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Woodward Investigatin'

Bob Woodward writes about Powell as he tries to tone down the administration’s war cries.

Boombox Museum

It is both funky and dope. (via adampsyche)

hot & bright photography

Bitchin’ photos of the sun. Sunspots especially. (via leuschke.org)

GTA: Vice City

I don’t even want to write this. All I want to do is drive, ride, rob, shoot and steal. I’d agree with matteo that the game is funnier than the last. It’s similar in gameplay, of course, but with additions: new vehicles, more indoor space, and some sort of property-buyin’ and improvin’ Monopoly stuff that I have yet to explore. I’ve much to do, both ingame and out, and once again find myself tugged at from both real and virtual directions. You know where I’d rather be.

Leafs blog

Blogging the Leafs – “ A blog about one man’s long standing, and long suffering, relationship with the Toronto Maple Leafs.” I hear ya, buddy.

It's called a Rod

Rods: weird, long, light, rotating, barely visible lifeforms that seem to be everywhere. Or are they just bugs?

That'll do 'er, then, I guess

The bulk of this weblog’s redesign is complete. Here’s what’s new.

As an excuse to toy around with my unordered list style:

So there ya go, fair reader. Next on the agenda:

Enough of that. You get the idea.

Moving Pictures Exhibit, Guggenheim, NYC

Last weekend, team KYD went to the Guggenheim to see the Moving Pictures exhibit. It was a blast, and fortunately for me they have some pictures online. Sam Taylor Wood’s science was pretty tight, as was Pierre Huyghe’s Third Memory bank robbin’ narrative. Iñigo Manglano-Ovalle’s Climate was the video-installation version of The Parallax View, all boom mics and video surveillance and clinical murderousness. The culmination of it all was Bill Viola’s Going Forth By Day, a powerful five-part projection within a single room. Turns out we did the whole thing backwards, which meant we waltzed into this room without having read the (crappily written) explanatory bumpf, and had to piece together meanings in our own way. Amazing, that: the sense of mystery that surrounds great art, and the urge to solve it; so similar, one imagines, to the discovery of a corpse, and the urge to find its author.

Reading the Papers

on sunday morning: product placement creep calls My Big Fat Greek Wedding “a 108-minute commercial for our client” (Windex); taking the Atlantis myth literally;
stress-proofing the Special Forces’ “managers of violence”.

shaved snits

are quickly becoming the norm. Take a look at a 70s Penthouse, or just take my word for it: pubic hair deflation is running rampant, for men and women alike. In ten years, all of our bodies will be completely hairless, and baldness in men will be seen as a virtue. In fact, there’s something in this that parallels Kurzweil’s vision of the exponential growth of technology – a few million years from bushy cavemen to the Cro-magnon boxes of the 70s, and now 30 years later it’s sphinxes and Brazilians all the way.

cool toy

Wow: joystick with 10 built-in Atari games, no console required. (via slashdot)

there is a TV

for every seat on a JetBlue flight. This leads to juxtapositions: landing in NYC to descriptions of historical vibrators, high-altitude turbulence accompanied by Leonard Cohen amid images of leeches, medical maggotry, and porcupine sex.

Driving Through Niagara

dawn cracks through the shell of the sky.

Trip

D and Ÿ are off to NYC. Upon our return, there will be a backlog of posts, hopefully a few new pics, and a tidying up of the new design. Have a pleasant weekend, all.

spooky

Happy Hallowe’en, y’all. Let’s ditch the candy and the costumes and get down to some good, old-fashioned, spooked-out conspiracy shit. Or not.

redo

I’m baaaaack. As you can probably tell, I’ve managed to redo my styles a touch. It ain’t done yet, I’ll keep hammering away. (And feedback on how this thing looks on different browsers is appreciated.) Oh, and pity me: I’m temporarily on dialup, a.k.a. Sucky McSuck.

this n' that

I’ve moved, and as always my connection to Internet trails me by at least a week. This cockup is more serious than the usual Bell clownaround, so if I update infrequently, send hate mail to Bell.

When I’m jacked in again I have unrealistic plans for a redesign here and an upgrade to the latest MT release. Little tweaks I should mention: a new category, world, for the odd time I emerge from my cave of shallow self-interest. Also, email addies are now coded in such a way as to confound spam-facilitating harvesting spiders (what an image), so you shouldn’t worry about including an address when you leave a comment. Oh, right – no-one leaves comments any more. Forget it, then.

The End of the West

argues the next great geopolitical rivalry may not be between the US and the Arab world, or even the US and China, but rather the US and the EU. (via megnut)

MayoFi

Greatest MeFi thread ever. Dig the sick shit they eat in the south (mayo & cheese on a pear?) Dig the Mayo in Art History gallery (angelfire; popups galore).

I Push You

Hey now: “Push It” by Salt-n-Pepa is now the #9 ringtone at Fido. I did this! Ask those whom it pestered; I had “Push It” as my ring tone before the Rogers ad came out (It wasn’t even available as a downloadable at the time). Then some degenerate ad-creative-type pilfered my ingenuity, and now this! Of course my tone is long changed: “Final Countdown.”

I was first! I was first! I was first! Mememememe! (putting the ‘me’ back in ‘meme’, of course)

Are you cats fucking?

No, you’re not, are you? You’re cleaning each other, late at night, in our flowerpot. You’re adventuring buddies, crime-solving sisters in black and grey – we don’t know your sex. No one’s interested in checking the genitals, and who can blame them? We don’t look to strays as models of germ-free living.

You won’t go away, now, not now of your own volition, now that you know a bowl of what passes for food will be distributed each day. Yet it grows cold, doesn’t it? This sort of compassionate indifference, that we specialize in here, it will no longer be enough. Although I would never abide your entrance into the warm sloppy shithole I call home – and no offence, germ-ridden mysteries, I’m allergic, you see, that’s why I scare you off like I do – I’m on my way out, myself. I’m moving out. You, I think, will stay. Either this is a testament to your superior coping abilities, or to the bigheartedness of my roommate friends here. They feed you, and talk to you. I will never do this.* Some nonverbal assent will be granted, near-imperceptibly; some informal contract will sign itself into being, gradually. And I’m not sure I’d object, were it my place to do so.

But I hope they clean your asses up first, you dirty little wretches.

—

Shit. stavros is back weblogging (I had no idea), but it appears one of his friends was badly hurt in that Bali terror attack. Words fail.

Mozilla, genius supermodel of browsers

Like JS, I love chimera, but now that I have mozilla all pinstriped, I’m in browser heaven, looking down at the rest of you poor sinners. Tabs? Yes, please. Pop-ups? Fuck that noise. (And now I can go back to all those craptastic pop-up-bloated sites I’d given up on.) I’m also grooving on NetNewsWire, BBEdit, OmniGraffle, and all of the Apple iWhatevers, which tend to be of extremely high caliber. Basically, OS X is now full of so many beautiful and usable programs that I want to spend my every minute geeking out, at a time when this is the last thing I have time for. Blast.

Saddam Will Always Love You

On Saddam Hussein’s imminent sham reelection: “his campaign song, Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You,” has been getting lots of airtime.”

Depleted Uranium

Medical consequences of attacking Iraq: Helen Caldicott, ‘narrator’ of the anti-nuke NFB film If You Love This Planet, and president of the Nuclear Policy Research Institute, writes about the ill effects of depleted uranium, used extensively by the US during the Gulf War. (via boingboing)