The following are the nominees for the 2014 Academy Awards (the ones I care about) announced by Cheryl Boone Isaacs, president of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, on Thursday. For some strange reason, she was joined by "Hunger Games" actor Chris Hemsworth. Weird. I wonder who he had to screw to get that spot... Anyway, The Academy Awards will air live on ABC on March 2, starting at 7 p.m. ET. Share your picks in the comments.
CNN Coverage | Official Oscar Site
Last night, I was watching documentaries on Netflix with my boyfriend Corey. One of them was called "Park Avenue: Money, Power, and the American Dream," which features clips of Ayn Rand speaking about her vision of Laissez Faire Capitalism. This brought me into research mode, wanting to find out a little more about the Ayn Rand Institute. I have loved Ayn Rand and "Atlas Shrugged" for years, but I never knew that ARI was a political powerhouse. On my quest, I came across an article George Saunders had written for the New Yorker called "I Was Ayn Rand's Lover."
I had known about Ayn Rand's affair with Nathaniel Branden from reading her many biographies, in particular "The Passion of Ayn Rand." It creeped me out quite a bit back then, but now to see that she prowled on more than one innocent young man left me with a sour taste. If you know Ayn Rand and her philosophy of Objectivism, you wouldn't be too surprised that Nathaniel Branden was a target on her radar. To hear Saunders recount his having essentially been "raped" by her was a little off-putting to say the least, but his developing jealousy over Ayn having set her eyes on a young Paul Ryan disturbed me. It wasn't his feelings of jealousy that disturbed me, rather her voracious appetite for bedding young men in late puberty is what was particularly disturbing.
So, we now know of three men in their late teens who were successfully pursued by Ayn Rand. There are probably plenty more, but my interest stops there. Seeing Paul Ryan run wild with Ayn's version of Laissez Faire Capitalism as it pertains to our present day economy was like being punched in the gut by Ayn Rand herself. All of her theories sound good as just that -- a theory, but when put into practice as Paul Ryan has done as a congressman, they are truly frightening. I don't know what plagues me more: the affairs with young boys, or being disillusioned by Paul Ryan's crazy plans for American prosperity.
To understand what I'm talking about, you'll have to do a little research. Most of it can be done by watching the "Park Avenue" documentary, reading "Atlas Shrugged," "The Passion of Ayn Rand" (also a film), and then reading George Saunder's New Yorker piece (which is very well-written, I might add). It amounts to a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach, I'll bet, because that's what I'm feeling right now. It can all be summed up in one word: UGH!
Watch the entire "Park Avenue" documentary:
Barbara Branden (Nathaniel Branden's wife) on The Passion of Ayn Rand:
Bronzer or Blackface? Julianne Hough Dresses as Crazy Eyes from Orange is the New Black for Halloween. (Pics & Video)
Would I have done it? No, but I don't think dressing up as Crazy Eyes from Orange is the New Black for Halloween is racist. Apparently there are people out there who think it is, though, because there is a storm of controversy surrounding Julianne Hough's choice of costume this Halloween.
She's pictured left dressed as Crazy Eyes, wearing an orange jumpsuit, prison I.D., a knotted hairdo, and what looks to be an excessive amount of bronzer. Some are considering this to be "blackface" makeup, which it technically is, but I don't think Julianne meant it to be offensive. I think it is her tribute to her favorite character from Orange is the New Black.
Crazy Eyes is one of my favorite characters (OITNB is one of my favorite shows), and if you're going to dress like her for Halloween and you're Caucasian, you'd need to darken your skin somehow for anyone to know who you were portraying. It's a matter of accuracy. If you didn't and went to a Halloween party as a white girl portraying Crazy Eyes, everyone would notice the missing element: dark skin.
What does everyone think? My friend Tom says that Julianne's bronzed face is no different than painting your face green to portray the Wicked Witch character from the Wizard of Oz. If an African-American person whitened their face with makeup or powder to portray a Caucasian character, I would not be offended. I don't see this as a racial issue, but I am willing to admit fault if I am wrong. Let me know what you think in the comments.
I am counting the minutes until tonight's season premiere of American Horror Story: Coven. Kathy Bates and Angela Bassett join the cast this season as "the Sadist" and the "Voodoo Queen" respectively. But what I'm most excited about is the return of the amazing Jessica Lange as Fiona Goode. I haven't read any reviews, news, or spoilers about this upcoming season so I can be totally surprised by the first episode. The only thing I'm worried about is that I watched the first 2 seasons on Netflix in a matter of a week, so how am I going to endure the wait for new episodes each week? I guess that's life in the big city.
Don't forget to watch American Horror Story: Coven season premiere tonight at 10pm on FX.
"Queen Bellaflora swept her wand o’er the waterfall’s foam, making it pop like the snot-bubbles on your baby sister’s face." ...And 32 More of the Most Terrible First Sentences in the History of American Literature
Do you know what the Bulwer-Lytton Prize is? Neither did I until I read the 33 worst first sentences in the history of literature. They are hilariously bad, and more often than not, they're annoyingly awkward. And it's the awkwardness that adds to the fun of it.
Inspired by novelist and playwright Edward George Bulwer-Lytton’s famous “it was a dark and stormy night” opener, the contest asks writers to submit an opening sentence for the “worst of all possible novels” in all genres. So this means that children's literature is included, which inspires some of the funniest of the opening lines, one being the title of this blog.
"The fairies of Minglewood, which is near Dingly Pool, were having a grand revel with flower-cakes, and butterfly dances, looking ever so pretty, while Queen Bellaflora swept her wand o’er the waterfall’s foam, making it pop like the snot-bubbles on your baby sister’s face."
See? Almost too awkward to have been printed...but it was. SMH. Here's the site: 33 of the Most Hilariously Terrible First Lines in Literature History. You've been warned.
This young man was diagnosed with terminal cancer. He was determined to get his thoughts and feelings into songs his family and friends could remember him by. You have to watch this video, it's so inspiring. Just a warning, it gets pretty emotional. So if you're not in a place that's conducive to spontaneous sobs, save this video for later. If you're not comfortable with the subject matter, try to get past that for a positive message.
Graciela Martinez, a normal, healthy girl, was found dead from heat stroke in her brother's BMW on Wednesday after a lock malfunctioned. Everybody's just taking this at face value, but seriously? How does a girl get left for dead in her brother's car? Doesn't anyone miss her at the dinner table? And then think to look in the cars, or get in one to go looking for her? This is craziness. Something seems fishy. Here's the article with a video:
A 14-year-old girl was found dead inside a car that investigators said she couldn't exit.
This is definitely weird. Tell me what you think in the comments.
Here is the full article as it appears in the New York Times,
written by MICHAEL SOKOLOVE, Published: September 13, 2013
Harry S. Truman High School, set on a slight incline, is a monument to utility, neither inviting nor forbidding. Buffered on three sides by athletic fields, the school, in Levittown, Pa., rises to just one story. Its exterior is brick — not red but a dull yellow, the color of putty. Inside the front entrance, several trophy cases filled with pictures and other mementos commemorate mostly unsuccessful athletic teams, and a big bulletin board lists the colleges where the current seniors have been admitted. An energetic janitorial staff buffs the floors each afternoon to a high gloss. The classroom clocks tell the right time.
As school was ending one afternoon, I walked through the corridors to a far corner of the building and into the classroom of Lou Volpe, the school’s drama director, who four decades ago was my English teacher. His room was furnished with old couches and living-room chairs, donated stuff that otherwise might have gone to Goodwill or landfills. The bookshelves, windowsills, radiators and all other flat surfaces were piled high with anthologies of plays, copies of scripts and videotapes of Broadway productions. Several mobiles hung down from the ceiling, some low enough that a tall person would have to duck under them. As we talked, Volpe walked a circular route around the classroom, straightening and fluffing the upholstery on the couches and chairs, a ritual he performed numerous times a day, always in a clockwise direction.
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My name is Nicholas Emeigh, but everyone calls me Nick, and I prefer it. I'm usually called Nicholas when I'm in trouble. I'm from the Philadelphia area, work in business, and fancy myself as a freelance graphic designer, writer, and artist. I have a passion for art in all its forms including music, but I restrict my singing to the shower and the car for the good of society. If you'd like to know more, just send me an e-mail. I really appreciate you stopping by.