I can’t stop laughing at this cartoon gif diptych.
(h/t: a random Tumblr.)
This new camera I picked up has made me pretty happy. I’m sure I’m leaving a little on the table vs. a DSLR, but the size more than makes up for it.
But that doesn’t mean I’m entirely pleased, and here’s why: Every piece of documentation for the Olympus refers to it as having a USB port. It ships with a cable that looks like USB, too, and sports two ports that look, at first glance, like one is probably micro- or mini-USB.
I happened to use the supplied cable the first couple times I downloaded pix, so I didn’t actually notice that there was anything weird until this weekend.
When I was out of town.
I hadn’t bothered to take the actual Olympus cable with me because, as a pretty seasoned traveller, I keep a couple spares in my “travel kit” that live in my bag all the time.
It wasn’t until Saturday afternoon that I realized I had a problem. The ports on the Olympus may technically be a variant of USB and not just some goofball “fuck you port” from Olympus, but the end result is the same: you can’t buy a cable for this camera at Best Buy or Target. You have to use the fancy CB-USB6 cable.
This sin is compounded by the fact that Oly seriously downplays the incompatibility of the supplied faux-USB cable; it’s just called a “USB cable” in all documentation, and sports a normal USB tip on the computer end. Only DEEP in the manual (supplied only on PDF) does it state that users should only use the supplied cable. Cute.
Here’s the news, Olympus: People in 2012 have an expectation of easy connectivity. Pretty much everything has a normal USB port on it now. That’s how shit should work. The era of needing to keep up with dozens of different cables for one’s devices is past, and thank God for it. Using this connector today is complete bullshit, and represents a giant fucking step backwards. You should be ashamed of yourselves.
It also makes me a whole lot less excited about my new camera. I feel a little duped, to be honest. So, you know, fuck you for that, too.
Wouldn’t you like to hear Mumford & Sons do “The Boxer” with renowned dobro player Jerry Douglas?
(h/t: Mikeray via Twitter.)
Baylor managed to score sixty freaking three points against West Virginia today.
And still lost. Baylor’s 700 total yards paled compared to the Mountaineers’ 807.
Do these teams just not have defense at all? Seriously, wtf?
As it happens, our President wrote a couple books.
One of them, a personal memoir called Dreams from my Father, includes a number of anecdotes from Obama’s youth.
There is an audiobook of this book. And the President does the reading. And so…:
The main draw of the audiobook is that it’s actually narrated by Obama. It’s interesting to hear him imitate the voices of some of the people that have been important in his life. Like Ray, for example.
Ray, a former high school classmate, was savvy and streetwise, with a new take on black culture and white America. Best of all, Ray had an extremely colorful manner of self-expression. In other words, he cursed. A lot.
That means the President curses. A lot.
In fact you’re about to hear the POTUS swear like a motherfucker.
Follow the links, and you, too, can download a few choice MP3s. Heh. Get your own damn fries.
First, dude, you can order custom letterpress calling cards. These are unremittingly glorious.
Second, note carefully the names he’s used on his samples, and squee with joy.
I was just reminded, via another conversation, of some of the really awesome bits that happened early in Letterman’s CBS tenure.
The repeated “drop bys” that Tony Randall and Mandy Patinkin did may be my favorites. Here’s one I remember happening very clearly.
He did pretty well, speaking about Arab Spring, about Chris Stevens, about violence and tolerance, about democracy and values, and about America in the world.
Here’s a bit, but I think you should make time to read the whole thing. It won’t take long. The President does a pretty fine job of encapsulating what I think of as the best of American ideals, the backbone of who we’d like to be. It isn’t who we always are — America is an aspirational state — but it is our goal, and we are our best selves when we work toward it.
Anyway, a sample:
That is what we saw play out in the last two weeks, as a crude and disgusting video sparked outrage throughout the Muslim world. Now, I have made it clear that the United States government had nothing to do with this video, and I believe its message must be rejected by all who respect our common humanity. It is an insult not only to Muslims, but to America as well – for as the city outside these walls makes clear, we are a country that has welcomed people of every race and every faith. We are home to Muslims who worship across our country. We not only respect the freedom of religion – we have laws that protect individuals from being harmed because of how they look or what they believe. We understand why people take offense to this video because millions of our citizens are among them.
I know there are some who ask why we don’t just ban such a video. The answer is enshrined in our laws: Our Constitution protects the right to practice free speech. Here in the United States, countless publications provoke offense. Like me, the majority of Americans are Christian, and yet we do not ban blasphemy against our most sacred beliefs. As president of our country, and commander-in-chief of our military, I accept that people are going to call me awful things every day, and I will always defend their right to do so. Americans have fought and died around the globe to protect the right of all people to express their views – even views that we profoundly disagree with.
We do so not because we support hateful speech, but because our founders understood that without such protections, the capacity of each individual to express their own views, and practice their own faith, may be threatened. We do so because in a diverse society, efforts to restrict speech can quickly become a tool to silence critics and oppress minorities. We do so because given the power of faith in our lives, and the passion that religious differences can inflame, the strongest weapon against hateful speech is not repression, it is more speech – the voices of tolerance that rally against bigotry and blasphemy, and lift up the values of understanding and mutual respect.
I know that not all countries in this body share this particular understanding of the protection of free speech – we recognize that. But in 2012, at a time when anyone with a cell phone can spread offensive views around the world with the click of a button, the notion that we can control the flow of information is obsolete. The question, then, is how do we respond. And on this we must agree: there is no speech that justifies mindless violence.
There are no words that excuse the killing of innocents. There is no video that justifies an attack on an Embassy. There is no slander that provides an excuse for people to burn a restaurant in Lebanon, or destroy a school in Tunis, or cause death and destruction in Pakistan. In this modern world, with modern technologies, for us to respond in that way to hateful speech empowers any individual who engages in such speech to create chaos around the world. We empower the worst of us, if that’s how we respond.
This is sofa king hilarious I don’t know what to do. Stay with it through the end.
The story (at Slate) is on the clickthru, but the money quote from my friend Will’s blog is this:
I’ve been black in Alabama my whole life so, you know, I knew it was racist, but it took a black man being elected president before I realized just =how racist= this entire country really is.
He’s not wrong.
This piece on leaving Moscow is pretty great, and reminds me of stories told my a certain immigrant Texan I know…
Why not visit my pal Mike to enjoy The Iron Maidens and Misstallica? There’s video of an “Aces High” cover…
Maya Rudolph is in an all-girl Prince cover duo called Princess.
They played “Darling Nikki” on Fallon last week, backed by the fucking ROOTS, and there is video.
You’re welcome.
(h/t MeFi.)
We love the new guys, but we still miss Bob.
Today, I am extremely pleased to have heard this sentence in conversation with my friend Igor: “A friend of mine met her years ago in the jungles of the Yucatan.”
(And yes, it’s a statement of literal truth.)
Liquid nitrogen + warm water + 1,500 ping-pong balls == AWESOME.
This is really one of those times when I don’t know if I should shit or go blind. SFW.
An angry old fuck in Austin lynched a chair in his yard. Madcap hilarity, of course, ensued.
Step 1: Be sisters with a former West Wing actress.
Step 2: Engineer a charming West Wing reunion as a voting PSA.
Make of these what you will:
Point the First Amanda Palmer’s record entered the Billboard charts at #10. A crowdsourced, Kickstarter record, completely free of label support. Or a label at all, really.
If you are a record label, my guess is that this scares the shit out of you.
Good.
Point the Second Running errands at lunch, I flipped over from NPR to a local pop radio station. It was playing Gangnam Style.
Specifically, here, where you can see shockingly high quality footage of a very, very young U2 playing “11 O’Clock Tick Tock” in a Berlin nightclub.
Presumably, West Berlin. Kids, ask your parents.
h/t to (@groovehouse](http://twitter.com/groovehouse).
If attempts to contact a local rep are routed without exception to a call center somewhere else, they hate you. Take your business elsewhere if you can’t get past the call center “customer deflection shield.”
This is mostly a camera experiment.
In the years since I bought my old camera, the game changed a bit. The Rebel didn’t shoot video at all, but now basically every reasonable camera system shoots HD video really, really well — entire movies and TV shows have been shot with the now obsolete Canon 5D Mk II, for example.
Now, to do video at a professional level, you need to control lots of other factors (chief among them sound and lighting), but the core ingredients are there, which is pretty rad.
As an experiment, I shot this clip (1:10) of one of Amanda Palmer’s opening acts, a sax duo called Ronald Reagan who bill themselves as “Boston’s Premier 80’s Pop Saxophone Duo”. The focus drifts a little (operator error), but overall I’m totally shocked by the clarity. I was standing in a scrum of people on the floor at Fitz, holding the camera over my head to get a better angle. I mean, seriously, this is amazing.
Anyway, here it is.
I also grabbed a couple other clips, but this was the best of the lot. One is plagued much more by the focus drift issue, and the other was during an all-hands-on-deck finale of “Careless Whisper,” which was played at eleven, so the mic got a bit overloaded. But this one’s a good example of what this little camera can do.
I took the new tiny camera with me to the Amanda Palmer show last night at Fitzgerald’s. I took a few pix.
The little Oly did VERY well, though I need to learn a bit more about keeping the focus constant when shooting video. It also appears I’m gonna need that battery grip (or just another battery), because I only got to about 450 shots before it was done for the night. I got super spoiled with the Rebel, which would shoot for days, but if this is the main drawback I encounter, I’ll be TOTALLY cool with it.
All shots with the Olympus M.Zuiko 45/1.8, which turns out to be a GREAT lens. It’s not the equal of the Leica 25/1.4, but for things like this it’s perfect.
When in Kenya, it is important to be very very careful when interacting with the locals.
Because the Internet is magic, I’m able to point you to this excellent thread at Reddit where a South Korean explains the cultural context of the now-iconic song and video.
Here’s a few bits that may not be clear:
Go read both of juyunkim89’s posts there; this kind of cross-cultural perspective is what we all hoped would happen way more often with a global Internet. It’s pretty damn cool even if it’s just discussing a pop song.
Aimee Mann’s new video may look a little familiar:
Gawker (yes, Gawker) puts things in perspective in the wake of Newsweek‘s frankly irresponsible and ridiculous cover story.
Don’t miss this quote:
Indeed, as everyone knows, Muslims, and especially Arab Muslims, have no lives, feelings or thoughts external to constant, violent rage, directed at old white people living in the Midwest (due to their freedoms).
Catholics? Meet the Boy Scouts, your partners in kiddie-diddling and coverups.
Writer and photographer Richard Kadrey provides 1,000 words on the subject.
(Btw, that link is SFW, but the rest of Mr Kadrey’s Flickr may not be.)
Other than some neat pix of Mrs Heathen and the cats, this set is kinda thin, but here it is anyway.
Interesting note for the photo-geeks in Heathen Nation: the stolen Rebel had a top ISO of 1600. The new hotness, an Olympus E-M5, shoots at ISO 25,600; the pix of Sen. Wiggins are examples.
At the so-called Values Voter summit — sponsored the Family Research Council, a noted hate group — Santorum stated openly that “we will never have the elite, smart people on our side.”
Now they can blow up watermelons WITH THE POWER OF THEIR MINDS!
I can’t decide if my favorite thing about this is the “Scintillatin’ Dr J Calendar” or the fact that C-3PO is playing the drums.
There is a documentary coming about the Buick Grand National Regal.
Seriously, this guy has skills. Key aspect: Getaway car.
Via MeFi.
Kurt Eichenwald has, including the volumes of Presidential Daily Briefings now public, and it turns out the Bush White House knew way more than has been previously discussed, and chose to ignore those warnings out of a misguided and unsupported belief that the “real” threat was Iraq.
By May 1, the Central Intelligence Agency told the White House of a report that “a group presently in the United States” was planning a terrorist operation. Weeks later, on June 22, the daily brief reported that Qaeda strikes could be “imminent,” although intelligence suggested the time frame was flexible.
But some in the administration considered the warning to be just bluster. An intelligence official and a member of the Bush administration both told me in interviews that the neoconservative leaders who had recently assumed power at the Pentagon were warning the White House that the C.I.A. had been fooled; according to this theory, Bin Laden was merely pretending to be planning an attack to distract the administration from Saddam Hussein, whom the neoconservatives saw as a greater threat. Intelligence officials, these sources said, protested that the idea of Bin Laden, an Islamic fundamentalist, conspiring with Mr. Hussein, an Iraqi secularist, was ridiculous, but the neoconservatives’ suspicions were nevertheless carrying the day.
Ah, neocons. Fuck each and every one of them, and then put ’em in jail. Jesus.
You can tell it’s all true, btw, because the right’s response has been to send out professional liar Ari Fleischer to smear Eichenwald as a “truther.” In this segment on AC360, the level of sheer smugtastic douchery from Fleischer is breathtaking.
The Hairpin and Poetry magazine are collaborating; the first example is the former running two poems from Karr with an unmistakable subject.
You should not, under any circumstances, miss these if you are at all of the literary bent.
These are Matthew De Abaitua’s words. They are awesome:
Wendy Melvoin is fresh from high school. She is a wearing a V-necked sleeveless top, and patterned shorts. She is playing the first chords of a new song on her purple guitar, opening chords that she wrote, a circular motif with a chorus effect. Wendy is eighteen-nineteen and she has the high cheekbones and diffident confidence of a Hollywood upbringing. She half-smiles at the faces that crowd close to the low club stage. This is Wendy’s first gig with the new band, and the song she is playing is “Purple Rain,” and nobody in the audience has ever heard “Purple Rain” before because this is the night that Prince and the Revolution record the song.
No, seriously. This video link is the foundation of the take you know and love and have been listening to for almost 30 years. They took it live, from here.
The gig is a benefit for the Minnesota Dance Theater. Prince and the Revolution are taking dance lessons and their tutor suggests the gig as a way of supporting the financially challenged theatre; because Prince is a local lad, born and raised in Minneapolis, a city he will always come back to, he agrees to play.
In 1983, Prince is an international star, thanks to “1999″ and “Little Red Corvette.” He has released five albums in five years, from when he was eighteen years old. He has so many songs he forms other bands like The Time and Vanity 6 to play them. He is an impresario and a producer and he is also only twenty-three, not so far away from the poor black kid who stood outside McDonald’s just to smell the food he couldn’t afford. His instinct for self-reliance, his tendency to be dictatorial, has been blindsided by these two sophisticated young women, Wendy and, on her keyboards, her lover, Lisa; for the first time in his life, he will collaborate in a meaningful way.
[…]
The crowd at First Avenue, their faces straining against one another, receive the brief benediction of a wavering spotlight: to them, “Purple Rain” doesn’t sound like any song that Prince has played before: the tight electronic funk, his harsh and weird sex songs, the soul ballads in which he asks for forgiveness — “Purple Rain” is something new, something different. They don’t know how to react. In fact the crowd is so muted that when this recording is prepared for the album, the engineer loops some crowd noise taken from a football game to give it some life.
What do great songs sound like the first time we hear them? Can you remember that feeling? When Bob Dylan heard The Animals’ version of “House of the Rising Sun,” he got out of the car and ran around it again and again he was so excited. The first time you hear a great song is so rare, and it can never be repeated; watching the crowd during this first performance of “Purple Rain,” I see that look on a few faces, a silent shocked awe. On the twenty-seven other recordings of “Purple Rain” on my iPod, the moment the first chord is strummed, the crowd cheer, acknowledging the anthem. They become a congregation, keen to be guided through the Purple Rain, and that has its ecstasies, even if it involves cigarette lighters held aloft, and hands waved in the air. But to hear silence flowing back from the audience, no singalong because they don’t know the words, is to eavesdrop on the shock of the new.
Oh, holy crap just go read the whole thing, and do NOT miss the first link up there — it’s the video.
Via MeFi. This shit, right here, is some quality Internettin’, boys and girls. Enjoy.
PS: The MeFi thread reminded me of this Hall of Fame peformance of “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” with Tom Petty, Jeff Lynne, Steve Winwood, and others, which I previously mentioned here. The best part, even over Prince’s amazing solo and the degree of “holy shit” you see on the faces of the other musicians is what comes at the end: Prince finishes his solo, tosses the guitar up into the air, and walks — no, struts — offstage.
The guitar never comes down.
BoingBoing has Phil Hartman’s 1985 SNL audition tape. Stick with it through the modernized Nicholson version of Hamlet at least; the German impressionist is also TOP NOTCH.
According to a new study, 62% of bankruptcies in 2007 were due to medical costs, and 3/4 had medical insurance.
Right, so, we got robbed.
Late enough Friday night for to actually be Saturday morning, someone tossed a big-ass decorative stone through our downstairs sliding glass door and made off with my laptop and my backpack, which contained a variety of other delights including my camera and some really nice headphones. Awesome.
Let’s take a look at the tape:
Apparently, when he was a child and yet already too large for the school bus, Andre the Giant was regularly driven to school by a friend of the family: Samuel Beckett.