“It’s not like fucking Lana Del Rey carved an upside down cross on her cheek and defecated all over herself on stage at fucking Bonnaroo.”
Bradford Cox clarifies “details from yesterday’s news story regarding the events of his recent Minneapolis show, at which he responded to a heckler’s request for the Knack’s ‘My Sharona’ with an improvised, hour-long rendition.”
(Thanks to Pete Ashton for the update.)
Michael Smith: Meatless chili (some ground meat substitute, beer, espresso, broth, spices, peppers, tofu, onion, and garlic).
Deron Bauman: Gluten-free vegan nachos.
Sheila Ryan: Refreshing lemon dessert.
Related to stuff we’re talking about.
This from my friend TigErrrrrrrr:
It’s funny how when you buy these 2-packs of Grenade Splasherz @ Von’s Grocery Stores (impulse items next to the GIANT $4.49 each size of Red Bull!!!) they carry this warning across the top label: “Do not aim or throw at anyone’s face.”
Much more fun is what it says across the bottom of the label: “Squeeze’em, Soak ‘em, & Throw ‘em!” :^) YAY !!!!!
but I am thinking that somebody should assume the mantle of The Sanitizer.
and one reason only, that I put this photo here on clusterflock.
Joel, I love you, man, but that photo out of context was beginning to make my tummy sad every time I stopped by.
Besides, I know you love Culver’s.
Also, I learned a very important lesson: no beard jokes at web conferences. It’s like prodding at a shibboleth.
Friend of clusterflock, and designer of the first clusterflock web site, Espen Tuft asks:
I’m working on a blog post: Do you have any favorite social causes? Design for change initiatives?
In a follow up, he says:
Help a brother in comments.
Forgive me for touting my own.
Merry Christmas, er, Happy Holidays, whatever floats the boat.
If you didn’t get a Christmas present from me, it’s because I’m waiting till the New Year to buy you East of Underground: Hell Below. (Thanks to Valerie for the tip.)
In 1971 the US was pulling troops out of Vietnam, and its bases in Germany were full of draftees at a loose end. “You were painting shovels, picking up cigarette butts – it was a lot of busy-work,” remembers former serviceman Lewis Hitt. “There was a longing by everyone, especially the draftees, to get home and go back to what you were doing before.”
This was the crucible in which were formed scores of raucous funk bands made up of servicemen, four of which have just been compiled by Now-Again Records. Adoring crowd noise was crudely dubbed on top of their records, which were then distributed in recruitment centres. These bands were used by the army to present service as varied, even hip. But the songs they cover – the bitter, suspicious likes of Backstabbers and Smiling Faces Sometimes – undermine any potential propagandising.
because to now I have posted 1964 posts. So this will be 1965. And that was a beautiful year. I was just old enough to know that I wanted to be a grown-up woman. In 1965.
At least one of those grown-up women in the movies. Or to have a hit record.
…is there a book you wouldn’t want your children to read?
What are the rules?
I’m not cut out for the Back-to-Basics life.
The last few years seem to have been on repeat: By late winter my body is craving an unprocessed, detoxed existence in the sun filled with hard work, and less digitized shenanigans mediated by an ongoing and evermore invasive variety of screens. So nose in a seed pack, fingers in the soil I get to work preparing and planting while dreaming about making cheese from scratch and creating handmade paper. Horrifically, I actually begin to think that one of those back-to-the-land communes could be kind of cool–communes got a bad rap, but they could be something special. Ugh. What is wrong with me?
Further disclosure at maldita lengua.
The last day of my thirty-day project. I don’t claim it as art, just something completed.
Europeans have all the fun: lower drinking ages, funner beaches, easier lifestyles and . . . dinosaur skeletons having sex in their museums. This exhibit, which clearly shows two T-Rexes “mating”, is located in the Jurassic Museum of Asturias in Spain.
Called to mind by the Where we are today thread.
Friend #1: I can’t believe these are all single-family houses.
Friend #2 (sotto voce): Ah, the voice of the eternal proletariat. “Why, five families could live in that house!”
Richard Dawkins’ thoughts on Rick Perry, and by extension on a frighteningly large American political class
A politician’s attitude to evolution is perhaps not directly important in itself. It can have unfortunate consequences on education and science policy but, compared to Perry’s and the Tea Party’s pronouncements on other topics such as economics, taxation, history and sexual politics, their ignorance of evolutionary science might be overlooked. Except that a politician’s attitude to evolution, however peripheral it might seem, is a surprisingly apposite litmus test of more general inadequacy. This is because unlike, say, string theory where scientific opinion is genuinely divided, there is about the fact of evolution no doubt at all. Evolution is a fact, as securely established as any in science, and he who denies it betrays woeful ignorance and lack of education, which likely extends to other fields as well. Evolution is not some recondite backwater of science, ignorance of which would be pardonable. It is the stunningly simple but elegant explanation of our very existence and the existence of every living creature on the planet. Thanks to Darwin, we now understand why we are here and why we are the way we are. You cannot be ignorant of evolution and be a cultivated and adequate citizen of today.
I think I found a Dawkins article Andrew can get behind?
Abercrombie says a connection to The Situation goes against the “aspirational nature” of its brand and may be “distressing” to customers. The Ohio-based retailer says it has offered a “substantial payment” to Sorrentino and producers of the MTV show so he’ll wear something else.
In fact, so much artifice and foam rubber is often used to create the sexually alluring woman that it’s sometimes difficult to know where the lady ends and the foam rubber begins.
Via dangerous minds by way of Roger Ebert.
You heard me, “a sack.”
“Sack” began innocently enough, a subversive way of making a polite conversation vulgar. “Do you need a sack to carry your books home?” I ask. “Come again?” And I repeat, “A sack, to put your books in?” “Oh. Only if you have a small one.” To which I respond, “Of course!” with the most subtle evidence of a smirk.