“Photographers, like any good artists, are deeply insecure. They need plenty of strokes, hand holding, and plain old sympathy. Photographers are genetic whiners, pissers and moaners, and royal pains in the ass. I know. I am one of them.” David Hume Kennerly

For Billy.

Hilarious. Via Alex Wise.

View the high-definition version here.

Schadenfreude (pronounced /ˈʃɑːdənfrɔɪdə/, German pronunciation: [ˈʃaːdənˌfʁɔʏdə]) is pleasure derived from the misfortunes of others.

Via Hypsterism.

Goodbye Hap.

(View the high-definition video here.)

“The Last Airbender” is an agonizing experience in every category I can think of and others still waiting to be invented. The laws of chance suggest that something should have gone right. Not here. It puts a nail in the coffin of low-rent 3D, but it will need a lot more coffins than that.

Throw it in the trash bin with all the other bullshit yellow face films.

Thanks, Jermaine.

Watch the high-definition version here.

Via MetaFilter. (Sup Cotton Duck?)

A clever wallpaper by Effektive Design.

Barry Stiefel visited all 50 states in a weeklong vacation in 1998. He left work on a Friday at 5PM and showed up for work at 8:30AM on the Monday after next. It might have been a route tailored for efficiency (including rental drop-off and roundtrip flights from CA – AK and CA – HI), but it’s a beautiful idea nonetheless.

For years I’d been hearing about Montana’s policy of no daytime speed limits and had planned to quickly cover a lot of ground.  I had planned to get in to Montana by Saturday evening, and then floor it all the way across, going one hundred miles an hour, the way God and highway engineers intended. Unfortunately, I got very delayed in Idaho, with two lane roads and slow traffic and one particular Idaho State Trooper.  By the time I got to Butte, Montana, at 9:00 PM, I was exhausted and decided to get a hotel room, figuring I could make up some miles the next day.  Unfortunately, I should have remembered that when you need to average 1,100 miles per day, it’s hard to “make up miles the next day”.  I grabbed a room at the Best Western.  Before going to my room, I asked the clerk in the hotel about how fast you can really go in Montana without getting a ticket, and she said “I go about 90, and my girlfriend, she always goes 100, and we never get pulled over”.  At this point I was starting to really like Montana.

There’s something romantic about going 100MPH through a two-lane highway in the middle of nowhere. I probably couldn’t afford to eat a speeding ticket of that magnitude but I’d settle for ~85MPH.

I caught a 2:00 PM flight to Honolulu, Hawaii (#49), where I took a cab out to Waikiki Beach, where I realized that I had forgotten to bring my swimming trunks.  I dashed in to one of the ubiquitous local tourist stores and bought a pair of Hawaiian board shorts and a towel and changed in their storeroom.  I swam for an hour, bobbing in the warm water and watching the surfers.  I thought long and hard about moving there and just surfing all day.  Nothing soothes the tremors of road fever better than a soak in the warm, clear waters of the Pacific.  But I had a plane to catch!  I changed back in to my clothes in the tourist store, and then had dinner in a hotel.  I saw that they were shooting off fireworks down at the next beach.  It reminded me that it was the Fourth of July.

This trip is more of a grind than anything else, but I’ve been attracted to that sort of regimen for personal projects before, so I can still find some appeal in it. If I were to do this, I would take 14 days out of my life just be able to hit both coasts, sleep in motels, run around naked in the desert, meet some characters, and take amazing photographs.

Wait until they show some of the gameplay features at the end of the teaser. Yes.

You don’t like that your coworker used me on that note about stealing her yogurt from the break room fridge? You don’t like that I’m all over your sister-in-law’s blog? You don’t like that I’m on the sign for that new Thai place? You think I’m pedestrian and tacky? Guess the fuck what, Picasso. We don’t all have seventy-three weights of stick-up-my-ass Helvetica sitting on our seventeen-inch MacBook Pros. Sorry the entire world can’t all be done in stark Eurotrash Swiss type. Sorry some people like to have fun. Sorry I’m standing in the way of your minimalist Bauhaus-esque fascist snoozefest. Maybe sometime you should take off your black turtleneck, stop compulsively adjusting your Tumblr theme, and lighten the fuck up for once.

Via McSweeny’s.