the whole world burns

Processing.js

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Processing ported to JavaScript + <canvas> -- amazing.

“Ghoti” before Shaw

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Now traced back to before he was even born.

MetaFilter’s take on the Shakespearean “Pulp Fiction”

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See thou mine own coin-purse? It hath upon it written "Foul Oedipus."

Shakespeare’s Pulp Fiction

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JULES presses his knife to BRETT's throat
J: Speak 'What' again! Thou cur, cry 'What' again!
I dare thee utter 'What' again but once!
I dare thee twice and spit upon thy name!
Now, paint for me a portraiture in words,
If thou hast any in thy head but 'What',
Of Marsellus Wallace!
B: He is dark.
J: Aye, and what more?
B: His head is shaven bald.
J: Has he the semblance of a harlot?
B: What?
JULES strikes and BRETT cries out
J: Has he the semblance of a harlot?
B: Nay!
J: Then why didst thou attempt to bed him thus?

By Kevin Pease

Machine Tags @ Flickr

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Saved this link in January 2007 and expected a wave of imitators, but haven't heard much about it since, though I think del.icio.us uses something similar. Interesting, anyway: piggyback on the tag space with system identifiers like "filetype:mp3" or "geo:[lat],[long]" or "user:[username]".

Cookie Monster Searches Deep Within Himself and Asks: Is Me Really Monster?

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Me know. Me have problem.

Me love cookies. Me tend to get out of control when me see cookies. ...

Google App Engine

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Sounds fantastic, plus:

Every Google App Engine application can use up to 500MB of persistent storage and enough bandwidth and CPU for 5 million monthly page views.

This is more CPU than you could expect to get from a cheap Dreamhost account etc., and presumably more reliable.

Inebriate! Audiobook: “Trunk and Disorderly” by Charles Stross

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Fantastic free audio-novelette, like science-fiction Wodehouse as read by the tipsy shade of Vincent Price.

Did They Have Fan Fiction in the Middle Ages?

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John Lydgate is the worst medieval offender that I can think of off the top of my head. For the prologue to his Siege of Thebes, he wrote himself into Chaucer's Canterbury Tales.

And so while the pilgrims were
At Canterbury, well lodged one and all,
I don't know what to call it,
Luck or Fortune -- in the end
That led me to enter into that town