Two muscle freaks just shouldered their way through no one at all and set their motorcycle helmets down on an empty table. The psychic space they take up is immense. I am twenty feet from them and I feel like I should apologize for existing. I like this feeling. I like knowing my place.
Project by @mocymo is a head mounted display that can present a variety of expressions - embedded below is a video taken at the Tokyo Maker Faire taken by makerkun:
I made a new reel of my comedy acting and writing. You can click the annotations to watch the full videos, if clicking annotations is a thing real humans do.
People of color will continue to demand their rights, opportunities and full personhood. But racism in North America won’t end because people of color demand it. Racism will only end when a significant number of white people of conscience, the people who can wield systemic privilege and power with integrity, find the will and take the action to dismantle it. That won’t happen until white people find racism in our daily consciousness as often as people of color do.
The Smiths aren’t a real band. Zooey Deschanel was supposed to say “I love Radiohead” during the elevator scene of 500 Days of Summer, but she forgot her line and improvised the name “The Smiths”. the music heard in the movie by this make-believe band was provided by Pavement.
Wrong.
The Smiths are an 80s post punk/alternative band fronted by Morrisey. You might have heard of a little tune called How Soon is Now. http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Smiths
Initially the film’s producers put up a small Wikipedia article to give the impression that the smiths had existed but after the movie became a hit fans began filling in the backstory. Everything you know about the smiths and this Morrissey character is an elaborate patchwork of fanfiction, which is why Morrissey appears to contradict himself so often
Only a very few have names. To call one another, they fling mud at each other. I have also seen Yahoos fall to the ground and throw themselves about in the dirt in order to call a friend.
The cumulative effect of all of this information (more examples: when you see tweets about lost old people and choose not to retweet them, when you see GoFundMes for really good causes that you just can’t donate to, etc.) is a very weird, very modern sense of resignation and forced callousness. There’s some moral philosopher (James Rachels? Peter Singer? I forgot.) that brought up the point of proximity and awareness in evaluating which moral acts to perform. Like, is suffering worse when it is happening in front of your face than when you know it’s happening in Rwanda, but can’t actually see it? No. But also yes?