Let's Get Isolated

Deep in the Amazon jungle, one of the Brazil's last uncontacted indigenous tribes has been photographed from the air, to prove its existence.

The pictures show tribesmen, painted red from head to toe, preparing to defend themselves with longbows against the aircraft carrying out the photography...(The Guardian)

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Let's get these guys plugged in. They should do another flyover with some of those $100 laptops . Shouldn't they be blogging? Maybe they have some thoughts on China?

From the BBC - Great tit finds home in ashtray

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/scotland/tayside_and_central/7423903.stm

The bird chose the cigarette bin despite an array of ready-made nests

Smokers visiting a nature reserve in Kinross have been told to make alternative arrangements after a Great Tit built a nest in a cigarette bin.

Despite a range of ready-made nest boxes around Vane Farm at Loch Leven the bird has opted for the bin outside the visitors' centre door.

Luckily the nest was spotted by a visitor who saw the bird emerge from the box before it was used by a smoker.

The RSPB said there are currently about four baby Great Tits in the nest.

Raymond Welsh, the visitor centre and coffee shop manager, said the birds were proving to be a huge attraction.

He said: "A couple on holiday from England told me that a tit was nesting in the cigarette box.

"At first I thought they were mistaken and that the birds were just looking for food.

"Then I looked in the box and there she was sitting quietly on her nest.

"It's just great that nature is everywhere."

Although Vane Farm has several CCTV cameras on nests around the site beaming images straight into the coffee shop, staff are unable to view the "Butt Bin" family as the box is sealed up and made of metal.

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I thought the Brits were more clever than this. Wasted potential, indeed.

Marvin Gaye's "What's Going On" - The Greatest Album of All Time

(listen at whatsgoingon.muxtape.com)

Chances are that those who are more or less unfamiliar with Marvin Gaye associate him with 1) “Let’s Get it On” (the song) and 2) “Sexual Healing,” in that order. While both of these songs are classics in their own right, they obscure the fact that Marvin Gaye is responsible for the best album of all time. It is called “What’s Going On.”

Before I comment upon why it is the best album of all time, I realize that many of you have been led astray by false proclamations of greatness of certain movies, songs, or records. I’ll forgive you for a bit of suspicion, but, in the present case, such apprehension is entirely unfounded.

Released in 1971, “What’s Going On” was a testament to the tumultuous times of the day. Nevertheless, the songs are just as lyrically potent and politically relevant today. Hitting on such themes as the effects of war (the title track), destruction to the environment (Mercy Mercy Me [The Ecology]), empathy for suffering friends and neighbors (What’s Happening Brother), and, among others, the sad state of urban America (Inner City Blues [Makes Me Wanna Holler], which also has one of the most bad ass bass lines).

Marvin Gaye allegedly told Smokey Robinson that god/God was writing the album, and that Gaye was just the vessel. As a result of this (or despite this depending on your predilections), the results are striking. Have a listen at: whatsgoingon.muxtape.com.

I know I'm a little late on this bandwagon, blame it on the Acid.

Dodos Are Not

Summer Hours Mix Tape

School's out. This campus is on the d-l. A mix tape for the the 4 p.m. quitting time.

Mix TAPE #1

This just in from the BBC...

Cannabis blunder at Tokyo airport

An unwitting passenger arriving at Japan's Narita airport has received 142g of cannabis after a customs test went awry, officials say.

A customs officer hid a package of the banned substance in a side pocket of a randomly chosen suitcase in order to test airport security.

Sniffer dogs failed to detect the cannabis and the officer could not remember which bag he had put it in.

Anyone finding the package has been asked to contact customs officials.

"This case was extremely regrettable. I would like to deeply apologise," said Narita International Airport's customs head Manpei Tanaka.

Prince: A Retrospective - Vol. 1

Have you changed your mind about touring since you announced the Purple Rain tour would be your last?

No. I don't plan on touring for a while. There are so many other things to do.

Now that Purple Rain has made you such a huge superstar, do you worry about the possibility of a backlash against you?

One thing I'd like to say is that I don't live in a prison. I am not afraid of anything. I haven't built any walls around myself, and I am just like anyone else. I need love and water, and I'm not afraid of a backlash because, like I say, there are people who will support my habits as I have supported theirs. I don't really consider myself a superstar. I live in a small town, and I always will. I can walk around and be me. That's all I want to be, that's all I ever tried to be. I didn't know what was gonna happen. I'm just trying to do my best and if somebody dug it then (kiss, kiss to the camera).

What are your religious beliefs?

I believe in God. There is only one God. And I believe in an afterworld. Hopefully we'll all see it. I have been accused of a lot of things contrary to this, and I just want people to know that I'm very sincere in my beliefs. I pray every night, and I don't ask for much. I just say, "Thank you" all the time.

Dosh

Believe the hype. Dosh gets face time on Gothamist. Minneapolis represent.

Try this at home.

Maiden Voyage

Chat with Todd Hansen

These messages were sent while you were offline.

1:28 PM Todd: dude

i'm going to IRon Maiden tonight

Calcutta

Play Me -->

∞§∞§∞§∞§ Neon Deon ¶•¶•¶•

I'm wearing a vintage 'Rock Products' baseball cap and wayfarer sunglasses from a thrift store in D.C. and a distressed 'Not Dead' sweatshirt from Japanese label PPFM that my sister got at SPEC. NYC.

•ªºººººººººººººººººººººª!

A Retraction - The Error of My Ways

I retract that last post. Very short-sighted of me.

This is more my style. Buckle up.

25 Year Old Furry

There is a “we” – did you know this? It’s true. We’re out there, pretty much everywhere. Minneapolis. Saint Paul. Chicago. San Francisco. Brooklyn. Chapel Hill and Iowa City and Las Cruces and Portland and beyond.

We’re not a generation. We can’t be defined by our age. Or the fact that we’re the children of a previous “we.” To tell you the truth, we’re a hard group to describe.

We live in old, warped mansions and shoe factories, carved into misshapen sets of three or four or eighty-four. We sit under sagging power lines. We ride bike. We drink tallboys. We smoke cigarettes. We traverse in alleyways that suture the city’s ancient and bloody wounds. We congregate in backyards, porches and stoops—lightly sweated, hoods down, backpacks full of warm six-packs, ears open. We don’t have landlines. We don’t pay for the internet. We don’t call our moms enough. We have too many student loans. We have unsavory debt-to-asset ratios. We have restless legs and arms and hearts and minds. We have things inside us that have to come out.

So we draw. We design. We write. We compose. We rap. We blog. But we’re not attempting to communicate. No, no, not at all. We are trying to stay alive.

We know the score—our own destruction is around the bend. We recognize that life is short, wild, fleeting, a precious and delicate bird just passing through. To waste even one minute of it letting ourselves be defined by the world rather than defining it ourselves is tantamount to death. To lose control of your destiny is death. To just be along for the ride is death. To answer to the whims of others is death. To simply trade time for money is death. Our friends become our new families because they understand this truth more than anyone else on earth. Our friends are everything we have, and they are our only chance for survival. Our friends are our last, best hope of staving off death for one more day.

And if this at all sounds macabre or overdramatic, then you’re probably not one of us.

So we fight, together, to carve out grand ambitions and larger-than-life dreams. We have to. We have to because the simple and important truth is that if we don’t do something massive and epic and powerful and fucking monumental and if we don’t do it right fucking now as soon as humanly fucking possible—well, then we die. We wither and we rust and we die. We’ll be dead by all measures that really matter and, and, and, and…

And this is what defines us, unities us, draws us to each other inexorably. We’ve each had our eyes opened to harsh truths: life is brief, mediocrity is tragic, and the status quo is a shallow grave. If you understand this, everything else is irrelevant. Creation is not a medium of expression, but a desperate attempt to survive. Medium and genre and message aren’t sacrosanct—they’re simply means to an end, tools to participate and prevent your one fleeting time in this universe from being a colossal and tragic waste.

So rappers are illustrators. Bloggers are composers. Photographers are designers. Sculptors are rappers. Architects are painters. Writers are bloggers. Designers are illustrators. Since creation is a tool and not an expression, it’s all a part of the same family. Empathy is king. We recognize the symmetry of desperation across boundaries. Collaboration becomes a necessity rather than an obligation. Combining forces makes us all stronger, more powerful, more effective in the struggle to survive.

But this isn’t a movement. There’s no ideology, no edicts, no rallying cries, no worldwide zeitgeist. We’ve seen that before and we hold it in respect and regard. But what we’re doing is different. This isn’t about creating a better future, a safer and cleaner world, a fair and equitable and just utopia. No, no, no, not at all.

This is a fight to save our very lives. This is survival. And we do it every day, everywhere, all the time. From coast to coast. From border to border. From hardland to heartland. And we can’t stop. Not ever. This is a fight to the death.

- Stolen From Jeff Allen

For The Record

I have not done anything today. It is 11:28 a.m. and I have been plodding along the internets for close to 3 straight hours. They should have never given me an office. I fought the fax machine for 30 minutes in order to participate in the elaborate health plan my job provides. As my Walgreens and CVS receipts continued to jam and I thought, "Does Tommy Lee or Dave Grohl have these problems?" I would assume, no. I retreated back into my office shortly there after and stared down a paragraph on "data integrity". I dare not look back at that page. It makes me age. I'm left to scour the the grit off of a binary skillet and make mustard out of sage.

Prime Time Action Circa 1987

The happiest day -- the happiest hour
My sear'd and blighted heart hath known,
The highest hope of pride and power,
I feel hath flown.

Of power! said I? yes! such I ween;
But they have vanish'd long, alas!
The visions of my youth have been-
But let them pass.

And, pride, what have I now with thee?
Another brow may even inherit
The venom thou hast pour'd on me
Be still, my spirit!

The happiest day -- the happiest hour
Mine eyes shall see -- have ever seen,
The brightest glance of pride and power,
I feel- have been:

But were that hope of pride and power
Now offer'd with the pain
Even then I felt -- that brightest hour
I would not live again:

For on its wing was dark alloy,
And, as it flutter'd -- fell
An essence -- powerful to destroy
A soul that knew it well.

- Poe

Buzz Worthy

Hot Saw

speaking of Beyond Belief

Dude, someone crank up the Zeppelin. We've got mad "nugs" and we're taking rips from the Skull bong.

Walter...this one's for you. The Incredible Banjos.

House of Mercy circa 2002

rainbows and elephants

let's talk economics for a while

rythmic 6 prelude----> listen

yep....

as requested