Cephalart

It is the Cephalopodmas Season, when tentacles and the deep sea are on everyone’s mind, and that concentrated contemplation of all matters squidly must occasionally erupt into artful self-expression. Below the fold you will find a few beautiful images that have leapt into my mailbox lately.

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Cuttlekitsch

I’d happily hang that on my wall. The trophy wife would even more cheerfully tear it down, shred it, and set it on fire. But then, she’s the one with taste*.

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*Don’t judge her by her taste in men. That was a momentary lapse of reason, a one time thing.

Rapping about genes

I like it!

I know this will set off another round of culture sniping — get over it. You don’t personally have to like this genre, just as no one has to like every kind of music out there, and turning your nose up at one form doesn’t necessarily mean your taste is better than someone else’s. Just recognize that it’s different. It’s not Mozart or Manilow, it’s just its own sound. If it helps you get over the rejection of something that doesn’t sound like the music you are familiar with, think of it as a poetry performance instead.

As for myself, most rap and hip-hop leaves me cold, but every once in a while something in it connects with me, and I can’t predict what it will be. I’ve even got some Busta Rhymes on my iPod that I really, really like…and no, I don’t have to justify it to anyone!