Anatomy of a Jetliner, a NOVA interactive. Via Kindall, who really picked up the slack today. Great work keeping the Puget Sound link quota up!

(There is a real, real kooky idea for a useless collaboweb metric thingy embedded in this post, huh?)

MonkeyFilter | Curious George: Meta…what?: MoFi investigates MeFi outage.

As you figured… sumpin’s broked.

I just flipped into the last half-hour Spike Lee’s Malcolm X on iFC.

That is some moviemaking. Damn. Good to see again.

The Illuminated Donkey runs Nancy Goldstein’s Monkeys, Donkeys, and Junkies today, as it has on and off for a few months. So far, each time it runs, I write some doggerel. Why stop now?

When the monkey of the east
precedes the sheep about the quarter
with the biggest bang upon, not gong, but street

showing value for your money –
not monkey – that is, also:
the biggest bang for your buck,
Hell Money dollars blow beneath the truck

And then the sheep, not you but ewe,
are all a-snooze beneath
the soothing eye of ass,
that is, the donk –

Whose mighty jawbone set
us upon the path
to Marduk and Ur –

always in the company
of donk and monk of course

(Please note
the mule, the ass, the donkey,
is not by any means a horse;
it’s thought, you see,
that as it sees the ewes
it keeps the monkey off the back)

And so we hairless apes
went stumbling down the dusty path
into our urban hives;
and in our fitful stumble
do we not weave and nod and droop?

We lean upon the donkey
and find the monkey on our back:
Like Rip Torn, if not on junk
we might imbibe and drive.

If on the road he rode
the donkey with the monkey
he’d not be seen as drunk
and we’d be less one episode
of monkey, donkey, junk.

endquote: naked sushi, then church!

thingsmagazine.net is currently holding down the ‘best summary’ slot in my digital peregrinations, recently encoutered-ness not withstanding.

What better way to cement your audience’s love an appreciation than a straightforward namecheck? In the same graf as such august wonders as ask mefi and the mighty mighty b², yet.

Thanks, things! What a nice way to turn in from the pub! (yes, pub – I revisited the site of the grey-haired barfly incident this night, an’ its’ gots a snug, an’ Watleys, an’ so forth. And the occasional tussle.)

So, the project is wrapping up and we’re in shipping frenzy, which means lots of staying up late un-limbered by tha boose. At times like these a man craves his classical music. Sadly, iTunes’ default selection is much less meaty in the online classical radio section than it is in other areas of the nation’s radio dial.

After a wee bit of poking here and there, it struck me that WNYC probably has a killer overnight classical show. Lo! indeed they do, but: it streams in a format that iTunes cain’t make hide nor hair of, the dreaded .asf, Windows-standard files.

Fortunately, though, I bothered to grab MPlayer OS X only a few days ago, in a fit of technical curiosity about video-encoding standards (associated with that video project that is back-burnered ’til this ship date is met).

Much to my surprise and joy, MPlayer had already arranged to handle .asf with Safari, and when I clicked WNYC’s streaming link, it fired up MPlayer and I was able to get back to the business of staring very hard at complex things that I was having a hard time thinking clearly about due to lack of sleep. Hooray!

(I have a dumb multimedia application lurking in my head – a UI that looks like the very oldest consumer radios, which came with labeled pushbuttons, preset to the local selection of radio stations. It’s the ancestor of the push-button presets on old or current car radios. You had to take the radio in to get it serviced to change the tuning, and, I assume, get the buttons relabeled)

What was that about bears? The Globe and Mail notes some unfortunate news regarding bears and humans.

Dark Fairytales opens tonight at Roq la Rue and I’ll be reviewing the show for Tablet.

It’s funny – my degree is in art history, and I know I can write about art. But I do it so seldom, I’m a bit fluttery about this. My plan is to tote the recorder and a camera, try to talk to a couple of the artists, and then maybe offer critical stuff as well when I write it up. We’ll see.

I am, I’m happy to report, going with good pal Kineta, who I see far too rarely these days.

Huh, willya looka that.

Gettin’ bigger, y-to-the-izzle-all.

8 bit joystick calls the roll. Mr. Sooros brings the photons.

A good time, it seems, is had by all.

But where are the jello shots? Can it be true that there’s no bar in Seattle that sports free wireless? Heavens to murgatroid!