…a Hungarian designer has created a concept for a bicycle helmet with three safety features that no car would ever come without: a headlight, a taillight, and turn signals.
The food, along with other merchandise stolen in exchange for drugs, can also be fenced. Clark said digestion takes care of the rest.
“How do you dispute someone who’s holding a T-bone?” he said. “Once they grill that steak up and eat it, the evidence is gone.”
“It’s sad that you’ve got to stoop that low to go in the grocery and steal a steak that’s only $5,” said Diane Applin of Springfield. “But (drug addicts) are really smart people. They just sit all day and dream of ways to steal for money.”
(via The Dayton Daily News)
I don’t watch a lot of football, but it sure seemed as if a lot of players’ helmets were falling off during the Super Bowl. Isn’t there some kind of pro athletic head glue they should be using?
Beyonce did a pretty good job at half time, considering she had twins just three or four days ago. She did not wear a helmet, per se.
The Voice has obtained hundreds of new renderings of Scientology’s Super Power Building in Clearwater, Florida, as well as a comprehensive collection of its architectural drawings.
Every Scientology “org” is supposed to create an office for Hubbard, even 26 years after his death, in case the “old man” suddenly returns.
(via The Village Voice)
From a letter penned in 1993 by my friend Lee, who can now scarcely find words at all.
Steve & I saw Indochine last night. Horrors! I’ve lost the ability to sit still that long even for La Deneuve. When I left the movie I was saying to Steve that it was remarkable how they handled the time in the movie and this blah blah metaphor for the blah blah relationship between France and Indochina and how leaving the Japs out compressed the blah blah and effectively blah blah. This morning I woke up still thinking about it — or seeing it, really — and there on the screen of my mind was the word SONY. No wonder they left out the Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere. Well, I loved it anyway. A French Gone with the Wind. [April 1993]
You know some people talk about being abducted by aliens. I won’t say I have been, but I’ll tell you this much. When I was little, I dreamed I was falling asleep and just as I was nodding off, I felt a weight settle on the bed at my feet. I looked down to see a cat-eyed, long-limbed creature crawling up my legs toward my face. I screamed out, Daddy came. We didn’t have a cat at the time.
In a motel in a northern suburb of Denver, working retail for a couple of weeks a few years ago, I was awakened by something yanking me completely out of the bed by the big toe. I awoke drenched in sweat and in the same position I fell asleep.
Lately when napping, I’ve felt the bed settle, as if a weight lands near my feet, as if a cat has jumped on the bed. I look to find nothing there.
Miracle Jones, the pearl of Texas, tosses a Bruce Lee poem to the youtube gods…
Jus’ askin’. And riskin’ my life with apostrophes. (Cindy?) Chime in, y’all.
Will it make a sound?
This morning I refereed a fight between a clinically demented woman and her caregiver. At issue: the meaning of the word “cognizant.”
— Sheila Ryan (@Cirinda) September 4, 2012
Rust. Irony can be found in iron itself. The carpet is not made of felt; the gray fibers are compressed years of fur, soil, and traffic. We organize a backyard BBQ and everyone brings potato salad. All of the potato salad is contaminated with e coli. What are the odds of that happening? You negotiated a 30% discount for your new tattoos but the artist used beige ink exclusively. Beyond normal expectations, we got it right! Unfortunately we are unable to locate, recognize, or analyze the data.
One-stop shopping for luck, banking, and healthcare on 10th Street and 3rd Avenue.
What do you recommend?
My week so far has stunk big-time. So I formed a plan.
Many things lie outside my control, I know, but my skull is my own. I am going to drill a hole in my skull into which I will pour something refreshing. And I will be a new and improved me no matter what Fate, that saucy trickster, has up her sleeve.
Citrus-infused fizzy water is a possibility. Do you recommend anything else I might pour into the hole I drill in my skull?
Zizek on Zizek in the Guardian at more length than necessary but still, in part, amusing:
“For me, the idea of hell is the American type of parties. Or, when they ask me to give a talk, and they say something like, ‘After the talk there will just be a small reception’ – I know this is hell. This means all the frustrated idiots, who are not able to ask you a question at the end of the talk, come to you and, usually, they start: ‘Professor Žižek, I know you must be tired, but …’ Well, fuck you. If you know that I am tired, why are you asking me? I’m really more and more becoming Stalinist. Liberals always say about totalitarians that they like humanity, as such, but they have no empathy for concrete people, no? OK, that fits me perfectly. Humanity? Yes, it’s OK – some great talks, some great arts. Concrete people? No, 99% are boring idiots.”
Most of all, he can’t stand students. “Absolutely. I was shocked, for example, once, a student approached me in the US, when I was still teaching a class – which I will never do again – and he told me: ‘You know, professor, it interested me what you were saying yesterday, and I thought, I don’t know what my paper should be about. Could you please give me some more thoughts and then maybe some idea will pop up.’ Fuck him! Who I am to do that?”
Žižek has had to quit most of his teaching posts in Europe and America, to get away from these intolerable students. “I especially hate when they come to me with personal problems. My standard line is: ‘Look at me, look at my tics, don’t you see that I’m mad? How can you even think about asking a mad man like me to help you in personal problems, no?’”
Have you heard? Apparently a lot more people named their kids Brantley or Iker this year.
My heart is broke. Thank you Sheila, Joel, MGS and others for trying. I miss all y’all and the y’all who no longer show up here. I know life goes on. Folks move on. It’s all good. I guess. Still, for the record, I miss. XOR
One of the few people there without visible tattoos
a 2 hour video filmed in the 80s, painfully relaying information that could’ve been put on a single sheet of paper, bad actors answering obvious questions: what is mediation, what if i cant get along with my ex-wife? The most heartbreaking nugget of advice to not strike or scream at the other parent during your mediation.
A ten minute break to go feed the (2 hr max) meters outside the courthouse.
The goth chick in the front row with sleeve tattoos from wrist to shoulder, still wearing both rings. Looking more sad than goth, despite her elaborate makeup.
The black grandmother in the back with her (18? 20?yo son) asking lots of questions while her son remained silent
The perverse combination of drivers ed/jury duty, with your marriage being ripped to shreds
The guy who was clearly in a multi-year saga who called the second mediator to talk to us “a cunt” under his breath.
Three fanny packs???
The guy who alternated between snoring asleep on the table and reading his bible.
The final 45 minute video – talking head interviews with children of divorced parents, narrated by an adult female talking in persona child of divorce. “Don’t use us as spies.”
File this one under “things I wish I had known three hours ago.”
If you are having a tonic-clonic (formerly known as “gran mal”) seizure, there’s not much you can do about it at that time. An observer will see you stiffen suddenly, usually drawing limbs tight to the body or extending them. If you are standing, you will fall. You may vocalize. This is known as the tonic phase. Shortly thereafter your muscles will begin relaxing and contracting rapidly, which may result in small twitches or wild flailing. This can last for seconds to minutes and is known as the clonic phase. You may stop breathing during either phase. Afterwards you will experience disorientation, amnesia to the event, and severe exhaustion. If you are alone, this is the time to call 911.
At first my long-time friend was offended on learning that he was too old to enjoy the new Three Stooges focus screening. Then he realized that apparently promoters of the new Stooges film are not targeting people 15-29 either.
“Why, I oughtta . . . !” he sez.
Thanks for participating with The Screening Exchange! We’d like to invite you to a screening in your area of the upcoming feature film, The Three Stooges.
This invitation is for kids and adults between the ages of 10-14 and 30-49, respectively. Unfortunately, we cannot admit anyone to this screening that is outside of this criteria.
For a description of The Three Stooges, as well as its MPAA rating status, please see below. Thank you for participating with The Screening Exchange, and we hope to see you at the movie theater!
After I return from Prague, Flegr informs me that he’s just had a paper accepted for publication that, he claims, “proves fatal feline attraction in humans.” By that he means that infected men like the smell of cat pee—or at least they rank its scent much more favorably than uninfected men do. Displaying the characteristic sex differences that define many Toxo traits, infected women have the reverse response, ranking the scent even more offensive than do women free of the parasite. The sniff test was done blind and also included urine collected from a dog, horse, hyena, and tiger. Infection did not affect how subjects rated these other samples.
Glass Jaw by Michael O’Reilly was first shown to me in art school. I haven’t stopped thinking about it since my recent hospital stay.
Reminded me, by way of Jean in Deron’s post.
Seems I’ve failed to embed it. Nor link it for that matter. Nevermind. It isn’t that good. Don’t take up your time.
I finally found the strength to look at it. I didn’t want to look for so long. Finally, I looked this afternoon. Anyone else seen it? Your take?