Thanks everybody, these 100 spots went fast! We've sent email confirmations to the first 100 volunteers to make the cut-off. Everyone else, we're sorry we couldn't fit you in this time--hopefully we'll be doing more events like this in the future, so definitely keep an eye on the blog. And thanks!
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I’ve never really wanted a house. Whatever gene makes people crave white picket fences, stainless steel appliances and perfectly manicured lawns, I don’t have it. And OK, sure, there’s a little corner of my brain where I fantasize about the kind of built-in bookshelves that require a rolling ladder, but for the most part my dream house is just a safe place to sleep when I’m well and truly exhausted.
When Pat Walters traveled to Romania with a few American reporters to teach some classes on narrative journalism to a group of Romanian writers, he had a coincidental run-in with a Radiolab regular. Sort of. Read more, and check out some of Pat's travel photos, here.
They don't have towels. So when they get wet, what do they do? They shake themselves into a frenzy and the water flies off like this:
The New York City Parks Department would probably want me to start this way: North Brother Island is a ruin. It hasn’t been occupied, nor used for anything by anyone except nesting herons, since the early 70’s. Thus, it’s dangerous.
The New York Times published a moving eulogy to Steve Jobs, written by his sister Mona Simpson, on Sunday. It's a beautiful piece of writing, and as several of you pointed out, it strikes an emotional chord very similar to one we explored in a short about Hamlet's last words. Here's a link to the eulogy, and here's an mp3 of The Four Groans.
A post from Robert's excellent Krulwich Wonders blog.
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One night, somewhere, they won't say where, but I'm guessing it was a Manhattan loft with a big kitchen, a food anarchist named Mike Lee got 40 people to perform a daring experiment in food camouflage.