Amphibious assault vehicles of the South Korean Marine Corps launch smoke bombs as they move to shore during a U.S.-South Korea joint landing operation drill in Pohang, about 230 miles southeast of Seoul, on April 26, 2013. The drill is part of the two countries’ annual military training called Foal Eagle, which began on March 1 and runs until April 30.
Every New York street photographer has to make a pilgrimage to Coney Island at one point or another. It’s a must, not because there is some unwritten rule but because Coney is a very generous location. There’s an image to be made everywhere you look. Go. You will see.
Anyhow, I was shooting blanks all afternoon. I was ready to tear what’s left of my hair out, when I ran into Bruce Gilden and his wife. I had a little chat with them and got to see Bruce in action. This was a not so small consolation in lieu of good photographs.
Feeling like a mo, I headed to Ruby’s Bar for a few beers. I made some friends while sucking back budz and listening to doo wop and Billy Joel on the juke. The sun started to set. Well buzzed, I made my way to the train. I sat down in the car and made this picture.
The Origins Project at ASU presents the final night in the Origins Stories weekend, focusing on the science of storytelling and the storytelling of science. The Storytelling of Science features a panel of esteemed scientists, public intellectuals, and award-winning writers including well-known science educator Bill Nye, astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson, evolutionary biologist Richard Dawkins, theoretical physicist Brian Greene, Science Friday’s Ira Flatow, popular science fiction writer Neal Stephenson, executive director of the World Science Festival Tracy Day, and Origins Project director Lawrence Krauss as they discuss the stories behind cutting edge science from the origin of the universe to a discussion of exciting technologies that will change our future. They demonstrate how to convey the excitement of science and the importance helping promote a public understanding of science.
I’m halfway through this and it’s pretty entertaining.
Van someone tell Mr Krauss to lose the jacket? It’s not the nineties and you Sir are not Usher.
This is perfect if you have 3 designs due in the morning, but you need some awesome, not at all distracting live tunes
Stop Making Sense may have the Big Suit, but if you’re looking for the pinnacle of live Talking Heads footage, I’d point you in the direction of this unbelievable show from Rome, 1980. Completing the Heads’ journey from minimalist to maximalist, it features the expanded, ten-piece lineup blazing through tunes from the just-released masterwork Remain In Light, as well as dynamically re-inventing choice selections from the back catalogue. They still sound like the band of the future more than 30 years later, with careening polyrhythms, interstellar Adrian Belew guitar-work, and P-Funk grooves courtesy of Bernie Worrell. Once in a lifetime, indeed.
I cannot believe it’s taken so long for me to properly watch The Great Dictator. I recently watched Chaplin’s final film and was completely taken by the final scene. Recently it seems to have become a bit of an internet touchstone and this version has a ton of Heavy Handed Hans Z over it, but it’s not really called for. (I struggled to find the original version in decent resolution)
Chaplin said that if he had known the horrors of the holocaust he would have not made the film, I think that would have been a shame.
This is part of a great essay for Criterion
The greatness of the film lies in the bridge Chaplin builds between the little guy and the bully, so that in an amazing spiral, the thugs who pursue Chaplin as victim are under the orders of Chaplin the boss. He is his own persecutor, and at the end, he is the voice of resistance to his own mania. The effect is not to humanize Hitler but, in part—and this is an aspect of the film’s courage—to Hitlerize Chaplin…
There is a complex bit of history behind this setup. The Gold Rush had been banned by Goebbels in 1935 because it did not “coincide with the world philosophy of the present day in Germany,” and Chaplin had been caricatured in various anti-Semitic publications as the archetypical Jew, in spite of the fact that he wasn’t Jewish. “Jewish,” for the propagandists, meant crafty and inventive and possessed of all the unheroic advantages of the underdog, just the resources that Chaplin’s screen character had so often availed himself of. In The Great Dictator, he chose both to repeat his old act and to repeal it. His antifascist argument pursues the fascist in all of us, and the implication of his equation of the victim with the dictator is not only that the comic could have been the madman but that even the good guys and the persecuted, represented by the world’s best-loved clown, are not to be trusted with absolute power. Chaplin’s finest further touch, having made his dictator ridiculous, is to remind us of how much harm even ridiculous people can do. Nothing in the film is quite as frightening as the sight and sound of the ludicrous Hynkel casually ordering the execution of three thousand striking workers. We should know better, but we easily forget how lethal the ludicrous can be. —Michael Wood