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21 February 2007

AskMeCha: What's the hex color of MetaFilter? THE blue? I have no idea how to find it (it appears to be hidden in css styles), and I'm colorblind so can't pick it out by eye. I'd appreciate any help.
#006699.
posted by chrismear 21 February | 15:16
Thank you very much.
posted by omiewise 21 February | 15:24
With link text #CCCC00.
posted by cortex 21 February | 15:36
If you use Firefox, give ColorZilla a go - it's fantastic for grabbing colours from sites.
posted by TheDonF 21 February | 15:38
Why are you bunnies encouraging the ignorant cripple?
posted by danostuporstar 21 February | 15:54
Thanks cortex, TheDonF. That's very helpful.

I'm building this.
posted by omiewise 21 February | 15:59
Oh, fuck, I should have previewed. dano I defy you. Fie.
posted by omiewise 21 February | 16:00
omiewise, what a great idea. I love it!!!! I love it four question marks worth. Do you want it posted to MetaTalk? Or will you post it to projects?
posted by iconomy 21 February | 16:29
Oh and please forget that I have a website. It looks like shit, to be honest. No linky.
posted by iconomy 21 February | 16:30
Oh, and my question marks look just like exclamation points.
posted by iconomy 21 February | 16:32
omiewise, that's brilliant! I love it!
posted by mygothlaundry 21 February | 16:41
Don't worry, iconomy, my rule for myself is that the site has to be listed on the MeFi user page (your's isn't, I had already checked). That way I figured to stick to publically available MeFi information.

Let's see how it goes before posting anything anywhere. My history of defunct projects is the single thing I would seek to avoid calling attention to if I could. (But this is fun enough that it might stick.)

And thanks for the encouragement.
posted by omiewise 21 February | 16:45
This is neat! You know I'm waiting for a blend of one of your other sites/ideas with this one. My apologies to MP, you and JM:

After lunch, my reading of "Wasting Time with Josh Millard" resumed immediately; above all, if the day was rather warm, one went up "to retire to one's office," which permitted me, by the little staircase with steps close together, to reach mine immediately, on the only upper story, so low that from the windows with but one child's jump you would have found yourself in the street -- I went and closed my window without being able to avoid the greeting of the other clinician across the street, who, under pretext of lowering the awning, used to come every day after lunch to smoke his cigarette in front of his door and say good afternoon to passersby, who, sometimes, stopped to talk. William Morris's theories, which have been so constantly applied by Maple and the English decorators, decree that a Mefite User's Site is beautiful only on condition that it contain but those things which may be useful to us, and that any useful thing, even a simple nail, be not hidden, but apparent. To abuse my metaphor: Above the bed with copper rods and entirely uncovered, on the naked walls of those hygienic rooms, we ask that only a few reproductions of masterpieces be allowed. To judge it by the principles of this aesthetics, this other MeFi User's Web site was not beautiful at all, for it was full of things that could not be of any use and that modestly hid, to the point of making their use extremely difficult, those which might serve some use. But it was precisely through these things which were not there for my convenience, but that seemed to have come there for their own pleasure, that Josh's site acquired for me its beauty. Those "high white curtains" of navigation which hid from the eyes the bed of copy placed as if in the rear of a sanctuary; the scattering of light silk counterpanes, of quilts with flowers, of embroidered bedspreads, of linen pillowcases, this scattering under which it disappeared in the daytime, as an altar in the month of Mary under festoons and flowers, and which, in the evening, in order to go to read further, I would place my laptop cautiously on an armchair where they consented to spend the night; by the bed, the trinity of the glass with blue patterns, the matching sugar bowl, and the decanter (always empty, since the day after my arrival, by order of my aunt who was afraid to see it "spill"), these instruments, as it were, of the cult-almost as sacred as the precious orange blossom liqueur placed near them in a glass phial-,which I would no more have thought of profaning nor even of possibly using for myself than if they had been consecrated ciboria, but which I would examine a long time before undressing, for fear of upsetting them by a false motion; those little crocheted open-work stoles which threw on the backs of the armchair a mantel of white roses that must not have been without thorns since every time I was through reading and wanted to I noticed I remained caught in them; that glass bell on which, isolated from vulgar contacts, the clock was babbling privately for shells come from far away and for an old sentimental flower, but which was so heavy to lift that when the clock stopped, nobody but the clock-maker would have been foolhardy enough to undertake to wind it up; that very white guipure tablecloth which, thrown as an altar runner across the chest of drawers adorned with two vases, a picture of the Savior, and a twig of blessed boxwood made it resemble the Lord's Table (of which a priedieu, placed there every day, when the site war "done," finished evoking the idea), but whose frayings always catching in the chinks of the drawers stopped their movement so completely that I could never take out a handkerchief without at once knocking down the picture of the Savior, the sacred vases, the twig of blessed boxwood, and without stumbling and catching hold of the priedieu; finally, that triple layer of little bolting-cloth curtains, of large muslin curtains, and of larger dimity curtains always smiling in their often sunny hawthorn whiteness, but in reality very irritating in their awkwardness and stubbornness in playing around the parallel wooden bars and tangling in one another and getting all in the window as soon as I wanted to open or close it, -a second one being always ready if I succeeded in extricating the first to come to take its place immediately in the cracks as perfectly plugged by them as they would have been by a real hawthorn bush or by nests of swallows that might have had the fancy to settle there (I'm so going wireless), so that this operation, in appearance so simple, of opening or closing my browser window, I never succeeded in doing without the help of someone "in the house"; all those things which not only could not answer any of my needs, but were even an impediment however slight, to their satisfaction, which evidently had never been placed there for someone's use, peopled Josh's site with thoughts somehow personal, with that air of predilection, of having chosen to live there and delighting in it, which, often the trees in a clearing and the flowers on the road side or on old walls have.
posted by safetyfork 21 February | 17:03
...and I'm colorblind so can't pick it out by eye.


Try Pixie by Nattyware, a freeware program.

Pixie is an easy-to-use, fast and tiny utility designed especially to fit the needs of Webmasters and Designers. Its a colour picker that includes a mouse tracker. Run it, simply point to a colour and it will tell you the hex, RGB, HTML, CMYK and HSV values of that colour. You can then use these values to reproduce the selected colour in your favorite programs. Pixie will also show the current x y position of your mouse pointer. Its the only tool you'll need for working with colours.


I just found this about 10 minutes ago; I hope it helps you.
posted by Doohickie 21 February | 17:55
That's awesome, omiewise!
posted by sveskemus 21 February | 17:57
Great idea!
posted by amro 21 February | 18:54
safetyfork, that's awesome!
posted by omiewise 21 February | 22:09
omiewise: what a terrific idea! I'll keep tracking this and I wish you luck staying with it.
posted by Miko 21 February | 22:23
Glad you got a kick out of it. I missed some bolding of a couple of other phrases I switched but I think Marcel isn't rolling over in his grave too quickly....languidly, perhaps. :)
posted by safetyfork 21 February | 23:21
Holy crapcakes. So awesome, omiewise. Projects it. Somebody MeTa it.

And safetyfork, if he was alive today I'm sure he'd be immensely proust of you.
posted by cortex 22 February | 12:02
Tarsiers! OMG! || Bjork vs. Diddy

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