You never forget your first love. Don’t miss The Best of Me - in theaters October 17. 

watching this gif feels exhausting and I can’t figure out why.

watching this gif makes my back hurt.



You never forget your first love. Don’t miss The Best of Me - in theaters October 17. 

watching this gif feels exhausting and I can’t figure out why.

watching this gif makes my back hurt.

Reblogged from Final Boss Form
We are a team of libertarian cocaine dealers. We never buy coke from cartels! We never buy coke from police! We help farmers from Peru, Bolivia and some chemistry students in Brazil, Paraguay and Argentina. We do fair trade! – Excerpt from seller page – Evolution, accessed December 28, 2013

This is the best opium you will try, by purchasing this you are supporting local farmers in the hills of Guatemala and you are not financing violent drug cartels. – Excerpt from seller page – Evolution, accessed March 28, 2014”
'Fair trade' cocaine and 'conflict-free' opium: the future of online drug marketing via Alexis Madrigal, amazing article about how the illegal drug trade plays out online.
While I expected that what I saw might change, what I never expected was the impact my behavior would have on my friends’ feeds. I kept thinking Facebook would rate-limit me, but instead it grew increasingly ravenous. My feed become a cavalcade of brands and politics and as I interacted with them, Facebook dutifully reported this to all my friends and followers.

That first night, a small little circle with a dog’s head popped up in the corner of my phone. A chat head, from Facebook’s Messenger software! The dog turned out to be my old WIRED editor, John Bradley. “Have you been hacked,” he wanted to know. The next morning, my friend Helena sent me a message. “My fb feed is literally full of articles you like, it’s kind of funny,” she says. “No friend stuff, just Honan likes.” I replied with a thumbs up. This continued throughout the experiment. When I posted a status update to Facebook just saying “I like you,” I heard from numerous people that my weirdo activity had been overrunning their feeds. “My newsfeed is 70 percent things Mat has liked,” noted my pal Heather. Eventually, I would hear from someone who worked at Facebook, who had noticed my activity and wanted to connect me with the company’s PR department.”

I Liked Everything I Saw on Facebook for Two Days. Here’s What It Did to Me | Gadget Lab | WIRED

There are a lot of interesting things in this article about the effects of “liking everything” on FB. But far as I’m concerned, that last sentence is really the gem.

(“Trenches have a distinctive zig zag pattern to minimize the damage a single bullet or explosion could cause. This photo also shows the scale of devastation that bombing left on the landscape.” via Aerial Photography From WWI Shows the Massive Scale of Devastation | Science | WIRED)

Inspired in part by Chris Woebken’s work, last semester was spent puzzling over animal perception by the ways that animals build, move, and act. it was really an exercise in armchair phenomenology, in starting to consider human perception with the same distance.

When you look — with that distance — at the evidence of our brief tenure on the planet, you come across these epic collaborative structures built by thousands, or millions of people in short periods of time. This one, from a hundred years ago, is a pretty solid argument for the two unique aspects of our species tangled up so deeply with one another. They are the quality of being seduced and motivated by wildly irrational ideas, and the ability to see things through with rational ant-like precision.

If I have to bet on which impulse determines the fate of the species, I still bet on that first one, the irrational drive. Whether that’s hopeful or hopeless, it’s still a good bet.

On the surface it’s aims are laudable Every one of us. Everywhere. Connected, it is set up to serve people such as the farmers and students I’ve met on this trip, those who will significantly benefit from basic connectivity. The sentiment of my peers, including conversations with some Facebook employees is that’s intent is closer to Every one of us. Everywhere. Connected to Facebook. Feeding the Beast, a solution to a growth strategy that was hitting natural limits, and a flag in the distant sands for stock-vested troops to charge towards.”
The people dancing and talking and singing in beige rooms with 8’ ceilings are surrounded by standards, physically and online. Technological standards like HTML5 also allow us to view web pages and look at video over the Internet. All of their frolic is bounded by a set of conventions that are essentially invisible yet define our national physical and technological architecture. Their dancing, talking bodies are the only non-standardized things in the videos.

But we’re working on that too. Michelle Phan’s makeup tutorials have hundreds of millions of views. Behind Phan are lovely, well-produced backgrounds. They shift and move over and over.”
Come on (at Bridgeport (Metro-North station))

Come on (at Bridgeport (Metro-North station))


Another Near Future Laboratory Press book project done got done! This time — it’s a catalog of the near future, telling a story about the world we’ll get if things continue on their path. It’s in the Design Fiction genre, which means it’s seriously witty and weird. Something you can read as the end-game for Silicon Valley’s fascinatingly weird exuberance. (Thanks Mike Judge for opening that up!) It doesn’t predict, although most everything in here is imminent. It’s more a provocation to help you stop and think about the weird things we take for granted as desirable. Made by hand, published by robot and created with an amazing group of incredibly thoughtful, creative, funny folks 

TBD Catalog Available for Order!

Reblogged from Julian Does Stuff


Andy Warhol’s birthday burger.

Sometimes I feel like we — all of us — are just stuck in a dream that Andy Warhol had. Had he ever woken up, this whole shit would have vanished.

Reblogged from Fog of War

Syria. Civilian sector of Aleppo, April and May of this year.

Made with “barrel bombs,” which are just water barrels filled with explosives and metal shards, dropped from helicopters onto homes. By the government.



David Byrne not  making  sense in the middle of Stop Making Sense.


David Byrne not  making  sense in the middle of Stop Making Sense.

Reblogged from Whispering Glades
Work session @medialab and someone brilliant just said this and I want to say it every day.

Work session @medialab and someone brilliant just said this and I want to say it every day.

And now we come at last to Watermans’;
Our host is waiting pleasantly inside.
“And play a safe game, will you, John, this time?”
Louise says while we park our car.
“I will, Louise, I will.” I know I will. And after greetings, Waterman exclaims,
“A fine mess in the Far East, boys and girls,”
And we agree, and we sit down to play.
Tonight they burn Shanghai, and we are safe -
Safe from the world and all its puzzles-safe
From everything except our own contempt.

(Tonight Shanghai is burning,
And we are dying too.
What bomb more surely mortal
Than death inside of you?

For some men die by shrapnel,
And some go down in flames,
But most men perish inch by inch,
In play at little games.)”

Full poem here 

I was thinking of this today for reasons that are either perfectly obvious to you, or will never occur to you.

I saw it written up here:

"The poem, “The Night They Burned Shanghai”, was written Robert D. Abrahams. It was about a Philadelphia couple that was driving across town to play bridge with some friends. They talked casually about the heroic revolutionary battles that had been fought on the very land they were driving through, and their conversation evolved into a discussion of world travel. They dreamed aloud about where they wanted to go, and they agreed that they would have to cross Shanghai, China off the list because on that very night it was being burned to the ground by the Japanese Army in a battle that preceded World War II. Then they arrived at their friend’s home and played bridge."

It was written by my grandfather, Bob Abrahams, back when Shanghai burned in 1932. He was always at the very very edges of wars, never in their center, and I don’t know how to answer what he wrote.

It’s not the best poem I ever read, but it’s timeless and timely, and that’s how you know it’s true.

My other grandfather was a refugee in the Shanghai ghetto about 15 years prior. Unlike Bob, he didn’t care much for games.