Many religious leaders would like to liven up their services to attract a younger, hipper flock, but few have the necessary background to pull it off in a truly impressive way. Not so for the Japanese Buddhist priest Gyōsen Asakura, who answered the higher calling after a career as a DJ but evidently never lost his feel for the unstoppable pulse of electronic music. Getting behind his decks and donning his headphones once again, he has begun using sound, light, and the original splendor of Fukui City’s Shō-onji temple to hold “techno memorial services.” You can see and hear a bit of one such audiovisual spiritual spectacle in the video just above, shot at a memorial service last fall.
“Buddhism may be approaching something of a crisis point in Japan,” reports Buddhistdoor’s Craig Lewis, “with 27,000 of the country’s 77,000 Buddhist temples forecast to close over the next 25 years, reflecting shrinking populations in small rural communities and a loss of faith in organized religion among the country’s population as a whole.”
He also sites an Asahi Shimbun survey that found 434 temples closed over the past decade and 12,065 Japanese Buddhist temples currently without resident monks. Can this temple in a small city, itself known for its phoenix-like rise from the ashes of the Second World War, do its part to reverse the trend?
Gyōsen Asakura frames his techno memorial services, however incongruous they might at first seem, as in keeping with the traditions of his branch of Pure Land Buddhism. “Originally, golden decorations in the temple are expressions of paradise light,” he told THUMP. “However, the light of a traditional temple has not changed its form from 1000 years ago to use candlelight, even after electricity was invented. I felt doubtful about that, and then I thought about expressing paradise with the latest stage lighting such as 3D mapping.”
After all, as he said to Japankyo, “people used to use the most advanced technologies available to them at the time in order to ornament temples with gold leaf,” so why not harness today’s technology to evoke the Buddhist “world of light” as well? And in any case, ecstatic sensory experiences are nothing new in the realm of faith, though ecstatic sensory experiences of Gyōsen Asakura’s kind do cost money to put together. And so he, in the way of most religious projects the world over, has asked for donations to fund them, using not a bowl but the crowdfunding site Readyfor. Judging by 383,000 yen (more than $3300 U.S. dollars) he’s already raised, quite a few techno-heads have seen the light.
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Based in Seoul, Colin Marshall writes and broadcasts on cities and culture. He’s at work on a book about Los Angeles, A Los Angeles Primer, the video series The City in Cinema, the crowdfunded journalism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Angeles Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Follow him on Twitter at @colinmarshall or on Facebook.
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“The joys of motoring are more or less fictional,” wrote Zelda Fitzgerald to Ludlow Fowler, a friend of her husband F. Scott, in 1920. But what an inspiring breadth of fiction they’ve inspired on the page and screen, mostly set along the seemingly endless road-miles of America. But look over to Germany, a land of drivers renowned for their love of and respect for the automobile, and you find a whole other sort of, as it were, driving-driven creativity. Most famously, 34 years after Fitzgerald wrote to Fowler, a young Düsseldorf band by the name of Kraftwerk looked to the joys of motoring and laid down their signature song: “Autobahn.”
Taking up 22 full minutes of the eponymous 1974 album (though less than three and a half as a single), “Autobahn,” which rock critic Robert Christgau described as emanating from “a machine determined to rule all music with a steel hand and some mylar,” uses the kind of electronic composition techniques Kraftwerk would go on to popularize to evoke the feeling of movement on the titular German highway system.
“We used to drive a lot,” percussionist Wolfgang Flür once recalled. “We used to listen to the sound of driving, the wind, passing cars and lorries, the rain, every moment the sounds around you are changing, and the idea was to rebuild those sounds on the synth.”
But as veteran road-trippers know, you aren’t really driving unless the driving hypnotizes you: not only should you spend prolonged stretches of time on the road, you should ideally do it to a rhythmically and temporally suitable sonic backdrop. And so we offer you this live 40-minute version of “Autobahn” which, in the words of Electronic Beats, “demonstrates what a musical force the group was back in the day,” taken from “a show in the German city of Leverkusen that fuses the group’s latter-era techno-futurism with its earlier free-jazz psychedelic freakiness.” To keep the road-robot mood rolling, why not fire up the animated “Autobahn” music video from 1979 we featured last year? But please, don’t watch while you drive — especially if there’s no speed limit.
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Based in Seoul, Colin Marshall writes and broadcasts on cities and culture. He’s at work on a book about Los Angeles, A Los Angeles Primer, the video series The City in Cinema, the crowdfunded journalism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Angeles Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Follow him on Twitter at @colinmarshall or on Facebook.
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Traditional Japanese carpentry, whether used to build a dinner table or the entire house containing it, doesn’t use screws, nails, adhesives, or any other kind of non-wooden fastener. So how do its constructions hold together? How have all those thousands of wooden houses, tables, and countless other objects and structures stood up for dozens and even hundreds of years, and so solidly at that? The secret lies in the art of joinery and its elaborate cutting techniques refined, since its origin in the seventh century, through generations and generations of steadily increasing mastery — albeit by a steadily dwindling number of masters.
河合継手 Kawai-tsugite pic.twitter.com/WQwxeZ7t4M
— The Joinery (@TheJoinery_jp) May 17, 2016
“Even until recent times when carpentry books began to be published, mastery of these woodworking techniques remained the fiercely guarded secret of family carpentry guilds,” writes Spoon & Tamago’s Johnny Strategy. If you find it difficult to grasp how simply cutting two pieces of wood in a certain way could unite them as if they’d grown together in the first place, have a look at a Twitter feed called The Joinery, run by a young enthusiast who has collected a great many of these carpentry books. He’s used them, in combination with mechanical design software skills presumably honed in his career in the auto industry, to create elegantly animated visual explanations of Japanese carpentry’s tried-and-true joinery methods.
三方組仕口 Sampo-gumi-shikuchi pic.twitter.com/OdgpaTBvcs
— The Joinery (@TheJoinery_jp) May 3, 2016
Archdaily points to the work of architect Shigeru Ban as one example of how this “uniquely Japanese wood aesthetic” has survived into the modern day, but the man behind The Joinery imagines even more ambitious possibilities: “3D printing and woodworking machinery has enabled us to create complicated forms fairly easily,” he tells Spoon & Tamago. “I want to organize all the joinery techniques and create a catalog of them all,” so that anyone with the tools might potentially make use of their beauty and sturdiness in hitherto unimagined new contexts. And so another traditional Japanese craft that has looked doomed to outmoded oblivion, what with all the more advanced and efficient fabrication and construction techniques developed over the past 1400 years, may well thrive in the future. To learn more about the art of joinery, you’ll want to explore this 1995 book, The Complete Japanese Joinery.
梨くずしの逆組み継ぎ Nashi-kuzushi-no-gyaku-kumitsugi pic.twitter.com/5T2EG0VGHm
— The Joinery (@TheJoinery_jp) January 4, 2017
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Japanese Craftsman Spends His Life Trying to Recreate a Thousand-Year-Old Sword
Based in Seoul, Colin Marshall writes and broadcasts on cities and culture. He’s at work on a book about Los Angeles, A Los Angeles Primer, the video series The City in Cinema, the crowdfunded journalism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Angeles Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Follow him on Twitter at @colinmarshall or on Facebook.
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The romantic allure of the ghostly, abandoned theme park is difficult to resist. Case in point: The Land of Oz, above, a not-entirely-defunct attraction nestled atop North Carolina’s Beech Mountain.
Debbie Reynolds, accompanied by her 13-year-old daughter, Carrie Fisher, cut the ribbon on the park’s opening day in 1970.
Its road was far from smooth, even before urban explorers began filching its 44,000 custom-glazed yellow bricks, eventually forcing management to repave with painted stand issue models.
One of its two founders died of cancer six months before opening, and later a fire destroyed the Emerald City and a collection of memorabilia from the 1939 MGM film.
Crippled by the gas crisis and insurmountable competition from Disney World and its ilk, the Land of Oz closed in 1980, thus sparing it the indignities of Yelp reviews and discerning child visitors whose expectations have been formed by CGI.
Its shuttering attracted another kind of tourist: the camera-toting, fence hopping connoisseurs of what is now known as “ruin porn.”
An isolated, abandoned theme park based on the Wizard of Oz? Could there be a holier grail?
Only trouble is…the Land of Oz didn’t stay shuttered. Local real estate developers cleaned it up a bit, luring overnight visitors with rentals of Dorothy’s house. They started a tradition of reopening the whole park for one weekend every October, and demand was such that June is now Land of Oz Family Fun Month. The International Wizard of Oz Club held its annual convention there in 2011. How abandoned can it be?
And yet, unofficial visitors, sneaking onto the grounds off-season, insist that it is. I get it. The quest of adventure, the desire for beautiful decay, the bragging rights… After photographing the invariably leaf strewn Yellow Brick Road, they turn their lenses to the lumpy-faced trees of the Enchanted Forest.
Yes, they’re creepy, but it’s less from “abandonment” than a low-budget approximation by the hands of artists less expert than those of the original.
It’s safe to presume that any leaves and weeds littering the premises are merely evidence of changing seasons, rather than total neglect.
What I want to know is, where’s the sex, drugs & rock’n’roll evidence of local teens’ off-season blowouts—no spray painted f‑bombs? No dead soldiers? Security must be pretty tight.
If creepy’s what the perpetuators of the abandonment myth crave, they could content themselves with the amateur footage above, shot by a visiting dad in 1970.
Those costumes! The scarecrow and the tin man in particular… Buzzfeed would love ’em, but it’s hard to imagine a millennial tot going for that mess. Their Halloween costumes were 1000 times more accurate.
(In interviews, the one generation who can remember the Land of Oz in its prime is a loyal bunch, recalling only their long ago sense of wonder and excitement. Ah, life before Betamax…)
The documentary video below should settle the abandonment myth once and for all. It opens not in Kansas, but New York City, as a carload of young performers heads off for their annual gig at the Land of Oz. They’re conversant in jazz hands and certain Friends of Dorothy tropes, surely more so than the local players who originally staffed the park. Clearly, these ringers were hired to turn in credible impersonations of the characters immortalized by Ray Bolger, Burt Lahr, and Judy Garland. Presumably, their updated costumes also passed muster with Autumn at Oz’s savvy child attendees.
Still craving that ruin porn? Business Insider published Seph Lawless’ photos of “the crumbling park” here.
If you’d prefer to rubberneck at a truly abandoned theme park, check out the Carpetbagger’s video tour of Cave City, Kentucky’s Funtown Mountain. (Though be forewarned. It was sold at auction in April 2016 and plans are afoot to reengineer it as as “an epic playground of wonder, imagination, and dreams.”)
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Ayun Halliday is an author, illustrator, theater maker and Chief Primatologist of the East Village Inky zine. Her play Zamboni Godot is opening in New York City in March 2017. Follow her @AyunHalliday.
Read More...December 7, 2016
Updated with additional signatures — December 16, 2016
Superintendent Ayindé Rudolph
Assistant Superintendent Cathy Baur
Mountain View Whisman School District
750‑A San Pierre Way
Mountain View, CA 94043–3133
Dear Superintendent Rudolph and Assistant Superintendent Baur:
We are the parents of current and incoming Graham and Crittenden sixth graders. After one trimester of the Teach to One (TTO) pilot, we have significant concerns with the program and its impact on our children as they prepare to enter the competitive high school environment. We recognize and praise the district for considering innovative ways to supplement student learning (Membeam, Lexia, Khan Academy). However, TTO does not appear to be serving our students as well as the traditional teacher-directed method.
We have found the TTO pilot to be ineffective in inspiring and encouraging our children. Living in Silicon Valley, we appreciate taking chances, examining impact and changing course if things are not working. After 3+ months of TTO, we feel that TTO is not the right solution for our students.
Overall, although laudable for its innovation, the TTO program is still under development and the kinks have not been worked out. Continuing to require the program, now that we have first-hand experience with the problems, would be a disservice to our children. We have fabulous, qualified and committed math teachers at Graham and Crittenden, and they should be permitted to teach our children, as they are trained to do. Online learning can be productive for extended learning, such as homework. But at this point, nothing matches the efficacy of a face-to-face student-teacher relationship in communicating complex and important materials. Students are not getting this from TTO in its current form. Some parents’ frustration has reached the point where they are now looking into other school options for seventh grade, which would be very unfortunate.
We understand that the district is currently evaluating TTO. With this letter, we respectfully ask that:
Below please find a list of items that summarize many parent concerns regarding the TTO program:
Thank you very much for your consideration.
Sincerely,
Signature of 180 parents
Read More...Dear parents:
We have finished half of the year in our Teach to One math program pilot and collected feedback from teachers, parents and students. In reviewing survey responses, letters, emails, and information provided by teachers, there are both positives and concerns across all groups and schools.
What we learned is that students have benefitted from Teach to One’s individualized learning and innovation. Teachers have access to daily data about their students’ progress and appreciate TTO’s ability to differentiate math instruction for all students. Additionally, our teachers and students stated that they find value in the math advisory, teacher-led instruction, virtual instruction and reinforcement, and task portions of TTO.
We have also heard the desire for a better balance between teacher-led instruction and Teach to One to provide students a deeper understanding of mathematical concepts. Moreover, there are some concerns that students need more exposure to grade-level and foundational concepts before advancing to higher-level skills.
So what comes next? As a District we operate as a learning organization. We have heard from some about abandoning the program completely, and from others who would like to continue to improve the delivery of this innovative program. Taking all factors into consideration, the District will make changes to the program, beginning Jan. 9 for the remainder of the year, to strike a better balance between technology-assisted and teacher-led instruction.
Teach to One will be reduced to 50% of class time. The other 50% of time students will work with a teacher on the level of Eureka Math appropriate for them. Students are assigned strategically for their Eureka math instruction based on the results of a variety of assessments. This will prepare students to be on target to exit eighth grade having completed Geometry, Algebra I or eighth-grade math.
In order to ensure that students deepen their knowledge before moving to a higher level, we will provide more traditional instruction time and modified TTO programming.
Teachers and administrators developed a new schedule for their individual sites, and details about the specific schedule will be communicated by each middle school principal on Jan. 3.
This pilot process is an important one that allows us to identify the strengths and weaknesses of Teach to One for all students, so that we may make changes in a thoughtful, methodical manner. Thank you for your support and patience.
Sincerely,
| Dr. Ayindé Rudolph
Superintendent |
Cathy Baur
Assistant Superintendent |
Angela Dillman
Crittenden Principal |
Kim Thompson
Graham Principal |
The legacy of Jimi Hendrix’s estate has been in conflict in recent years. Since his father’s death in 2002, his siblings have squabbled over his money and battled unlicensed and bootleg venders. But Hendrix’s musical legacy continues to amaze and inspire, as Janie Hendrix—his stepsister and CEO of the company that manages his music—has released album after album of rarities over the last couple decades. Not all of these releases have pleased Hendrix fans, who have called some of them mercenary and thoughtless. But it is always a joy to discover an unheard recording, whether a live performance, wobbly studio outtake, or semi-polished demo, so many of which reveal the territory Hendrix intended to chart before he died.
In 1982, some of that unreleased material made it into a four-hour Pacifica Radio documentary, which you can hear in four parts here. Produced by what the station calls “some of Pacifica’s finest” at its Berkeley “flagship station 94.1 FM,” the documentary does an excellent job of placing these recordings in context.
With help from Hendrix biographer David Henderson, the producers compiled “previously unheard and rare recordings” and interviews from Hendrix, his family, Noel Redding, Ornette Coleman, Stevie Wonder, John Lee Hooker, John McLaughlin, Chas Chandler, and more. After a newly-recorded introduction and a collage of Hendrix interview soundbites, Part 1 gets right down to it with a live version of “Are You Experienced?” that pulses from the speakers in hypnotic waves (listen to it on a solid pair of headphones if you can).
“I want to have stereo where the sound goes up,” says Hendrix in a soundbite, “and behind and underneath, you know? But all you can get now is across and across.” Somehow, even in ordinary stereo, Hendrix had a way of making sound surround his listeners, enveloping them in warm fuzzy waves of feedback and reverb. But he also had an equally captivating way with language, and not only in his song lyrics. Though the received portrait of Hendrix is of a shy, retiring person who expressed himself better with music, in many of these interviews he weaves together detailed memories and whimsical dreams and fantasies, composing imaginative narratives on the spot. Several extemporaneous lines could have easily flowered into new songs.
Hendrix briefly tells the story of his rise through the R&B and soul circuit as an almost effortless glide from the ranks of struggling sidemen, to playing behind Sam Cooke, Little Richard, and Ike and Tina Turner to starting his solo career. We move through the most famous stages of Hendrix’s life, with its iconic moments and cautionary tales, and by the time we get to Part 4, we start hearing a Hendrix most people never do, a preview of where his music might have gone into the seventies—with jazzy progressions and long, winding instrumental passages powered by the shuffling beats of Buddy Miles.
As has become abundantly clear in the almost four decades since Hendrix’s death, he had a tremendous amount of new music left in him, stretching in directions he never got to pursue. But the bit of it he left behind offers proof of just how influential he was not only on rock guitarists but also on blues and jazz fusion players of the following decade. His pioneering recording style (best heard on Electric Ladyland) also drove forward, and in some cases invented, many of the studio techniques in use today. Processes that can now be automated in minutes might took hours to orchestrate in the late sixties. Watching Hendrix mix in the studio “was like watching a ballet,” says producer Elliot Mazer.
This documentary keeps its focus squarely on Hendrix’s work, phenomenal talent, and uniquely innovative creative thought, and as such it provides the perfect setting for the rare and then-unreleased recordings you may not have heard before. Pacifica re-released the documentary last year as part of its annual fundraising campaign. The station is again soliciting funds to help maintain its impressive archives and digitize many more hours of tape like the Hendrix program, so stop by and make a donation if you can.
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Josh Jones is a writer and musician based in Durham, NC. Follow him at @jdmagness
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Debates over whether or not we should destroy or alter U.S. icons seem to turn on a critical question: are national symbols quasi-religious totems of some transcendent sacred order? The kind of imperial project likely to end up a collection of crumbling monuments with every other empire of the past? Or are they living emblems of a secular republic whose primary embodiment is its people? A country, like its people, that must reconstitute itself with each generation in order to survive?
Either way, the nation’s symbols have always withstood creative destruction, détournement, and recontextualization. Subjecting national iconography to the interventions of artists and activists restores a sense of proportion, showing us that our government and its symbols belong to the people, rather than the other way around. The idea is a powerful one. So much so that its expression never fails to excite controversy. And few expressions have provoked more ire than performances of (or responses to) the national anthem that deviate from the staid traditional arrangement.
We could point to very obvious anthem controversies, like Roseanne Barr’s irreverent 1990 rendition. But certain other interpretations have had much more serious artistic intent, like that of naturalized citizen Igor Stravinsky, whose 1944 version (top) came from his “desire to do my bit in these grievous times toward fostering and preserving the spirit of patriotism in this country.” Stravinsky’s earnest ambition was thwarted. He couldn’t help but add his signature, in this case a dominant seventh chord, to the arrangement.
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The Boston police responded by issuing him a warning, claiming, we noted in a previous post, “there was a law against tampering with the national anthem” (there wasn’t). Stravinsky “grudgingly” pulled the anthem from his Boston Symphony bill. Over twenty years later, the blind Puerto Rican folk singer José Feliciano played the anthem before the 1968 World Series in his own emotionally-charged style. And like Stravinsky, he was motivated by love of country. “I had set out to sing an anthem of gratitude to a country that had given me a chance,” he later recalled, “that had allowed me, a blind kid from Puerto Rico—a kid with a dream—to reach far above my own limitations.”
Much of the country did not respond in kind. Even during the performance, Feliciano could “feel the discontent within the waves of cheers and applause that spurred on the first pitch.” Afterwards, he learned that “a great controversy was exploding across the country because I had chosen to alter my rendition.… Veterans, I was being told, had thrown their shoes at the television as I sang; others questioned my right to stay in the United States.” Feliciano admits, “yes, it was different but I promise you,” he says, “it was sincere.” So was the most radical of “Star-Spangled Banner” interpretations, Jimi Hendrix’s feedback-laden version at Woodstock the following year.
A veteran himself, Hendrix wasn’t motivated by wartime patriotism or personal gratitude, but by a desire, perhaps, to tell the truth about what his country was doing to thousands of people in Southeast Asia—“Napalm bombs,” as he said at the time, “people getting burned up on TV.” It’s a subject he occasionally touched on lyrically; here he let the guitar tell it, “turning the music to a literal interpretation of the lyrics: bombs bursting in air, rockets lighting up the night,” writes Andy Cush at Spin, “Hendrix began to slyly use the music’s own martial bombast to reflect the violence carried out under his nation’s flag.” He was hardly the first to exploit the song’s inherent bombast.
Almost 100 years before Woodstock—before the national anthem was even the national anthem—one of the most iconic of American of composers re-arranged “The Star Spangled Banner.” John Philip Sousa (who would go on to write “Stars and Stripes Forever”) conceived the song in the “manner of Wagner’s Tannhäuser Overture,” New Yorker music critic Alex Ross tells us. (You can stream the Wagnerian adaptation of “The Star Spangled Banner” here.) He was “young and little known at that time,” Ross remarks, “and his slyly Wagnerian take on the future national anthem was eclipsed by the famously mediocre and expensive Centennial March that Wagner himself penned for the occasion.” There’s no indication Sousa’s arrangement provoked a national upset. But it did set a precedent for what we might as well call an American tradition of musicians altering the anthem, using it to speak not to Francis Scott Key’s America, but to their own.
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Josh Jones is a writer and musician based in Durham, NC. Follow him at @jdmagness
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Back before the public came to terms with the grim causal relationship between cigarettes and cancer, smoking was a jolly affair, whose pleasures extended well beyond the physical act.
Smoking was sociable. Yes, there were certain situations in which three on a match could spell doom, but a far greater likelihood that lighting an attractive stranger’s coffin nail might kindle conversation, and more.
If you were at a loss for words, you might break the ice with the trading cards manufacturers slipped inside cigarette packs, such as these mid-30s beauties that came inside packs of Greys, a now-defunct British cigarette brand, and favorite of WWI vets.
The subject is unusual. Sports, cinema stars, and military scenes were common themes of the time. The “Greys Anticipations” series took creative liberties, by imagining a (cancer-free) year 2500, in which Londoners would be privy to such innovations as solar-lighting, moving sidewalks, and wireless television…
Great Scott! Were they psychic!?
Hopefully not.
Hopefully, we’ve still got 484 years to find out…

“Picadilly, London, A.D. 2500: Roofed-in under non-conductive mica glass . . moving pathways . . rubber roadways avenued into 50, 100, 150 and 200 miles per hour . . suspended mono railways . . motors driven by atomic energy . . phonetic spelling . . wireless television . . lighted by captured solar rays . . excursions to Mars.”
I’m fine with excursions to Mars and monorails but atomic energy is as problematic as the health claims once put forward by cigarette ads.

“At the Customs House on the Roof of London, A.D. 2500: The railway train has followed the ichthyosaurus into extinction. Mighty aerial liners transport passengers in their thousands, with great cargoes of merchandise from continent to continent. Mankind, living amidst such tremendous achievements, thinks, plans, and acts with corresponding bigness.”
Hmm…I was kind of rooting for train travel to make a comeback…

“The Pleasure City, London, A.D. 2500: Pleasure-seeking has been raised to a fine art … mutitudes when the short day’s work is done find a satisfying means of relaxation in smoking “GREYS” Cigarettes and listening to the mammoth mechanical orchestra … characteristic of the music of the period … music so complex that it can be rendered only by wonderous mechanism.”
This does sound rather fun, depending on who’s doing the programming… perhaps we should just stick with headphones and a busker on every corner.

A Hive of Industry, A.D. 2500: Literally a “hive” in that it is a city unto itself … radiating from the mammoth super-factory are workers’ dwellings and associated institutes … architecture governed by the prevailing material — concrete … no smoke (other than from tobacco!) … no household cooking . . meals delivered by pneumatic tube from central cookhouse.
Um…I strongly suggest revisiting Terry Gilliam’s 1985 film, Brazil, before signing off on the whole pneumatic tube thing.
Darran Anderson, author of Imaginary Cities, took a closer look at one of the cards in the above talk about imaginary London. I share his opinion that “phonetic spelling… is the best thing that they envisaged of the future.”
He also notes that the card is about 20 years ahead of its time in promoting a mid-50s‑style vision of the future, but that it failed to predict the demise of Greys Cigarettes, by prominently advertising them on the side of a suspended monorail.
Hubris!
via Metafilter
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Ayun Halliday is an author, illustrator, theater maker and Chief Primatologist of the East Village Inky zine. Her play Zamboni Godot is opening in New York City in March 2017. Follow her @AyunHalliday
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Alice’s Restaurant. It’s now a Thanksgiving classic, and something of a tradition around here. Recorded in 1967, the 18+ minute counterculture song recounts Arlo Guthrie’s real encounter with the law, starting on Thanksgiving Day 1965. As the long song unfolds, we hear all about how a hippie-bating police officer, by the name of William “Obie” Obanhein, arrested Arlo for littering. (Cultural footnote: Obie previously posed for several Norman Rockwell paintings, including the well-known painting, “The Runaway,” that graced a 1958 cover of The Saturday Evening Post.) In fairly short order, Arlo pleads guilty to a misdemeanor charge, pays a $25 fine, and cleans up the thrash. But the story isn’t over. Not by a long shot. Later, when Arlo (son of Woody Guthrie) gets called up for the draft, the petty crime ironically becomes a basis for disqualifying him from military service in the Vietnam War. Guthrie recounts this with some bitterness as the song builds into a satirical protest against the war: “I’m sittin’ here on the Group W bench ’cause you want to know if I’m moral enough to join the Army, burn women, kids, houses and villages after bein’ a litterbug.” And then we’re back to the cheery chorus again: “You can get anything you want, at Alice’s Restaurant.”
We have featured Guthrie’s classic during past years. But, for this Thanksgiving, we give you the illustrated version. Happy Thanksgiving to everyone who plans to celebrate the holiday today.
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