Rubin ‘Hurricane’ Carter has passed away. In 1966, he was wrongfully convicted by an all-white jury based on false testimony and served nearly twenty years in prison. This gross miscarriage of justice became the poster case for Civil Rights era racial tension after it was immortalized by Bob Dylan (about whom I have complicated feelings) in the song “Hurricane.”
Near the beginning of the first book of The Ultimate Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, one of my absolute favorite series, Douglas Adams writes, “Time is an illusion. Lunchtime, doubly so.” Like just about everything Adams wrote, it’s a joke painted onto something deeper and ultimately rather tragic.
AMC’s The Walking Dead concluded its fourth season this past Sunday, leaving fans with a cliffhanger that will make the wait until the debut of the fifth season in October even more agonizing than anticipated.
Facebook’s acquisition of Oculus VR made huge waves last week, breaking the circles of tech news into broader media coverage. After all, the world’s largest social network suddenly and unexpectedly taking over a gaming-focused startup in the recently re-emerging VR space sounds like the perfect setup for a soon-to-be cyberpunk dystopia.
As promised, Ladies, Gentlemen, and those who identify with neither category: Forrest Fenn, American Hero… He was diagnosed with cancer in 1988 and, fearing his death was imminent, packed a bronze chest full of gold, rare coins, jewelry, gemstones, and a jar containing his biography, and decided to bury it in the wilderness north of his Santa Fe home… The treasure’s value has been placed around $1 – $3 million dollars. And it’s just chillin’ somewhere in the Rockies, waiting to be found.
Many fans on the Internet are less than pleased with the rumors that Julian Casablancas’ second solo-album will be a spiritual follow up to the much-maligned third album by The Strokes, First Impressions of Earth, instead of continuing along the path of the 1980s electronic aesthetic of his first solo album. I, on the other hand, am more than willing to embrace this change and have hope that his upcoming album (rumored to be titled Voidz) will be an aural delight.
My dearest Indy reader, I failed you last week. I had every intention of posting something ridiculous yet vaguely inspiring about Forrest Fenn’s treasure and the frontier thesis (stay tuned — I promise I’ll explain my obsession with Mr. Fenn next week). In fact, I was all set to write up my post on the plane back to DC when I was confronted with the fundamental incompatibility of Miami International Airport and happiness. What follows is what I wrote, hysteria mounting, while sitting in the airport, rocking back and forth slightly. Only slightly though.