clothes & rap & stuff
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"As he’s aged, and begun wearing his fancy “best-selling author” smoking jacket around the house, Goldberg has supplemented his “Battlestar Galactica” references with references to philosophers and scholars — Burke, Hume, etc. — in order to appear serious. The effect is similar to that of a chimp wearing a top hat and monocle."
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so Visvim is ridiculous, but a lot of the coolest ideas could be done by a talented tailor
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"
Hugh Everett III (November 11, 1930 – July 19, 1982) was an American physicist who first proposed the many-worlds interpretation (MWI) of quantum physics, which he termed his “relative state” formulation.
Discouraged by the scorn[4] of other physicists for MWI, Everett ended his physics career after completing his Ph.D.[…]
He was married to Nancy Everett née Gore. They had two children: Elizabeth Everett and Mark Oliver Everett, who became frontman of the musical band Eels.
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Abortion was a state-by-state issue; took 50 years to sort that out. Slavery was a state-by-state issue; took 150 years and the bloodiest war in American history to sort that out. Throw in civil rights and women’s suffrage while you’re at it; those took, what, 150 and 50 years respectively?
Seeing a theme yet? No? Guess y’all are too busy bitching that the dollars raining from the sky aren’t twenties.
THE SITTING PRESIDENT JUST ENDORSED GAY MARRIAGE. Did you miss that part? Did you ever expect to see even THAT much during your lifetime? Really? THIS IS PROGRESS. Now, take this and BUILD ON IT.
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(Source: fergiebouncesback, via risingtensions)
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"Friedman is such a genius of literary incompetence that even his most innocent passages invite feature-length essays. I’ll give you an example, drawn at random from The World is Flat. I’m not shitting you, I did this at random; just flipped open to a page somewhere in the middle, which happened to be page 174, and looked at the top left-hand corner. Here, Friedman is describing a flight he took on Southwest airlines (Friedman never, ever forgets to name the company or the brand name; he is like a fetishist this way; if he had written The Metamorphosis, Gregor Samsa would have awoken from uneasy dreams in a Sealy Posturepedic) from Baltimore to Hartford, Connecticut: I stomped off, went through security, bought a Cinnabon, and glumly sat at the back of the B line, waiting to be herded on board so that I could hunt for space in the overhead bins. Forget the Cinnabon; name me a herd animal that hunts. Name me one. This would be a small thing were it not for the overall pattern. Thomas Friedman does not get these things right even by accident. It’s not that he occasionally screws up, and fails to make his metaphors and images agree. It’s that he always screws it up. He has an anti-ear, and it’s absolutely infallible; he is a Joyce or a Flaubert in reverse, incapable of rendering even the smallest details without genius. The difference between Friedman and an ordinary bad writer is that an ordinary bad writer will, say, call some businessman a shark and have him say some tired, uninspired piece of dialogue: Friedman will have him spout it. And that’s guaranteed, every single time. He literally never misses."
Theme: Linear by Peter Vidani
