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frankenlincoln:

cumberpatchmannor:

Well damn.
Jul 21, 2014 / 4,473 notes
Jul 10, 2014 / 16,089 notes
Jul 8, 2014 / 1 note

I will say things into a microphone, science will happen

Hi, I’m Adam Teterus. You might know me from hearing me say dumb things into a microphone while in a dark room at Philly Give & Get, Ignite Philly and the Indy Hall keypad (I recorded those prompts while inside a dimly-lit closet). On July 17th, Innovation in the Park: Presented by AT&T will offer your chance to see me say dumb things into a microphone in the sunlight.

Chris Wink of Technically Philly fame clearly lost his mind when he asked me to co-host this totally free event at Liberty Lands in which a bunch of super smart and talented geeks give short talks and rad demos to teach us all about cool science…stuff. The man gave me absolutely no boundaries on how many science-related puns I’m allowed to make while emceeing with the astonishingly beautiful and talented Technically Philly journo, Juliana Reyes.
Chris Wink’s mistake is your reward.

Also, he promised me that the show will feature explosions but did not specify what would be exploding.

On July 17th, Innovation in the Park: Presented by AT&T will offer the very slim but very real chance that I will explode!

July 17, 3:30 - 6:30pm @ Liberty Lands Park (where the Indy Hall BBQ was)

Oh, and Tony Hsieh will be there!*

Hit the jump for details, and please RSVP! http://www.meetup.com/Technically-Philly/events/179806402/











*Err, wait, no. I’m sorry. That’s Tonia Hsieh. She’ll be talking about lizards and robots so who really cares if I tricked you into thinking the CEO of Zappos will be there? Not me, I don’t care.

thesensiblenonsenseproject:

Winnie-the-Pooh by A.A. Milne
The Poetics of Pooh: On Bears, and Rabbits, and Trying to Write
[Buy this book for a child in your life—or to donate to a child in need]
///
I don’t have time to get into the entirety of Pooh with you. Even if I were able to. 
Because as you probably know, Pooh has his own Tao, now.
So let’s leave it here—there’s an immensity to Pooh. There’s a touch of eternity to all his bumbling; a bottomlessness to his most rumbly of tumblies.
There’s a stare into the open eye until the closed eyes open kind of Zen to Pooh.
He’s got Pooh-dist leanings, you could say.
I want to talk about everything that makes Pooh, Pooh. But I don’t even understand it all. So instead I’ll reduce it all down to a single point—to my very favorite moment, from my very favorite character, from my very favorite story from the entire World of Pooh.
Which is my very favorite.
///
Here’s how it starts:
Christopher Robin has sent Pooh off to gather the provisions they’ll require for a hastily-planned expedition to the North Pole. Neither Pooh nor Christopher Robin is really sure what the North Pole is, per se—merely that it’s a thing that exists be sought out.
There’s a strange pull to it, perhaps. Magnetic and invisible.
Pooh tromps merrily along through the Hundred Acre Wood and finally comes across Rabbit, who—characteristically—would much rather have never been come across in the first place.
Here is their exchange in its entirety:
“Hallo Rabbit,” says Pooh, “is that you?”
“Let’s pretend it isn’t,” says Rabbit, “and see what happens.”
“I’ve got a message for you.”
“I’ll give it to him.”
"We’re all going on an… an Expotition with Christopher Robin!" 
"What is it when we’re on it?"
"A sort of boat, I think," says Pooh.
"Oh! That sort." 
"Yes. And we’re going to discover a Pole or something. Or was it a Mole? Anyhow we’re going to discover it."
"We are, are we?" said Rabbit.
"Yes. And we’ve got to bring Pro-things to eat with us. In case we want to eat them. Now I’m going down to Piglet’s. Tell Kanga, will you?"
And Pooh toddles off in search of the North Pole. 
Now if I had the time, I could with spasms of delight tell you of just how happy this scene makes me. How Rabbit—usually so persnickety, always the wettest of blankets—takes a moment to delight in screwing with Pooh for no other reason than the sheer satisfaction of doing so.
I would love to do this. But I have no time.
So instead I’ll point out the other side to this scene. The immense side.
How, for all its acidity and dark comedy, it manages to house one of the purest, most wonderful, most beautiful, most honest phrases about what it is to be, to exist, and to imagine I’ve ever read.
Hallo Rabbit, says Pooh, Is that you?
“Let’s pretend it isn’t,” says Rabbit, “and see what happens.”
Let’s pretend it isn’t, and see what happens.
If I were the kind of man who believed in literary tattoos, this would be my tattoo. 
“Let’s pretend it isn’t and see what happens.”
Has there ever been a more elegant description of the act of imagination? Of the creative impulse? Of the urge to unsee what you’re looking at, and to look for what it is you want to see?
In a single spendthrift phrase, Rabbit captures the delight and abandon and valiant, deliberate choice of what it is to imagine.
Let’s pretend it isn’t, and see what happens.
///
I think about this story a lot.
About Pooh and how he wanders through the Hundred Acre Wood looking for something he can barely describe.
And I think of Rabbit, and how he with one tiny utterance defines the very thesis of daydreaming.
I think of how according to this story… to imagine and to live… they are in their truest sense, an adventure. An expedition.
And then I think of how often I forget that fact.
How I’ve grown old enough to fret over adult things. About my growing waistline. And my wasting hairline. And how I’m not exactly doing the thing I want to be doing… and how isn’t that always the way? And how unlucky am I? And oh bother… why bother?
And suddenly everything turns dark and grim.
And even creativity—even writing—becomes this winding bumble toward some hazy, unknown pole. A journey for which I feel woefully, almost comically underprepared. How I’ve got nothing to say. And how I’ll never write a thing to be proud of.
And every hope and excitement becomes rank and heavy like a blackbird on my shoulder.
And then, I think… this is what it means to be a writer.
So let’s pretend it isn’t. And see what happens.
And everything’s okay again.
///
—Andrew Panebianco is a writer at the Philly ad firm, Brownstein Group. Prior to that he inflicted piles of Romantic poetry and Shakespeare on a decade’s worth of college kids. He is also the author of nearly 200 definitions to words that aren’t, but should be. Read more at wordsthatarent.com, and follow him @fancywhitebread.
Andrew read this story at our Sensible Nonsense live event on May 25, 2014. Click here to find video of the program, or click here for a downloadable MP3 of the entire event.
Jun 6, 2014 / 18 notes

thesensiblenonsenseproject:

Winnie-the-Pooh by A.A. Milne

The Poetics of Pooh:
On Bears, and Rabbits, and Trying to Write

[Buy this book for a child in your life—or to donate to a child in need]

///

I don’t have time to get into the entirety of Pooh with you. Even if I were able to. 

Because as you probably know, Pooh has his own Tao, now.

So let’s leave it here—there’s an immensity to Pooh. There’s a touch of eternity to all his bumbling; a bottomlessness to his most rumbly of tumblies.

There’s a stare into the open eye until the closed eyes open kind of Zen to Pooh.

He’s got Pooh-dist leanings, you could say.

I want to talk about everything that makes Pooh, Pooh. But I don’t even understand it all. So instead I’ll reduce it all down to a single point—to my very favorite moment, from my very favorite character, from my very favorite story from the entire World of Pooh.

Which is my very favorite.

///

Here’s how it starts:

Christopher Robin has sent Pooh off to gather the provisions they’ll require for a hastily-planned expedition to the North Pole. Neither Pooh nor Christopher Robin is really sure what the North Pole is, per se—merely that it’s a thing that exists be sought out.

There’s a strange pull to it, perhaps. Magnetic and invisible.

Pooh tromps merrily along through the Hundred Acre Wood and finally comes across Rabbit, who—characteristically—would much rather have never been come across in the first place.

Here is their exchange in its entirety:

“Hallo Rabbit,” says Pooh, “is that you?”

“Let’s pretend it isn’t,” says Rabbit, “and see what happens.”

“I’ve got a message for you.”

“I’ll give it to him.”

"We’re all going on an… an Expotition with Christopher Robin!" 

"What is it when we’re on it?"

"A sort of boat, I think," says Pooh.

"Oh! That sort." 

"Yes. And we’re going to discover a Pole or something. Or was it a Mole? Anyhow we’re going to discover it."

"We are, are we?" said Rabbit.

"Yes. And we’ve got to bring Pro-things to eat with us. In case we want to eat them. Now I’m going down to Piglet’s. Tell Kanga, will you?"

And Pooh toddles off in search of the North Pole. 

Now if I had the time, I could with spasms of delight tell you of just how happy this scene makes me. How Rabbit—usually so persnickety, always the wettest of blankets—takes a moment to delight in screwing with Pooh for no other reason than the sheer satisfaction of doing so.

I would love to do this. But I have no time.

So instead I’ll point out the other side to this scene. The immense side.

How, for all its acidity and dark comedy, it manages to house one of the purest, most wonderful, most beautiful, most honest phrases about what it is to be, to exist, and to imagine I’ve ever read.

Hallo Rabbit, says Pooh, Is that you?

“Let’s pretend it isn’t,” says Rabbit, “and see what happens.”

Let’s pretend it isn’t, and see what happens.

If I were the kind of man who believed in literary tattoos, this would be my tattoo. 

“Let’s pretend it isn’t and see what happens.”

Has there ever been a more elegant description of the act of imagination? Of the creative impulse? Of the urge to unsee what you’re looking at, and to look for what it is you want to see?

In a single spendthrift phrase, Rabbit captures the delight and abandon and valiant, deliberate choice of what it is to imagine.

Let’s pretend it isn’t, and see what happens.

///

I think about this story a lot.

About Pooh and how he wanders through the Hundred Acre Wood looking for something he can barely describe.

And I think of Rabbit, and how he with one tiny utterance defines the very thesis of daydreaming.

I think of how according to this story… to imagine and to live… they are in their truest sense, an adventure. An expedition.

And then I think of how often I forget that fact.

How I’ve grown old enough to fret over adult things. About my growing waistline. And my wasting hairline. And how I’m not exactly doing the thing I want to be doing… and how isn’t that always the way? And how unlucky am I? And oh bother… why bother?

And suddenly everything turns dark and grim.

And even creativity—even writing—becomes this winding bumble toward some hazy, unknown pole. A journey for which I feel woefully, almost comically underprepared. How I’ve got nothing to say. And how I’ll never write a thing to be proud of.

And every hope and excitement becomes rank and heavy like a blackbird on my shoulder.

And then, I think… this is what it means to be a writer.

So let’s pretend it isn’t. And see what happens.

And everything’s okay again.

///

Andrew Panebianco is a writer at the Philly ad firm, Brownstein Group. Prior to that he inflicted piles of Romantic poetry and Shakespeare on a decade’s worth of college kids. He is also the author of nearly 200 definitions to words that aren’t, but should be. Read more at wordsthatarent.com, and follow him @fancywhitebread.

Andrew read this story at our Sensible Nonsense live event on May 25, 2014. Click here to find video of the program, or click here for a downloadable MP3 of the entire event.

May 26, 2014 / 5,073 notes

Cowboy Bebop

↳ Tank!

(via zuppadivetro)

docshaner:

Dear Marvel, let me have your Fantastic Four. Please.  -Evan
May 26, 2014 / 332 notes

docshaner:

Dear Marvel, let me have your Fantastic Four. Please.  -Evan

(via brianmichaelbendis)

frazerirving:

I drew this cover variant for Superman Unchained at the start of the year, and it’s been published finally hence me sharing it sans le logo etc. I’m seeing the Richard Corben influence creeping in more and more, which is strange considering that I was actively repulsed by his work during my formative years (i like it now tho).
Apr 28, 2014 / 559 notes

frazerirving:

I drew this cover variant for Superman Unchained at the start of the year, and it’s been published finally hence me sharing it sans le logo etc. I’m seeing the Richard Corben influence creeping in more and more, which is strange considering that I was actively repulsed by his work during my formative years (i like it now tho).

(via artistisutambler)

johnrezas:

Doctor Doom really liked his coffee.
Apr 28, 2014 / 121 notes

johnrezas:

Doctor Doom really liked his coffee.

(via fumettimarvel)

sigridellis:

My name is Sigrid Ellis. I am the editor of Pretty Deadly, by the Eisner-nominated team of Kelly Sue DeConnick, Emma Rios, Jordie Bellaire, and Clayton Cowles. I have been nominated for two Hugo Awards, one for my editorial work on Chicks Dig Comics, and this year for editing Queers Dig Time Lords.
I am queer. I am a woman. I am feminist. I believe in the intersectionality of oppression, and I intend to work against same. In comics or anywhere else.
I am comics. Always have been, always will be.
Apr 28, 2014 / 926 notes

sigridellis:

My name is Sigrid Ellis. I am the editor of Pretty Deadly, by the Eisner-nominated team of Kelly Sue DeConnick, Emma Rios, Jordie Bellaire, and Clayton Cowles. I have been nominated for two Hugo Awards, one for my editorial work on Chicks Dig Comics, and this year for editing Queers Dig Time Lords.

I am queer. I am a woman. I am feminist. I believe in the intersectionality of oppression, and I intend to work against same. In comics or anywhere else.

I am comics. Always have been, always will be.

(via frankenlincoln)

Apr 27, 2014 / 1,408 notes

xcyclopswasrightx:

Mike Allred & Laura Allred

(via rahzzah)