Mandelbrot was the father of fractal geometry. May he rest in peace.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
...but it gets better.
A photo mosaic I made with images from all the "It Gets Better" videos, all compiled to make the logo of the project. I feel better now.
This shit still happens
This is so disgusting I feel an expletive is the only appropriate way to describe it. Carl Paladino, GOP candidate for Governor of New York:
Where to start? He rolls out one of the most offensive tropes against gay people: that we're perverts out to get children. He claims to "live and let live" but in the next breath passes derisive judgment on the "option" of being gay, which is of course premised on the ignorant notion that it's a choice. He equates being gay with having one's life destroyed. He attacks gay teachers.
Perhaps most offensive of all is Paladino's attempt at concealing his blatant bigotry: "Don't misquote me as wanting to hurt homosexuals, or people in any way." Is he so naïve to believe that his words can be interpreted in any way other than legitimizing an attitude that permits gay teens to be bullied to committing suicide, and creates an atmosphere where this attack -- which happened in New York days before Paladino's remarks and by itself makes me want to vomit -- is possible. Is he so blind that he can't connect the dots between the derogatory slurs he and other leaders throw at the gay community and the impressionable young people who act upon the cultural stigma created?
I'm filled with so much animosity that I feel I could write for days, but I know I don't need to convince you, my audience of this, so I'll end on a more personal note. I am so thankful to my parents, grandparents, wonderful gay aunt, and everyone else I grew up around for creating an environment free from the hate spewing from bigots like Paladino. I am proud to be gay, a concept which is obviously so foreign to him that it sticks on his tongue. I am hopeful that the tide is turning swiftly, so that hatemongers will no longer have even islands to stand on, much less a plurality of votes. I am inspired by the Trevor Project and Dan Savage's "It Gets Better" project. I despair that this shit still happens, but also see hope and love.
Where to start? He rolls out one of the most offensive tropes against gay people: that we're perverts out to get children. He claims to "live and let live" but in the next breath passes derisive judgment on the "option" of being gay, which is of course premised on the ignorant notion that it's a choice. He equates being gay with having one's life destroyed. He attacks gay teachers.
Perhaps most offensive of all is Paladino's attempt at concealing his blatant bigotry: "Don't misquote me as wanting to hurt homosexuals, or people in any way." Is he so naïve to believe that his words can be interpreted in any way other than legitimizing an attitude that permits gay teens to be bullied to committing suicide, and creates an atmosphere where this attack -- which happened in New York days before Paladino's remarks and by itself makes me want to vomit -- is possible. Is he so blind that he can't connect the dots between the derogatory slurs he and other leaders throw at the gay community and the impressionable young people who act upon the cultural stigma created?
I'm filled with so much animosity that I feel I could write for days, but I know I don't need to convince you, my audience of this, so I'll end on a more personal note. I am so thankful to my parents, grandparents, wonderful gay aunt, and everyone else I grew up around for creating an environment free from the hate spewing from bigots like Paladino. I am proud to be gay, a concept which is obviously so foreign to him that it sticks on his tongue. I am hopeful that the tide is turning swiftly, so that hatemongers will no longer have even islands to stand on, much less a plurality of votes. I am inspired by the Trevor Project and Dan Savage's "It Gets Better" project. I despair that this shit still happens, but also see hope and love.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Memories 2: Piano Lessons
A poem for my parents.
Not one but many memories, layered
like a composite image.
The basement
suite stuffed with mics, 8-track setup, record
player and piano, that instrument
of grandness and repetition. Playing
well beyond the half-hour, trying to
get it right, laughing, jamming, departing,
me behind the wheel of EAT 992.
Then, time in the car with just my dad; we'd
let the night air rush through and crank up the
tunes, letting the familiar road lead
us home.
Home, mom curled up comfy on the
couch, an episode of the West Wing on
and a certain sense of: Here, I belong.
Not one but many memories, layered
like a composite image.
The basement
suite stuffed with mics, 8-track setup, record
player and piano, that instrument
of grandness and repetition. Playing
well beyond the half-hour, trying to
get it right, laughing, jamming, departing,
me behind the wheel of EAT 992.
Then, time in the car with just my dad; we'd
let the night air rush through and crank up the
tunes, letting the familiar road lead
us home.
Home, mom curled up comfy on the
couch, an episode of the West Wing on
and a certain sense of: Here, I belong.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
My Thanksgiving dinner
In the true McCarthy and Bowman tradition, I shall take a moment to regale my audience with my Thanksgiving menu! (Actually, knowing my readership, I expect this post to be a big hit.)
Thanksgiving dinner came together fortuitously. It started when my coworker Mandi and I were checking our bank balances on Friday night. This was not a particularly odd thing to do at midnight, and we were investigating an alleged bonus deposit, so it was quite the thing to do.
Thanksgiving dinner came together fortuitously. It started when my coworker Mandi and I were checking our bank balances on Friday night. This was not a particularly odd thing to do at midnight, and we were investigating an alleged bonus deposit, so it was quite the thing to do.
The state of the world, 10/10/10
A sampling of the news of this numerically cool date after the jump.
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