous music library cura­tion with foo­bar, and my des­per­ate calls recent­ly for some­body to improve on the way we man­age our music.

I think a pre­vail­ing prob­lem is that of lin­ear­i­ty; I can write a post on here, then anoth­er post, then anoth­er, and they appear chrono­log­i­cal­ly in a line. Tag­ging and cat­e­go­riz­ing helps to make the con­tent on here a lit­tle less lin­ear, but it’s still not sat­is­fy­ing enough. I mean what I want is to be able to have some very loose, scrapbook‑y inter­face where I can just kind of swim through col­lages of things: albums, jour­nal entries. Snap­shots of var­i­ous aspects of cer­tain time-peri­ods. Paper is free-form enough to serve a pur­pose like this, but note­books aren’t search­able or eas­i­ly rearrange­able, and aren’t as ubiq­ui­tous as the web.

Con­tin­ue →

Matador Midline Classics

Cheap­er music means more mon­ey for drugs.” I can’t believe I found it!

Years ago, I used to see this ad all over Pitch­fork. I thought it was fun­ny that a label would so open­ly and so mechan­i­cal­ly con­done drug use; the image was mem­o­rable; and it real­ly did make me want to go record shop­ping — the bands they name are such stal­warts and hear­ken back to the gold­en years of Mata­dor in the ’90s, even though most are still mak­ing music today, remind­ing me of a time when peo­ple did pri­mar­i­ly buy music, not down­load it. It was effec­tive enough any­way that I had to go hunt­ing to find it. I thought I had thor­ough­ly scoured the Inter­net Archive Way­back Machine, but I had appar­ent­ly missed this page, along with sev­en oth­ers that con­tained the ad, from May to June of 2004. I’m sure it was in truth thrown togeth­er in a rush and they weren’t espe­cial­ly proud of it at Mata­dor.

I just need to start sav­ing every­thing I am mild­ly amused by in pass­ing.

That Paris Hilton / Captain Beefheart Photoshop Thing

I know it’s almost two years old now, but on the occa­sions that I’m remind­ed of this pho­to I’m still fas­ci­nat­ed by it. Some­how it is the per­fect album to have pho­to­shopped into Paris’ hand: the cov­er is icon­ic and imme­di­ate­ly rec­og­niz­able, it may be the last thing she’d ever actu­al­ly lis­ten to, and it’s pink. Still, I won­dered; I mean, maybe she was drunk enough that some­one just clev­er­ly slipped it to her? She was releas­ing an album at the time, so it was almost cer­tain that she was just hold­ing that. But it’s like big­foot, crop cir­cles, UFO videos, you want to believe.

More than that, I think we derived a cer­tain sat­is­fac­tion from its impos­si­bil­i­ty. It’s a dai­ly occur­rence to watch your cher­ished bands get snatched up by the pop­u­lar media, and this pho­to was a reminder that some of our enthu­si­asms are very, very safe.

I first spot­ted it on the WFMU blog (“I can’t imag­ine Paris get­ting more than a few bars into Frown Land before rip­ping it out of her CD play­er and throw­ing it out of her win­dow at some home­less per­son”), but they of course got it from Gawk­er (“That is tru­ly a cul­tur­al jux­ta­po­si­tion”), who got it from gold­en­fid­dle.

Then when I ran across this image of her hold­ing In the Aero­plane Over the Sea, I had to find the orig­i­nal pho­tos that were manip­u­lat­ed. Final­ly, I did! Here, here, here, and here. There’s even a thread about it on Snopes. Con­tin­ue →

Scary Go Round Style Changes

Once described as being “pret­ty much per­fect,” Scary Go Round is one of my favorite comics. As is the case with most things, I got into it kin­da late, and it’ll prob­a­bly die in the near future, mak­ing my week­day morn­ings cold and bleak. I wish I could remem­ber where I learned about it.

One of the best things about it is its art­work. The col­ors are stun­ning, it’s pep­pered with painstak­ing­ly sub­tle, wink­ing touch­es, and there’s a weird jux­ta­po­si­tion of ruler-guid­ed lines and rough, endear­ing­ly slop­py details like let­ter­ing or rows of win­dows. But it did­n’t used to be that way; it began as a spin­off to John Allison’s pre­vi­ous com­ic, Bob­bins, which shift­ed from hand-drawn to vec­tor art on Jan­u­ary 15, 2001, a dis­tinct­ly dig­i­tal style that con­tin­ued through Scary Go Round’s first cou­ple years.

It was short­ly after I start­ed read­ing, in 2006, that the com­ic went “per­ma­nent­ly” (for now) hand-drawn, which to me is far prefer­able, allow­ing for much greater nuance in ges­tures and expres­sions, and more equipped to car­ry John’s sense of humor.

Lament­ing the fact that I did­n’t get to watch its evo­lu­tion in real­time, I decid­ed to cat­a­logue notable dates in its his­to­ry, cou­pled with con­text from John’s blog and the Scary Go Round forum, because I am curi­ous and anal.

John begins Scare­odele­ria, intend­ed as a prac­tice ground “to return Scary Go Round to hand-drawn art.” It’s pret­ty crude.

Con­tin­ue →

How to Save One, Many, or All Items from a Google Reader Feed Locally

Google Read­er, employ­ing Google’s petabytes of stor­age, archives every feed item it’s ever pulled for you. This has always amazed me, as I’m sure I and every­one else must be using far more in Read­er than the 5 gigs we get from Gmail. Still, they don’t have much of a choice; it would­n’t do any­body good if you could only see the 10 or 20 items present on a feed’s XML file at any giv­en time. And even though they’re prob­a­bly clever enough to only have to store one copy of every item for that item’s hun­dreds of thou­sands of read­ers, they’ve prac­ti­cal­ly built a third copy of the inter­net (after their cache).

A nice fall­out of this archiv­ing is that when­ev­er con­tent you’ve sub­scribed to dis­ap­pears from the web, you’ll still be able to access its (admit­ted­ly homog­e­nized) Read­er copy, for­ev­er; “for­ev­er” here mean­ing “pre­sum­ably for as long as Google is around.” When (if?) Google dies, will its data die with it? Despite my intu­ition that Google will long out­last cur­rent notions of what com­put­ers are and how they work, I still don’t like entrust­ing impor­tant data to oth­er peo­ple, not to men­tion data that is acces­si­ble only through the web. I want a local copy.

But they don’t make it easy for you. Read­er is all AJAXed out, so even sim­ple page saves don’t work. Copying/pasting would be a night­mare. Screen­shots? Too slop­py. Email­ing copies of each item? Too time-con­sum­ing. Tag­ging them with a spe­cial tag, mak­ing that tag’s feed pub­lic, then sub­scrib­ing in, like, Thun­der­bird or some­thing? Even if that weren’t absurd­ly round­about, the pub­lic feeds only have twen­ty or so items.

I’m talk­ing specif­i­cal­ly about a blog I loved, but that up and dis­ap­peared one day, com­plete­ly, leav­ing the only copies of the lost data scat­tered through­out Netvibes, News­ga­tor, Blog­lines, and Read­er. Google search­es turned up noth­ing like a straight­for­ward guide to sav­ing from Read­er, which sur­prised me. But there were clues, and using only a cou­ple tools, I final­ly got it. It’s actu­al­ly pret­ty easy, I was able to save 118 items in about ten min­utes with this method. Let me show you it.

You need Fire­fox, the two plu­g­ins Grease­mon­key and Scrap­Book, and the Grease­mon­key script Google Read­er Print But­ton. Then it’s just a mat­ter of click­ing “Print” for each item you want to save, which opens it in its own tab, then using Scrap­Book’s “Cap­ture All Tabs…” func­tion, which auto­mat­i­cal­ly does a “Save Page As, Web Page, com­plete” into your %App­Da­ta% fold­er for each tab, then final­ly option­al­ly using Scrap­Book’s “Com­bine Wiz­ard” (in the tools menu of the Scrap­Book side­bar [Alt+K]) to put all the items into a sin­gle fold­er with a sin­gle index.html file.

The “print­ing” part is the most cum­ber­some, but goes by pret­ty quick­ly with the rep­e­ti­tion of a series of clicks and key­strokes:

  1. Click “Print”
  2. Press Esc (to close the print dia­logue)
  3. Press Ctrl+Tab (to get back to Read­er)
  4. Press J (to go to the next feed item)

Do that mind­less­ly for a cou­ple min­utes, and they’ll all be there, wait­ing to be saved. I’m gonna put the word “disk” in here too so that any­body Googling for a solu­tion might find this.