Reminisce Over This

Snoop Doggy Dogg, Who Am I? (What’s My Name?), 1993

Buy Your Own English Angora Rabbit

Not only does Ambika Friendly Furs make soft-looking women’s fashion, they also sell the source of the fur, Angora Rabbits. Bred and raised at the foot of the Catskill Mountains in New York, the rabbits can be house trained like cats.

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Weekend Watching: More Than A Match – The 657 Crew and Portsmouth FC


via, the documentarian


Repetition Works

Rob Walker writes about the enduring qualities of Nike’s Swoosh

via, @nschon

Toast Custom Skull Wood Veneer for the iPhone

I like how the eyes light up. Head over to the Kickstarter page for more info.

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Crab Pretzel

Available at Canton Dockside in Baltimore, Maryland.

Photo by Kathy Grayson

Lunchtime Laughter

The Onion: Year in Review

Graffiti & Street Art

Few see as much art in the street as NY-based photographer Luna Park. Knowing this, we asked her to pick some of her favorites (with a couple of ours included) of 2011.

Hit up her flickr stream and check out the Street Spot for even more

One Of The More Creative and Failing Sideview Mirror Hacks I’ve Ever Seen


Spotted somewhere near Union Square


A short film by Paul Stone about Lyle Owerko, and The Boombox Project.

The Baghdad Country Club

The Atlantic has excerpted part of an excellent story by Joshuah Bearman about “the only authentic bar and restaurant in Baghdad’s Green Zone.” The accompanying video (after the jump) is great too.

Iraqis have a word, barra, which means “out there,” and for those lucky enough to be inside the Green Zone came to mean the rest of Baghdad, the bedlam beyond the T-walls. As the insurgency reached fever pitch in 2006, Iraqis and Americans alike were terrified that barra would not stay out there but come in here, that the war would breach the perimeter, that the place would collapse and there would be a mad scramble to evacuate, like Saigon in ’75.

The Baghdad Country Club, the only authentic bar and restaurant in Baghdad’s Green Zone, was one place where people could forget about barra for a moment. Anyone — mercenaries and diplomats, contractors and peacekeepers, aid workers and Iraqis — could walk in, get dinner, open a decent bottle of Bordeaux, and light a cigar from the humidor to go with it. Patrons would check their weapons in a safe, like coats in a coatroom, and leave the war behind as they wandered past a sign that read:


 Read more at the Atlantic and order a copy for yourself here

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Morning Dose of Rollerman

To the Extreme!

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