“Stupid people are ruining America.”

Don’t smoke America.

(The Herman Cain ad, Motherboard remix.)

10/29/2011 3 notes

The old days

(Source: youtube.com)

10/29/2011 1 note

Monkeys admire the iPod too (by sporefreak105)

10/25/2011

motherboardtv:

I’m not sure why but it seemed a crucial aspect of being a dictator in the latter half of the 20th century to wear designer sunglasses at all times. I’m not sure if it’s a wink and a nod to how filthy rich these guys get by embezzling the guts out of their already-strained public coffers, or if there’s some sort of inter-dictator sunglass competition going on. It may just be that they can’t stand to view the glare of their starving populaces unless their eyes are shielded by thousands of dollars worth of Prada and Hennessy. Until some sociologists dedicate themselves to sunglasses research, we’ll just have to decide on our own. To kickstart the scholarly debate, I’ve rounded up my top eight shades-wearing dictators from recent history.

[Shades of evil]

10/25/2011 43 notes

Nice job.

Soundtracking the Waves of the Sun and Your Brain

{Interview - Sonification (by Robert Alexander)}

10/24/2011

PLAN OF THE CITY (by Joshua Frankel)

10/24/2011

Feeling farming, social micro arrays, empathy apps

(Networks Understanding Networks, Pt. 14: Sep Kamvar (by mitmedialab))

10/23/2011

Papa John’s “Secrets” for Making Great Pizza - Part 2 (by papajohns)

10/07/2011

Shrill shirt ballooning

To Brooklyn Bridge

How many dawns, chill from his rippling rest

The seagull’s wings shall dip and pivot him,

Shedding white rings of tumult, building high

Over the chained bay waters Liberty—

Then, with inviolate curve, forsake our eyes

As apparitional as sails that cross

Some page of figures to be filed away;

—Till elevators drop us from our day …

I think of cinemas, panoramic sleights

With multitudes bent toward some flashing scene

Never disclosed, but hastened to again,

Foretold to other eyes on the same screen;

And Thee, across the harbor, silver-paced

As though the sun took step of thee, yet left

Some motion ever unspent in thy stride,—

Implicitly thy freedom staying thee!

Out of some subway scuttle, cell or loft

A bedlamite speeds to thy parapets,

Tilting there momently, shrill shirt ballooning,

A jest falls from the speechless caravan.

Down Wall, from girder into street noon leaks,

A rip-tooth of the sky’s acetylene;

All afternoon the cloud-flown derricks turn …

Thy cables breathe the North Atlantic still.

And obscure as that heaven of the Jews,

Thy guerdon … Accolade thou dost bestow

Of anonymity time cannot raise:

Vibrant reprieve and pardon thou dost show.

O harp and altar, of the fury fused,

(How could mere toil align thy choiring strings!)

Terrific threshold of the prophet’s pledge,

Prayer of pariah, and the lover’s cry,—

Again the traffic lights that skim thy swift

Unfractioned idiom, immaculate sigh of stars,

Beading thy path—condense eternity:

And we have seen night lifted in thine arms.

Under thy shadow by the piers I waited;

Only in darkness is thy shadow clear.

The City’s fiery parcels all undone,

Already snow submerges an iron year …

O Sleepless as the river under thee,

Vaulting the sea, the prairies’ dreaming sod,

Unto us lowliest sometime sweep, descend

And of the curveship lend a myth to God.

- Hart Crane

09/11/2011

Sometimes it seems that the government has learned more from our social movement history than we as activists have.

Climate Politics and the English Language | Motherboard

09/06/2011

The cold came in somewhere between the dark dark patches, after the shutting of the light in the living room, and the ambient glow of the day that was rolling in from the places in the world where they were already done with their day. It came with a light breeze, as colds do, so I reached to close the windows somehow from my bed, somehow reaching in the dark dust, fingers clutching a hard frame, wishing that I didn’t have to see this transition, the seam of the days, wishing for summer again and for spring, wishing friends didn’t need to leave again, that I could remember the dream of the house, that the light wouldn’t come so slowly like that, but quickly like a building collapsing in one go or the emptying of gigabytes of trash. The window closed.

A few hours later, I swiveled my head and that little bit of light had spread everywhere. The air was a dim white, and the wind was wet and droplets were all over the window and the fire escape, and I was relieved that while the dark had retreated and exposed me, the day hadn’t changed. The whole season had. It was the first day of school.

09/06/2011

Tao Lin does not care about the medium.

(via A Gchat with Tao Lin About His Second Life Movie, Social Anxiety and Gchat | Motherboard)

08/15/2011 1 note

The Time-Tested Secret

(Source: motherboard.tv)

07/16/2011

TRASH MEMORY

Shrill shirt ballooning