Chernobyl’s “Elephant’s Foot“: why is it not being exploited as a nuke monster in a video game yet?
The inimitable Jane Marie tests out 14 matte lipsticks. The only slideshow worth clicking through.
Heather Havrilesky’s celebration of Nora Ephron is finally available online (I mean, it’s not like it’s been a year, or anything, but seeing it finally pop up in bold on Bookforum was pretty great.)
After her death from acute myeloid leukemia in 2012, many obituaries seemed to skim over Ephron’s contributions to the evolving voice of modern journalism and filmmaking and speed right to her celebrity friendships, her famous failed marriage to Bernstein, or the oft-repeated fact that she got her hair blown out by a hairdresser twice a week. In the New York Times, the same pages where Norman Mailer “loomed over American letters” and Gore Vidal was “versatile” and “an Augustan figure,” Ephron was merely “an essayist and a humorist” who went on to become a wildly successful filmmaker, one who had lots of friends and just adored pie.
The world’s most perfect person, Ursula K. Le Guin, interviewed by the Paris Review:
INTERVIEWER
Against whom were you measuring your work?
LE GUIN
Writers I’d have liked to be as good as, although not like?
INTERVIEWER
Right.
LE GUIN
Charles Dickens. Jane Austen. And then, when I finally learned to read her, Virginia Woolf. Shoot for the top, always. You know you’ll never make it, but what’s the fun if you don’t shoot for the top?
*
If you were intrigued by Nicole Froio’s report from the favelas, don’t miss “Generation June.”
New installment of bitches gotta eat!
401k. okay, so i just got paid. and usually i toss my paystub in the trash without even looking at the shit so i can get on asos and buy some more shit i’ll never wear, but this time i looked at it. and, so far this year, i have contributed $1200 to my retirement fund. well, who the fuck knew?! that’s amazing. especially if i want to comfortably retire in a one-room tin house in liberia. HOLY FUCK WHAT AM I GOING TO DO WHEN I’M OLD. jesus, i better die while i can still afford an apartment for someone to find my hot, young corpse in. i don’t know how long i’ve been contributing to this shit because i can’t even tell you what i had for dinner yesterday, but let’s say i’ve been setting aside $1200/yr for six years. that is $7200. i can’t even buy a t-shirt from the jay-z collection at barney’s with that shit.
When you get fired for “believing that African-Americans and Latinos are able to sit in a clinic waiting room without starting a race war.”
Collectors Weekly has a FASCinating piece on the history of mannequins:
Though wax allowed 19th-century sculptors to create highly detailed bodies and facial features, the switch from gas lamps to electric lights exposed the material’s weakness: Under the intense heat of store window light bulbs, wax mannequins began to melt. One window trimmer in the late 19th century recounted the construction of a lovely dinner party scene, centered around a wax hostess raising her wineglass in a toast. When he returned the following morning, a crowd had gathered around the window, staring at the now-deflated hostess whose melted torso was slumped over the table as if she were drunk.
Why, here’s the Heritage Foundation’s warning about Nelson Mandela…from 1990.
