A place name is tautological if two differently-sounding parts of it are synonymous. This often occurs when a name from one language is imported into another and a standard descriptor is added on from the second language. Thus, for example, New Zealand's Mount Maunganui is tautological since maunga is Māori for mountain. The following is a list of place names often used tautologically, plus the languages from which the non-English name elements have come.
The Privacy Gift Shop's Stealth Wear line is comprised of garments that stop you from being thermally imaged by drones. It comes in burqa ($2500), hijab ($550), and hoodie ($350).
The Chinese artist Ai Weiwei, a master of social media, has started a new Instagram meme: hold up your leg and pretend you're aiming it like a gun.
It's unclear what the controversial artist is trying to say with the gag, but his Instagram feed has now been taken over by dozens of leg gun photos from fans. Men, women, children, dolls, Chinese, Americans, Kermit the Frog, and even one amputee with a prosthetic have joined in on the game.
Someone disagreeable is trying to persuade you to take a trip to Bath.
Your father is absolutely terrible with money. No one has ever told him this.
All of your dresses look like nightgowns.
Someone disagreeable tries to persuade you to join a game of cards.
A woman who hates you is playing the pianoforte.
A picnic has gone horribly wrong.
A member of the armed forces has revealed himself to be morally deficient.
You once took a walk with a cad.
Everyone in the neighborhood, including your mother, has ranked you and your sisters in order of hotness. You know exactly where you fall on the list.
You say something arch yet generous about another woman both younger and richer than you.
You have one friend; he is thirty years old and does business with your father and you are going to marry him someday.
You attempt to befriend someone slightly above or slightly below your social station and are soundly punished for it.
A girl you have only just met tells you a secret, and you despise her for it.
You have five hundred a year. From who? Five hundred what? No one knows. No one cares. You have it. It’s yours. Every year. All five hundred of it.
There are three men in your life: one true love, one tempting but rakish acquaintance, and a third distant possibility — he is courteous and attentive but only slightly interested in you. He is almost certainly the cousin or good friend of your true love, and nothing will ever happen between you two.
A woman who is not your mother treats you like her own daughter. Your actual mother is dead or ridiculous.
You develop a resentment at a public dance.
Someone you know has fallen ill. Not melodramatically ill, just interestingly so.
A man proposes to you, then to another, lesser woman when you politely spurn him. This delights you to no end.
A charming man attempts to flirt with you. This is terrible.
You have become exceedingly ashamed of what your conduct has been.
A shocking marriage of convenience takes place within your social circle two-thirds of the way in.
A woman in an absurd hat is being an absolute bitch to you; there is nothing you can do about it.
Today is not only Friday the 13th, it’s also a full moon! Nicknamed the Strawberry moon or Rose moon since both of those plants are at their peak in June.
via firehose ("Reminder that the shooter and his family are mainstream Mormons; he was ordained as a deacon at 12 years old, and his father was a church elder.")
Two students at Worcester Polytechnic Institute have raised the bar high for train data visualizations.
Courtesy of the Massachusetts Bay Transit Authority and its Developer Relations program, Michael Barry and Brian Card got their hands on information like train schedules, real-time train locations in the Boston metro area (only available for the Red, Blue, and Orange lines), and per-minute entry and exit counts at each station based on turnstile measurements.
The pair pulled all the data from the month of February 2014. And then, taking cues from information visualization pioneers like Edward Tufte, they crafted the data into a stunning set of interactive visualizations. They hope their work will help people better understand how Boston’s transit system works and how their behavior fits in to overall patterns.
For example, the graphics in the screenshot above depict all subway trips on the Red, Blue, and Orange lines on February 3, 2014. In the "timetable" on the right, each vertical line represents a station, so the colored lines represent each train's position as time passes by. Steeper lines means slower trains. In the interactive version, mousing over a single train also brings up its position on the subway map (shown below in the center).
On the very left of this screenshot is a zoomed-out look at the whole day. In the concentration of colored lines, we can make out the more frenetic morning and afternoon rush hours, the mid-day and evening lulls, and complete lack of service in the wee hours.
Below, we zoom in at around 5:00 p.m. on the "timetable," where you can see that a disabled train (bolded) on the Red Line delays all the trains following it for over an hour (which is observed in the concentrated strip of extra steep lines). Major delays due to disabled trains make headlines quite regularly in Boston—just this week a disabled train at Davis Square created mayhem on the Red Line. Now, we can see the extent of the impact of such disturbances.
The project also tackles the people component. The graphic below for example, illustrates the relationship between congestion and passenger volume. You can see how overall, the biggest delays, highlighted in red, correspond to morning and evening rush hours, when turnstile entries recorded across all the stations are highest.
Another visualization also lets you explore specific trips on each line. Just highlight the start and end positions of a trip and see how long that commute would take at different points of the day. You can begin to see what time in the morning might give you the best shot at a fast trip.
For example, as shown in the screenshot below, if you get to the Harvard Station platform at 7:56 a.m., the typical total commute time to South Station—including wait and transit time—is 18 minutes. Hover over the graphic and you can see that if you get there at 8:25 a.m., that number goes up to 21 minutes.
Barry and Card also observed trends like the fact that increased delays during rush hour are generally offset by trains arriving more frequently, and that transit times on the Blue Line are less variable than on the Red Line. To explore the detailed data in all the interactives, click through to the project page.
Inspired to make something similar? Barry has promised to share the code behind these visualizations soon on GitHub.
(Tertiarymatt: "This has little to do with gun violence and everything to do with Pat Roberston believing, in his dry, black little heart, that this man basically has the right to kill his wife, because Jesus.")
“Whenever my parents fight, my dad threatens my mom with his gun,” a viewer told [Televangelist Pat Robertson] in an email. “Fortunately, this now means nothing to my mom, and she never goes nuts about it; she is very calm.”
“But as a child, I get nervous and worried when this happens,” the viewer’s note continued. “Even my younger brother saw this incident. What should we do about it and him?”
Televangelist's response? “[Y]ou don’t want to get your father busted.."
As you can see, America has really entered the twilight world of gun madness. And the further it is from the one and only rational course of action (enforcing a ban on these dangerous weapons), the weirder become its efforts to make sense of this terribly irrational situation.
East Bay craft pioneer Chuck Stilphen’s new barbecue project, delayed by a week, is now set to debut in downtown Berkeley next Friday, June 20.
The menu for Perdition Smokehouse, however, is ready to go. Masterminded by Mikkeller Bar-executive chef Mike O’Brien, a co-owner and executive chef at the Berkeley project, the food offerings are relatively few and focused. That’s by design, according to O’Brien, who says he wanted to hone in on getting the barbecue basics down right.
“I wanted to concentrate, at least in the beginning, on making the best barbecue I possible could and keeping things very simple,” he says. “It’s a very simple food, it’s not complicated. It just takes time and knowing the correct process in order to do it well.”
The opening night menu will consist of just two starters, hush puppies with honey butter and chili verde with sour cream and cilantro. The centerpiece of the menu are the smoked meats, served (and charged) by the pound, and which consist of Storm Hill Angus brisket, Duroc pork shoulder and St. Louis pork ribs, Diestel Farms turkey breast, and made-in-house roasted Serrano hot link. There will also be three sandwiches (pulled pork, brisket, and a chopped brisket with sliced hot link, slaw and pickles), five sides (including cowboy beans, mac and cheese, and corn and black eyed pea salad), and a few desserts.
O’Brien and Stilphen imported two big smokers from Mesquite, Texas, and have been tinkering with the recipes non-stop since they acquired the space, formerly Amadeus at 2050 University Avenue. The barbecue is classic dry-rub style, smoked for hours using oak and almond wood. And despite the fact that he is a relative newcomer to the medium, O’Brien has high aspirations for Perdition.
“Obviously, barbecue is something that people have spent decades of their life trying to perfect and we’re trying to pack it all into a matter of weeks,” he says. “But I really like where we are right now. I’ve tried a lot of the barbecue in the Bay Area. I’ve had some good and I’ve had some bad, and I think we can do it better.”
Everything, minus the bread (which they’re sourcing from Berkeley’s Acme Bakery), will be made in house, O’Brien says. They’ll also try to keep things affordable, with meat prices ranging from $15 to $25 per pound. In true southern style, it’ll be order-at-the-counter service, with a few roving servers for beer, of which there will be 43 craft California varieties on tap (available by the pint or pitcher). A back outdoor patio/beer garden has communal tables that seat around 50.
Perdition will be open for dinner only to start, with plans to phase in lunch service. Check their Facebook page for official opening updates: facebook.com/perditionbbq.
Perdition Smokehouse: 2050 University Avenue, Berkeley, (510) 900-5858.
Notes: Title from unverified data provided by the Bain News Service on the negatives or caption cards.
Forms part of: George Grantham Bain Collection (Library of Congress).
Format: Glass negatives.
Rights Info: No known restrictions on publication.
Repository: Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, Washington, D.C. 20540 USA, hdl.loc.gov/loc.pnp/pp.print
When it comes to high-end women's shirting, there are only a handful of labels that keep pace with menswear trends—I'm talking about shirts with silhouettes that are feminine, not matronly, and collars that aren't the same length as John Travolta's getup from Saturday Night Fever. Thankfully menswear accessories and shirtmaker Alexander Olch has risen to the task. After he opened his first permanent store late last year he was surprised about who was walking in the door. Half of his customers were women. They were buying for their friends, boyfriends, dads, kids, and always asking if his Italian cotton shirts were available for women. They weren't until last week when Mr. Olch launched his first women's collection. "This is not your boyfriend's shirt, this is your shirt," Olch says. Well put. And, I love that he engineered the shirt to hold a necktie, should the occasion rise. All shirts are made in New York. They're available for purchase online and at Barneys New York.
via multitask suicide ("I love how the highbrow clothes are just Harris tweed")
This chart from a 1949 issue of LIFE will help you determine if you are high-brow, upper middle-brow, lower middle-brow, or low-brow. I like wedge iceberg lettuce salad so I am lower middle-brow. (via TWBE)
A few years after I started working in the cheese business, my phone rang. On the other end, somewhat confused, was my mother. "I bought that cheese you said you like. E-poss-ay? I think something's wrong with it. It stinks. How do I scrape off all the orange slime?" It's a testament to my mother that she didn't just toss it. For me, it was a reminder of how bizarre, to burgeoning cheese explorers, this type of cheese really is.
I'm talking washed rind cheese, a broad but distinctive category of gloriously stinky curd. The telltale signs include a moist or sticky exterior, some variety of reddish-orange rind, and profound aromas reminiscent of often-unmentionable things (sweaty feet and barnyard animals figure prominently). Some washed rind cheese is soft and oozy; others are solid enough to grate.
What's In a Rind?
Technically, "washed rind" is a phrase that can be used to describe any cheese with a brine-washed (or moistened) rind. Adding mildly salted water to a cheese's exterior fosters an environment hospitable to a variety of bacteria, often (though not always) including b. linens (brevibacterium linens). Many cheesemakers include b. linens directly in their brine, while others introduce it to the milk prior to cheesemaking.
The bacteria that develop are responsible for the unique characteristics of the cheeses' rinds, the reddish color, and pungent smell. Washed rind cheese with a high moisture content gets broken down by these bacteria, resulting in a creamy cheese that becomes oozier with age. By comparison, low moisture washed rind cheese (like Gruyère and others traditionally made in the Swiss and French Alps) become firmer and drier as they age.
The creamier examples are also called "monastic" cheeses, with recipe origins in the Franciscan monastaries of France and Belgium. Traditionally, meat-abstaining monks relied on cheese as a source of protein, and the profits they made from selling cheese became critical for running their monasteries. Many monks in the Medieval age were brewers and distillers as well, so some began lacing their cheese brines with booze for added flavor, complexity and preservation power.
The cheeses most famous as washed rinds (aka soft and rank) are these runny high moisture varieties, which are only aged for a few months. In the U.S., that means they'll likely be made from pasteurized milk, as FDA law dictates that any raw milk cheese made of raw milk must be ripened for at least 60 days. If you're specifically looking for raw washed rind cheese, search for the firmer, more aged varieties, ones that come from (or are inspired by) the French and Swiss Alps.
Common Washed Rind Cheese
Let's start with the gateway to washed rinds: the northern Italian cows' milk cheese Taleggio. Many folks liken it to Brie, though the texture is stickier and less runny. I appreciate its mild, yeasty flavor—bready, like undercooked pizza crust. The rind is sherbety orange but often adorned with patches of grayish fur. That mold is harmless, but it can turn the rind bitter, so eating this rind is a matter of preference. (The brine also leaves a fine, sugary crunch on the exterior that some people don't care for.)
From here, goose up a tasting with Limburger. The bark is far worse than the bite, though you should be careful with your fingers, as Limburger's footy stench will survive multiple hand washings. The bold enjoy it in thick slabs atop dark bread with shaved raw onion, but don't worry: its flavor is remarkably approachable, rich and buttery from whole-fat cows' milk, and its texture is akin to cooled hot fudge. The classic is made by the Chalet Cheese Company in Wisconsin, but German and Belgian producers make the cheese as well.
Perhaps the most luxurious (and rarely made out of raw cows' milk!) is the seasonal Winnimere from the Cellars at Jasper Hill in northern Vermont. Winnimere, which can only be found between January and June, has a wobbly panna cotta-like interior encased in a layer of spruce bark. The tree's Christmas-y aroma balances the cheese's intense savoriness.
That cheese that stymied my mother is actually called Epoisses de Bourgogne (ee-PWASS duh boar-GOAN-yuh), famed stinker of France's Burgundy region, and washed in brandy-infused (Marc de Bourgogne) brine. It's packaged in a little wooden box, and when it's ripe, the cheese appears to be swaddled in a Vaseline-smeared quilt. It can—and should—be scooped and smeared like butter. Though it stinks up their air with shockingly rude odors, the flavor is deliciously meaty.
As for hard, aged washed rind cheese, the classis is Gruyère, such as 1655 or Emmi's Kaltbach. The burnished, rust-tinged rind is evidence that the cheese was washed with brine, in the case of this cheese for a minimum of five months. It trades in pungent stink for intense savory flavors: beef broth and horse stables. Gruyère is typically aged between six and 18 months and it's always made from raw cows' milk.
The Washed Rind Recap
Washed rind cheese can be identified by its red or orange rind. It can be creamy and oozy or hard and grate-able.
Don't fear stinky aromas—they lead to big, meaty flavors.
Soft washed rind cheese should be plump and moist; avoid brown or cracking pieces.
Hard washed rinds will have an orange-brown crust on the outside, not recommended for eating.
Expect yeasty/meaty/salty/animal flavors.
Eat your cheese within 10 days of purchasing.
Pair it with floral, honeyed, or fruity beverages like Riesling or Belgian ale.
Ask the Cheesemonger
Have a burning curd query of your own? Send your questions to cheese@seriouseats.com and we may answer them in a future post.
Fights, drug deals, public drinking and loitering are just some of the issues plaguing Central Square, and local business owners and councilors hope to do something about it. In a new policy order unanimously passed at Monday's council meeting, the city manager will identify measures in the coming months to improve public safety in the square.Patrick Barrett, a Central Square property owner, told City Council on Monday, June 9, that street performers don't want to go to Central Square [...]
“They wanted me to teach the class because I created the class. Then they threw my short bio into the application.”
Malone said he “got a kick” out of the blogosphere’s reaction to the job listing, although he was less amused by the “people calling for him to die in a fire.”
The Privacy Gift Shop's Stealth Wear line is comprised of garments that stop you from being thermally imaged by drones. It comes in burqa ($2500), hijab ($550), and hoodie ($350).
Previously in this series: How to tell if you are in a Dickens novel.
This 
From Breitbart, Daily Caller, Twitchy, Truth Revolt, The Blaze, and Gateway Pundit.