Oh yes, I do like it when the Church gets some balls. Religious balls, obviously. Though I am disappointed to note that phrases like “may all the City hotshots burn for eternity in the darkest cesspits of Hell” don’t seem to be included.
"An enormously troubled state of mind doesn’t make an author great. Sublime writing does." I heartily agree, and the fact that I own at least three books on the subject of mental health = artistic greatness does not affect that opinion. After all, I was young when I bought them, and highly impressionable.
Possibly entirely correct. But then I don’t think I could ever live with myself if I started taking advice from a site called Brazen Careerist, featuring a cheesy header picture of the author smiling benevolently on all her idolising readers as they lap up her words of wisdom.
“None of this is about morality, or religion, or dogma, or big fancy questions of life after death. The capital-T Truth is about life before death. It is about making it to 30, or maybe 50, without wanting to shoot yourself in the head. It is about simple awareness - awareness of what is so real and essential, so hidden in plain sight all around us …”—A speech by the late David Foster Wallace
“Brompton Road is a street in Knightsbridge, London. It starts from Knightsbridge tube station and runs south-west through an extremely wealthy residential area until it reaches Egerton Gardens and the area to the east of South Kensington tube station. It ends at what is popularly known as Brompton Cross, becoming Fulham Road, home of Chelsea Football Club.”—Brompton Road on Wikipedia
“The word Dymaxion is a brand name that Buckminster Fuller used for several of his inventions. It is an abbreviation of “dynamic maximum tension” , however it has also been reported that the name is a combination of the words dynamic, maximum, and ion, per the National Automobile Museum.”—Dymaxion on Wikipedia
Another Lifehacker gem. If the headline alone doesn’t make you want to shoot yourself in the head, then the five essential tips - including one which suggests you should “open up a best-selling business book” - sure will.
“We should start with the title: “national poet” would be better. And let’s give the new national poet access to national life: from the forces in Iraq to the mosques of Bradford. Let’s make sure they’re present when we make discoveries about sub-atomic particles and host the Olympics. And let’s invite him or her to the christenings, birthdays and marriages of ordinary people across the country. We couldn’t, and shouldn’t, dictate what they write.”—Mark Ravenhill on Andrew Motion and the post of poet laureate
Fantastic news. Here’s my equation. Garments - things you wear on your body. Prosthetic limbs - things you wear on your body. Result: it can only be a matter of time before I get my dream of the beautifully designed and highly ergonomic Apple iLeg. I’m going to get straight on the phone to Cupertino.
“Except inasmuch as it can help move aside barriers to finishing the projects that you claim matter to you, ‘productivity’ is often a sprawling ghetto of well-marketed nonsense for people who really just need a ritalin and a hug.”—43 Folders: Time, Attention, and Creative Work
As an ‘occasional’ Facebook user (ahem), I don’t object to the new design, but this move seems draconian. I do, however, object to the way that they don’t seem to have quite settled on the placement of lements and menus, and thus things keep moving around …
One of those double-edged stories. Whilst I celebrate the fact that fat cat executives are feeling the pinch, my attention is drawn to the byline: “… levelling off in packages of all but elite few bosses”. Hmm. Presumably we all have to be entirely broke before they’re affected.
What the web was invented for. A member of the public seeking useful advice from the assembled hordes on Metafilter on disposing of a body if - and only if, obviously - they had killed someone. My faith in the human race has instantly been restored by this thread [via]
Apparently, the Queen never gives Poet Laureate Andrew Motion any opinions on his work for her. Shocking. Off with his head. And if he doesn’t want the job, I’ll do it. Ahem. “There was an old monarch called Lizzie …”
The Guardian’s homepage is currently carrying this headline under the delightfully pithy wording of "Estate agents selling only one house a week". I am trying to have sympathy with them, really I am. Really. But no, sorry, I just can’t find even an ounce of pity in my stony heart.
"… apparently it’s easier and faster to just misspell words on your iPhone than to take the time to type them out in full". We are breeding a nayshun of geekki tecknickerologikle illeterits. Or sumfink.