This blog covers everything except sports and gardening, unless we find a really good link about using dead professional bowlers for mulch. The author is a StarTribune columnist, has been passing off fiction and hyperbole as insight since 1997, has run his own website since the Jurassic era of AOL, and was online when today’s college sophomores were a year away from being born. So get off his lawn.
We’ll get to that. Bear with me; the blog software is acting up, refusing to load images, kicking me to the login page, and generally making a mockery of the fact that I spent the morning writing with the thought - the mad, baseless thought - that it would end up on the web. Grrr.
First, conceptual art at its finest. In these photos, you’re supposed to infer the power of celebrity from its absence, or its implied presence, or something like that. Pictures of celebrities, hiding.
In essence, Buck plays a game of hide-and-seek with his famous subjects, inviting them to hide for 30 seconds while he takes the portrait. Buck shot about 75 percent of the images in Presence piggybacking on assignments and asking the celebrity if they would be interested in being part of the project.
Take a look at the pictures, and see if you can find the celebrity. You can’t. But they’re there. So he says. Of course, there’s always one way to find out.
The article's URL says the art "examines the way we look at celebrities' photos." If you say so.
Okay, hold on; I'm going to try to load the next entry.
Worked! Let's try another.
RIP Former Surgeon General C. Edward Koop has died, and for many of us, it was a question of remembering A) his service, B) his trademark beard, or C) this moment from “The Be Sharps.”
Answer for me was “C.”
Now let's try to load an image. That seems to be the problem today . . Nope. Well. We'll carry on without images, then.
ARCHITECTURE Houses built just to spite someone else. This is a different category from “houses someone didn’t want to see to a developer, requiring the entire building to be redesigned. Like this one. That’s the Gilsey Building down there in the bottom. Couldn’t come to terms with old man Gilsey, it seems.
THE WORLD The first Instagram from North Korea. Filters? That’s probably the real color. It reminded me that it had been some time since I visited the parallel world of the North Korean news agency. Let’s take a look at today’s top story, shall we?
The dear respected Marshal Kim Jong Un, first secretary of the Workers' Party of Korea, first chairman of the National Defence Commission of the DPRK and supreme commander of the Korean People's Army, issued an order to conduct an artillery firing drill in order to examine the capability of artillery units to fight an actual war and guided it on the spot.
He learned about the training program and the deployment of firepower units from the commander of the exercise before ordering its start.
At that moment, an endless barrage of shells were fired by artillery pieces on the "enemy's positions," their roar rocking heaven and earth, and all of them were enveloped in flames.
Feasting his eyes at the "enemy positions" in flames, he was satisfied with the shells accurately hitting the targets.
He noted that if the drill leads to an actual battle, the enemies will be hit so hard by the retaliatory strikes of the infuriated powerful revolutionary army of Mt. Paektu that they would not be able to raise their heads again.
I’ve been reading that site off and on since the late 90s, and the flavor of crazy never varies.
TECH I like this idea: for a five bucks a month, these guys will pick up you mail, scan it, and put it online so you need never go to the postal box again. If you want a particular piece, they’ll deliver it.
If you wonder what sort of person can’t be bothered with their own mail, the company provides a handy example. She’s quirky!
This would appeal to those who get their mail somewhere else than work or home, I guess. I cannot imagine paying someone to drive to my house, clean out the mailbox, scan it, and email me a link. It’s not like the mailbox is a mile away on the other side of a minefield.
MEDIA The International Herald Tribune will be renamed the International New York Times. To which people said, for the most part: okay. If you have any interest in newspaper culture, it’s sad - the old name was the last vestige of a long-lamented Gotham daily which died in the great strike of the 60s. It was founded in 1835 by a cross-eyed Scot named James Gordon Bennett; his son took it over in 1866, and carried on a spirited rivalry with Horace Greeley’s Tribune. The Herald bankrolled explorer Morton Stanley to go to Africa, where he supposedly said “Dr. Livingstone, I presume” - a famous quote no one parodies anymore. Bennett Jr. was quite the rake:
Bennett moved permanently to Paris in 1877 following a scandal in New York: the publisher, arriving drunk at a party in the mansion of his fiancee's parents, reportedly urinated in the fireplace or the piano (the exact location differed in witnesses' memories). The engagement was broken off, and Bennett remained a bachelor into his 70s.
Took him ten years, but eventually Bennett founded the international edition.
Greeley was a different sort. Famous for saying “Go West, Young Man.” (Sort of.) He ran for President, failed, and went mad. Richard Kluger’s “The Paper,” an account of the newspaper’s history from start to finish, is the best book ever written about a newspaper - out of print, alas. The only vestige of the old journal might be “New York” magazine - begun as a Sunday magazine, back when papers did such things.
That'll do for the day - I could tell you how a new theory says Dark Matter doesn't exist, but let's let our belief systems stay intact for at least another day. Now I'm going to go kick the server.