the patron saints of graphic design
[lynnster.com]

This Flemish maiden (who is also the Patroness of the city of Cmyk) was the niece of Saint Gertrude of Trumatch. Famously compassionate and harboring a flair for drama, Pantone caused a miraculous fountain to spring from the earth (it is there to this day), the waters of which are wonderously effective against depression and boredom. […]

aren’t you glad you’re not a rock star?
[www.arancidamoeba.com]

The Balance Sheet: This is how much each player got paid at the end of the game. Record company: $710,000
Producer: $90,000
Manager: $51,000
Studio: $52,500
Previous label: $50,000
Agent: $7,500
Lawyer: $12,000
Band member net income each: $4,031.25

Too much spirit kills sorcerer
[news.com.au]

My family has a history with witch-doctoring – alas they are too rare nowadays to lose them…

A SRI Lankan magician killed himself during a black magic ritual to harness evil forces after he was overwhelmed by the spirits he had drunk, rather than those he was trying to cast spells on, a press report said today.

The 71-year-old man had used his full force to dash a coconut on the ground as part of the ritual on behalf of a customer, but lost his balance and ended up hooked on the trident, a weapon of Hindu gods, the Sinhalese-language Lankadeepa said.

The paper quoted the victim’s son as saying he had been drunk at the time.

Japan Holds Ages-Old Log-Riding Festival
[www.montereyherald.com]

First it was the Running of the Sheep [www.crypticide.com] now it’s the driving of the logs; for some reason I can’t seem to get The Lumberjack Song out of my head.

SHIMOSUWA, Japan – Straddling a giant log, six men peer over the edge of a steep slope. There they teeter as buglers and bards, dressed in bright robes and knickers, whip up the crowd.

Suddenly, a green flag goes up and the log hurtles down the 100-yard incline, twisting and bucking and throwing most of its riders along the way.

Scientific Nouvelle Cuisine: End of the world nigh.
[slate.msn.com]

You know you’re living in a late culture when a chef—in this case, three-Michelin-starred Catalan Chef Ferran Adrià—serves you shrimp broth in a pipette, foie gras that has been frozen and ground to a powder, and a mushroom appetizer spritzed with a custom-made woody fragrance. Historically speaking, such baroque food isn’t the best indicator for a society’s fate: Apicius wrote recipes for flamingo tongues and stuffed dormice shortly before Rome burned, and France’s revolutionary deluge followed Louis XIV’s marathon feasts by a mere few decades.

Things that have passed my way