Showing posts with label New York. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New York. Show all posts
Sunday, March 27, 2011
New York to Paris Race of 1908 (The Great Race), the German entry drivers in the top photo
found on http://www.atomicantiques.com/2010/02/03/german-racers To learn more see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1908_New_York_to_Paris_Race
Friday, March 25, 2011
Home is Where the Star Is
Yesterday in Penn Station, I met Jonathan, whose one tattoo caught my eye when I passed him in the Amtrak waiting area.
Except, sometimes, a fragment of a tattoo doesn't necessarily reveal the whole piece. As in Jonathan's case, I saw the back of his arm, and this segment, which resembled (to me, at the time), a crude figure with the beginning of a speech bubble emanating from its mouth:
I felt rather silly, however, when Jonathan agreed to participate and showed me the full tattoo:
The figure I imagined, of course, is really Long Island, and the balloon was the southern tip of the state of New York.
Jonathan explained that he is from Rochester, marked on the tattoo with a star, and that he lived in the same house growing up there for eighteen years. It's a New York state of mind, indeed.
The tattoo was done at Big Joe & Sons Tattooing in White Plains, New York.
Thanks to Jonathan for sharing his stately tattoo with us here on Tattoosday!
Except, sometimes, a fragment of a tattoo doesn't necessarily reveal the whole piece. As in Jonathan's case, I saw the back of his arm, and this segment, which resembled (to me, at the time), a crude figure with the beginning of a speech bubble emanating from its mouth:
I felt rather silly, however, when Jonathan agreed to participate and showed me the full tattoo:
The figure I imagined, of course, is really Long Island, and the balloon was the southern tip of the state of New York.
Jonathan explained that he is from Rochester, marked on the tattoo with a star, and that he lived in the same house growing up there for eighteen years. It's a New York state of mind, indeed.
The tattoo was done at Big Joe & Sons Tattooing in White Plains, New York.
Thanks to Jonathan for sharing his stately tattoo with us here on Tattoosday!
This entry is ©2011 Tattoosday.
If you are reading this on another web site other than Tattoosday, without attribution, please note that it has been copied without the author's permission and is in violation of copyright laws. Please feel free to visit http://tattoosday.blogspot.com and read our original content. Please let me know if you saw this elsewhere so I contact the webmaster of the offending site and advise them of this violation in their Terms of Use Agreement.
If you are reading this on another web site other than Tattoosday, without attribution, please note that it has been copied without the author's permission and is in violation of copyright laws. Please feel free to visit http://tattoosday.blogspot.com and read our original content. Please let me know if you saw this elsewhere so I contact the webmaster of the offending site and advise them of this violation in their Terms of Use Agreement.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
AMC's THE WALKING DEAD Zombie Invasion has Begun!
The cable network is staging "zombie attacks" in 26 major cities -- hundreds of extras in zombie makeup roaming landmarks such as the Brooklyn Bridge in New York City, the Lincoln Memorial in Washington D.C., Big Ben in London, The Prado Museum in Madrid.
The stunts will commence at daybreak in Taipei and Hong Kong on Tuesday, Oct. 26 and moves across the globe during a 24 hour period and culminates at the show’s Los Angeles premiere.
Across the globe, several thousand supporters of the show - sporting dusty, tattered clothing spattered with blood - began with a trance-walk around their favorite city frightening some pedestrians and confusing others.
But nothing would kill their spirit.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Futurama's New, New York in Legos = Beautiful
to be one of the best animated shows to ever grace our television sets. Well it looks like artist Matt De Lanoy shares our love of Futurama but has a lot more skills than your friends at Gfest. He built this mini version of New York in legos. Spending two years on this project called "World of Tomorrow", he managed to built several known building structures from Futurama, and to install lights so it can be viewable at night as well. Enjoy all these amazing pictures below.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Remembering the Stonewall Riots
40 Years Later, Still Second-Class Americans
By Frank Rich
June 27, 2009
LIKE all students caught up in the civil rights and antiwar movements of the 1960s, I was riveted by the violent confrontations between the police and protestors in Selma, 1965, and Chicago, 1968. But I never heard about the several days of riots that rocked Greenwich Village after the police raided a gay bar called the Stonewall Inn in the wee hours of June 28, 1969 — 40 years ago today.
Click here to read the full article on The New York Times website.
By Frank Rich
June 27, 2009
LIKE all students caught up in the civil rights and antiwar movements of the 1960s, I was riveted by the violent confrontations between the police and protestors in Selma, 1965, and Chicago, 1968. But I never heard about the several days of riots that rocked Greenwich Village after the police raided a gay bar called the Stonewall Inn in the wee hours of June 28, 1969 — 40 years ago today.
Click here to read the full article on The New York Times website.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
At a Peace Rally for Iran on June 25th, 2009
by Kenneth Reveiz
NEW YORK - June 28, 2009
I found out about the rally through an old high school acquaintance’s Facebook status:
“PEACE RALLY FOR IRAN NEW YORK Candle Light Vigil for NEDA and all those who have been so BRAVE in IRAN. Please come and support them. Wednesday, Jun 24 - 7:00pm New York Metro Union Square NYC www.freeiranbracelet.org”
The website sells, as the Live Strong campaign did, bracelets. It plans on “donating the proceeds to Reporters without Borders, who have continuously put their lives at risk in various countries throughout the world, so that the truth can be shown to all the citizen’s [sic] in the world.”
After work—still dressed in suit and tie—I took the subway to Union Square and watched as, at around 7:10PM, under a slowly graying sky, scores of Iranians and non-Iranians stretched columns of green across the plaza. Green, of course, is the color of Islam.
“This is solidarity for Iranian people,” one woman explained in a British-schooled accent to her daughters, who were dressed like twins but weren’t twins. The shorter girl held an unlit candle, a perfect white circle.
At the edges of the expanding display of color, a bearded man held a large sign. It read “DEATH TO DICTATORS,” around which words he had pasted black-and-white computer-printed pictures of Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, and President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, among others I did and didn’t recognize.
I was surprised to find opposition leader Mir-Hossein Mousavi on the poster. In fact, the bearded man was speaking to a tough-looking, white-haired police officer, complaining that he had been “pushed away” from the general demonstration. The others—one woman was near tears: “This is hurting! This is not our message!”—had been incensed by his “message of violence.” Claiming he had every right to be there as they did, it was determined that he should stand a little off to the side.
He spoke to a young woman with a tape recorder, explained that all those pictured on his poster were “basically the same,” explained that Mousavi was a hard-line dictator, no different from Ahmadinejad. I had heard one student call Ahmadinejad a “monster,” an “inhumane form of human being,” as “not deserving any kind of respect,” and “not part of Iran anymore.” I wondered if this man felt the same way about Ahmadinejad as she did, and still thought the comparison to Mousavi valid, I should have asked. In any case he spoke into the recorder with conviction, gently affirming his opinion, answering questions with the self-assurance of a serene and special truth.
An older, visibly distressed woman tried to interrupt the interview. “So aggressive—why is he so aggressive?” she asked after he and the reporter ignored her. Her husband cautioned her to not “entertain him.” I realized that, with black pen, he had scribbled into the eyes of his dictators.
There had been other rallies, in front of the United Nations building, at Union Square. This is what one tall, bespectacled redhead told me as she stretched a paper bag filled with pins to the crowd of at least a hundred.
One pin read, “NEDA Your voice will never die,” referring to a girl who was shot dead, allegedly by a Basij soldier. Videos and pictures of the brutal killing of the Iranian—now a martyr—circulate all over the Internet. “Neda” is Farsi for “voice.” A computer graphic of a dove, whose ruptured heart had plummeted centimeters below its body, accompanied the words.
The other pin read “WHERE IS MY VOTE?”
Sure enough, at the center of Union Square, which slowly grew darker, was, surrounded by a perimeter of young, white roses, a perimeter of white candles slowly being lit, which itself held down a banner, green and large: “WHERE IS MY VOTE?” with a splatter of blood; above the words were pictures of a brutalized Neda and more words: “Rest in Peace;” “Free Iran.”
As I walked back to the subway a man drew, with a compass, inky circles into a notebook.
NEW YORK - June 28, 2009
I found out about the rally through an old high school acquaintance’s Facebook status:
“PEACE RALLY FOR IRAN NEW YORK Candle Light Vigil for NEDA and all those who have been so BRAVE in IRAN. Please come and support them. Wednesday, Jun 24 - 7:00pm New York Metro Union Square NYC www.freeiranbracelet.org”
The website sells, as the Live Strong campaign did, bracelets. It plans on “donating the proceeds to Reporters without Borders, who have continuously put their lives at risk in various countries throughout the world, so that the truth can be shown to all the citizen’s [sic] in the world.”
After work—still dressed in suit and tie—I took the subway to Union Square and watched as, at around 7:10PM, under a slowly graying sky, scores of Iranians and non-Iranians stretched columns of green across the plaza. Green, of course, is the color of Islam.
“This is solidarity for Iranian people,” one woman explained in a British-schooled accent to her daughters, who were dressed like twins but weren’t twins. The shorter girl held an unlit candle, a perfect white circle.
At the edges of the expanding display of color, a bearded man held a large sign. It read “DEATH TO DICTATORS,” around which words he had pasted black-and-white computer-printed pictures of Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, and President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, among others I did and didn’t recognize.
I was surprised to find opposition leader Mir-Hossein Mousavi on the poster. In fact, the bearded man was speaking to a tough-looking, white-haired police officer, complaining that he had been “pushed away” from the general demonstration. The others—one woman was near tears: “This is hurting! This is not our message!”—had been incensed by his “message of violence.” Claiming he had every right to be there as they did, it was determined that he should stand a little off to the side.
He spoke to a young woman with a tape recorder, explained that all those pictured on his poster were “basically the same,” explained that Mousavi was a hard-line dictator, no different from Ahmadinejad. I had heard one student call Ahmadinejad a “monster,” an “inhumane form of human being,” as “not deserving any kind of respect,” and “not part of Iran anymore.” I wondered if this man felt the same way about Ahmadinejad as she did, and still thought the comparison to Mousavi valid, I should have asked. In any case he spoke into the recorder with conviction, gently affirming his opinion, answering questions with the self-assurance of a serene and special truth.
An older, visibly distressed woman tried to interrupt the interview. “So aggressive—why is he so aggressive?” she asked after he and the reporter ignored her. Her husband cautioned her to not “entertain him.” I realized that, with black pen, he had scribbled into the eyes of his dictators.
There had been other rallies, in front of the United Nations building, at Union Square. This is what one tall, bespectacled redhead told me as she stretched a paper bag filled with pins to the crowd of at least a hundred.
One pin read, “NEDA Your voice will never die,” referring to a girl who was shot dead, allegedly by a Basij soldier. Videos and pictures of the brutal killing of the Iranian—now a martyr—circulate all over the Internet. “Neda” is Farsi for “voice.” A computer graphic of a dove, whose ruptured heart had plummeted centimeters below its body, accompanied the words.
The other pin read “WHERE IS MY VOTE?”
Sure enough, at the center of Union Square, which slowly grew darker, was, surrounded by a perimeter of young, white roses, a perimeter of white candles slowly being lit, which itself held down a banner, green and large: “WHERE IS MY VOTE?” with a splatter of blood; above the words were pictures of a brutalized Neda and more words: “Rest in Peace;” “Free Iran.”
As I walked back to the subway a man drew, with a compass, inky circles into a notebook.
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