Courtesy of BoingBoing:

It turns out that the New Yorker is a Left Coast publication — it’s circulation is higher in California, than in New York State (not per capita, but by pure numbers). After NYC, SF and LA come in second and third respectively in terms of readership (Beantown comes in fourth). If the numbers are so high, perhaps Eggers and crew can churn out something broader than McSweeney’s and the Believer to create a true West Coast counterpart to the NY’er.
When I returned from London, I raved about the Weather Project at the Tate Modern. The museum’s officials wanted to extend the exhibit, but it’s shutting down today. In an article that discusses the work, Eliasson remarks, “The time after a show is just as interesting to me…because then it becomes an object of memory, and its meanings change.”
It’s funny how the Weather Project occupies a space in my memory alongside the large Japanese ceramic bowls (particularly one called Sunburst) at the Smithsonian when I was 16. That was the summer when I encountered Monet’s Water Lilies, among the throngs at the Chicago Institute of Art, yet the bowls at the Freer/Sackler in DC etched their way into my mind with their beauty. The Weather Project took this one step further just because it was completely enveloping. Ah, memory.
Until my Communications law prof brought it up today, I never gave much thought to those devices that bouncers use to “verify” if your ID is real. When they swipe your ID or license through one of those handheld machines, you have no idea what information they are collecting. Since I think that I am past the age where I need to get into the cool club, I think that I am going to ask, “What’s your privacy policy?” the next time someone wants to swipe my card. Also, there’s a California statute that places limits on what can be collected by the ID readers.
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Another one of my pet peeves is when stores ask for your phone number or zip code when you make an in store purchase. The salesperson always asks in a such a way where she implies that she needs the info, yet, the phrasing allows the company to say that you gave up the information consensually. They subtly ask, “Oh, and can I get your phone number?” without letting on to why they want the info: (1) to sell data about different area or zip codes; and (2) to track your purchasing. I always decline to give this info, yet people give up this info all of the time without getting anything in return (at least with supermarket club cards, you get some sort of discount for surrendering your privacy).
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On a unrelated note, I can’t believe that it’s snowing (6-10 inches forecasted) here, yet it’s gorgeous at home. Damn you Boston!!! No wonder the Red Sox are cursed.
Here’s the news story: Utah woman charged with murder because she refused a C-section, and later delivered a pair of twins, one alive, one stillborn. The murder charge stems from the fact her doctors advised her that if she didn’t undergo the procedure, there was a good chance that both twins would not survive.
Does this scare anyone else that the pro-life movement is so determined to “preserve life” that their analogizing refusing a Caesarean, an invasive procedure where a woman’s belly is cut open, to the affirmative act of having an abortion? (Please note, that I consider myself pro-life, but I have always been disturbed by “vigilante,” fundamentalist pro-lifers.) (After typing and submitting the previous sentence, I had to shudder…it feels so weird announcing that conservative stance.)
Upon entering the Tate Modern last Wednesday, I had one of the most dazzling museum encounters ever, an installation by Olafur Eliasson called The Weather Project. I walked down the sloped floor of the high ceilinged (about 5 stories) Turbine Hall. I was surrounded by a light articifial mist that lent a dreamlike effect, and the hall was lit only by a large half disk that was reflected by the mirrored panels on the ceiling. As I approached the disk, I felt that I was witnessing a nuclear explosion, or a sunset (because of the fog, it felt more like dusk) on another planet. It was a little eerie to see groups of spectators, lying on the floor to see their figures in the ceiling. It reminded slightly of people lying on the ground as a result of effects of some sort of nuclear or chemical attack. Also, walking towards the sun made me think a little of people who have near-death experiences, because I could not help but be drawn towards the light.
I encourage you to check out the link above to Eliasson’s work.