In 50 years, Bernard and Glaser have designed, redesigned, or consulted over 100 magazines. They worked together for the first time in 1968 as art director and design director for New York magazine, which showcased at length in the book. From revising the word mark to designing the covers to creating editorial experiences, the prolific duo collaborated on the magazine until Ropert Murdoch took over. After 9 years, Bernard and Glaser moved on to work on their own for various publications. Then they reunited when Bernard landed a gig with The Washington Post and Glazer landed Lire. They created their agency called WBMG and continued to put out excellent works. They have tremendous influence on editorial designs and the book is a proof. Definitely worth reading and flipping through for inspiration.

Davidson opened his Netflix Special with a jab at Louis C.K. The punch landed on C.K.’s jerking off in front of women, but he missed the target. In reverse, C.K. would have roasted his ass. His porn sex materials were disappointing. He took a swipe at Ariana Grande over big dick and small hands. That didn’t quite land either. He explained the joke he made about Dan Crenshaw’s eye patch. The word “whatever” got him in trouble and he had to apologize. That was probably the highlight of the special. He talked about the death of his father in September 11 when he was seven years old. His writing isn’t quite there yet.

Expanded on his devastating investigative reports for the Wall Street Journal on Theranos, John Carreyrou reveals the relentless drives and the bottomless lies from its chief executive Elizabeth Holmes. Dropped out of Stanford after only eight months to start her company in Silicon Valley, Holmes set out to change the healthcare industry with her innovative device that could test blood quickly and accurately with just a few drops. Unfortunately, the revolutionary concept was easy to sell, but impossible to execute. Together with her partner-in-crime Sunny Balwani, Holmes cut corners when they couldn’t deliver and cut into people’s lives when the tests showed inaccurate results. They became ruthless to anyone, particularly their employees, who questioned their fraud and immorality.

Right from the first chapter of the book, Carreyrou profiles Holmes’s childhood life with some red flags. Like most parents, her father instilled in her the notion of living a purposeful life. They encouraged her to be all that she can be; therefore, she had become competitive. When she played Monopoly with her younger brother and cousin, she always wanted to win. When she occasionally lost, she ran through the screen door in a rage. I had seen kids with this type of competitive edge. I wondered if that type of behavior is good or bad. I always taught my kids that it was OK to lose. They didn’t have to win everything and every time. Then I began to doubt myself. If I don’t drill the competitiveness in them, will they not try hard? Competitiveness had built confidence in Holmes, but focusing on just winning made her lose sight of everything else including consequence, ethnic, and compassion. If she could balance out her consciences and competitiveness, she might be able to come up with a groundbreaking product.

Drawing from 150 people (including 60 former employees), Carreyrou has written a riveting non-fiction book that reads like fiction. Although the book is 300 pages, it moves swiftly. His prose is so hard to put down. I highly recommend it.

In 2012, my wife asked me to create a tribute website for her father after he passed away. I stood up WordPress and created a child theme based on Twenty Twelve, which was WordPress’s default theme at the time. WordPress was quick for me to set up and easy for her to add content. Except for his biography, she put together photos, videos, and letters from family members and friends.

Since then she hadn’t updated the site. She doesn’t need to. It is a special little site to keep all the wonderful memories of him. I could have left the site as it was, but I felt WordPress was not necessary. Even though I had automatic upgrade turned on, maintaining WordPress was not ideal. In addition, the Twenty Twelve theme seemed outdated.

I had wanted to redesign the site from scratch and to remove WordPress for a while. I finally found the motivation and the time last week to do it. I recreated the pages using HTML, CSS, and a bit of PHP. The new design is fresh and no longer driven by templates. It felt great getting rid of WordPress altogether.

Redesigning the site feels as if I have paid proper tribute to my father-in-law. I wish I could share the website, but I respect my wife and her family’s privacy.

Rest In Peace, Bố.

Xuân Hảo có giọng ca trầm đẹp. Qua Bản tình trầm Hảo cover lại những ca khúc lãng mạn như “Tháng giêng và anh” và “Niệm khúc cuối” (Ngô Thuỵ Miên) rất trung thành. Những bài hoà âm cũng đơn giản không có gì mới lạ. Hảo cũng cover lại những bài trữ tình như “Tình bơ vơ” (Lam Phương) và “Mùa đông của anh” (Trần Thiện Thanh). Chỉ có khác là không đủ sến thôi. Album nghe cũng tạm. Không dỡ cũng chẳng có gì nổi bật.

I have not kept up with this election as closely as I should. I had to stop following the news for my own mental health and sanity. From early on, I had decided who to vote for on Super Tuesday and I have not changed my mind. Elizabeth Warren is still my choice. Even if she won’t get the nomination, I am still down with Amy, Bernie, Joe, or Pete. Any if these candidates will be much better for America than the clown in the White House.

What will be at stake in this election isn’t just the presidential race, but also the Congress. Democrat needs to take control of the Senate. In the worse case scenario if the lunatic gets re-elected, Congress can impeach him again and actually remove the motherfucker.

I have learned to not let him get to me. My life has been much better without paying attention to him. Although I don’t give a fuck about him, I still want to see him go away after this election. Then again, I have many family and friends, the Vietnamese-American community in particular, supporting him. I respect their choice. I just don’t want him to ruin our relationships or friendships. I am not mad at you. I have nothing but love for you. Who you vote for is your prerogative.

After almost four years of hell, I am optimistic that our democracy will survive the tumultuous time. It has been challenged, but not dead yet. It has been damaged, but can be restored. I love America, its democracy, and its freedom. Even with a horrendous president ruining our country, I would rather be here than anywhere else in the world. The fact that I can write down this post and speak my mind without fear is what I have come to appreciate about America and its freedom of speech.

As I walked to the public library, an elder Black man approached me. He asked if I registered to vote. I replied, “Yes, sir.” He asked if I would put him on the ballot for Congress. I looked up at his Trump 2020 cap and I asked, “Are you running as a Republican?” He replied, “No, I am running as an Independent.” I smiled, “Really? But your hat says it all.” He responded, “I am wearing a swim-team jacket too and I don’t know how to swim.” I shook my head. He followed up, “You know, my grandfather got shot for the right to vote.” I shot back, “Then you should not support that racist. I am sorry, sir, and I am not trying to be disrespectful, but I can’t put my name down for you.”

On the way to Whitetail for a skiing trip on Saturday, I had a conversation with Đạo and I was touched with what he had shared with me. He told me that at school kids were being mean to his friend because he is Chinese. Kids read the news, but they had a misunderstanding about the Coronavirus. Đạo stood up for his friend and hang out with him. I told him that I was proud of him for doing the right thing.

Đạo also shared that another friend forgot his lunch and didn’t have any cafeteria money left in his account. Đạo used his own account to buy lunch for his friend. He asked me if that was OK for him to do. I told him it was not OK, it was great. I let him know that what he did was an act of compassion.

On Friday, Đạo’s Cub Scout had a meeting at a local fire station. I was glad that I came along to learn about fire emergency. The firefighters asked the kids a few questions including “What do you do if there’s a fire in your home?,” “Do your parents have a place where everyone should meet?,” and, “Do you know your home address and home phone numbers?” Đạo raised his hand and was called on for “How often do you test your smoke detector?” His response was, “Every time my mom cooks.” The whole crowd laughed. We have a smoke detector right by the kitchen and every time my wife opened the oven door when she baked something or if she burned something, the alarm would go off. One of us had to fan off the smoke to turn off the alarm; therefore, Đạo immediate thought of his mom whenever she cooked.

Đạo is going through the transition of discovering himself. He will soon wanting to be more on his own. Damn, ten years had passed by so quick. Our first born is growing up too fast.

We went skiing again this weekend at Whitetail. The kids went on the blue and black slopes. I was still on the greens, but started dipping in a blue. I took a level-three lesson in the afternoon. The instructor was helpful. He gave me confidence to go back on the blue slope I fell horribly on the first day I skied. I thought I would never go back, but I did five runs without falling. Because the kids didn’t use their ski lessons, I used them for myself. I took another lesson in the evening, unfortunately it was not as good as the earlier one. I was a bit disappointed. Nevertheless I am loving this expensive sport. We went nearly every weekend and I didn’t even want to look at the charges. I felt a bit guilty about it, but my wife encouraged us to go. She kept saying winter is almost over; therefore, go enjoy while we can. Isn’t she a fantastic mom? Since this is our first season, we just dived in. Next year, we will plan better with seasonal pass, rental, and advance booking.

I feel fortunate that my wife and I have jobs that allow us to spend on these activities on top of other expenses. I am not bragging, but acknowledging the importance of having a stable income. If I were to do freelance for a living, I would be dead broke. I had quoted three potential projects earlier this year, but none sealed the deal. The latest one came from an old friend in middle school. She reached out to me to redesign her business website. I gave her a quote with a generous discount and we both agreed on the price and the services. Before starting the project, I asked her to provide me access to her web server. She seemed startled and wanted to know why. I explained to her that in order for me to make changes to her existing website, I would need to upload the files (webpages) to the server, which is a standard practice on any web development project. Of course, the client has to trust me with the credentials. She went completely silent and didn’t respond to my emails. It felt weird. I guessed she didn’t trust me.

I wanted to do freelance to give me opportunities to do more creative projects than my full-time job. These incomes cannot support me full time, but more like bonuses for vacations or ski trips. Still, they are much harder to land these days. It’s all good though.

In addition to skiing, I am also getting into ice skating. We went to the rink near our house every Sunday. I also discovered a rink near my work with only a dollar on Tuesdays. I am going to incorporate that into my lunch break. I am taking my time to learn one technique at a time from watching YouTube. I am still in the process of learning the hockey stop. I am a grown-ass man trying to learn these sports. I guess it is true: 40 is the new 20.

Broom’s riveting memoir recounts the sweeping details of her big family, in which she is the last of the twelve children. Broom traces all the way back to her grandmother’s upbringing to her mother’s incredible love stories and the house she built in East New Orleans to her siblings accounts of growing up in the house until hurricane Katrina destroyed it. Broom’s personal report, in which she interviewed her brothers who got stuck on the roof when the water kept rising, of Katrina was devastating. The injustices of the aftermath were even more troubling. By combining the New Orlean’s language with her extraordinary prose, Broom has written a stunning literary work of nonfiction. It was an engaging and enlightening read.