Mr. Trotter, who notified his staff members and the patrons of a New Year’s Eve event ($295 per person) on Saturday, said he wanted to travel, attend graduate school in philosophy and political theory and, perhaps, eventually return to open a new restaurant.
Then the researchers told the musicians: These are all fine violins and at least one is a Stradivarius. Play, then judge the instruments.
“If there were a tagline for the site,” says Ti, a photographer who claims no relevant academic credentials, “it would be ‘Fuck You, You Racist Sack of Shit.’”
Much like Chris Marker’s best work, Smith’s film exposes the constructedness of the real in a way that is fundamentally destabilizing.
What it means is that it’s not that I feel bad because I observe that you are suffering, it means I actually feel your feelings.
This is a classic — albeit extreme — case of phantom pregnancy.