Louis Armstrong’s powerful trumpet and soulful voice give “La Vie En Rose” a savory jazz makeover. Pops, you’re still da bomb!

A powerful documentary detailed the bombing that took place in Hiroshima (August 6, 1945) and Nagasaki (August 9, 1995). “Little Boy” and “Fat Man,” the two atomic bombs, not only wiped out 210,000 people but also caused enormous suffering to the survivors whose lives were worse than deaths in the aftermath. Despite their hardship, they courageously declared that their suffering worth it if nuclear weapons of mass destruction are ceased to exist.

Sasha Frere-Jones’ “High and Mighty“:

The lazy psychedelic anthem “I Feel Like Dying,” a collaboration with the producer Jim Jonsin that appeared on the Internet in June, is one of the few songs about drugs that sound as if both the music and the musician are high. The music is based on a sample from “Once,” a bleak acoustic-guitar ballad from 2003 by Karma, a South African singer-songwriter who lives in Miami. Jonsin sped up Karma’s voice and rearranged her lyrics to create a new chorus: “Only once the drugs are done, then I feel like dying.” Karma sounds pained, but Lil Wayne doesn’t seem to be feeling much of anything. Over a jumpy kick-drum pattern, he recites his words slowly, separating each phrase with a long, narcotic pause that threatens to dissolve the rhythm: “In a marijuana field, you are so beneath my cleats. . . . I can mingle with the stars and throw a party on Mars. I am a prisoner locked up behind Xanax bars.”

The visual depicts the Berliner Fernsehturm designed by Justus Oehler of Pentagram.

The New York Times reporter Brad Stone busted the blogger behind fakesteve.blogspot.com:

The mysterious writer has used his blog, the Secret Diary of Steve Jobs, to lampoon Mr. Jobs and his reputation as a difficult and egotistical leader, as well as to skewer other high-tech companies, tech journalists, venture capitalists, open-source software fanatics and Silicon Valley’s overall aura of excess.

The acerbic postings of “Fake Steve,” as he is known, have attracted a plugged-in readership — both the real Mr. Jobs and Bill Gates have acknowledged reading the blog (fakesteve.blogspot.com). At the same time, Fake Steve has evaded the best efforts of Silicon Valley’s gossips to discover his real identity.

Erotic in Advertising
Clinica Marquez cosmetic surgery
Coco Juice: The Creative Process

An excellent slideshow captured the faces, voices and passions of American-born Vietnamese learning their native language. Well done, anh Tin!

Not just the parents. I am talking about the whole clan from uncles and aunts to cousins to nieces and nephews. Imagine meeting thirty members for the first time and you’re just an outcast trying to fit it. It’s quite a challenge. Are you there to crash their vacation time? Just because of your presence, some folks have to hold off their gossips. There are internal problems that could only share within the members. You’re not a member yet. You’re applying to become one. So what could you do?

After being introduced to everyone, you seek out for the ones that the committee had approved. They are the ones that understand what you’re going through since they had been in your situation before. There he is. The husband of one of the cousins and he’s from the south too. Everyone in the family is from the north and the only thing that you know about Ha Noi is the much-simpler-but-equally-delicious pho. So you start off with which part of the south he’s from and work your ways into the conversation.

Kids always help too, especially if you have your ways with them. They just come and play with you. Sometimes you just wish the rest are just kids. That way you don’t have to watch every move you make. Don’t drink that beer; they might think you’re an alcoholic. Don’t eat too much; they might think you eat too damn much. But you just can’t help yourself because food is just part of you. Don’t interrupt their conversations because you don’t know anything. Just listen and wait for the right time to throw in a punch line here and there. Everyone loves jokes, right? Believe it or not, the funny ones always help you ease your anxiety and break the bubble, particularly those at the top levels like the high-rank uncles.

If you stay overnight, don’t sleep too late. Get up early to meet the early birds. There are always those who get up around five or six in the morning. It’s the perfect time to meet some of the members one on one. Try to find something that you could talk about, like work. For instance, when you work at Vassar, the chances are they would know the college through their kids, and if you’re lucky one of their kids might have gone to Vassar. The first thing you would hear them say is, “What a beautiful campus.” You would proudly reply, “I agree.” Then follow up with something like, “What year did your son graduate?” He would response, “1997” and you can go on from there eating your favorite breakfast (banh bot loc), drinking French-style coffee, and making progress toward your goal.

Of course you still don’t know for sure what they really think of you, but at least you know you didn’t fuck up. You know how Vietnamese families are when it comes to critiquing the new members. If you think my music reviews are harsh, you wouldn’t stand a chance at passing the meeting-the-big-family test. But after all, it is you and your partner that make the final decision, not the family.

My latest design for the Vassar Farm, a concise, informational site, just went live. I am glad they let me kept the little girl. Isn’t she adorable?

I’ve also been working with the web team to redesign the Vassar homepage, which should launch at the end of the month. It’s going to be mad wicked!

Not only Mr. Dam refuses to go away, but he also returns with a double album. Ideally, he would like to offer two separate styles, one on each disc, but they ended up sounding the same. No matter how hard he tries, he still can’t get rid of his “sen”-ness.

On the first disc, he turns every romantic ballad into a doleful hymn. Even Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Niem Khuc Cuoi,” which could be a wedding’s first dance, he transforms it into a funeral ode with his over-sentimental delivery. His rendition of Tu Cong Phung’s “Mat Le Cho Nguoi” is more pejorative than Che Linh doing Tuan Ngoc in “Rieng Mot Goc Troi.” Worst is the title track in which he sounds as if he’s suffering from tuberculosis. His tone is fucked up badly.

The second disc, however, is where Mr. Dam hits home. The way he caramelizes Ngan Giang’s “Em Ve Keo Troi Mua” you could make a clay pot fish (ca kho to) with it. All you need is a bowl of room-temperature rice and a cucumber to complete a country-style meal. To Thanh Tung’s “Gia Tu” is also a perfect fit for his maudlin gloss, and I am not even trying to deny the fact that I don’t dislike this campy shit. Just give me a bowl of “bun mam” to complement it.

Even though Mr. Dam is far far away from being the king of “sen” (Che Linh is still holding on to the title), everything he touches gets depressingly contagious. Like AIDS, once you’re caught with the “sen” virus, you’re infected for life. Mr. Dam is incurable anyway.