Amyl

rikin: 43 minutes of Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros on...

Tue, 22 Dec 2009 23:02:08 -0500

43 minutes of Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros on KCRW.

I really do love Morning Becomes Eclectic.

I love these guys. He’s got that Anton Newcombe thing going on but without the sitars, heroin abuse and mental illness that plague the BJM.

lacuisine: This is so full of win. Delicious Roasted White Fish...

Tue, 22 Dec 2009 20:30:49 -0500

lacuisine:

This is so full of win.

Delicious Roasted White Fish Wrapped in Smoked Bacon with Lemon Mayonnaise and Aspargus (phew!)

Follow the link for recipe.

Thanks to Jamie Oliver

The dude has hair issues.

Tue, 22 Dec 2009 20:17:53 -0500

The dude has hair issues.

During his nonviolent protest of tummy brushing, Ori refused to...

Tue, 22 Dec 2009 19:55:00 -0500

During his nonviolent protest of tummy brushing, Ori refused to make eye contact for cute pictures.

amybeam: Via Friends of Type

Tue, 22 Dec 2009 18:20:00 -0500

amybeam:

Via Friends of Type

coleimperi: Oh man…..this is serious revenge. I also did not...

Tue, 22 Dec 2009 17:58:32 -0500

coleimperi:

Oh man…..this is serious revenge. I also did not know what most of those terms meant until I was like, well, OK IJUSTLOOKEDTHEMALLUPRIGHTNOW

Seriously, what is Bitty Bang?

drintelmann:

“Chris’s sister Katie told on him for hiding beer in his room. So what did he do? He went through her room, found a list of people whose genitals she wants to play with, and posted it on Facebook with all her friends tagged. This is just the explanation of the note here, you have to hit the jump to see the actual thing (WARNING: possibly NSFW due to dirty words). Damn Chris, even as a guy whose done far worse to people, I’ve got to admit: that’s pretty harsh. Now melt her face off with a Looftlighter!”

I can’t believe the kid had the balls to do this. Read the full story here.

heh. Cole, I think it’s supposed to be a “T” and not a “B”.

caterpillarcowboy: soupsoup: unburyingthelead: What Would...

Tue, 22 Dec 2009 16:28:01 -0500

caterpillarcowboy:

soupsoup:

unburyingthelead:

What Would Jesus Lie About? (Health Care Reform Edition)

In another one of those orgasm-inducing moments that’s becoming regular now that he’s in the Senate, Al Franken bitch-slapped Republican John Thune all over the Senate floor, to the point where Thune actually walked out. What was the dastardly Minnesotan bludgeoning the poor South Dakotan over? Franken wanted Thune to stop lying about when benefits start in the health care reform legislation. Or, as Franken put it, “[W]e are entitled to our own opinions; we’re not entitled to our own facts.” And facts, as we are well aware, have a suspiciously liberal bias.

Franken for President, 2016.

“I’ve only been here awhile, so maybe I’m naive.” I need to start watching C-SPAN again.

franki the pug

Tue, 22 Dec 2009 16:12:41 -0500

franki the pug:

(via david)

Please, I beg of you this. Please, please, please. If you do one thing for me--but really, for yourself--this holiday season--no, if you do one thing ever--do this:

Tue, 22 Dec 2009 15:08:59 -0500

Please, I beg of you this. Please, please, please. If you do one thing for me--but really, for yourself--this holiday season--no, if you do one thing ever--do this::

jaimeleigh:

Read this post, and then the comments. It will change you.

How did that song not make it to the number one slot?

(via rachell)

Mon, 21 Dec 2009 15:06:34 -0500

(via rachell)

How To Stereotype People By Their Favorite Author

Mon, 21 Dec 2009 14:52:54 -0500

How To Stereotype People By Their Favorite Author:

(via negevrockcity)

Internet problems. I have them.

Mon, 21 Dec 2009 14:47:11 -0500

hono-lulu:

amyl:

I’ve got a great idea. Not original but new to Cincinnati.

Do you know how difficult it is to come up with an appropriate URL for tumblr that includes the word “Cincinnati”? All the nicknames are…well quite frankly I can’t think of a new spin on Queen City or Porkopolis. It’s all been done and it’s old and tired.

Whoever has cincinnati.tumblr.com and hasn’t updated since July 19…I’M DISAPPOINTED IN YOU. You got to the name first but you aren’t even using it.

When I give up and pick a name like “Pork And Pork By-Products” IT WILL BE ALL YOUR FAULT.

Did you ever create one? I started one with a tumblr from Athens for general Ohio stuff but haven’t updated it much lately, but I’d help contribute to a Cincy one if needed/wanted.

I have created a monster and will soon unleash it upon the ~~world~~ Greater Cincinnati area. It’s not quite ready, I’ve run into a few problems. Once I figure out a solution, I’ll be ~~harassing~~ ~~begging~~ adding contributors.

Tumblr Usability Question

Mon, 21 Dec 2009 14:31:52 -0500

amybeam:

I want to be e-polite on Tumblr. I don’t intend to annoy anyone. However, I don’t understand the proper way to comment on some one’s post. It seems to me that people use the “re-blog” feature to comment back and forth. Doesn’t that get annoying to read every one’s conversation? What if I just want to say “Thanks!” Is that worth a “re-blog”?

My usability nerd is coming out. It doesn’t make sense. Too many steps to reach the goal of just commenting. Will people use commenting if/when Tumblr builds it in or will the community be built up so much that “re-blog” will be the standard?

Reblog is part of the culture of Tumblr. I have Disqus installed but have only received 14 comments. In comparison, I have 566 “Likes”. When used properly, it cuts down on the throwaway comment chatter. I reblog if I find something great and want to share. If I’ve seen it a few times in my dashboard, I’ll skip the reblog. I am guilty of reblogging without comment, which seems to annoy some people but based on the nature of the content I often reblog, I don’t often feel the need to add any more commentary. I’ve also noticed a lack of trolling. If someone is going to be a jerk, they are forced to reblog and be a jerk on their own page. I’ve witnessed some epic Tumblr fights but most people do it under their names.

Since you are considerate that you might be annoying someone with reblogging, you totally know you are ahead of the pack in terms of politeness. The truly annoying aren’t that self aware. So reblog all you want.

Also, Some Words on Commenting from The Daily Meh.

amybeam: yosamanthrax: Trying not to hate this picture, but...

Mon, 21 Dec 2009 13:10:25 -0500

amybeam:

yosamanthrax:

Trying not to hate this picture, but look! It’s myself and a couple of Tumblrs.

Wow the lightening is just…. phenomenally bad.

Also… I’m wearing the same outfit today. Don’t say anything guys….

Let’s be real. You can all feel better about yourselves because no one looks as bad as me. Oh my god. If I wasn’t wedged in the corner, I would have been hiding out in the bathroom until the photographer left.

savethekitties: (via bhill250) I want to trade.

Sun, 20 Dec 2009 15:43:50 -0500

savethekitties:

(via bhill250)

I want to trade.

illustrativo: robot-heart: whipup guide to 30 of the best diy...

Sun, 20 Dec 2009 11:32:33 -0500

illustrativo:

robot-heart:

whipup guide to 30 of the best diy holiday ornaments » whip up

Bombardier hat

Sun, 20 Dec 2009 01:19:16 -0500

Bombardier hat

glass: Ditto (via my mom)

Sun, 20 Dec 2009 00:52:19 -0500

glass:

Ditto (via my mom)

avocadosalad: brownhound: Amanda Palmer’s take on Lady...

Sat, 19 Dec 2009 13:41:21 -0500

avocadosalad:

brownhound:

Amanda Palmer’s take on Lady Gaga.

Someone recently questioned me when I equated Lady Gaga with talent. Amanda Palmer does a nice job of summing up why I’m not wrong.

There should be a Amanda Palmer / Lady Gaga tour. I guess they could invite Madonna, if she promised not to screw it up.

The Aughts: The Anthropology of Anthropologie

Sat, 19 Dec 2009 13:34:53 -0500

fochaux:

grayandgreen:

Like Britt, I am also contributing to a decade-end series of essays. These essays reflect on the intersection between pop culture, politics, and my psychological development during a stage of life (my tweens through early twenties) in which the former two impacted the latter profoundly.

The Anthropology of Anthropologie

(Marylouise Pels and Vanessa Giovacchini in The Selby)

The first time I saw a CRG, I was watching Igby Goes Down. In a moment of desperation, the main character Igby resorts to selling drugs to a couple of well-heeled twentysomethings who live in a Manhattan high-rise. “I know a girl from Baltimore,” he says into the intercom, but the two buyers are too strung out to remember the code phrase. Once Igby walks into the room, he sees two skinny women with long hair and flowing, layered clothes. Scarves, jewelry, and bottles of champagne lay strewn across the furniture and floor. The women look like they’ve spent all day doing drugs and playing dress-up, and they probably have, because they’re Cute Rich Girls and they never have to work.

If you’ve been to private art school or perused NYLON, you’ve seen girls like these. Buoyed by their parents’ income or money they made as child actors, CRGs have the full freedom to pursue their aesthetic interests without fear of bankruptcy. At their worst, CRGs are hobbyists, dilettantes, or socialites. At the best, they’re musicians like Jenny Lewis or directors like Sofia Coppola, driven by the love of their medium and not economics. CRGs can create film, music, and literature that are unpopular or esoteric because they don’t need the money that comes with popular success. And though poverty doesn’t threaten them, neither does the alternative that afflicts so many creative people—the monotony one must tolerate in exchange for stability. After a 40-hour workweek, some artists and musicians have the energy to keep imagining. Others merely endure or subsist. They stop dreaming.

CRGs stoke the embers of my class insecurities that should have died long ago, but which nonetheless define me. My parents came into money about midway through my high school years, but prior to that they bounced around the median income line—sometimes above it, sometimes below it. In the affluent suburb of Chicago in which I grew up, middle-class sits at the bottom of the totem pole, and nobody let me forget it. Never did I lack necessities or go hungry, but at age seven or eight, I didn’t realize what money could buy or how much my family had in comparison to others. I realized that my clothes and food and house were different than the other kids’, and that my mom was hardly home because she worked two full-time jobs. I never knew when kids were going to notice that something I owned was uglier or chintzier than what they had. It always came as a surprise, every time, because I didn’t feel any different than anybody else. Do you know what it felt like, at age 14, to have my mother lock herself in her bedroom crying after I shouted, “Why do we always have to go to discount stores? Why can’t we go to a normal store just once?” A CRG doesn’t.

In my imagination, these women possess everything tangible and intangible that I lacked. Their material comfort gives them a kind of innocence; nothing interrupts their reveries. When a 100-pound CRG fashion student decides she wants to study abroad in France and intern at Colette, she can just go. At a party, stateside, she’ll rhapsodize about the architecture and the craftsmanship inherent in the clothing, and tell exactly one wistful story about a day at the beach. A certain type of man finds them irresistible, or so I imagine: bookish young men that also like fucking. The CRGs’ promise of a carefree life, their casual curation of expensive, obscure media, and their appearances—winsome, pretty, cerebral and pristine—give them a powerful appeal.

I will never count myself among the CRGs’ ranks. I think often of the dental insurance I don’t have and the old clothes I can’t afford to replace. When I think of something I want, I have to plan for it, and unlike CRGs my plans can fail spectacularly. But I do plan. Every so often, when I become immersed in schoolwork or a low-wage job and I’ve begun to adjust to that monotonous hum, I hear this thought that says “this is not what your life’s supposed to be.” And then: “every minute of time you waste is a minute you could spend making your whole life better.” I think of the childhood dreams I had of publishing my writing, and the voice says “maybe it will never happen.” I feel this jolt through my whole body when I realize that everything has to change, and then I work for weeks until I can’t see through my haircut anymore and my dirty clothes are lying all across the floor. The problem with the CRGs’ infinite dreaming is that no dream is particularly special. I picked one that I love the most, and when I think of it I feel battery acid pumping all through my body, like I need to make it happen, now. Something has to change and it can’t wait, because time or money will run out. I feel it, and I need to stop everything I’m