Last month, the fashion designer Tory Burch launched an ad campaign called “Embrace Ambition.” It features black-and-white photos of celebrities wearing various slogan-brandishing T-shirts: Mindy Kaling wears “BOLD,” Kate Bosworth wears “STRONG,” Burch herself wears “AMBITIOUS.” This last T-shirt can be purchased on the Tory Burch Web site for sixty-eight dollars. For the thriftier shopper, there are thirty-dollar bracelets, which come on a placard saying “#EMBRACEAMBITION” and “JOIN THE MOVEMENT.” Proceeds from this merchandise are directed toward the Tory Burch Foundation, which helps support women entrepreneurs. (It administers a small fellows program and connects women to business education and affordable loans.) A New York Times piece about the “Embrace Ambition” campaign calls it a “public service announcement” aiming to reclaim what has become a dirty word.
“Firstly, I would like to apologize to those of you involved in our little box-office mixup,” a tuxedoed man with a posh accent tells us. “I do hope the six hundred and seventeen of you affected will enjoy our little murder mystery just as much as you would have enjoyed”—he shudders a little—“ ‘Hamilton.’ ”
WASHINGTON (The Borowitz Report)—A broad majority of Americans do not believe that they have heard the real reason for Steve Bannon’s abrupt removal from the National Security Council but desperately hope that, when that reason ultimately emerges, it will not involve a sex tape.
Other Things Mike Pence Cannot Be Alone in a Room With
Today, on HGTV
Daily Cartoon: Wednesday, April 5th
Source: Cultures & Arts
Between 1953 and 1959, the jazz saxophonist Sonny Rollins released twenty-one full-length albums. This kind of prolificacy seems absurd now, during an era in which new musical material is meted out on a preordained, market-friendly schedule—a few weeks of recording, a year or two of touring, a cashed paycheck, repeat. But music rushed out of Rollins, like an overfed river. Miles Davis described Rollins’s output circa 1954 as “something else. Brilliant.” In his book “Black Music,” the critic and poet Amiri Baraka—then writing as LeRoi Jones—called it “staggering.” Baraka suggested that Rollins, along with John Coltrane and the pianist Cecil Taylor, was doing the necessary work “to propose jazz again as the freest of Western music.”
The Minnesota Eight are a group of Cambodian men in their thirties and forties with a troubled history in common: each came to the U.S. legally as a child refugee in the nineteen-eighties but later lost his green card after being convicted of a crime. By law, legal permanent residents are automatically deportable if they’ve committed an aggravated felony, and thousands of people every year are deported after completing prison terms. But when these men got out of prison they found themselves in a strange situation. Because of a long-standing diplomatic dispute between the U.S. and Cambodia, they were released rather than deported. Several of them got married and started families; they took jobs, and settled down. Twice a year, they were required to check in at their local Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) office, in St. Paul, Minnesota, but after a few years these visits became routine. Then, last summer, when they each showed up for their appointments with ICE, they were abruptly rearrested, and informed that their deportations were back on schedule.
The Facts About Immigration
The Second Coming of the French Far-Right Tradition
The Sriracha Argument for Immigration
Source: Cultures & Arts
Sometime before dawn on March 29th, not too many hours after Congress approved legislation that allows Internet-service providers to sell your browsing history to whoever wants to buy it, a coder named Dan Schultz released a search randomizer called Internet Noise, which offers a way of veiling one’s real interests online. I heard about it that night, went straight to the charmingly bare-bones page, and clicked the “Make some noise” button. A new browser tab opened and began to refresh every few seconds with search results based on random pairings of words. “Fact cereal,” “fire mind,” and “raft flanker” were the first ones; “final hotel,” “component nation,” and “giraffe cloister” soon followed. I stared at this whimsical procession for a while and then went to bed. The browser refreshed with random word combinations while I slept—an accident of timing that may have influenced how I think about Internet Noise. Upon waking, I reviewed my browser history. All the random word pairings had the strange associative logic of a dream, as though I had been made privy to the Internet’s unconscious.