8 months ago
8 months ago
How do you know just how much toilet paper to use? I know that if I use too much it will clog the toilet. Too little, and you end up with a detailed tactile relief map of your star chamber. What are you going to do with that information? Make a bust of Lionel Richie?
No, you learn from it. You grow. You become stronger and one day, in a very round-about way, you admit to the world that you didn’t use enough toilet paper. Because THAT is what grownups do.
Lionel Richie.
9 months ago
Jonny Quest opening title sequence redone as stop motion
Found a box of home movies at my parents house.
(Source: Boing Boing)
via sassyfontaine
9 months ago
9 months ago
Sweets’ other BF (or GF)
Her other lover is data. I just realized that. This week, Doreen quietly constructed a love nest of three-ring binders, note pads and paper—lots of paper, covered in numbers, slightly curled and crunchy from the laser printer. She’s so crushed out for the squishy concept of Conversational Journalism, that she’s penciled in “Love” and “You” on her eyelids so when she blinks, her data will know how she feels. This data is from her latest, completely independent, research study to see if comments are worth a damn.
Specifically comments on news stories. She’s not trying to argue that comments are a form of transparency or that they can aide the process of journalism, she’s simply looking at whether or not readers perceive any conversational value from comments. And she’s making out with things like numbers and data and statistics and scientific methodology and other nerd things that I’m too simple to understand.
I’ll wait for her to Tetris through the data and explain it to me in human. As good as she is doing all that wacky science stuff, she’s better at breaking things down. She beams when she talks about the data. Sometimes she dances. She’s entertaining, engaging and I always manage to learn something whether I wanted to or not.
It’s a good question, no? I think so. She’s pitched a session at South by Southwest to share her findings. So I’m asking a favor: if you dig data, journalism, science, or want to show support for self-funded, independent research, vote for Doreen and her sweetheart.
Here—> Online Commenting: Conversation Friend or Foe?
Thanks.
9 months ago
THIS.
THIS
9 months ago
Motivational posters inspired by The Wire. I’m way late to this.
(Source: wireinspire)
via wireinspire
9 months ago
9 months ago
Oh, go fuck off.
9 months ago
The Secret of the Fibonacci Sequence in Trees
“I am the Lorax. I speak for the trees. I speak for the trees for they have no tongues.”
—Dr. Seuss (The Lorax)
The opening of 13 year old Aiden’s paper exploring the pattern of tree branches to make a better, more efficient solar collector.
9 months ago
So the auction for this piece is over in a couple hours WHAT I AM JUST SAYING AND BESIDES THE MONEY IS GOING TO AN AWESOME CHARITY WHAT
http://www.32auctions.com/organizations/1923/auctions/2089/auction_items/36389
What she said.
I wish I could adequately relay the amount of energy that’s required every year by the WriteGirl volunteers to push that cocksucker up that motherfucker. I mean, sure, it’s a labor of love; that’s why (hopefully) we’re all pushing those cocksuckers up those motherfuckers. But still. Friction. Gravity. Endless hustling for food, space, supplies—all these things that are required on top of love to show these girls how much they are really and truly loved.
How much girls matter.
So if you really believe girls matter—if you’re the father of a girl or the aunt of a girl or just a girl at heart, a girl who can’t say “no”—bid. Or just go give.
(And no, I’m not going to be this goddamn weepy and histrionic every day, but it’s Patti Digh’s birthday and she made me cry, and we’re almost halfway to $50K at almost halfway to 50 days and that makes me cry, and also menopause. Holy jesus, the hormones!)
via communicatrix
9 months ago
Photo by Roger Hart from his book Postcards From Detroit ganked from Motor Trend.
Paul Newman at the Detroit Grand Prix
via stancedesign
9 months ago
It’s a tough thing, sometimes, to recognize those moments when you’ve destroyed the credibility of your opinion by liking a photo of a corn dog.
Hear, hear.
In my pitiful defense, I liked that photo before I had my coffee, and I regretted it as soon as my brain began to work. Realizing my folly, I raced to the Internet to show off my newfound superiority and nobility.
Sad thing is, I’m not sure now which is worse: liking the crass photo, or lecturing a disorderly assortment of strangers and friends not to like the crass photo. And worst of all, my caffeine-related excuses ran out of runway hours ago.
The photo itself isn’t crass. It’s just a photo. With no other subtext, if it had been McCain or Obama or Schwarzenegger or me or you or Gruber or whomever, it’d still be a funny picture.
But what I want to know is why is it sexist? Are only women allowed to eat corn dogs?
Come on, Geoff, we’ve all been to the fair a few times. You ride the Tilt-A-Whirl, check out the Biggest Melon Contest winners and, hell, maybe even some cow-plop bingo between friends. At the end of the day, we’ve all enjoyed a juicy foot-long corn-dog.
Maybe you need a little mirror at the bottom of your coffee cup so you can see what you’ve become after that first or fourteenth cup.
I think we can all agree that this whole thing would be much more straightforward if we just pretend the corn dog called Michelle Bachmann a cunt too.
I’d like to step in here and say that corn dogs suck.
(Source: shanecyr)
via shanecyr
