Sublime micro-sculptures made of mechanical junk. Looks like watch parts, silverware, other shiny bits. I could stare at these for hours. I used to take anchor bolts and turn them into giant machine guns for my GI Joes, but those pale in comparison to the intricacy of these bugs:
I’m so glad that this essay exists, and even more content to believe that Dave Chappelle is out there, possibly very happy, not crazy, having made a deliberate decision to step away from his brilliant comic achievement (and all that cash).
Toward the end of Chappelle’s Show I remember getting more uncomfortable with the sketches and how far over the line they were willing to go for no reason. What started out as go-tell-all-your-friends insightful and hilarious ended as no more than head-shakingly embarrassing and irritating. To me, the wit had turned into spite. After reading this, I can only guess I wasn’t the only one who felt that way. You only have one life to live, what are you going to do with it?
Like Salinger’s retreat from fame, Chappelle’s departure demanded an explanation: how could any human being have the willpower, the chutzpah, the determination to refuse the amount of money rumored to be Chappelle’s next paycheck: fifty million dollars. Say it with me now. Fifty. Million. Dollars. When the dust settled, and Chappelle had done interviews with Oprah and James Lipton in an attempt to recover his image and tell his story, two things became immediately apparent: Dave Chappelle is without a doubt his generation’s smartest comic, and the hole he left in comedy is so great that even ten years later very few people can accept the reason he later gave for leaving fame and fortune behind: he wanted to find a simpler way of life.
Here’s a disturbing and fascinating book about the rise of the jellyfish. They’re destroying everything, which means, so are we. Stung! On Jellyfish Blooms and the Future of the Ocean by Lisa-ann Gershwin. (Actually, the link above goes to The New York Review of Books.)
Gershwin leaves us with a disturbing final rumination:
When I began writing this book,… I had a naive gut feeling that all was still salvageable…. But I think I underestimated how severely we have damaged our oceans and their inhabitants. I now think that we have pushed them too far, past some mysterious tipping point that came and went without fanfare, with no red circle on the calendar and without us knowing the precise moment it all became irreversible. I now sincerely believe that it is only a matter of time before the oceans as we know them and need them to be become very different places indeed. No coral reefs teeming with life. No more mighty whales or wobbling penguins. No lobsters or oysters. Sushi without fish.
Her final word to her readers: “Adapt.”
I read this a few weeks ago and lost a few hairs off my head, others turned white, then I saw this what-could-possibly-go-wrong idea:
Includes videos. Maybe they didn’t read the book–what happens to the jellyfish “pulp”? And releasing floating swarm robots with blades? Swallowed the spider the catch the fly…