Wednesday
Tuesday
Monday
The Economy of Abundance
I asked my favorite economic professor King Banaian of SCSU Scholars, "Is there any economic theory that's based on abundance? Having too much as opposed to not enough. Having to manufacture demand as well as supply." He replied, "The short answer is no: Economics is the study of choice in a world of scarcity."
Entering economy of abundance in Wikipedia will redirect you to their entry on Post Scarcity. It's interesting reading. Particularly the notion of gift economies. If the only way you had to get something was having it given to you as a gift, would you be a nicer person?
Maybe it's not an abundance of things so much as it is an abundance of choices.
Entering economy of abundance in Wikipedia will redirect you to their entry on Post Scarcity. It's interesting reading. Particularly the notion of gift economies. If the only way you had to get something was having it given to you as a gift, would you be a nicer person?
Maybe it's not an abundance of things so much as it is an abundance of choices.
Wednesday
Fantasy #46
I'm not in the habit of publicly sharing my private fantasies but this is more of a prelude so I think it's alright. I'm single, and not currently seeing anyone but I think if I ever meet that girl I'd want the first time with her to be special.
I live in Minneapolis where there are many expensive high rise condos with spectacular views. My beloved and I would pose as prospective buyers of said condo and view it with the realtor. At the end of the tour we'd make an offer. "We really like the condo but we'd like to be sure, I mean this is an awful lot of money. Because it's downtown we're worried about not being able to get to sleep. We were wondering if we could spend a night in the condo before we sign the papers. Oh no don't bother, we'll take care of the bed." Then get on the phone to Select Comfort and have them deliver a bed for a free 90 day trail. That's the hard part, then it's just a matter of packing some nice bedding, a picnic basket of goodies, some candles, and some music.
"Oh we just tossed and turned all night. We just couldn't get comfortable. I don't think it's for us. I'm sorry."
I live in Minneapolis where there are many expensive high rise condos with spectacular views. My beloved and I would pose as prospective buyers of said condo and view it with the realtor. At the end of the tour we'd make an offer. "We really like the condo but we'd like to be sure, I mean this is an awful lot of money. Because it's downtown we're worried about not being able to get to sleep. We were wondering if we could spend a night in the condo before we sign the papers. Oh no don't bother, we'll take care of the bed." Then get on the phone to Select Comfort and have them deliver a bed for a free 90 day trail. That's the hard part, then it's just a matter of packing some nice bedding, a picnic basket of goodies, some candles, and some music.
"Oh we just tossed and turned all night. We just couldn't get comfortable. I don't think it's for us. I'm sorry."
Tuesday
Computer-Generated Imagery (CGI)
I'd like to see this graphic on movies that don't use CGI if there are still any left. I'm not talking Dogma 95 here, just not polluting movies with CGI. A live action film should be what it says and not contain animated elements. CGI is nothing more than a realistic form of cartoon. Batman, Spiderman with CGI – great, they're already cartoons but film makers are using CGI as a creative crutch. There wasn't any CGI in Kubrick's 2001 A Space Odyssey and that turned out pretty well.
Friday
Tuesday
Monday
Rounder Balls
One result of man's tireless search for perfection in the universe has been the creation of rounder balls. The German company Adidas will supply the World Cup Soccer Tournament this summer with the roundest soccer ball ever.
Friday
Wednesday
01:02:03:04:05:06
Did you feel it too? At 01:02:03 04/05/06 that sudden jolt of human fenestration opening itself outward to the universe. Were the heavens to give us a clue, that moment might have had cosmic implications, but timekeeping is a manmade concept so the moment had as much significance as a winning lottery ticket. Which is not to put down its significance–only its meaning.
It's an odd dichotomy, those that refute religion while still professing a spirituality in the universe. The day is coming when Captain Kirk of the Starship Enterprise receives this answer from Scotty, "No Captin, I can't give her anymore.... I can't reconfigure anything... We're fucked... We are going to die." Bravely explore that.
It's an odd dichotomy, those that refute religion while still professing a spirituality in the universe. The day is coming when Captain Kirk of the Starship Enterprise receives this answer from Scotty, "No Captin, I can't give her anymore.... I can't reconfigure anything... We're fucked... We are going to die." Bravely explore that.
Tuesday
Sunday
Sounds like a Swell Guy
This (via The New Criterion) from an article by Emily Eakin in The New York Times about her visit with French writer Michel Houellebecq.
Houellebecq answered the door in stocking feet … and ushered me into the living room. He curled up in a chair with a pack of Silk Cuts and a bottle of Jim Beam and hardly moved for the entire weekend… .
By the time we sat down to dinner—in the living room—he was too inebriated to eat. He picked at his boiled crab and got some of it on his sleeve. His head began to nod; his eye-lids drooped. But for the first time all day, he looked almost cheerful. “I am the star of French literature,” he slurred. “The most radical one of all.” He reached over and petted my knee. “What’s your name again?” he mumbled. “How would you like to be in my erotic film?”
Houellebecq answered the door in stocking feet … and ushered me into the living room. He curled up in a chair with a pack of Silk Cuts and a bottle of Jim Beam and hardly moved for the entire weekend… .
By the time we sat down to dinner—in the living room—he was too inebriated to eat. He picked at his boiled crab and got some of it on his sleeve. His head began to nod; his eye-lids drooped. But for the first time all day, he looked almost cheerful. “I am the star of French literature,” he slurred. “The most radical one of all.” He reached over and petted my knee. “What’s your name again?” he mumbled. “How would you like to be in my erotic film?”