If you’re applyÂing to StanÂford, this is what you’re up against. UnderÂgrads like Ravi FerÂnanÂdo (Class of 2014) who can solve a Rubik’s Cube … while jugÂgling. You might want to have a safeÂty school!
French post-strucÂturalÂist philosopher/sociologist Jean BauÂdrillard—usuÂalÂly idenÂtiÂfied with his postÂmodÂern theÂoÂries of simÂuÂlacra—is a litÂtle bit of a fringe figÂure in pop culÂture. Known to hip acaÂdÂeÂmÂic types and avant-garde-ists, he’s maybe the kind of thinker who gets name-dropped more than read (and he’s no easy read).
But in the audio clip above, BauÂdrillard reads to us, from his poetÂry no less, while backed by the swirling abstract sounds of The Chance Band, an all art-star ensemÂble feaÂturÂing Tom WatÂson (of The MissÂingÂmen), George HurÂley (of The MinÂuteÂmen and fIREÂHOSE), Lynn JohnÂston, Dave Muller, Amy Stoll, and guest vocalÂist, theÂoÂrist AllucÂquère Rosanne (“Sandy”) Stone. It’s an odd, one-time, assemÂblage of artists and thinkers UbuWeb describes as “unbeÂlievÂable but true!”:
RecordÂed live as part of the Chance FesÂtiÂval at Whiskey Pete’s CasiÂno in StateÂline NevaÂda, 1996. You’ve nevÂer heard BauÂdrillard like this before! Music to read NietÂzsche to.
Look at what Neels CastilÂlon unexÂpectÂedÂly capÂtured on film while doing some shootÂing at a MarÂseille airÂport. Birds doing a pretÂty incredÂiÂble balÂlet in the sky. If you enjoy watchÂing murÂmuÂraÂtions, you’ll want to watch this othÂer footage shot in Rome and espeÂcialÂly this breathÂtakÂing (no hyperÂbole here) clip from IreÂland. It’s all quite stunÂning.
Close your eyes and picÂture a philÂanÂthropist.
LikeÂly you enviÂsioned a fat cat with a designÂer checkÂbook. It’s the acceptÂed image, but not every beneÂfacÂtor fits the mold.
Take Mark LanÂdis, a genÂtle soul who’s spent three decades surÂprisÂing the staffs of small AmerÂiÂcan museÂums with artÂwork preÂsentÂed out of the blue. Not just any artÂwork, and cerÂtainÂly not the nineÂteenth-cenÂtuÂry origÂiÂnals they were repÂreÂsentÂed as—in every case, donor LanÂdis was evenÂtuÂalÂly revealed to be the artist.
In TerÂri TimeÂly’s docÂuÂmenÂtary glimpse, “Father PhilÂanÂthropy” (above, with a deletÂed scene below), LanÂdis obligÂingÂly guides viewÂers through the mulÂti-step process by which his forgÂeries are creÂatÂed, but he reveals litÂtle about his motiÂvaÂtion, beyond a desire to honÂor the memÂoÂry of his parÂents (MothÂer looms large here.)
His fakes don’t add up to a grand conÂcepÂtuÂal piece, a la artist J. S. G. BogÂgs’ incredÂiÂbly detailed, far-more-valuÂable-than-the-items-they-were-used-to-purÂchase banÂknotes. He seems indifÂferÂent to the posÂsiÂbilÂiÂty of high proÂfile, if ill gotÂten, presÂtige. He is, quite simÂply a givÂer. His gifts cost the recipÂiÂents proÂfesÂsionÂal pride and unexÂpectÂed fees assoÂciÂatÂed with ferÂretÂing out the truth, but they seem malÂice-free. “About all I’ve got is an abilÂiÂty to draw and paint,” he states, “So natÂuÂralÂly it led me to give away drawÂing and paintÂings.”
The quick backÂstoÂry: “Dean PotÂter walks a highÂline at CatheÂdral Peak as the sun sets and the moon risÂes. Shot from over 1 mile away with a Canon 800mm and 2X by Mikey SchaeÂfer. This shot was part of a bigÂger project for NationÂal GeoÂgraphÂic called The Man Who Can Fly. ”
It has been said that the domÂiÂnant influÂences on F. Scott FitzgerÂald were litÂerÂaÂture, ZelÂda, alcoÂhol, and PrinceÂton. The phoÂtos above were takÂen durÂing the novÂelÂist’s PrinceÂton days, where he played an active role in The PrinceÂton TriÂanÂgle Club, writÂing scripts and lyrics for what’s now the oldÂest colÂleÂgiate musiÂcal-comÂeÂdy troupe in the US. After FitzgerÂald failed sevÂerÂal exams, he was barred from perÂformÂing in the club’s 1916 musiÂcal proÂducÂtion, The Evil Eye!. A shame, givÂen that he co-wrote the script. But F. Scott wasÂn’t going to be comÂpleteÂly denied. Yes, he posed in drag for a pubÂlicÂiÂty phoÂto that appeared in The New York Times on JanÂuÂary 2, 1916. The newsÂpaÂper called him “the most beauÂtiÂful” girl in the show.
Say chowÂder out loud: chowÂder. The word sounds like food. Not an appeÂtizÂer either. An entree in a small crock topped with broÂken crackÂers.
As with so many things relatÂed to food, chowÂder is a stoÂried dish. It hails from New EngÂland and northÂeastÂern CanaÂda, its first writÂten refÂerÂence datÂing back to 1732 when a jourÂnalÂist recalls dinÂing on a “fine chowÂdered cod.”
There are as many types of chowÂder as there are soup, though a true chowÂder is more like a stew than a soup. Some purists would rather eat slugs than a chowÂder with tomaÂtoes in it or whose name refÂerÂences New York. But all chowÂders must feaÂture the folÂlowÂing: broth, salt pork, bisÂcuit and seafood.
Aside from that, all bets are off. Chow down.
Of course a regionÂal dish with this long a hisÂtoÂry and which leaves this much room for interÂpreÂtaÂtion deserves a hisÂtoÂry of its own, and so the good peoÂple at the UniÂverÂsiÂty of MassÂaÂchuÂsetts, Amherst creÂatÂed the New EngÂland ChowÂder ComÂpendiÂum, a colÂlecÂtion of recipes and ephemera explorÂing how chowÂder rose to become a staÂple of New EngÂland cookÂery.
Culled from cookÂbooks held by the university’s BeatÂrice McInÂtosh CookÂery ColÂlecÂtion, the comÂpendiÂum chronÂiÂcles chowÂder recipes from the 1700s to the 1970s, through lean times and fat, through recipes heavy with cream and withÂout.
And so, as readÂers click through feaÂtured chowÂder recipes from the 1920s on through to the 1940s, they’re sure to notice the ways ingreÂdiÂents vary. Use evapÂoÂratÂed milk and a litÂtle water, if cream is not availÂable. HouseÂwives were wise in the 1940s to be thrifty while makÂing fresh stock from knuckÂles: Save that fat that rose to the top and sell it to your meat dealÂer.
We thought that BrazenÂhead Books might qualÂiÂfy as the quirkiÂest bookÂstore we’ve encounÂtered. After all, it’s run out of Michael SeiÂdenÂberg’s apartÂment in New York City. But get a load of this: The Monkey’s Paw, which calls itself “Toronto’s most idioÂsynÂcratÂic secÂond-hand bookÂshop,” has installed the BibÂlio-mat, a vendÂing machine that disÂpensÂes ranÂdom books for a very nomÂiÂnal fee — $2 per book. (If you’re lookÂing for $0, see our lists below.) In a recent interÂview with QuillandQuire.com, Stephen Fowler, the bookÂstore’s ownÂer, explained the stoÂry behind the BibÂlio-mat:
I went fishÂing this past sumÂmer with Craig Small, co-founder of The JugÂgerÂnaut, an aniÂmaÂtion stuÂdio in ToronÂto. I had this idea that I would love to have a vendÂing machine that gave out ranÂdom books. I picÂtured it as a paintÂed refrigÂerÂaÂtor box with one of my assisÂtants inside; peoÂple would put in a coin and he would drop a book out. But Craig is more pragÂmatÂic and visionÂary then I am. He said, “You need to have an actuÂal mechanÂiÂcal vendÂing machine.” That was beyond my wildest imagÂinÂings, but not Craig’s, so he just built it for me.
Thanks to Small, you can now watch the BibÂlio-mat in action above. It whirrs. It vibrates. And it finalÂly delivÂers a book with a satÂisÂfyÂing clunk.
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