KABAKA PYRAMID and IBA MAHR
Since surfacing a few weeks ago, pictures of the pill-popping, punkin-pie-haircutted, white supremacist nutbar Dylann Roof waving the Civil War-era banner of Southern secessionists have put …
Let’s talk real about indigent health care
As demonstrated time and again, the Interwebs — more specifically, social media — has the power to take seemingly benign ideas and raise the stakes of participating and engaging with said …
Phil Parker fuses fragments of structure, archetypes, and icons in his latest exhibit
Several new individuals have been elected to Jacksonville’s City Council. Their priority should be to serve the needs of all local citizens rather than serving the powerful special interests who, over many years, have raped the city to the tune of hundreds of millions of dollars.
Curry’s transitional budget meetings hit a few potholes
How to read the emotional emergence from narcissism in Me and Earl and the Dying Girl
She was only 27 years old when she was killed in a car accident with her husband in the California desert. He was an unsuccessful novelist at the time but had recently begun making good money as a scriptwriter of B-movies. They’d been married only nine months.
There was a time somewhere between the slow slide of vinyl and the meteoric rise of CDs when the cassette tape ruled. It was the early ’80s, and the only portable, recordable music medium was the tape. And holy crap, we loved it. It was the era of the mixtape, the Walkman and the failed “blank tape” tax. By the ’90s, though, the cassette was dead, replaced by that shining “indestructible” disc many consumers now consider obsolete.