In the dawn of the record era, album covers were based on the covers of photographic albums. Then Alex Steinweiss proposed to Columbia that it "embellish the 78 RPM record albums (covers) with original artwork (drawings and paintings)." An art form—and an industry—was born.
<I>Break me a freakin' give</I>, I muttered to myself as I clicked on the URL to the above-titled article. <I>How stupid is this going to be?</I>
Joe Harley sends along this YouTube goodie wherein Hans Groiner helpfully "fixes" the music of Thelonious Monk.
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Charlie Brooker doesn't like his new phone.
Cartoonist Doug Marlette has made me laugh until milk shot out my nose. He has also made me squirm when he has pilloried <I>my</I> hobbyhorses. I've always figured that political humor was at its best when it made you laugh at stuff you believed in—anybody can raise a chuckle over something you're already contemptuous of.
"Last fall, <I>Condé Nast Traveler</I> aviation correspondent Barbara S. Peterson applied to work as a Transportation Security Administration screener. Her mission: to investigate reports that despite a five-year, $20 billion overhaul of the passenger screening system, checkpoint personnel are failing at the job. Being hired was only her first surprise. Peterson's two months at the airport revealed how this overtaxed but dedicated workforce copes with equipment shortages, budget cuts, and record numbers of (not very pleasant) passengers. Here is an unprecedented look at the reality of America's last line of defense."
I've linked to <I>Locust Street</I> before, but this is one of its best posts ever: a moving account of Buddy Holly's last days, with MP3s of some unreleased home recordings.
Quick, name your favorite equation! For most of us, it's E = mc<SUP>2</SUP>, but Euler's <I>e<SUP>in</SUP></I> + 1 = 0 is the one "everyone should know."
Though I was doing my best to give passengers room to exit the train, I was hopelessly in the way. On some mornings, it's impossible to stand on the train and <i>not</i> be in the way. Everyone scrambles toward the open doors, as if departing this train, right now — right now! — means the world. The world. I think it's because I hate this, that I try to do the opposite. When it's my turn to depart, I move carefully and slowly, perhaps in some futile attempt to show others how gracefully done it can be. Fellow passengers, there is another way. Watch as I move through these doors with such ease and finesse.
Pascal Wyse sure loves musical innuendo.