We are taking today to do all the pesky things that must be done: payin' bills, doing annoying paperwork—just straight up taking care of business. Life, and inboxes, pile up. Maybe we'll get it all done super fast and we'll resume publishing later today! Haha maybe. Whatever you do today, don't read the Ariel Levy story in the New Yorker. Not if you want to be able to go on with things.
I heard about some teachers who supposedly had a habit of groping female students and others who had their eyes on the boys. I heard that Mark Wright, an assistant football coach, had recently left the school under mysterious circumstances. I was warned to avoid Stan Kops, the burly, bearded history teacher known widely as “the Bear,” who had some unusual pedagogical methods. Even Clark came in for some snickering: he had no family of his own, and he had a noticeably closer-than-average relationship to the Bear, another confirmed bachelor.
"A memorial to Christina-Taylor Green, who was born on 9/11 and was the youngest victim of the shooting rampage in Tucson, will include a length of steel beam from ground zero." —Everybody feel bad for a while now.
You know how sometimes we notify you that here is something you should really read but you should also be prepared, as there might be afternoon cubicle weeping if you proceed without caution? Well here you go! It's technically about insomnia. Really it's about stabbing you in the heart.
I'm sorry for reporting you to campus security.
This was September 1989, at Connecticut College in New London, Connecticut. In the Marshall Dormitory at the north end of campus, where I shared a much-too-small space with two roommates, Sean and Jeremy. (Sean is now the communications director for the Republican National Committee—he had to shave his head on live television last fall after losing a bet he'd made that Mitt Romney would be president. Did you know that? Crazy, right?)
You and I didn't know each other at the time. I didn't know anybody, really. Classes had just started that week. I had come to recognize most of the [...]
I totally missed this bit of thinking from the other day by open source enthusiast Douglas Rushkoff. He's living in the Singularity already, so he can say that "on a very fundamental level, we have pretty much everything we need"—and we're just distributing it wrong, and "we don't have enough ways for people to work and prove that they deserve this stuff." So why do we all want jobs, he wants to know! Why are we all yapping about unemployment? On… a certain level, this is technically true! Even as a world-wide community, we probably have enough "things" (rice, couches, water, fabric) for everyone. Rushkoff seems a little [...]
If you think that Sims and FarmVille are evil tools to acclimate people into capitalist tedium and corporate consumption and a life of low expectations, then you'll love KidZania—"a multinational chain of family entertainment centers, where kids try out professions that have been downsized, simplified, and made fun." And it is dark! It's a nation-state of "trying on adult jobs" while consuming McNuggets and Chevrolets. "Children do not create their own stories at KidZania. The story that some children are tasked with writing for the journalism activity at many franchises is a report on the how great the police are. Meanwhile, in the painting activity at KidZania Dubai, [...]
Here's advice on how to get jobs for which you may be wildly overqualified in case you have a useless college degree-jobs as diverse as running salad bars and stamping envelopes. The watchword is: Dress For the Job You Need, Not the Job You Totally Don't Have Right Now and Oh Man You Are So Screwed. Also don't tell them that you've had good jobs, in case you ever actually have. Pretend you've been at home taking care of some kids, in case you haven't been.
Yesterday they raised the "Kandi Won," which is the "DEATH YACHT" (as per the Post) that sunk on the 4th of July, on Long Island, killing three children. It's not really germane to that tragedy, but when the tabloids went wild over "Long Island Yacht Disaster" and the like, I most certainly was not picturing this wee 34-foot Silverton. (On which I would no sooner board 27 people than I would try to land a helicopter on it.) Anyway, terrible story, very sad, and I blame the media.
"My wife has purchased a half-dozen pairs of lucky socks that she wears to the clinic. They have monkeys, ninjas, and moustaches on them. The doctor likes them. My wife gets into the stirrups. The doctor puts things into my wife’s vagina—they are always putting things into my wife’s vagina—and the doctor says, 'I like your monkeys.' I watch, leaning on the cabinet that contains gauze and syringes." —The Age of Mechanical Reproduction.
"Sean Eldridge and Chris Hughes are pretty serious guys. When they’re not hosting or going to fund-raisers, they spend most evenings at home reading an array of magazines (The New York Review of Books, The Economist) and books. " —Books too, you say? What are they, some sort of Übermenschen? (Teasing.) This is why people might think twice before being profiled in magazines. But hey, when you're "the wealthiest openly gay men in the world under 30," it's probably inevitable that people will be interested in learning more. What are ya gonna do!
This weekend brought the final post on the blog Lost City. It has, for the last five years, documented what is disappearing in New York. If you have not been a regular reader, the blog will remain, and you may go back through it and remember things and places in New York that you may have forgotten. The final post is worth reading. Its proprietor writes: "I began the blog because I was incensed and alarmed at what the city was becoming. It was losing its grit, its fabric, its very character. It was losing its New York-ness, and gaining nothing but Subway franchises and luxury [...]