the best of the century

Best Childdren's Book - Charlotte's Web by E.B. White (1952)
Best Film - Citizen Kane, directed by and starring Orson Welles (1941)
Best Novel - Ulysses by James Joyce (1922)
Best TV Show - The Simpsons, created by Matt Groening (1989-)
Best Dance - The Four Temperaments by George Balanchine (1946)
Best Nonfiction Book - The Gulag Archipelago by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn (1947)
Best Opera - Peter Grimes by Benjamin Britten (1945)
Best Comedy Routine - Who's on First? by Abbott and Costello (1938)
Best Song - Strange Fruit by Billie Holiday (1939)
Best Musical - Carousel by Rodgers and Hammerstein (1945)
Best Design - The Eames molded plywood chair, designed by Charles Eames (1946)
Best Play - Six Characters in Search of an Author by Luigi Pirandello (1921)
Best Classical Composition - Symphony of Psalms by Igor Stravinsky (1930)
Best Poem - The Waste Land by T.S. Eliot (1922)
Best Painting - The Red Studio by Henri Matisse (1911)
Best Sculpture - Bird in Space by Constantin Brancusi (c.1941)
Best Photograph - Place de l'Europe, Paris by Henri Cartier-Bresson (1932)
Best Fashion - Levi's 501 jeans by Levi Strauss & Co. (1960)
Best Building - The chapel at Ronchamp, France by Le Corbusier (1955)
Best Album - Exodus by Bob Marley & the Wailers (1977) VIA

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pan-himalayan railroad

Chinese press is flooding with the news of China’s newest engineering feat – the completion of a railroad linking Lhasa (Tibet) with Eastern China. The country is celebrating this key achievement while the western press is once again applauding in awe and giving out mixed speculations. For example, this photo story contains some lines: “There are fears the railway will speed up the immigration of ethnic Chinese into Tibet, threatening its distinct cultural and religious identity.” “Tibetan groups and foreign critics say the railway’s real aim is political, as a symbol of China’s administrative and military control over a contested border region.” “...............................................” “..............................” All I can say about such statements is that leading people from China will undoubtedly laugh down these types of comments made by western media companies. This task in itself is a great combination of hard work, intellect and brotherhood, which in itself is a s...

the most boring page on the internet

Some people are born boring; others like John Ingram, thrust boredom upon the rest of the world. And so as we tread upon the gargantuan bog called the Internet, we slip and wonder: why? Why did John Ingram create a site that has nothing but just 413 (exactly) words of text? Why did he create a site that has no meaning, no reason to exist, and no way to earn him even a cent, forget a fortune? But it takes all kinds, and Ingram is one of those. He is rational in his thought, grammatically correct in his writing (although) for some reason he hates capital letters), and has enough reasons to keep the world’s most boring site alive at all times since its “founding” in 1996. Is that why his site has now been translated into 12 languages including Finnish, French, Swedish, Norwegian, and, hold your breath, ladies and gentleman, Pig Latin? World War II is obviously history since here we have a German as well as a Hebrew translation sitting right next to each other. The site, Ingram informs us...

abort, retry, ignore poem

The infamous Abort, Retry, Ignore message box of Windows, with no option given to close it. Found this classic and fun poem about the "Abort, Retry, Ignore" message. I have been able to trace back the source to Annoyances.org. Here it is: Once upon a midnight dreary, fingers cramped and vision bleary, System manuals piled high and wasted paper on the floor, Longing for the warmth of bed sheets, still I sat there doing spreadsheets. Having reached the bottom line I took a floppy from the drawer, I then invoked the SAVE command and waited for the disk to store, Only this and nothing more. Deep into the monitor peering, long I sat there wond'ring, fearing,  Doubting, while the disk kept churning, turning yet to churn some more.  But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token.  "Save!" I said, "You cursed mother! Save my data from before!"  One thing did the phosphors answer, only this and nothing more,  Just, "Abort...

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