Puppy Bowl IX behind the scenes

Nobody doesn’t want to be a puppy wrangler.

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern’s Hippo

Last night I dreamed a production of “Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead”. In regulation dream-fashion, it wasn’t really “Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead”. Best of all, there was a great zoo scene in it. With a hippo. In a wading pool.
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Make Something Cool Every Day

Make Something Cool Every Day 2009, by Minneapolis artist Brock Davis.

One piece of creative work made every day for 365 consecutive days.  January 1st – December 31st.



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The Truth About the Super Bowl ‘Chicken Wing Apocalypse’

When you look at all chicken consumption, the Mid-Atlantic states are about 5 to 6 percent above average. The West Coast is just 1 to 2 percent above average. Cowboy country—Wyoming, Montana, cattle country—is the softest consumption area. Super Bowl weekend is nearly 5 percent of annual consumption.

(via Businessweek)

News stories I didn’t read

Iran sends monkey into space

(via The Telegraph)

Lowly Dung Beetles Are Insect Astronomers


Even the humble dung beetle, its life spent barely an inch above the ground, pushing balls of waste, steers by starlight.

“Dung steered by the stars,” as my longtime friend Steve said.

Or, as Oscar Wilde wrote in “Lady WIndermere’s Fan”:

DUMBY. I don’t think we are bad. I think we are all good, except Tuppy.

LORD DARLINGTON. No, we are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.

That little ball of fluff you own is a natural born killer

Every year cats in New Zealand destroy our native wildlife. The fact is that cats have to go if we really care about our environment.

9am: Arrive and surf Reddit for a couple of hours, watch cat videos


If you were in a cave all week and didn’t see this story, consider it a reminder to avoid doing certain things at work even if they feel right.

(via The Age)

Headline of the day

Short Penis No Obstacle for ‘Spermcasting’ Barnacles

Headline of the day

Live chicken in backpack stolen; $100 reward offered

Revenge of the Ectothermaloids

Smarty-pants mammals best watch out.

ALL-U-CAN-EAT Buffet in the Back of Beyond

Ordinarily I hold to a non-interventionist policy when it comes to feeding the wildlife, but recent weeks have seen such snow and unrelenting, bitter cold that I’ve gone against principle and strewn random treats in high-traffic areas. (High animal traffic, that is. I don’t want to lure the critters anywhere near automobiles.) For the vegetarians and omnivores: blueberries, celery, and bits of bread. For the cats: chicken scraps and raw (broken) eggs.

From: Dubuque Freecycle list

Looking for a tank for geckos.

Taken: collapsible princess tent.

A Country Christmas Story About Dogs and Metal Buildings

I wish I could say it was a Merry Christmas. I wish I could tell you everything worked out all right. Okay, I’ll go ahead and play it like this: yes, in the end, everyone was fine and nobody got what they didn’t deserve.

For years, I’d been listening to that dog across the street. Most of the homes around here are spread out; there’s plenty of wide open space and not a lot of trees, owing mostly to the fact this is all “improved” former pastureland. Everywhere except on the side of the road opposite my own driveway.

I don’t hang out with those folks—not that I’m all that social with anyone around here. I smile and wave at the majority of my neighbors but also wonder if they’re going to line me up with a scoped rifle someday soon. Anyway, about the family across the street, we didn’t even make a bad attempt at being friendly. I can’t recall a single specific incident that could have caused a rift, but it just seemed as if our wiring was out of phase or something.
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Meet the Elongate Heart Urchin

Met these strange creatures on a beach in southern Tanzania.

I also recently revisited Ethiopia, Lalibela in particular.

photo out of context


via Trevor Timm via Tim Carmody

Henri 2: Paw de Deux

Winner of the Open Field Internet Cat Video Festival.

Chris Marker’s Cat

Either you’ve learned that Chris Marker died or you haven’t. And you know him or you don’t.

Here is a lovely video of his Guillaume-en-Égypte. Aaron Winslow posted this on clusterflock more than five years ago.

Now here is some Baudelaire for you.
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The Language of the Birds

{ untitled: under the auspices } is a book of auguring, or divination codex, where birds are the words, in particular the common starling (with a few cameos by seagulls & crows). The sequenced set of flight patterns, or murmurations, were captured over the course of the past few years in the skies over Rome, where the starlings winter in the months of October & November.

Coming September 2012 from Calamari Press.

Sex is best when you lose your head

In the past thirty years, the conventional wisdom has been destroyed. The truth is that females of most species actively seek multiple partners to have sex with. If the aim of males is to put their sperm into as many females as possible, females are trying, with equal determination, to get the very best sperm to fertilise their eggs – even if that means having sex with many males in turn.

Cats that I made using only MY MIND!

It’s true. AND: I did it in a dream the premise of which was: THIS IS NOT A DREAM.

You know how you have those dreams? Those other dreams? You realize, “Wait! This is a DREAM!”

This was not like that. THIS IS NOT A DREAM was the foundation of the dream.
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File under: Legendary Rowers

Meet my friend Pat Quesnel, the first person to row solo across the Pacific . . .

I was looking around for photos for a project using these terms: man and boat, man and row boat, small boat and man, arctic row boat, Faroes row boat, falling row boat, row boat tiny, row boat at sea, row boat ocean, rowing archive, rowing museum, Faroes metal boats tiny Ocean, skiff, skiff and man, high-walled skiff, and Faroes skiff. This photo turned up on ebay and I thought “Well, maybe. It’s a newspaper photo, rights should be reasonable,” and so I saved a copy in my project folder. I rejected the photo for the job but bothered to read the caption before I tossed it and, fuck a Roosevelt Elk, it’s my old friend Pat Quesnel from Kodiak, the first person to row solo across the Pacific. I have not contacted him in years but I still miss his company.
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from the archives: November 11, 2008

Some difficult choices:

I’ve been eating a lot of sushi lately, I offer by way of introduction to this post.

I have been thinking about something for the past day or so, albeit intermittently, I will admit. Here is the scenario. Please place, to the best of your ability, in order of worseness, from least worse to most worse, the following ways of being killed by an animal . . .

The Cow and the Dog (a Fable)

The cow and dog were best friends. They had been close companions for longer than any of the other animals could remember. Even the draft horse was unable to recall a time before this great friendship.

“I am pleased to see such harmony,” the draft horse said, “but it is unusual just the same. No good can come of it.”

The donkey said nothing and continued feeding. He cared only for fodder and pulling his little cart. The barn cat did not speak—she believed herself to be invisible and did not want to reveal her position. The chickens scratched and hopped around the dusty courtyard in front of the stock barn. They didn’t say anything because they are so incredibly small-minded and stupid.

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from the archives: September 15, 2010

That goat:

is still a-goin’, y’all.

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