STEPHANIE ELIZONDO GRIESTImage: “Yo soy la desintegracíon” © Daniel Gonzalez
Amexica: War Along the Borderline
Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2010. 368 pp.
It starts with a headless body dangling from an underpass called Bridge of Dreams. A bed sheet unfurls beside it, sending a message from one drug cartel to another. Hours before firemen come to cut down the corpse, venerated British journalist Ed Vulliamy arrives on the scene. He takes everything in, noting how the straps beneath its armpits “creak”; how its feet “flap in the wind.” Yet he is equally transfixed by the crowd that has gathered in “unsurprised silence.” They gawk “at this hideous, buckled thing, perhaps fearing, if they leave, they might take with them the curse of that which was done.”
Readers of Vulliamy’s Amexica: War Along the Borderline quickly find themselves in a similar quandary. Page after page depicts horrifying violence rendered in grisly, though compelling, detail. As Vulliamy (disturbingly) notes, “the feral physical cruelty of the slaughter accentuates the borderland’s sensuality and libido.”
Maybe I’m missing something here. Reading this over, Scott Hanselman’s password was clearly hacked. He doesn’t seem to think that’s the case because he’s cautious, but I’m going to go with Occam’s Razor here.
Apple prompts you for your password when buying apps and when doing in-app purchases. Someone would have had to both know your Apple ID and enter that password, unless there’s some in-app exploit, but he doesn’t seem to be suggesting that.
But what Hanselman, who happens to work for Microsoft, seems most upset about is that Apple sent him a email warning him of strange activity on his account, but worded it in a way he didn’t like. And then they locked down his account with wording he didn’t like. And they made him go through iTunes to double-check his activity.
And he doesn’t like that Apple knows what device he has, but let the download happen anyway. I mean, people buy new devices all the time. What’s the proposed solution here? The perpetrators clearly had the correct Apple ID and password. I’m not sure what you can do to protect against that. Kill the cloud?
Update: Matt Galligan brings up a great point below. Apple also prompts you for your credit card’s security code on new devices.
Update 2: John Gruber notes that since Hanselmen was using a PayPal account, the credit card security code wasn’t in play.
i read slaughterhouse five in high school and this quote always stuck with me. so it goes
on his obsession with an immortal literary character.Norman Mailer Reads Norman Mailer 1969 Prestige Lively Arts Catalog # LA 30009
Advertisements for Norman Mailer:
Salvage from an Infatuation
There once was a boy who fell in love with Norman Mailer, a writer who called himself “Aquarius.” Call this boy Aquarius-Nul, then. The name suggested all utopian possibilities the boy had glimpsed, born in the middle of the ’60s to avidly countercultural parents. Their world, which he’d take for the world, was a show that was closing: the dawning of an Age, but no age to follow the dawning. This boy’s own stories, when they came, painted his parents’s tribe as a withered race of superheroes, Super Goat Men and Women, who’d at least been large once in their lives. Aquarius-Nul’s uptight cohort sometimes seemed inclined not even to try, only to mock such attempts. (Aquarius-Nul was as uptight as any of them. Call him A-Nul, maybe.)
When Aquarius-Nul, who favored outlaw or outcaste identities (the Beats, the science-fiction writers), glanced at the then-present Mount Rushmore of U.S. writing, made of the Big Jews and Updike, Mailer was the only alluring prospect. For the teenage Aquarius-Nul, a major American novelist bragging of interest in graffiti, underground film, marijuana, and space travel was irresistible. Even better, Mailer was the only head on that Rushmore who nodded to the value of the outlaw or outcaste identities (the Beats, and science fiction). That Mailer was further a Jew and a Brooklynite yet had shrugged off those legacy subject matters made him, for Aquarius-Nul, who’d want to believe he could do the same, too good to be true. In fact, others on Rushmore would sustain Aquarius-Nul’s interest before long. But not before Aquarius-Nul had burned through Mailer’s whole shelf, sometimes in delirious wonder, sometimes guiltily bored, and, strangely, often both at once.
The last good thing written in C was Franz Schubert’s Symphony Number 9.
—Erwin Dieterich (via fuckyeahcomputerscience)
Animators, please refer to the script for some direction. There are so many wonderful contributions to this collaboration — but, let’s keep the animation SIMPLE!
We’ve got 4 days left until our screening at SUNDANCE! I’m confident we’re gonna come up with something great!