divorcecars:
You don’t even know… This was my dad’s divorce car. First stick I’d ridden in since like 82. All white leather interior. CD AND tape—And the tape flipped automatically!
My friends were supremely jealous—they called it the silver sled (…) Probably the only good thing about my parents’ splitting up (in the first year) was riding around in that thing. It had a special part of the dashboard devoted to telling us how much turbo was going in the car.
My dad took me to all my high school interviews in that thing. Us tearing up the New England map at 5am racing to Groton, etc. Of course, showing up in that thing screamed “arriviste,” and Groton negged me.
I insisted on playing Rhythm of the Saints whenever I rode in that car. Or sometimes Rei Momo.
Good times. But it was a lease. So it was gone a mere few years later.
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366inscience:
3. Ramulus, noun. In botany, a small branchlet or twig; in zoology, any such fine, branching outgrowth, like those that finger forth from the bodies of corals or hydroids. In medicine, the final and most narrow offshoots of a blood vessel or a nerve. In all fields, a little-used, somewhat archaic term. The diminutive form of ramus, Latin for “branch.”
Sometimes growth means thinning, splitting, elongation. What begins as a burly trunk or the sturdy fist of a heart ends in the shape of a thread.
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the difference between fiction and nonfiction, in short.
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the most important thing written about the financial crisis
i should describe the human race
as a strange species of bipeds
who cannot run fast enough
to collect the money
which they owe themselves
—don marquis, “quote and only man is vile quote”
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daniel sinker: I'm starting to think Lego is evil
sinker:
Well, maybe not evil, but “highly problematic.”
First, let’s remove what we all *think* Lego is (i.e. our own nostalgic memories, our aspirational beliefs, or $250 robot sets), and instead concentrate on what Lego today is, for the most part: It’s movie-tie-in model sets marketed pretty much…
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How uncanny is my valley
classicaldotorg:
By Fredorrarci
This week in soccer, the clubs give way to the national teams. For some followers of the game — the special, enlightened, deeply attractive ones — it is a time of intrigue, with World Cup qualifiers taking place across the globe, and the final slots in the European Championships being filled. For others, it is anything but; to them, this is the first day of the Interlull. This appellation has caught on in recent years amongst those who dread the intermittent periods throughout the season when the fireworks of the Greatest League in the World—all of the Greatest Leagues in the World—fall silent, and the comforting whalesong of innuendo and scuttlebutt fades, to be replaced by nereids singing the Sammarinese national anthem.
With these benighted souls, the clubs themselves agree. They despise international football. It is they, after all, who are daft enough to shell out such high transfer fees and pay the players such extravagant salaries. (In 2009-10, Premier League clubs spent on average 68 percent of their income on player wages.) Players are not just employees: they are assets. Every few months, players are rented out to national teams in return for nothing but anxiety. When a player gets injured while playing or training with his national side, his club is owed compensation. A player is worth an amount of hard currency, and as far as the clubs are concerned, the national associations can’t pay it. If they could, the clubs would put international football to sleep. They might yet have their way.
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(Source: classicaldotorg)
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mikasavela:
More Chicago facades. From left to right: The Water Tower Inn (by Hausner and Macsai, 1961), Rush Street garage (by Leobl, Schlossman and Bennet, 1955) and 1000 Lake Shore Drive (by Sidney H. Morris and Associates, 1954.).
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ghost riders on the side of a “king ranch” model ford truck
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