Tim Etchells, Hope.
[Via]
Along with whiskey, it also comes in rum, vodka, gin, tequila.
[Via]
The latest issue of New York Magazine has a cover story written by Wesley Yang that is apparently about issues of identity for Asians Americans (I say apparently because I haven't read it yet, but 89 percent of my Asian friends have forwarded the article to me and it's what I gleaned from the cover and the water cooler buzz. Okay, I'm exaggerating: 88 percent of my friends sent it to me). I'll get around to reading it right after I find out where the Dramatic Kitten Crash Test falls on the magazine's Approval Matrix. Anyway, this latest issue's cover features CLOSE UP BIG ASIAN EYES. I studied and wrote countless papers on "Important Issues Pertaining to Minority Identities" back in my college and grad school days. Yet my first reaction upon seeing the cover was to do this:
Hahaha. LOOK AT MY ASIAN EYES!!!*
*That's kind of the unsubtle point of the cover, right? So racially meta, which is what I find 90 percent annoying about contemporary racial and ethic discourse nowadays.
[When my husband died, because he was so famous and known for not being a believer, many people would come up to me-it still sometimes happens-and ask me if Carl changed at the end and converted to a belief in an afterlife. They also frequently ask me if I think I will see him again. Carl faced his death with unflagging courage and never sought refuge in illusions. The tragedy was that we knew we would never see each other again. I don't ever expect to be reunited with Carl. But, the great thing is that when we were together, for nearly twenty years, we lived with a vivid appreciation of how brief and precious life is. We never trivialized the meaning of death by pretending it was anything other than a final parting. Every single moment that we were alive and we were together was miraculous-not miraculous in the sense of inexplicable or supernatural. We knew we were beneficiaries of chance. . . . That pure chance could be so generous and so kind. . . . That we could find each other, as Carl wrote so beautifully in Cosmos, you know, in the vastness of space and the immensity of time. . . . That we could be together for twenty years. That is something which sustains me and it’s much more meaningful. . . . The way he treated me and the way I treated him, the way we took care of each other and our family, while he lived. That is so much more important than the idea I will see him someday. I don't think I'll ever see Carl again. But I saw him. We saw each other. We found each other in the cosmos, and that was wonderful.
- Ann Druyan, the late Carl Sagan's wife and partner
[Via]
Sign in Bonners Ferry, Idaho.[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xkyjJSI6RIE] This will be used in a dance sequence in STEP UP 4D.
To paraphrase a tweet of mine from yesterday, I've noticed that in the bin Laden news coverage, Abbottabad, the town he was hiding in, has beautiful scenery: lush green trees, rollings hills surrounded by mountains, and all under pleasant clear skies. The above photo that accompanies the Wikipedia entry on the town is breathtaking.
Guido Mocafico, One thousand dollars, 164 x 109 cm, 2003.
It was printed as a small-size Federal Reserve Note in 1928, 1934 and 1934A, and a small-size Gold Certificate in 1928 and 1934. As of May 30, 2009, there are 165,372 $1,000 bills in private hands.
Today collectors will pay anywhere between between $1,500 and $5,000 for a Grover Cleveland.
Ew, a "Grover Cleveland" sounds like a super aggressive sex act.
Rude attitude, but yes, I see the humor. 
Marco Ugolini's "Online Masks."
This is a collection of more than 200 images that appears on the internet (on blogs or social networks) if you don’t upload your own image as profile picture.
$27 at Etsy.
Dawn Ng's "I fly like paper, I get high like planes" touching upon diasporic issues.
[Via]
Astrid Bin's "One Thousand Means of Escape."
[Via]
Stunning photo by Ibai Acevedo.
[Via]