(Reblogged from mbastuff)

After missing four trains in a row because each of them was so stuffed that people were literally falling out when the doors opened:

  • Me: Is it always like this?
  • Guy Standing Next to Me: At this time, yeah.
  • Me: This is ridiculous.
  • GSNtM: Yep.
  • Me: How do you get to work?
  • GSNtM: Very slowly.
Basically we are all looking for someone who knows who we are and will break it to us gently.
Robert Brault (via larmoyante)
(Reblogged from burningwithboredom)

You know how you make an NBA general manager miserable? Stick him in a loaded lottery…. The draft is more of a crapshoot than anyone realizes….

I combed through every NBA draft since 1995, the first year that high schoolers and one-and-doners started hijacking the process. (Eventually, hard-to-evaulate foreign players would join them.) Then, I re-ranked everyone from those 19 drafts, placing them in the following categories:

• Superduperstar (*****)
• All-Timer (****)
• Franchise Guy (***)
• All-Star (**)
• Quality Starter (*)
• Starter
• Lottery Rotation Guy
• Rotation Guy
• Lottery Whiff (or Possible Lottery Whiff)
• Not Good Enough to Be Mentioned
• Hasheem Thabeet

Bill Simmons, in "The Ultimate Crapshoot."


Zalasiewicz pointed out that rats have followed humans to just about every corner of the globe, and it is his professional opinion that one day they will take over the earth.

"Some number will probably stay rat-size and rat-shaped, but others may well shrink or expand. Particularly if there’s been epidemic extinction and ecospace opens up, rats may be best placed to take advantage of that. And we know that change in size can take place fairly quickly."…

He imagines the rats of the future evolving into new shapes and sizes — some “smaller than shrews,” others as large as elephants.

From “The Lost World,” by Elizabeth Kolbert, in The New Yorker.

Real-life R.O.U.S.’s?? Apparently they will exist.


Pangolin and baby

Picture: AP Photo/Firdia Lisnawati (via Pictures of the day: 19 June 2014 - Telegraph)


(Reblogged from allcreatures)

If Shakespeare was right about brevity, my new subletter is the wittiest man on Earth

  • Me: [Detailed, carefully crafted Craigslist ad]
  • Tom: can I come take a look tomorrow morning
  • Me: Hi Tom--
  • I'm not in Austin, so let me contact my friend who has the keys and see if he's available tomorrow am.
  • In the meantime, can you tell me a little about yourself and your living situation (i.e., would you be living alone? interested in it for the entire time? etc)?
  • Thanks,
  • Michael
  • Tom: Looking to stay from end if July to mid August. Live alone
  • [After he has moved in]
  • Me: Dear Tom,
  • Welcome! I hope you enjoy the place. It’s worked well for me so far.
  • Here is some more info...
  • [6 or 7 detailed bullets]
  • And of course, feel free to contact me for anything else as well! I’ll always do my best to respond ASAP.
  • Enjoy!
  • Michael
  • Tom: do you have cable tv ?
  • Me: I don't, no. I just watch my shows on Hulu, Netflix, YouTube, etc.
  • Tom: how does hulu works
  • [2-3 days later]
  • Me: Hi Tom--
  • I just wanted to check in. How's the apartment working out so far?
  • Best,
  • Michael
  • Tom: It's ok
Though C.K. Scott Moncrieff, Proust’s first translator into English, apologized to Proust for his “imperfect” French, and though it’s often said that Moncrieff is self-consciously poetic where Proust is not, his contemporary translation of Proust remains much the best ever achieved, exactly because the aesthete’s point of view was so deeply in his blood and bones. He is self-consciously poetic in part because English aestheticism, made under the moon of Wilde, was always damper, more elaborately, self-consciously poetic than the drier French equivalent. He missed the idiomatic equivalences sometimes. Yet though he gets small things wrong, the murmuring rhythm and violet color of the book have never quite been matched by the more accurate later renditions. He finds the right English sound to match the French one.
More Gopnik

(Source: newyorker.com)

The rubber meets the road — or “la gomma tocca la strada,” as we Italian speakers say — when it comes to translations of important poetry and literature generally. No matter how well we have immunized ourselves against empty Whorfianism, when the German sighs and tells us that the Rilke we know in English is nothing like the real Rilke, we tend to credit it, only because we know that the Keats the German speaker knows can really be nothing like Keats. (“Schonheit ist Wahrheit, Wahreit Schonheit” is the German for “Beauty is truth, truth beauty,” but there is nothing beautiful about it: just a look tells us that the balance of the monosyllable against the disyllable, what we might call the echt ‘sprezzatura’ of the original, isn’t there.)
The often-too-erudite-for-his-own-good Adam Gopnik, on translations. Echt sprezzatura. Right.

(Source: newyorker.com)


The Bridge, 2006 (dir. Eric Steel)

Those are real shots of people leaping off the Golden Gate Bridge to their deaths. Needless to say, the images stick with you long after the movie ends.

Definitely one of the more disturbing, moving films I’ve seen, fiction or nonfiction.

(Reblogged from moviesinframes)

And in San Francisco, No Less

  • Coworker whose Laziness (and Logic) Represent Everything that is Wrong with Americans: I’m going to go over to Walgreen’s to buy some more paper plates.
  • Reasonable Coworker: We have plenty of plates in the cabinets.
  • CwLaLREtiWwA: Yeah, but they’re a pain to wash. With paper plates, you can just toss ’em out when you’re done.
  • RC: [Pained expression.] But that’s so wasteful.
  • CwLaLREtiWwA: Hey, if we don’t buy them, someone else will.
(Reblogged from ifmusicbethefoodofblog)