In the News 09.10.18 : Today’s Articles of Interest from Around the Internets


In the News 09.10.18 : Today’s Articles of Interest from Around the Internets
In the News 09.10.18 : Today’s Articles of Interest from Around the Internets
In the News 09.10.18 : Today’s Articles of Interest from Around the Internets

How To Retire In Your 30s With $1 Million In The Bank

Carl Jensen experienced what he calls “the awakening” sometime around 2012.

He was a software engineer in a suburb of Denver, writing code for a medical device. The job was high-pressure: He had to document every step for the Food and Drug Administration, and a coding error could lead to harm or death for patients.

Mr. Jensen was making about $110,000 a year and had benefits, but the stress hardly seemed worth it. He couldn’t unwind with his family after work; he spent days huddled over the toilet. He lost 10 pounds.

After one especially brutal workday, Mr. Jensen Googled “How do I retire early?” and his eyes were opened. He talked to his wife and came up with a plan: They saved a sizable portion of their income over the next five years and drastically reduced expenses, until their net worth was around $1.2 million.

On Tuesday, March 10, 2017, Mr. Jensen called his boss and gave notice after 15 years at the company. He wasn’t quitting, exactly. He had retired. He was 43.

Read the rest of this article at: The New York Times

In the News 09.10.18 : Today’s Articles of Interest from Around the Internets

How Feelings Took Over The World

In the News 09.10.18 : Today’s Articles of Interest from Around the Internets

On a late Friday afternoon in November last year, police were called to London’s Oxford Circus for reasons described as “terror-related”. Oxford Circus underground station was evacuated, producing a crush of people as they made for the exits. Reports circulated of shots being fired, and photos and video appeared online of crowds fleeing the area, with heavily armed police officers heading in the opposite direction. Amid the panic, it was unclear where exactly the threat was emanating from, or whether there might be a number of attacks going on simultaneously, as had occurred in Paris two years earlier. Armed police stormed Selfridges department store, while shoppers were instructed to evacuate the building. Inside the shop at the time was the pop star Olly Murs, who tweeted to nearly 8 million followers: “Fuck everyone get out of Selfridge now gun shots!!” As shoppers in the store made for the exits, others were rushing in at the same time, producing a stampede.

Smartphones and social media meant that this whole event was recorded, shared and discussed in real time. The police attempted to quell the panic using their own Twitter feed, but this was more than offset by the sense of alarm that was engulfing other observers. Far-right campaigner Tommy Robinson tweeted that this “looks like another jihad attack in London”. The Daily Mail unearthed an innocent tweet from 10 days earlier, which had described a “lorry stopped on a pavement in Oxford Street”, and used this as a basis on which to tweet “Gunshots fired” as armed police officers surrounded Oxford Circus station after “lorry ploughs into pedestrians”. The media were not so much reporting facts, as serving to synchronise attention and emotion across a watching public.

Around an hour after the initial evacuation of Oxford Circus, the police put out a statement that “to date police have not located any trace of any suspects, evidence of shots fired or casualties”. It subsequently emerged that nine people required treatment in hospital for injuries sustained in the panic, but nothing more serious had yet been discovered. A few minutes later, the London Underground authority tweeted that stations had reopened and trains were running normally. There were no guns and no terrorists.

Read the rest of this article at: The Guardian

Tuscany Tote in Midnight

Shop the Tuscany Tote in Midnight
at Belgrave Crescent &

Genoa Bridge Collapse:
The Road To Tragedy

GENOA, Italy — An off-duty firefighter, Davide Capello, had just driven out of a tunnel and onto the main bridge over Genoa in a heavy summer rain, when he heard a low, dull rumble all around his car. It was not thunder.

Mr. Capello, 33, glanced upward and saw a huge cloud of white dust rising up in the fog and rain. A white sedan 20 or 30 yards ahead of him seemed to disappear into a void. He hit the brakes. But the emptiness advanced toward him as the road fell away, section by section, like a staircase to oblivion.

In a split second, his car was plummeting, nose down, the windshield darkened by dust and concrete blocks flying past him. “I am dead! I am dead!” he cried.

He was in free fall.

The bridge he was driving across, a viaduct designed by Riccardo Morandi, collapsed that day, Aug. 14, leaving 43 people dead as dozens of cars fell some 150 feet onto the riverbed, railroad tracks and gritty streets below.

The collapse of the bridge — a signature of the port city, a source of deep civic pride, and an indispensable daily transportation link for thousands — has scarred Genoa and set off a bitter debate in Italy about who bears responsibility for the disaster and precisely what caused it.

Those questions remain under investigation by the chief magistrate of the region, Francesco Cozzi, and a team of engineers, security and government officials.

The New York Times has recreated what happened by using investigators’ descriptions of a central piece of evidence — video footage captured by a security camera.

Read the rest of this article at: The New York Times

In the News 09.10.18 : Today’s Articles of Interest from Around the Internets

The Needles And The Damage Done

In the News 09.10.18 : Today’s Articles of Interest from Around the Internets

WHAT KINDS OF PEOPLE did I expect to find here, in the public garden at the foot of 432 Park Avenue, New York’s tallest residential building? In the days before I arrived in Manhattan to chart a course across the city, I’d studied the plans and websites of the “supertalls,” the new crop of skeletal residential towers rising one thousand feet and more above midtown. The architects’ renderings of these new superstructures were charged with all the clichés of the genre: the plate-glass exteriors knifing skyward, the unobstructed views of the miniature city below, the lobbies at once massive and discreet. The humans were harder to grasp. Artists’ impressions showed the supertalls’ residents-to-be in a variety of unnatural poses: a couple in formal wear touching each other next to a baby grand, a woman alone on a balcony with a dining table set for eight. But it was the passers-by sketched at the periphery who interested me most. Would the people here be like they were there, smudged and passive with the bready limbs of a disaster movie’s sacrificial-crowd-in-waiting?

In the event, I found no one—save for a couple of office workers forking through their salads alone. Within minutes they left and the marble-slabbed garden, a bland corporate plaza built for smoking breaks and quiet moments of self-hatred, was empty. I detected no sign of the supertall’s inhabitants. In the place of residents were bodyguards marking time, and doormen, and fleets of black SUVs: a whole apparatus designed to shield the building’s residents from contact with the city. The residents, I surmised, were all up there—right at the top, perhaps, or ensconced in the tower’s twelfth-floor private restaurant, where a Michelin-starred chef serves important food that looks like it’s no fun to eat.

Read the rest of this article at: The Baffler

The Perfectionist

In the News 09.10.18 : Today’s Articles of Interest from Around the Internets

Mac Miller is nervous. He’s pacing, running scales and planning outfits in the Late Night With Stephen Colbert green room during a Monday taping where he’s the musical guest. It’s a windowless white space with two extraneous doors that don’t appear to move or lead anywhere; like a Scooby-Doo trap room. Wardrobe deliberations go on longer than you’d expect; and the room is making everyone loopy. The Pittsburgh rapper — normally relaxed and easy-going — is growing wiry from anticipation. After trying several crisp shirt and pant combos, Miller ends up onstage in his publicist’s sunset-hued Stussy sweatshirt, where he runs through an airtight performance of his new album Swimming’s funk-rap highlight “Ladders,” backed by the stellar house band, Jon Batiste and Stay Human. Inside the room, a sea of shiny, bald heads suggests that the crowd is considerably older than the late-stage teens and 20-somethings that comprise Mac Miller’s fan base. Colbert tickets sell out well ahead of the guest announcements; it’s possible that no one in the audience knew they were seeing Mac, or the episode’s flamboyant first guest Nicki Minaj, until days before, if at all. It becomes clear that Mac isn’t anxious about playing the room. He’s anxious about winning it.

I met up with Mac Miller in the lobby of the Bowery Hotel the day after Colbert with a plan to wander around and talk shop in lower Manhattan. Out back, there’s a cozy patio with a vaulted glass ceiling made doubly breathtaking by the onset of a fast-moving afternoon thunderstorm, the worst in a two-week stretch of late summer rain. The storm complicated our plan to cruise the streetwear shops up Mercer but offered a scenic backdrop for indoor reflection. Mac was still pondering the performance from the day before and wondering what he could have done better, even though the general consensus among the chorus of internet rap diehards who watched the video was that he did a great job. “I have a tendency to kinda brood about stuff and cook in it,” he says. “I’ll wake up and just sit here and think about it for hours.”

This is partly because Mac hears sounds even a keen ear might miss, and while this causes a potentially unhealthy level of self-reflection it also keeps him in a close orbit of jazz fusion guys like Thundercat, the funk apostle Dam Funk, and rap technicians Vince Staples and Kendrick Lamar. Listening to the playback of “Ladders” on site in the mixing room at Colbert, Miller caught an almost imperceptible rhyming misquote in a backing vocal and asked staff to adjust the levels subtly so it blended in better. It’s not preciousness so much as a studio rat’s high bar for professionalism.

Read the rest of this article at: Vulture

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