Friday, July 24

Affluenza: July 24

Beautiful! (Those dinks in Vampire Weekend will be SO JEALOUS...)

Gizmodo gets in the Affluenza business...

Affluenza Approves:

It's A Branch You Idiots

It's A Plank You Idiots

It's A Stump You...whoa, these are actually really breathtakingly beautiful. (Four large, though.)

Gorgeous, of course. And note the blogger's intriguing coining of the adjective "shitful."

I know I've written before about the interesting life span these things have had--from goofy joke to useful accessory--and here's a place to get one. Forty bucks for a solid, good-sounding headset sounds like a STEAL to me.

The "Is this Time Cube or NotCot?" NotCot caption of the week:
"The transparent platelets have been planned in order to uniform diffuse the punctual bundle of the LED, that they represent between the more fascinating sources than light of the future, designed by Massimo Iosa Ghini." Of course.

Winner of this installment's prestigious Nacho Carbonell Award

The Onion gets into the Affluenza business...

Keep Diluting That Brand Presence! 


Leave it to French hipsters. (The original caption for this entry was "Tres sexy!" but I didn't trust some of you guys to realize I was being sarcastic...)

An Open Flame Is The New Bowl Of Rocks

I love the idea of upper-middles lining up to buy bedsheets that look like cardboard. (Also: the designer goes by the name "Snurk.")

I guarantee 85% of the people who saw this thought to themselves "Weekend project!" (Including myself.)

Affluenza's favorite new blog.

Two utterly gorgeous pieces of jewelry. (Be sure to click on Other Views at the Bubble Necklace link to see how great it looks in person.)


Sunday, July 12

The Law Of Fail

"Once a web community has decided to dislike a person, topic, or idea, the conversation will shift from criticizing the idea to become a competition about who can be most scathing in their condemnation." -Anil Dash

Friday, July 3

from DOG OF THE SOUTH, by Charles Portis

"The kind of people I know now don't have barbecues, Mama. They stand
up alone at nights in small rooms and eat cold weenies. My so-called
friends are bums. Many of them are nothing but rats. They spread T.B.
and use dirty language. Some of them can even move their ears. They're
wife-beaters and window peepers and night crawlers and dope fiends.
They have running sores on the backs of their hands that never heal.
They peer up from cracks in the floor with their small red eyes and
watch for chances."