Inspired in part by Schockwave Rider’sWP Kate, I just redid my wall to mark a new stage in my life. Here’s the result (click on it to see notes on each picture). I will explain some of them in more depth next week, for now, I’m quite proud with how it went out, I like it.
On a sidenote, here’s an iibb: Flickr’s on-picture notes were, and still are, a stroke of genius, but by now one should be able to embed a picture together with its notes into another page, akin to how one embeds YouTube videos.
Some weeks ago I was very interested in folksonomies because I was trying to build yet another one (though a political one at that). During my journeys I found out that Del.icio.us has a special kind of tag for filetypes—system:filetype:FILETYPE_HERE. Mixing it with the popular tag, I found many truly wonderful media shards for the filetypes that came to mind—mp3, jpg, jpeg, pdf, gif, png, mov.
Here they are, lest time forgets:
Supongo que uno no es realmente un blogger hasta no publicar un error en los MSM, asi que aqui les va uno que encontre hoy en la portada del Publico de ayer Sabado 8 de Julio.
One of the great hazards of supermarket shopping has always been the tabloids lining the checkout lane, assailing us with tawdry tales of celebrity misfortune. Infidelity, infertility, addiction—all are grist for our sadistic lust to see stars brought down to the same lowly level as us. As French intellectual Edgar Morin wrote in
The Stars, his classic book about movie idolatry,
”Every god is created to be eaten.”
With this in mind, enjoy the surprisingly thoughtful (verbal abuse is an art form, as Borges himself once wrote about), unrelenting Washington Post article on Britney. Here some teasers:
Pregnancy cleavage can be a beautiful development, but serving up one’s bosom like melons at a picnic is aggressively self-indulgent, enormously distracting and, unless you’re auditioning for a spread in Penthouse, unnecessarily vulgar.
Spears fidgeted, blathered and wept through the interview last week and one couldn’t help but gape in amazement at her astonishing aesthetic meltdown. It’s hard to recall the last time someone as famous as Spears—without any accompanying substance-abuse rumors—appeared so startlingly, slovenly wretched. The pop singer’s golden glow of stardom had been dimming, but this was the moment when it dropped below the horizon.
During the “Dateline” interview, Spears tearfully implored the paparazzi to leave her alone. Her pleas were reasonable and tugged at the heart. One came close to forgetting that she had encouraged the attention with her provocative videos, snake-charming stage performance, open-mouthed Madonna-kissing, 15-minute marriage, grotesquely narcissistic reality show and second husband known for displaying the tawdry, laconic demeanor of a pimp on weed.
A tiny example of context wealth creation.
A couple of months ago a prim little supermarket called Merkabastos opened 2 minutes away from my house. The store has been deservedly a hit around the neighborhood and now it battles with the oh-so-common problem of finding parking space for its customers.
Enter a pretty much vacant lot right across the street. Thru the years I’d seen it remain unused until some years ago it began to store construction machinery, and some years later they put a billboard on it (whose first customer, I might add, was the table dance on the other side of the beltway).
Anyway, what was bound to happen, happened: the Merkabastos management are renting the place as a parking lot for their customers and I find it amusing to think that the owner of the lot didn’t need to lift a finger to start earning a rent for her barren property.
Local Red Cross ads1 (there are several versions of’em) are really good this year:
They make me think of Eliezer Yudkowsky’s sad, true words: “Death hurt us, so we will unmake Death. Let that be the outlet for our anger, which is terrible and just.”
1 Their website’s flashy welcome is, alas, hideous.
I found this out in the Wild Wild Web and am not able to ascertain the author1, which is a shame since she’s a genius:
1 All I know is they probably come from ZatteVrienden but I don’t grok Dutch.