November 2013




George Monbiot blames the “global bullshit industry” for the commercial nature of Christmas. I’m not sure this is exactly breaking news, but it’s still fun to read Monbiot’s never-failing progressive take on…


Maps of the physical world are obsolete. The vintage web page Atlas of Cyberspaces offers a strange and wonderful collection of nineties-era renderings of digital geographies – including physical infrastructure, virtual gaming…


The Daniel Fast is the latest fad diet, but this one has a twist: it’s meant for Christians who “Motivated by both faith and fitness,” limit themselves to fruits and vegetables for…




While the names THC and CBD may ring some bells, very few are aware of a compound in marijuana called cannabichromene. That’s unfortunate, because cannabichromene is actually the second most abundant cannabinoid in marijuana,…


cricketsVia Enpundit the unsettling realization that the sound of insects resembles our singing, if you know how to listen:

Composer Jim Wilson has recorded the sound of crickets and then slowed down the recording, revealing something so amazing. The crickets sound like they are singing the most angelic chorus in perfect harmony.

The recording contains two tracks played at the same time: The first is the natural sound of crickets played at regular speed, and the second is the slowed down version of crickets’ voices.

“I discovered that when I slowed down this recording to various levels, this simple familiar sound began to morph into something very mystic and complex……..almost human.”




The Dreamatists notes that Friday marked the 50th anniversary of novelist Aldous Huxley’s passing in what may be the ideal way to die:

Laura Huxley described: “I went into Aldous’s room with the vial of LSD and prepared a syringe. The doctor asked me if I wanted him to give the shot. I said, ‘No, I must do this.”

An hour later she gave Huxley a second 100mm. Then she began to talk, bending close to his ear, whispering, “light and free you let go, darling; forward and up. You are going forward and up; you are going toward the light. … You are going toward the best, the greatest love, and it is easy, it is so easy, and you are doing it so beautifully.”

The breathing became slower and slower and slower until, ‘like a piece of music just finishing so gently in sempre piu piano, dolcamente,’ at twenty past five in the afternoon, Aldous Huxley died.”