Thorns With Occasional Roses
It is May, and time to spray the doors and windows of my home. I trudge, unhappily, out to the garden shed. The insect repellent waits for me, but by the time I carry it back to the house, I’ve already decided I’m not going to spray the fucking doors or the fucking windows. It’s a beautiful day.
And yesterday, goddamn it, was City Day.
City Day is the day, every couple of weeks or so, that I take the train to New York City and wonder what God is waiting for.
the wrecking ball
Mars Bar is a cramped, derelict bar in the East Village frequented mostly by the kind of crusty folk who wish the block were still crawling with addicts and punks. And the people adequately faking it, of course. Anyway, it’s closing for two years, and we explained why this is a bad thing for Read More
Graphic designer Michael Tompert made a mistake that’s caused plenty of headaches for parents: he bought his young sons iPods. Naturally, the tots were at each other’s neck over one of the damn contraptions and the bickering was such that Tompert grabbed the tiny device and hurled it at the ground. The shattered screen and Read More
People have been spinning horror scenarios out of the science of robotics since Mary Shelley wrote Frankenstein, but technological limitations have largely kept technophobes’ concerns from becoming reality. Only recently have the more sweetly nicknamed “bots” actually become destructive: “Robo-signers” are booting people from their homes, program traders are destroying the Read More