Jason Nelson is interesting

I'm working on a 2009 gift guide. It's taking longer than expected. Explore this site while you wait. Operative word: explore. Lot's of hidden goodies and oddities.

Yet another thing I wish I could do: Beat boxing

I spent a good chunk of day brooding over my skill set. When my spotlight of focus dwindled over the 'vocal-related talents' section of my life, well...there wasn't much to shine a light on. If you saw Ice, Ice, Baby Revisited (below), you already know that god decided singing would not be my calling, and that good looks and charm would have to pull me through these next fifty years or so (by 70, I hope to live someplace where I need no skills and can have them replaced by trustworthy servants who don't resent me because I make them laugh). The point is I can't sing, or hum for that matter. In fact, my friends would probably rather have me scratch the plastic wrap on a brand new dvd than have me hum the tune to, say, the theme from Beverly Hills Cop.

Anyway, as a non-singer, I can say my biggest musical fantasy would be to one day discover I've got the chops of Andrea Bocelli, but sadly this is impossible for obvious reasons involving the laws of physical development and aging. The next best thing, then, would be to fill a non-singing role for one of Bocelli's European tours, i.e. be his personal beat boxer. I browsed the youtubes for a while, gathering tips on circular breathing and proper mouth shape, but finally, as is true with so so many other endeavors, I realized I had no shot and gave up. Such is life.

All is not lost, though. I did find this neat clip that should motivate the aspiring bb'ers (<--just made that up). All I ask is that you pocket dial me in concert when you hit the big time.

Oh, and Merry Christmas!

No airbending necessary

About to go spend some quality time with the sibs, so I'll make this quick. Go see 'Avatar'. It's everything you want for the holidays and more. The photo below is intended to appeal to your deep set love for mech-warriors with bad ass gun-blade-combo-weapons and your deep set hate for any image that spoils a movie this good. Don't worry; nothing's spoiled.

Happy blizzard, and if you're traveling on the east coast tonight, be safe and try to enjoy driving slow (yes, even though it goes against your human nature).

My week, explained with simple logic

---Danger: you will find bathroom talk below---

Universe of Discourse: {unrestricted}

Dx: x has diarrhea

Fx: x is a fart

Hx: x is diarrhea

Nx: x is funny

Px: x is a normal poop
Rx: x has a research paper due

Sx: x is stressed

m: Me (Ezra SG)

1. Rm ⊃ Sm

2. Sm ⊃ Dm

3. Rm

4. (∀x)(Fx ⊃ Nx)

5. (∀x)(Px ⊃ Nx)

6. (∀x)(Hx ⊃ ~Nx)*

----------------------------

7. ∴ Dm

And in English:
1. If I have a research paper, then I am stressed.
2. If I am stressed, then I have diarrhea.
3. I have a research paper.
4. All farts are funny.
5. All normal poops are funny.
6. No diarrheas are funny.*
---------------------
7. Therefore, I have diarrhea; it's not funny

*Talking about diarrhea - funny. Diarrhea itself - never funny.

As Far As the Eye can Pee from AnyaLogic

1000 is so much better than 999

Took over a year, but we finally did it folks. I never thought I'd see the day. We just hit a thousand views if that wasn't clear from the title. Now, let's kick back and enjoy a good memory.

If you're bored, go here.

Copy, paste

I had a huge paper due a while ago. I spent the whole night before partying and oh boy, what a party it was. I woke up the next day and thought, Oh no! What ever will I do? A brilliant idea struck me. Why don't I just copy a professional's work and hand that in? Foolproof. I google searched my topic, and clicked the first link. Wikipedia. Sweet. So much information, already organized by subtopic. Once the article was neatly pasted onto word, I went through and erased all the headings. My essay looked great, but something was missing. Right, my name. I handed it in later that day with a diabolical grin. A month past. After one class, my professor asked me to "hang around".

I was expelled for plagiarism.

-Excerpt from the pitch for the service featured in the facebook ad below.

P.S. Anyone else think his shirt straps have an odd width?

I'm Learning Japanese So I Can Congratulate These Guys

The next two weeks are going to be hell. Between now and 13 days from now, I'll have written somewhere around 10,500 words, read over 300 pages, and sat for 5 hours of exams. Contrary to what you may believe, you should expect to see more posts as I strive to procrastinate "constructively". Also, it snowed, it's sunny, and I could spend the afternoon staring out my window, watching the powder fall off the needles of the evergreens. *Closing the blinds now*

Haiku Monday: Quark-Gluon Plasma

Accelerate stuff;

Watch it collide at light speed.

That's how science works.

Photo Credit (Fermilab, near chicago): TheDreamSky

Thanks, Kate

With no insurance, I didn't stand a chance against the tyranny of the mobile phone business. Screen cracks aren't covered by the manufacturer's warranty, after all, so when I walked into the busy Verizon wireless store, I didn't have high hopes. Kate didn't make me feel much better, either, when she told me there was nothing she could do, and that she could pretty much guarantee that even if I waited forty-five minutes to speak with a techie, he would tell me the same thing. So what was I supposed to do?

"Well," she said, "Let me take it into the back and see what I can do." You can laugh at me from behind the one way mirror is what you can do, I thought. I waited five minutes before Kate emerged from the back office and strolled across the store to another hidden nook. Another five minutes and she returned with a small, plain looking box.

You didn't have to give me a courtesy replacement, Kate. You could have shrugged your shoulders in helplessness and sold me a new phone. You could have left me bitter at the sound of 'Verizon', but instead you left me bewildered and disorientated, my faith in humanity invigorated. It's rare when that happens, so thanks. It sounds silly because it's just a phone, but your actions actually represent something far beyond my dependence on technology. As computers take over, I find solace in knowing that I can depend on other people, namely people like you, Kate.

So thanks.

Photo credit: psd

Stump

If you're bored tonight, why not try a new game? It's social, easy to put together, and buckets-o-fun. This is a crash course in stump.

Things you'll need: stump, nails, hammer, booze, people
Preparation
1. Hammer a nail into the stump for each person playing - try to space them out.
2. Have everyone pick out a nail - make sure that two people don't pick the same nail.
3. Make sure everyone has a drink - preferably beer or something mixed.
Execution
1. Hammer passes clockwise around the room.
2. Each person (while still holding their drink) must toss the hammer, catch it, and hit the stump according to the complexity of his/her toss.
3. If your nail gets hit, drink (more if you really get walloped, less if you get glanced).
4. If there are sparks, everyone drinks.
5. If your nail gets buried, finish your drink - you lose. (If you shine a cell phone from one side of the nail and can see the light from the other side, the nail/person is still in.)
6. If you're the last one standing, celebrate - you win.
Toss Values (feel free to come up with house rules - these are what we use)
1 rotation - 1 swing
1 rotation under the leg - 2 swings
1 rotation behind the back - 3 swings
2 rotations - 4 swings
You probably won't see more than two rotations, but you can make up the rest as you go along.
Notes
1. It's more fun to blindly swing as hard as you can than to aim at individual nails. More sparks that way, too.
2. Find a sturdy hammer. We've broken or bent every one we've used so far.
3. Use good judgement regarding location - nobody want's a broken laptop.
4. Nobody wants a broken face either. Employ safety precautions (make sure everyone can toss the hammer straight upwards).
5. Have a good night and enjoy!


*Photo Credit: photohome_uk

I've got the shower.

*dream about a meteor showering* *open eyes* *yawn* *stretch* *lie down* *close eyes* *feel sleep winning out* *will eyelids open* *kick legs out from covers* *slip into slippers* *socks over my socks* *pants, shirt, shirt, sweater, sweater, windbreaker, sneakers, hat* *orange juice* *trudge downstairs* *cold* *clear night* *no moon* *icy road* *leaves crunch* *look up* *THERE'S ONE (1)* *warm welcomes* *tired eyes* *blankets* *flashlights* *minivan* *sleep* *blankets* *flashlights on* *eyes adjust* *blankets down* *flashlights off* *darkness* *cozy up* *stare* *THERE (2)* *wonder* *OVER THERE (3)* *laugh* *LOOK (4)* *feel insignificant* *THIS IS AWESOME (5)* *discuss constellations* *THAT WAS BRIGHT (6)* *follow satellites across the dome of the sky* *SPACE IS COOL (7)* *(8)* *snacks* *(9)* *deep breath* *smell summer camp in the early morning* *(10)* *cold toes* *(11)* *clouds* *wind* *(12)* *feet frozen* *pack up* *minivan* *close eyes* *nod out* *unload* *trudge upstairs* *hat, sneakers, windbreaker, sweater, sweater, shirt, shirt, pants, socks, socks* *hop into bed* *tuck covers under sides (like a burrito)* *drift off with a grin* *worth it*

*Photo Credit: PMcK

Haiku Monday: Meteor Shower

Meteors shower,
With astro-soap, space rain, and
Light years to air dry.

*Meteor shower courtesy of Corey Limmer, professional roommate.

This second wind's a nor'easter

I've been looking forward to this moment for some time. I haven't posted to the blog with any semblance of consistency since August 22. Finally, finally, finally(!), the hiatus comes to an end. Good thing I left a key under the welcome mat. I've got some stories to tell, some websites to share, and some profound thoughts to recount. As the stories go, some happened a while ago, but I'll write about them like they just happened. Besides trying to write often, I'll be working on a new layout with a different host, but unfortunately you can only look forward to seeing it before it's ready.

I expect some well-founded skepticism about this sudden return from the heart-broken fans, but hopefully I can prove once again that Danger: Diversion is worth your daily/weekly/monthly visit. A big thanks to those of you who voiced your distress over the lack of posts; it made me feel great about myself.


*Octopus from MarkWallace

In case you thought I might be dead...

I'm not dead. If over the past few weeks you've grown into a disappointed blog browser, know that I know I've got some reparations to pay.

Happy Halloween.

*Wittle witch from stevechasmar

One Sweet Pyramid

Maybe you've been there. You start with a foundation of Sugar in the Raw, then add some Domino super structure, and climax with a crest of Sweet'n Low, only to see your sugar packet pyramid crash to the floor like ancient Egyptian ruins.

I know every time I've tried to build a pyramid out of sugar packets, it has ended like 'Pirates of the Caribbean 2,' leaving me tired, bored, and wondering what a sugar-covered Keira Knightley tastes like.

Then I saw it done. When Justine completed her tiered temple, our table clapped, and then the adjacent table, and then the table adjacent to them. Soon, everyone in the diner was either gazing in awe at her architecture, or continuing to quietly eat their breakfast, having not noticed the feat at all.

Once the meal arrived, we equipped our forks, knives, napkins and went to town on what turned out to be a delicious rebuttal to our previous night of drinking. My egg sandwich on a bagel with jalapeno jack cheese (mmmmm) was worth the wait, but this made it that much sweeter. And when Justine did eventually knock it down, I realized that a sugar-covered Keira Knightley probably tastes like a Sour-Patch Kid.

Haiku Monday: Screw-Phew

A fallen screw is

Hard to find, like a needle

In a haystack. There! What luck.

But actually, it took me thirty minutes of searching the same six square feet to find the screw that fell from my glasses. Like when you forget your homework and give the teacher your spiel, but she doesn't believe a word of it, finding a tiny sucker like that screw brings the kind of relief you get when you discover the assignment in another folder. A boo-yah moment.

*Screw city by Pasukaru76

Morning Routine

Three weeks into school and I'd say I've got it down. Wake up at eight when my roommate does. Groggily wish him good luck. Back to sleep. Wake up forty-five minutes later when my alarm goes off. Snooze it. Snooze it. Snooze it. Out of bed at nine.

Shower shoes on. Grab keys, soap, and shampoo. On the way to the bathroom, lock the door. Double check (we have a burgeoning collection of homies; losing them would be heart-breaking). In the bathroom: keys next to sink, hang towel, soap and shampoo on the shower-side counter, turn the knob 315 degrees counter-clockwise, use the toilet while the water gets hot. Enter shower. Black out for twenty minutes. Emerge, clean.

Dry off. In the room: undies, socks, pants, shoes, belt, shirt. I've got Time to kill. I don my dynamic-titanium super suit, custom designed by a freshman wizkid in the engineering school. Hop out the window, activate thrusters and take off. Coast.

Scanning the campus below, I see students rushing to class, some walking, others power walking, still more trotting, and the rest in full sprint. No Time in sight. I land by an old oak where a family of chipmunks scurries, collecting acorns for the coming cold. No Time at all. I notice an impatient classroom of students, packed up to go and anxiously waiting for their professor to finish her last thought. Where did Time go? I take off again, this time thrusting from rooftop to rooftop, noticing the effortless lifestyles of the pigeons eating yesterday's cornbread from a dumpster, pecking their lives away, when I see him.

I quickly change course, increasing my altitude dramatically. I calculate a strategic trajectory and adjust my body into a dive. The wind bites my face as I approach terminal velocity. I point my toes and prepare to land. I roll, springboarding my body into a flying kick. I land Time square in the 12 on his forehead. Taking advantage of the element of surprise, I follow up with an uppercut. But Time slows down. I can't reach him in time. He catches my fist with his seconds hand and in seconds (I know because I kept an eye on that hand) I find my body shattering through a brick wall. As I recover, Time flies.

I get to my feet, punch my thruster, but all I get is smoke and empty whirring sounds. I check my watch. Late for class. I race back to my room. Grab my books, throw them in my knapsack, zip up and hotfoot it to Barnum hall. Only five minutes late. What a routine.

P.S. Isn't it refreshing to read something that isn't a haiku?

P.P.S. The moral? Time flies when you're having fun.

*Pics from D'Arcy Norman and zappowbang

Haiku Monday: Ultimate Motivators

During wars they fail,

But sometimes bloggers just need

An ultimatum.

*Ultimatum from hashc0de

Haiku Monday: CMD-Z can't undo tardiness

This? A late Haiku.

Tuesday's post looks like Monday's.

Magic? Illusion.

*Cmd-z from mhpd

The week in pictures

I won't be able to write anything today, so instead I offer you a gold mine of diversion. MSNBC has a continuing feature called The Week in Pictures, where they summarize the week in a series of photographs.

Check out a couple weeks worth, and I'm sure you'll bookmark this page. A lot of the pics evoke strong emotional responses, others are truly stunning. Best of all, they do offer a fairly comprehensive look at the week's news, which, if you're short on time, is quite a bit faster than reading a newspaper. Enjoy. (Warning: some of the photos feature graphic images. The site has done a pretty good job of flagging them, but I recommend approaching with caution anyway.)

Ten things that got left behind

Home a day early from Cape Cod, I reflect on the things we left behind.

10. A television remote with a missing battery cover that only works when the batteries are spun while changing channels.

9. A baby dragonfly, stuck between two window panes, avoiding the sentinel spider guarding the only passage to freedom.

8. A plastic shovel, half-buried in sand, forgotten by an overweight child who accidentally ditched it after catching wind of plans to get ice cream after the beach.

7. A rare edition buffalo nickel, worth over fifty dollars, left in a bedside drawer where it was meant to be kept safe until the owner travelled home, and where it was kept safe long after that time passed.

6. A locked bicycle chain, attached to a public bike rack, with the only person knowing its combination long gone.

5. An empty bag of kettle cooked potato chips, apparently bobbing on the surface of a manmade lake, but actually caught on a log which is itself bobbing.

4. Fried clams, dropped underneath a picnic table, soon to be carried away by a band of ambitious ants.

3. A brochure for a $2.00 t-shirt outlet, thrown away out a car window on Route 6.

2. Half a jelly donut, resting on a display counter, stale and crusting from years exposed to the salty air of a bayside coffee shop.

1. The memories of a five year old boy, faded and replaced by action movies and special effects, to be restored fifteen years later on a family trip to the same locale.

Inspired, in part, by the This American Life episode, Plan B.

*Pictures by tipiro and moty66

High tide's a "beach"

Sometimes you're at the beach, promoting your blog, when the ocean crashes your party and erases all your hard work.

'Twas all gone five minutes after that last picture was taken. Apparently, nature brakes for no one.

Five things to look at

I'm exhausted. Here are five things to check out (in no particular order).

5. Running the numbers (for anyone who has ever lived in the United States)

Edit: Suggested by KPG (who by now you're getting to know pretty well)

4. Build an atom (for the chemistry nerds)

3. Sidewalk chalk guy (for the alternatively artistic)

2. Sculptures in motion (for the modern futurists)

1. Transparent screens (for the awe-inspired)

(Good night)

We're under arrest

This happened a couple weeks back but is still worth dramatizing. Details are fictional; the story is pure truth.

Statesville, North Carolina.

The pier was quiet. A group of high schoolers stroll along the boardwalk, one balancing on the railing alongside the rest. A couple sits on a wooden bench, enjoying the sunset and wondering whether the ships on the horizon are coming home or heading out to sea. A teenage boy in a yellow collared shirt leans over the counter of a frozen banana stand, bored from having sold only five bananas in as many hours. A young man in a track jacket stands at the end of the pier, a drawstring backpack hanging off his shoulder. He apprehensively watches two men approaching. The two men walk slowly. One of the men is wearing a blue suede jacket with matching shoes, the other an oversized cotton t-shirt and baggy washed out jeans. The men stop near the banana stand where one makes a phone call. Hanging up with a satisfied look, they continue along the wooden planks.

The track jacket meets the suede and cotton half way along the length of the pier. The suede pulls out a roll of twenty dollars bills. The track jacket strips off the rubber band holding them bound and counts the money. All there. He pulls open the drawstring of his pack and pulls out a brown paper bag. He hands it to the cotton. The cotton looks inside and hands the bag to his companion.

In an instant, the suede reaches inside his jacket, and the track jacket too reaches for his pocket, just when the cotton pulls a pistol out of his jeans waistband. The track jacket freezes, hand still inside his pocket. The cotton motions with his gun for the track jacket to show his hands. The track jacket complies. The suede pulls out a gold badge, indicating he's a detective for the Statesville Police Department. The track jacket smiles and again reaches for his pocket. The cotton, moving quickly, grabs the track jacket's forearm and wraps it around his back, resting his gun at the junction of his spine and skull. The suede thrusts a hand into the track jacket's pocket and pulls out a star-shaped badge. Confusion replaces the attentive looks on suede and cotton's faces. Words are exchanged. The track jacket explains that he's from the sheriff's office. The cotton releases his grip.

Undercover cops arresting each other; tax-payer's dollars well spent. This happened.

*Pier by alan2onion, money roll by zzzack

Cape Cod - Day 1: Happy travels

I won't go into all the reasons why I haven't posted this week, but trust me, they're great ones (*cough* Arrested Development). The good news? I'm done with work until school starts again, which means more time for writing, and more time for doing stuff worth writing about.

Which brings me to my current location: yes, Cape Cod. The family's gotten together for the first time since Thanksgiving and decided, what brings us closer than bike paths, fried clams (after much discussion, I decided clams might have feelings too, so I'll be staying away from those delicious beach dwelling bellies, but don't worry, you hardcore carnivores, my dad has agreed to inhale enough for the both of us), crickets, state parks, and of course, an endless supply of locally (and not so locally) brewed beers? If your family is also looking for some blood bonding, I can say that after two days, the beer works the best. But if you read this morning's post, then you know I've already promised to post every day for the coming week, so let's start with day 1: the drive up.

Friday was my last day of work, and I was lucky enough to spend the afternoon with my best pal Michele, and cap the night with a long walk accompanied by Kevin Patrick Gannon, mentioned in earlier posts as KPG. Needless to say, Friday was a good way to pop the cherry of my virgin vacation. Got home at two. Woke up at seven.

My brother and mom were away looking at colleges, so it was just my dad, Joe, my sister, Hannah, and me making the drive. We got our coffees and were on the road by nine. I took a solid nap and woke up somewhere in Connecticut alongside a gang of shirtless bikers. We pulled over so I could get behind the wheel and clock some hours on the highway. All was good for thirty miles or so... until we hit what would be the start of an epic stretch of bumper-to-bumper traffic. After spending five minutes stopped next to a 50 mph speed limit sign, I switched seats with my sister, switched on my beats, and switched my seat position to recline. Half the Pixies discography, the rest of my stockpiled This American Life, and a stuffed rest stop toilet later, we found ourselves entering Eastham, our final destination. Took us 8.5 hours at an average speed of 33 mph; look out Speed Racer.

We spent the rest of the evening drinking, dining, and laughing. Like the Huxtables...sort of.

P.S. I met Ethan and Valera, collectively known (along with Matt, who I've never met) as proshotfilms, once, at Carlos's. They're great guys and great filmmakers; clearly professionals. Howcast is hosting a "make-your-own-how-to" contest and the prize money is pretty hefty. Vote for these guys' video, and if they win, your life will be that much more fulfilled. If they lose, you'll have already made me feel better about myself, and them better about themselves, which should make you feel better about yourself, too. A win-win-win situation. Click this link, log in with your facebook info, watch and enjoy (optional), click the thumbs up (not optional).

*Clams by Joe Shlabotnik

Haiku Monday: Stay tuned

It's been a long time,

But stay tuned this week, trust me,

New posts everyday

Haiku Monday: Terrible Lizards

Without asteroids

What chance would humans have had

Against dinosaurs?

*Introduction to monstering from WorldIslandInfo.com

CHAINSAW MAID

Today is your lucky day. This is my absolute favorite video in the whole world wide web. Thanks to my uncle for showing this to me a couple years back.

If you have kids, take them out of the room, or risk staying up until the wee hours of the morning because they can't shake the nightmares. If you find you yourself respond to images of violence and gore like an impressionable five year old, you might as well close your browser altogether. I'll try to find a PG clip for you folks next week. Seriously, this is not for the faint of heart.

If I've shown this to you in person, consider yourself one of the fortunate few.

CHAINSAW MAID (It's embarrassing but I couldn't figure out how to embed the video with sound, so for now we'll have to rely on youtube.)

*Maid photo from unusualimage

Haiku Monday: Mondays

They are always tough

To get our week of summer

Well, we hang in there

An open letter to anonymous and KPG

So it seems my recent posts regarding a website that lets you paint like Jackson Pollock has sparked some controversy. If you haven't read the comments on those two posts, but mainly the second, you should. This open letter is primarily for anonymous, referring to the two people who posted under that name (could be one redundant person, but who cares?). Kevin's in there also because he comments on the blog regularly and deserves some recognition.

Before we commence, though, I'd like to apologize if I unintentionally hurt any hardcore Jackson Pollock fanboys with my posts. Sorry. They were never meant to turn into an attack on the artistic capabilities or significance of JP, and if you felt that I belittled him by likening his work to my 15 minute flash-based creation then you have mistaken me. Also, my attitude towards this blog has and will continue to be a playful one, so please, don't take it too seriously. I couldn't find pictures that would be appropriate for the tone of this post; if you visit for my picture layouts, come back tomorrow.

Dear anonymous,

I'd like to take this opportunity to respond to some of the topics you raised in your comments, and to explain where I'm coming from in order to cultivate a better understanding of my opinions on art and Jackson Pollock.

First, the money issue. Yes, one of Pollock's paintings sold for $140 million. I'm not sure (and you acknowledge this to a certain extent), however, that the price of his paintings offers an accurate perspective on the quality of his work. Just to throw a counter example out there, Spider-Man 3 grossed over $890 billion, and aside from being, objectively, the worst film of the series, it's likely one of the worst action-comedies (I say comedy because it was laughably bad) I've seen, ever. Additionally, I'm not sure which painting was sold for that price, but I can guess that if it was the same work by an unknown artist, it wouldn't have sold for a fraction of that dollar value. This has all to do with artist branding.

Once an artist achieves the fame and recognizability of someone like Pollock, owning their art is no longer about owning a great work of art. Instead, it evolves into owning a work of art that is considered great, at least in part, by virtue of the artist who produced it. And I don't mean to say that once an artist becomes famous their art loses its inherent value as art, instead my point is that what someone will pay for a product goes beyond the quality of the product alone. I understand that Jackson Pollock is one of or the most collected artist(s) ever, and I'm sure that exclusivity is another factor in the (unreasonable?) prices his paintings fetch.

You mention Pollock's importance in the art world, granting that he is "centrally responsible for freeing the canvas from the easel, the painter from her brush and palette" and the "creat[or] of a new art form." I do not aim to refute the historical impact of Pollock's art, technique, or relationship with his medium. What I would like to suggest, though, is that great art has the ability to impact an audience that has no notion of the context in which the art was made. I think there are countless artists who I would appreciate better if I had the kind of esoteric knowledge found in art history courses (not an attack on art students, I've taken two art courses in as many semesters). If I cannot see what's so special about some work without that knowledge, then, in my opinion, it's not great art. I think this is why museums have blurbs next to paintings; because art is better when you know something about it.

Forget what you know about Jackson Pollock and take a look at Autumn Rhythm. Do you see a "reflection of the cerebral?" Personally, I don't. I do, however, see the whirlings of the artist, otherwise known as the technical aspects that led to the art, and those technical aspects seem to be lacking, which was my point with my fifteen minute "replication." Not knowing anything about JP, I would probably think his fame was a joke, a hoax even. Somehow he fooled everyone into thinking he was this awesome artist when all he did was spill some paint on a canvas. And this is what I meant, focusing on the execution rather than the creative process, when I referred to I could do that artwork.

My opinion of Jackson Pollock's drip paintings is just that, an opinion. I wouldn't dare to elevate myself and say, "fact: Pollock's paintings are easy, one dimensional, and short on craftsmanship." Furthermore, many of the paintings of one of my favorite artists, Mark Rothko, are made up of simple bands of color. I would consider these I could do that, except that when you stand face to face with one, they evoke a magnitude of prominence I can't achieve with a simple flash program. All that said, I appreciate you disagreeing, and I appreciate you taking the time to put it down in writing. For now, we can shakes hands, and agree to disagree.

Yours truly and sincerely,

Ezra Salzman-Gubbay

I definitely want to encourage readers of Danger: Diversion to respond. If there's something you don't like about my ideas, attitude, or taste in youtube clips, tell me, tell the community. I think our everyday lives are too void of discourse. I probably won't be able to give everyone's comments as much attention as I have given anonymous, but I'll do my best.

@ KPG

Guess I couldn't best the Duchamp iPod.

Seriously, though.

If you've ever seen a toilet in a museum and thought, I could do that...

Fifteen minutes of continuous concentration earns you a pretty decent knock-off; sorry Jackson.

If you're shrugging your shoulders, you should read the previous post.

*Autumn Rhythm courtesy of ricardo.martins

DIY: Abstract Expressionism

Every time I go to MoMA, there are always a handful of I could do that art pieces. I do realize that even if I were able to replicate the artwork perfectly, I would still be lacking the creative inspiration or technical ingenuity that went into making the original. I know this, yet I can't help being impressed when an artist makes something that I know I couldn't compete with.

It's liking watching a game of basketball coming to its final seconds. Your favorite team is one point down. The star player drives to the net and lays up the rock for the win - woot, but I could do that. REWIND. The star player takes off from the three point line, rotates three-hundred sixty degrees and shatters the glass with an authoritative slam - I'm going to need a rag.

How many times have you looked at a Jackson Pollock and thought I could do that? Now you can. This site won a webby. Took me a good ten minutes to perfect my "drip" technique - woot.

Create art.

*I could do that photo by 416style

Meat-dealing vegetarians

The paradox of the meat-dealing vegetarian is ancient. God-fearing pharaohs of early Egyptian civilizations would refrain from dealing in dark sorcery but demanded supernatural feats from contracted shamans. Eighteenth century butchers who knew their meat was unfit for eating would sell it to the lowly peasants but refuse to stomach it themselves. During the '60s, political hippies would in-fight over the best way to protest war. Gun control activists of the late '80s took advantage of the exclusive market by selling Kalashnikovs out the trunks of their cars.

With this post, I find myself joining their ranks, but after much deliberation, I, unlike those pharaohs, butchers, hippies, and gun control activists, have been able to justify my meat-dealing. The engine behind me becoming a vegetarian was a simple calculation of the sum utility yielded from including meat in my diet versus excluding it from my diet. To avoid leading this post into a much more profound discussion than I intended, let's just say that taking into account a diverse selection of factors, I found the sum to be greater under the latter condition.

So, if eating meat yields a lower sum utility, how can dealing meat have any better an effect? Two words that have the power to turn any utilitarian argument topsy turvy -- "It's free." Our friends at Wendy's have decided to give back to investors with this sweet coupon - no strings attached - allowing my colleague at work to pass it on to me, allowing me to pass it on to you, and allowing you to go back for as many double cheeseburgers as your heart desires (and regrets after developing around its membrane a deadly yet delicious layer of cholesterol).

My hope is that we can, together, either put Wendy's out of business, saving a butt load of cows, or save a butt load of cash, because after all, it's all about the Hamiltons, baby. Copy and paste three to a page, print, and go to town.


If you end up using the coupon, especially if you end up using it more than once, please let me know by email or a comment on this post, I'd like some assurance that this isn't bullshit.

EDIT: My buddy Calvin's local Wendy's says they're, in his words, "bogus." You know what they say about things that are too good to be true.

EDIT: Maybe all that glitters be gold. Received another report that these coupons do indeed work in NYC.

*Burger photo by pointnshoot

Google takes one small step for man

July 20, 1969 - Neil Armstrong walks on the moon, tearing down the metaphoric rampart that was our perception of the elusiveness and unattainability of space travel.

July 20, 2009 - Google commemorates the event in a most bad ass way.

We all know that for an anniversary of a noteworthy event, Google will change its home screen image accordingly, and embed a link to a relevant search term. Today was no different; the home page showed some craters in the moon spelling out our favorite (fuck Bing) search engine's name, a click on which yielded a search for "Apollo 11." Nothing out of the ordinary - Google, efficient and effective as always.

Later, I find myself playing around on Google maps. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice what at first looks to me like a graphic glitch. Another moment of studying my street view dude and I realized that Google had truly outdone itself.

"One giant leap for mankind."

Diversion: Orisinal

I can't remember exactly when I discovered this gem (skip to the bottom if you're just here for the links), but it must have been sometime around fifth grade. Having grown up with no video game consoles, the computer was the best tool I had for keeping myself entertained (going outside? psshh). This was back when we used AOL (AOL? psshh) and I had just learned how to bypass the parental control locked down "Just for Kids" zone by connecting to the dial up through AOL and switching to Internet Explorer (high fives if you too did this). The web was my oyster, and I found the pearl in this site.

Most of the games on AddictingGames, ArmorGames, and Kongregate are a bit flashy (pun intended), and a lot of the time this makes for a fun five minutes, but in my maturation I find myself developing a taste for artfulness, craftsmanship, variety, and grace, all of which are embodied by the collection of flash games that is Orisinal. The simple beauty of each concept makes them more than just games.

So put the important stuff aside and get ready to enjoy yourself. Definitely worth bookmarking for a rainy day. Have at it: Orisinal.

P.S. I have no idea where the name came from - maybe a "different" take on Original? Thoughts?

Is it just me, or...

If you live in New York and you went outside today, you know it was hot.

I wouldn't necessarily go as far as saying it was hot like a camel-trodden desert, but the fact that it hadn't been this hot, and then it was, made it stand out for me, and for each and every person I spoke to today. To paint a picture, right now I'm in my undies, my fan is spinning at maximum capacity, and the backs of my knees are sweating -- imagine which crevices were sweating when the sun was out. The best part is that even though it was so warm, there were lots of peeps roaming the streets, beating the heat (triple rhyme score). If you were one of those people, I commend you with a cyber high five.

To those of you who scoff at mid to high eighty degree weather, first I say keep your scoffing to yourself, no one wants to hear it. Second I say, sincerely, I envy you. Third I say, if you use celsius, you need to become a firefighter or a locally worshipped demi-god, tonight.

All I can think is, I hope it's not this hot tomorrow. If it is, we'll take it with a smile because we're smug New Yorkers. Until then, though, it's time to catch some Zs and hope Njord graces us with a light breeze on the long trip home.

*Photos by Untitled Blue and theXenon

God Bento America

One and one half weeks ago I said I would make a Bento box of my own design. Flashes of a well rounded and appetizing lunch converged with thoughts of various extravagant food arrangements to produce an animated series of Bento fantasies. Sadly, those fantasies never found their way to fruition. However, in honor of the long weekend, I present to you my tardy attempt at a relevant, yet traditional Japanese creation:

P.S. Those are indeed fruity pebble fireworks in that homemade peach jello cup.

Would you look at the time...

12:34:56 on 7/8/09 - this requires no descriptive banter.