"While the plan is meant to prevent data from being knowingly slowed by Internet providers, it would allow content providers to pay for a guaranteed fast lane of service. Some opponents of the plan argue that allowing some content to be sent along a fast lane would essentially discriminate against content not sent along that lane." Under the FCC's proposed new rules for internet service providers, data sent via the non-fast lane isn't slower, it's just less fast.
Longreads wants you to become a member. What do you get? The thing I like best is exclusives: advances on stories before publication. Also I like it when some weirdo I don't know recommends a bunch of stories that maybe I haven't seen before. I do like that! Anyway I gave them thirty whole dollars for a year's membership. That's right, for just $2.50 a year you can keep some starving words from being homeless, won't you give today.
"Many of the jobs that disappeared in the recent recession have indeed vanished forever," wrote Virginia Postrel in the New York Times. That was February 22, 2004, the same day that "Sex and the City" ended.
Two days earlier, Martha Stewart's best pal, Mariana Pasternak, sold her out in court. Stewart was sentenced to a little prison time. And then, six long years later, Pasternak wrote a tell-all about their two decades of friendship. There was a glut of delighted press upon publication and then we haven't heard from her since.
It was just like that with the Goldman Sachs guy's memoir! I wonder [...]
Rain Jackets, waterproof cameras, air conditioners, umbrellas, solar battery packs, portable GPS, fans, grills, and much much more. (Although the handy category here is cheap rain jackets, if you ever want to talk expensive rain jackets, call me, we'll discuss Prada windbreakers versus Zegna Sport.
I've been thinking about the way I buy things, the when and where and why of it all, and how totally dumb most of the purchases (big and small, from gum to Apple products) that I make are. So I'm very into Make It Do, which is about a year of wearing things out, mending things, and buying minimally. (But what about pedicures? That's not in the FAQ!) It's nice that it's not a crusade ("my year without any animal products"!) or a stunt ("my year as a cavewoman"!); it's just a way to pull-back, look at the way we interact with products and see what one [...]
I'm really sorry about how my thoughts work, but all this talk of Uganda and the gays is horrifying and depressing and scary and then totally reminds me of the fact that Uganda is partially responsible for this one maybe incredible thing that you can get tyrannized into spending loads of money on for the holidays. It's the Filson Original Briefcase in a super limited-edition (only 200!), quickstrike colorway that isn't Otter Green, Brown or Tan. It's the first Filson collaboration ever and made from 17.5oz Ugandan cotton sourced by the nonprofit Invisible Children. This is just where my brain went because it goes UgandaSadfaceGaysHappyfaceFilson. [...]
Gravity (film) I’ve been cigarette-free for forty frustrating days and I still can’t hold my breath as long as the Movie Stars do on screen, a gargantuan screen, a screen the size of Forest Lawn Memorial Park, here at the “only real IMAX theater in the city” a friend has told me, and I’m not sure what he means but I believe him because he’s the kind of guy who knows about these things and has strong convictions about movies, a trait that I admire greatly. I’m out of calm-downers and I’m measuring my lung capacity every three minutes and gasping like a kid again. You see, that’s [...]
"There’s always gonna be people on blogs and shit like that who want to spout off whether it’s out of jealousy or what. I mean, there’s a lot to be jealous of." —Go ahead and guess, but I suppose it could be so many things that it's not really a fair contest.
The real question is: What can you take out of streetwear? Girls are all wearing miniskirts and leggings and leather jackets. We’ve already seen all of this. Streetwear never taught me anything. Consider this: Yves Saint Laurent was one of the first designers to revisit vintage. If you read his biography, you’ll see it. He used to go to London to the first secondhand markets and find clothes from the 30s. That’s how he invented the tuxedo. He bought a man’s smoking jacket and put it on one of his muses. That’s how most of his innovations began. Today you can do that type of research, but it’s [...]
Oh my God, what are you guys doing this weekend?
• Here comes August! Consider it proved: it's the month when real scandals grip the country and we pay attention to other things.
• And this weekend is going to be toasty. There may be cooling centers! Mmm, cooling.
So very true: "One of the problems with crafting a reliable definition of 'douchebag' is that the term is built from the outside. Nobody wants to identify as a douchebag. And so, each individual's interpretation of the term will necessarily exclude characteristics which they share. Not so with the term 'bro.'"
Every time I am silent or seemingly thinking or chewing or barely breathing and unoccupied what I’m really doing is praying fervently that our country devotes itself to dendrolatry and muck our polished patellae in a worshipper’s kneel unto Trees. And where does the Holiday Axe factor into this religion? I’ve always felt like Woolf’s Septimus, felt that they “beckoned; leaves were alive; trees were alive. And the leaves being connected by millions of fibres with [my] own body….” So this morning as the vile Vargoshe family hauled the cut carcass of a 12-ton Norway spruce like a bloodied buck on the roof of [...]
"I like to think of you reading my verses (though it took you five years to find them out). When I wrote them I was a strange lonely boy, walking about by myself at night and thinking that some day a girl would love me. But I never could speak to the girls I used to meet at houses. Their false manners checked me at once. Then you came to me. You were not in a sense the girl for whom I had dreamed and written the verses you find now so enchanting. She was perhaps (as I saw her in my imagination) a girl fashioned into a curious grave [...]
The week I had my wisdom teeth removed, I saw a man in line at the corner bodega drop a pencil, a nice-looking one, without noticing. I was fixed in a Percocet fog and stared at the pencil (handsome wood, something an architect would use) instead of telling the man he had dropped it. His transaction completed, he left, and I stepped up to the register, placing my beer next to it. I then turned to watch as an employee mopping the floor discovered the pencil, picked it up and admired it. I regretted not doing the same when I had the chance, but it seemed fair that all [...]