hippo eats dwarf.

comedy vs. tragedy
  • Socialism: You have 2 cows and you give one to your neighbour.
  • Communism: You have 2 cows; the Government takes both and gives you some milk.
  • Fascism: You have 2 cows; the Government takes both and sells you some milk.
  • Nazism: You have 2 cows; the Government takes both and shoots you.
  • Bureaucratism: You have 2 cows; the Government takes both, shoots one, milks the other and throws the milk away..
  • Traditional Capitalism: You have 2 cows. You sell one and buy a bull. You herd multiplies, and the economy grows. You sell them and retire on the income.
  • An American Corporation: You have 2 cows. You sell one, and force the other to produce the milk of four cows. Later, you hire a consultant to analyse why the cow dropped dead.
  • A French Corporation: You have 2 cows. You go on strike because you want three cows.
  • Japanese Corporation: You have 2 cows. You redesign them so they are one-tenth the size of an ordinary cow and produce twenty times the milk. You then create a clever cow cartoon image called Cowkimon and market them Worldwide.
  • An Italian Corporation: You have 2 cows, but you don't know where they are. You break for lunch.
  • A Swiss Corporation: You have 5000 cows. None of which belong to you. You charge others for storing them.
  • Chinese Corporation: You have 2 cows. You have 300 people milking them. You claim full employment, high bovine productivity, and arrest the newsman who reported the numbers.
  • An Iraqi Corporation: Everyone thinks you have lots of cows. You tell them that you have none. No one believes you and they bomb your arse. You still have no cows, but at least now you are part of a Democracy.......
  • Counter Culture: 'Wow, dig it, like there's these 2 cows, man, grazing in the hemp field. You gotta have some of this milk!'
  • Surrealism: You have two giraffes. The government requires you to take harmonica lessons.
  • Fatalist: You have 2 doomed cows...
  • A West-Country Corporation: You have 2 cows. That one on the left is kinda cute.
  • A Brazilian Corporation: You have 2 cows. You pay taxes for 6 cows. You have to sell one cow in order to pay the taxes. Your remaining cow gets sick and dies while waiting for availability in the public vet hospital.
  • Moffat: You have two cows. Both of them are your daughters time travelling from the past where they had a brief love affair with Da Vinci making you the rightful Queen of England.
  • An Irish Corporation: You have a million cows because they're fucking everywhere
  • Tumblr: You have 2 cows. You ship them together and make GIF posts screaming about how much you love your cows, but they should stop existing because they are so perfect.

thedailyfeed:

Call them The Expendables — the World Conservation Congress’ list of 100 most endangered species. Most of them are endangered not only because of of human actions like destruction of habitats, pollution, hunting and climate change, but because they provide humans no obvious benefits.

strangewood: Happy Together // dir. Wong Kar-wai Leslie Cheung: “When we tried to shoot the love scene it really shocked Tony. He refused to do it. For two days he was miserable, lying on his bed. So I went up to him and said, ‘Look at me, Tony, I’ve gone through so many scenes kissing, touching girls, grabbing breasts, do you think I really enjoyed it? Just treat it as a job, a normal love scene. I’m not going to fall in love with you, and I don’t want you to really have sex with me. You’re not my type.’ So he agreed to do the scene.” Tony Leung: “[Wong Kar-wai] gave me a fake script. Originally my character wasn’t gay - his father was. In my script, the father dies in Argentina and I go there and find out he had a lover, who is Leslie. So we go to Argentina and we spend six weeks learning Spanish and the tango. And after that, Kar-wai says, ‘I think it would be much more interesting if your role is gay.’ I was surprised, but not angry. We start shooting the next day - and the first scene is a love scene.”

strangewood:

Happy Together // dir. Wong Kar-wai

Leslie Cheung: “When we tried to shoot the love scene it really shocked Tony. He refused to do it. For two days he was miserable, lying on his bed. So I went up to him and said, ‘Look at me, Tony, I’ve gone through so many scenes kissing, touching girls, grabbing breasts, do you think I really enjoyed it? Just treat it as a job, a normal love scene. I’m not going to fall in love with you, and I don’t want you to really have sex with me. You’re not my type.’ So he agreed to do the scene.”

Tony Leung: “[Wong Kar-wai] gave me a fake script. Originally my character wasn’t gay - his father was. In my script, the father dies in Argentina and I go there and find out he had a lover, who is Leslie. So we go to Argentina and we spend six weeks learning Spanish and the tango. And after that, Kar-wai says, ‘I think it would be much more interesting if your role is gay.’ I was surprised, but not angry. We start shooting the next day - and the first scene is a love scene.”

(via bbook)

bbook: Speaking to the ineffable quality of his work, namely The Disintegration Loops, and expressing the deeply sensory and emotional effects, he replied, “I don’t know if that’s my music or your synesthesia, but when it’s working, it should work like that. It blows my mind. I don’t know how I did any of this stuff.” Listening to Basinski’s work, whether it be his piano variations, El Camino Real, or The Disintegration Loops, you realize that he plays with time in such away that it almost has an amnesiac effect—you loose a sense of place and time, falling down into an abyss. “That’s what we want to get to, the time machine, the space station,” he says. “In the concerts, I usually do one long set because the whole point is to try and get out of this body and this worry and this nonsense and just take a little vacation, fall in. And forty minutes can go by and it feels like five, so that’s the ideal situation. It’s like meditation, you have some relief, you sort of go back into the womb.”

bbook:

Speaking to the ineffable quality of his work, namely The Disintegration Loops, and expressing the deeply sensory and emotional effects, he replied, “I don’t know if that’s my music or your synesthesia, but when it’s working, it should work like that. It blows my mind. I don’t know how I did any of this stuff.” Listening to Basinski’s work, whether it be his piano variations, El Camino Real, or The Disintegration Loops, you realize that he plays with time in such away that it almost has an amnesiac effect—you loose a sense of place and time, falling down into an abyss. “That’s what we want to get to, the time machine, the space station,” he says. “In the concerts, I usually do one long set because the whole point is to try and get out of this body and this worry and this nonsense and just take a little vacation, fall in. And forty minutes can go by and it feels like five, so that’s the ideal situation. It’s like meditation, you have some relief, you sort of go back into the womb.”

bbook: The apex of a summer’s magic hour when everything is covered in a haze of sedation—the wee hours of the night as you speed down the highway with nothing but the static sounds of the world buzzing around you, the afternoon you sit atop a roof in September and watch the world fall to pieces—are moments in time that fall in the realm of the ineffable. You live through them and remember them in feelings rather than words, in tastes and textures, occupied by smells and sounds that live inside you in a way that’s beyond comprehension. And it’s in those moments, existing on that alpha wave of existence, that William Basinski’s music lives and breathes. But as all things do, as it lives and breathes it’s also dying one moment at a time. As you fall under the spell of his looped melodies, you can almost see dust collecting and falling down around you like ash. It’s as beautiful and profound as it is heartbreaking and melancholic, and there’s never enough. The Otherworldly, Sensory Experience of William Basinski’s The Disintegration Loops 100x yes

bbook:

The apex of a summer’s magic hour when everything is covered in a haze of sedation—the wee hours of the night as you speed down the highway with nothing but the static sounds of the world buzzing around you, the afternoon you sit atop a roof in September and watch the world fall to pieces—are moments in time that fall in the realm of the ineffable. You live through them and remember them in feelings rather than words, in tastes and textures, occupied by smells and sounds that live inside you in a way that’s beyond comprehension. And it’s in those moments, existing on that alpha wave of existence, that William Basinski’s music lives and breathes. But as all things do, as it lives and breathes it’s also dying one moment at a time. As you fall under the spell of his looped melodies, you can almost see dust collecting and falling down around you like ash. It’s as beautiful and profound as it is heartbreaking and melancholic, and there’s never enough.

The Otherworldly, Sensory Experience of William Basinski’s The Disintegration Loops

100x yes

bbook: BB: Do you not think it works for you to love your actors too much, Lars? Do you keep a distance? LVT: I try not to, but actors are the only tin that stands between you and a good film. That’s how it is. But we’re talking about control. It’s a little bit like filming animals—they are uncontrollable. PTA: But not all of them. LVT: No, and they should be uncontrollable. If you want to have something from anybody, you have to give them some trust, of course, and that’s why I’ve turned the whole thing into more of a game than direction. But there are actors and there are actors. Stellan [Skårsgard] is not an actor. PTA: But I feel the same way about Philip [Seymour Hoffman] or John C. Reilly: They’re not actors—they’re family. LVT: Yeah, but because they’re family you also know what they can do and what they can’t do. It’s like your uncle—you know what he’s good at, and what he is not. Of course, they can be so familiar that you don’t give your uncle a chance, which is unfair also. PTA: Is the relationship that you have with your assistant director or editor or photographer or costume designer something like that, one that you can count on more than you can count on with an actor?  LVT: Right now I’m filming with CinemaScope, so I’m running around with this ridiculously enormous camera, with sound equipment, light equipment, you know. And then there are a hundred people around me who just kind of say “good luck,” and they leave, and we’re alone for four hours, the actors and me. So really, all my fears lie in this technique, because I have a lot of claustrophobia. If I don’t do anything, nothing happens. I can’t tell you—for these last four months I’ve been going through my all-time low, and my psychic health is extremely low right now. This interview is sooo wonderful.

bbook:

BB: Do you not think it works for you to love your actors too much, Lars? Do you keep a distance?

LVT: I try not to, but actors are the only tin that stands between you and a good film. That’s how it is. But we’re talking about control. It’s a little bit like filming animals—they are uncontrollable.

PTA: But not all of them.

LVT: No, and they should be uncontrollable. If you want to have something from anybody, you have to give them some trust, of course, and that’s why I’ve turned the whole thing into more of a game than direction. But there are actors and there are actors. Stellan [Skårsgard] is not an actor.

PTA: But I feel the same way about Philip [Seymour Hoffman] or John C. Reilly: They’re not actors—they’re family.

LVT: Yeah, but because they’re family you also know what they can do and what they can’t do. It’s like your uncle—you know what he’s good at, and what he is not. Of course, they can be so familiar that you don’t give your uncle a chance, which is unfair also.

PTA: Is the relationship that you have with your assistant director or editor or photographer or costume designer something like that, one that you can count on more than you can count on with an actor? 

LVT: Right now I’m filming with CinemaScope, so I’m running around with this ridiculously enormous camera, with sound equipment, light equipment, you know. And then there are a hundred people around me who just kind of say “good luck,” and they leave, and we’re alone for four hours, the actors and me. So really, all my fears lie in this technique, because I have a lot of claustrophobia. If I don’t do anything, nothing happens. I can’t tell you—for these last four months I’ve been going through my all-time low, and my psychic health is extremely low right now.

This interview is sooo wonderful.

homeofthevain: Nikola Tamindzic, Untitled #246 (Irena) Last week, my art site, Home of the Vain, returned after a two-and-a-half year long vacation. I’m thrilled about this — it’s been much too long! — and in addition to all the new work I’ll be showing there, I’ll be sharing plenty of alternate shots and previously unreleased work exclusively here on Home of the Vain Tumblr, and answering any questions you may have. Liking is just flirting, reblogging is love: PLEASE REBLOG & SPREAD THE WORD! Love, Nikola This photo in hi-res.

homeofthevain:

Nikola Tamindzic, Untitled #246 (Irena)

Last week, my art site, Home of the Vain, returned after a two-and-a-half year long vacation. I’m thrilled about this — it’s been much too long! — and in addition to all the new work I’ll be showing there, I’ll be sharing plenty of alternate shots and previously unreleased work exclusively here on Home of the Vain Tumblr, and answering any questions you may have.

Liking is just flirting, reblogging is love: PLEASE REBLOG & SPREAD THE WORD!

Love, Nikola

This photo in hi-res.

kensiethejedi:

Dear Stranger, by Shizuka Yokomizo

For this 1998-2000 series of portraits, photographer Shizuka Yokomizo left several anonymous letters on the doorsteps of random ground floor apartments that read:

“Dear Stranger,

I am an artist working on a photographic project which involves people I do not know…. I would like to take a photograph of you standing in your front room from the street in the evening.”

The letter specified a certain ten-minute period during which the artist would approach, take the picture, and slip back into the darkness. She would only reveal her identity once her subjects received a print and contact information (so that they could let her know if they objected to their portrait being exhibited).

Yokomizo made sure that when the photos were taken, the light would be too dark outside to see her — it would only allow her subjects to see their own reflections in the window they were looking out of.

(via garconniere)

cabinporn: Hand-built house in Tjärnskogen, Bohuslän, Sweden. Submitted by builder Moa Sandblad. inspiration for building my own damn house.

cabinporn:

Hand-built house in Tjärnskogen, Bohuslän, Sweden. Submitted by builder Moa Sandblad.

inspiration for building my own damn house.