Is this really what happens when strangers meet?
Is this really what happens when strangers meet?
A reverse look at sexism and sexual violence. Contains nudity and rough language (in French):
I saw this movie a couple of weeks ago, and really enjoyed it:
It was truly a celebration of rich people behaving badly, and Leonardo DiCaprio was excellent in it.
Technically, it’s not supposed to be an inspirational movie. You know, bad people doing bad things and all that. Apparently, some stock brokers don’t see it that way (from the London Evening Standard):
Cinemas across London are preparing to welcome thousands of bankers, brokers and traders to bespoke private screenings, the Standard has learned, and a cinema booking company says there is more corporate demand for this film than any they can remember.
With one company planning to dress up Nineties Wall Street-style for the occasion, the City’s buzz about [Jordan] Belfort has the ring of an enthronement. It is tempting to think that DiCaprio’s character might be a new cult hero for a new generation of bankers, as Gordon Gekko (protagonist of 1987’s Wall Street) was to their bosses. You can imagine the Square Mile’s new generation quoting Belfort’s corny phrases about money, drugs and women like their pre-crash predecessors did Gekko’s.
A comedy email flying around between bankers in London and New York this week makes the link, plotting a market index since the Eighties with arrows showing major price falls on the release dates of Wall Street and its 2010 sequel Money Never Sleeps, and a Wolf of Wall Street arrow pointing at today’s high price. Will the Wolf consign so many bankers and traders to therapy and rehab that the markets will plummet on its release, the jokes goes. At least I think it’s a joke.
For those of you not familiar with international financial markets, “the City” referred to here isn’t London. The City is what the Brits call their version of Wall Street. They’re treating this movie like it’s a blueprint for success. Maybe they’re thinking all they have to avoid will be the drugs, the prostitutes and the money laundering. That way, they can steal people’s money legally, I guess.
Oh, by the way. The Wolf lives. Jordan Belfort is now a motivational speaker in California. Here’s an interview with him:
Got to admit. The guy is smooth.
An art museum can be a cathedral to rapture and a chamber of horror. I’ve seen a lot of these paintings before, but if they came alive, some of them would scare me to death.
As anyone who uses the Google search engine knows, when you start to type out a question, you’ll immediately get a dropdown of questions that begin with the same wording. That’s called autocomplete.
So many questions are asked on Google, that the database immediately draws up the most frequently asked ones using that phrasing, assuming that chances are since everyone else is asking them, you’re asking the same thing.
It’s a good indication of the state of mind of the world. When so many people are asking the same question, that’s a sociological trend.
A few days before I saw this cartoon on XKDC (click on it for a larger image), I was experimenting with Google’s autocomplete function and wondering what would come up when the focus involved families.
It is not encouraging.
Just go to Google, type in the following terms and see what pops up:
Why does my father
Why does my mother
Why does my husband
Why does my wife
Why does my sister
Why does my brother
Why does my son
Why does my daughter
Why does my aunt
Why does my uncle
The only family situation in autocomplete that didn’t repulse me was:
Why does my grandfather
Have a go at it. You’ll be surprised, and depressed, by the results.
There are a lot of unhappy families out there.
OK, this is going to sound bizarre.
I just got a digital antenna, which allows me to watch broadcast television.
(Yeah, I know it’s no big deal. But I haven’t had cable television since 2003, and I never got an antenna for television until this week. So all that stuff people were saying the past decade about the thing they saw the previous night on the tube. … I had no idea what they were talking about.)
And I’m thinking, why is he doing this?
So I go online, and the Intertubes tell me that it’s for guys who leak as a result of prostate cancer surgery. But I’m wondering if the number of men with that problem is that high? High enough to justify an ad campaign that has to get into the millions of dollars.
Then I saw this:
And suddenly, everything makes sense.
So the lesson I get out of it?
I should have never gotten a digital antenna. There are some things I was better off not knowing.
How many of these guys have you seen in a pickup basketball game?
A better question: How many of these guys have you been in a pickup basketball game?
I’ve been a few. (via BlacktopXchange.com)
From boyhood through adulthood, the White American Male must fight his way through a litany of taunts, assumptions and grievances about his very existence. His oppression is unlike anything American women have faced. Unlike women, however, men don’t organize and form groups when they’ve been persecuted. They just bow out of the game.
Would anyone like to comment on this?
Being a white American male, the Erik Wemple Blog would love to claim such victimhood. Too bad we’ve been accorded every opportunity, never been suspected of any crime, never been profiled, never been harassed for any offense other than being a real jerk, never been taunted and so on.
The University of Louisville men are going to the Final Four in Atlanta.
The University of Louisville women are going to the Final Four in New Orleans.
What’s a Cardinals fan to do?
According to the Louisville Athletics Twitter feed, it’s the:
10th time in NCAA history that a school has sent both men’s and women’s basketball teams to the NCAA Final Four in the same season …
Schools to accomplish the feat: UGA (’83), Duke (’99), Oklahoma (’02), Texas (’03), UConn (’04, ‘ 09, ’11), MichSt (’05), LSU (’06).
There’s a heart-warming piece in Thursday’s New York Times by Peter Mercurio that opens with this:
The story of how Danny and I were married last July in a Manhattan courtroom, with our son, Kevin, beside us, began 12 years earlier, in a dark, damp subway station.
I won’t spoil it by excerpting more, but it is worth reading. Or, you can wait a few years, because somewhere in Hollywood, someone is thinking, “This would make a great movie.” Take a look here.