This made me laugh:

Great stop-motion music video that really achieves a sense of intimacy.

via SwissMiss

This is from here.

I stumbled across this on another blog while looking for some information reconciling some worpdress plugin issues I’m sorting out. It’s not groundbreaking, but what blew me away about it is how contemporary this sounds… I suppose that the current cynicism regarding the media’s true masters isn’t exactly a new phenomenon.

Still, it would seem that not much has changed in the interceding years since 1973 - fully 25 years. Or put another way, it seems like we’ve been pretty much fucked from the beginning. Maybe I’m just naieve, but for some reason I always had this perception (or maybe just wayward nostalgia) that there was some golden age of media in which all was bright and shiny and innocent and unsullied by the manipulations and mindfuckery of our goods-shilling craplords, but the more I think about it, the more I find myself assuming that that’s simply not the truth, and suspecting something else: there has always been a marketing motive behind television.

Anyhow:

Via: Bavatuesdays

James Houston from the Glasgow school of art posted this submission to a Radiohead remix contest for the song ‘Nude’. His orchestration includes an ancient printer, scanner, Sinclair, and array of hard drives. Impressive… very impressive.

Big Ideas (don’t get any) from James Houston on Vimeo.

Amazing blog post by Errol Morris about his interpretations the NYT article published on March 11 which contained the ‘hooded man’ photograph taken at Abu Grahib. The article delves into the complexities in interpreting reality that photographic mediums inject into subject, and how the photograph, in conjunction with a subsequent photograph of another man (falsely) identified as the man in the photograph taken at Abu Grahib, sheds light on the self-deception we all-too-often employ in our interpretation of visual media.

Will the Real Hooded Man Please Stand Up

Uh… this is nuts: rubbersuitstudios.com

And then, looser, this collection of random shit returned on googling ‘rubbersuit’…
Link 1
Link 2
Link 3

What in the name of sweet jebus is going on…?!!?!

It’s been yet another fucking crazy bunch of months, with the insanity ranging from the arrival of the shark, his subsequent and unpleasant break-up-confusion-insanity with his girl Andrea, my first full summer in Vancouver, our weekend loaded bike-touring missions, and trying to plan and organize a camp for Burningman, complete with shade structures and a kitchen, for a dozen people. After the long, drawn-out winter, I have to say that this onslaught of activity is a welcome situation, as it provides much-needed distraction for my fairly limited social reality out here. The truth is, that despite how busy I am, and how completely stoked I am that Mark is now living out here, I’m still incredibly homesick, and the rich social tapestry that I enjoyed over my last year or two in Toronto is sorely absent here.

But I’ve bitched about that quite enough, thankee very much.

Anyhow, rather than continue to ramble and kvetch, I’m going to embed some footage of the Belgian Waffle, a giant structure build out of lumber by 98 Belgians last year at burningman. Just watching this video makes me antsy… I can’t wait to be back on the playa…

It has been a veritable zoo lately, what with the barrage of visitors in town from a far (many staying with us, othere merely in town with revved-up livers, and others moving here for the forseeable future). Mis, Wojtek’s bro, visited for a week, at the same time as Seb ended up out here for work for about a fortnight. The tail end of both of their visits intersected with the much-anticipated arrival of Mark (the infamous Sharkey), and this collision resulted in no small amount of booze being liberated from an assortment of bottles, bags, tetrapaks, and kegs.

We hit up both the mignight-mass ride and the full critical mass ride, both of which were epic, with the former seeing us zooming around a non-illuminated rubberized outdooor running track (colloquially named the ghettodrome) on our bikes with a bunch of other drunken miscreants at 2am on a work night, and the latter resulting in us taking over the Lion’s Gate Bridge with nearly a thousand other cyclointoxicated freaks. And the afterparty at the Anza was bitchin’.

This past weekend the Shark and I hit the final snowboarding day of the season up at Blackcomb with a few folks from work, and I have to say that I’m going to have an incredibly difficult time leaving this province anytime soon - even on a day where the air temperature was 11deg. celcius, and the sun made it even hotter, the boarding was bloody phenomenal, even despite having crammed my broken toe into my boot. Truly a great cap to my first season boarding, and overall a revelatory moment - I haven’t been so stoked on the possibilities of a place since I landed in Byron Bay Australia and started surfing four years ago.

Going from a sunny Pacific beach to the summit of one of the best snowboarding mountains in the world in two hours flat is truly an experience without compare.

Two words: FUCK YES.

The only down side?

I’m pretty certain that the ever-worsening pain in my left hip/asscheek is either iliotibial band tendonitis, or trochanteric bursitis. Either way, I’m laid-up for a while until it resolves - you can push through a busted toe, but screwing around with inflamed tendons is a great way to mess yourself up for a good long while.

Quite literally, a giant pain in the ass.