This is Street Art by Mobstr
Hitting the streets of East London, artist Mobstr performs some typographical-based interventions that seem to have become self-aware.
(photos via hookedblog / flickr)
This is Street Art by Mobstr
Hitting the streets of East London, artist Mobstr performs some typographical-based interventions that seem to have become self-aware.
(photos via hookedblog / flickr)
Even Steelers fans want to fight Steelers fans (Taken with instagram)
Great writing is about using simple words to convey something profound.
– BeeHaze
ADitudes: 2011 Florida Orange Juice Campaign
This JUICY campaign (I know. I’m not proud of it) comes from BBDO, Atlanta. It’s a really simple concept––basically, a glorified “shit happens” approach––but you’ve gotta love the writing.
Check out BBDO’s website for more examples of great work (the link will open a new window).
––BeeHaze
My Time Machine Has 4-Wheel Drive
The odometer on my car read 100,000 today––hardly an earth-shattering accomplishment for a Japanese car––but it’s not the number on the odometer that’s important; the miles in between are. At 20 miles, I remember first driving it off the lot in Reno to my house on the West Shore of Lake Tahoe, California. Since then, it’s been there while I changed from an obscure Midwestern kid into an older-looking kid in a well-known Western town, back to being an even older-looking kid in an obscure Midwestern town. It’s been there when I was a pro snowboarder in California, a coach in Oregon, a bag boy in Sacramento, and a college student in Ohio. It’s been parked next to a campfire on a moonlit beach in Pacific City, Oregon, charged through snow in the Sierra Mountains, frozen in the horizontal wasteland of the Great Plains while I ate lunch in Kimball, NB, and floated on a ferry in the middle of Lake Erie. It’s explored the expanse between coasts three different ways, when I drove three different times from my home in Ohio to my haven in California. It’s been there during my engagement when I was driven to insanity, and it’s driven me home to start over again as a single guy. It’s towed snowmobiles and a pontoon boat. I’ve had it for six birthdays, six Christmases, and during one leap year. By the time it had 60,000 miles, I had lived in ten different houses, in three different states, and had broken up with three different girlfriends. The scratches from old snowboards remind me of early season riding at Northstar, and the soggy receipts at the bottom of the cup holder remind me of when I left the windows down during a rainstorm in Put-in Bay. For six years, my car has been my vehicle, my kitchen, my bedroom, and my bathroom (I once peed into a Vitamin Water bottle while driving across the border between Washington and Idaho). Cheers to another six epic years.
––BeeHaze
Americans are nothing if not passionate about challenging conventions and promoting political change. I may not agree with what you say, but I’ll defend, with my life, your right to say it. This is some political literature I passed this morning. Weird thing is, I couldn’t have said it better myself. (Taken with instagram)
Your first love never leaves your mind; your true love never leaves your side.
Autumnal Light Show (Taken with instagram)
It never feels good, but sometimes you have to rat out your coworkers (Taken with instagram)
Admit that you’re an idiot; you’ll sleep better.
I used to live with a guy named Audi (like the car). His real name is Austin; but his brother couldn’t pronounce it when they were younger, and the nickname just stuck. At the time, I was living in Lake Tahoe, California, an incestuous little time-warp of a town where lovers are passed around like water bongs and fifty-somethings still say “rad”. Audi wasn’t a stupid guy. He’s actually one of the most self-assured people I’ve ever known, but he would walk around calling himself an idiot whenever something embarrassing happened, which ended up being every few hours, at most. As a born-and-bred, milk-drinking, corn-eating midwesterner who lived his life by the idiom, “fake it ‘till you make it,” I thought it was weird to hear someone accept the blame for everything that went wrong during the day. I had survived, up to that point, by blaming someone else (usually my younger brother). After living with Audi for three months, I started picking up his idiosyncrasies, including habitually calling myself an idiot every five seconds. And then something happened that I didn’t expect: Despite being ostensibly self-deprecating, the actual effect of calling yourself an idiot is complete liberation. Embarrassment doesn’t exist anymore. Insecurities fade away. ”Obviously, I can’t be expected to function among society. I’m an idiot.” I say it all the time now. “I connected the red one to the black one, so I’m not sure why your car battery is smoking. Oh. I’m an idiot.” ”All my index cards flew out of my pocket onto the busy street because I thought it would be smart to ride my bike with them unbound in my pocket? No problem, I’m an idiot.” The point is this: Intelligence is relative, which means we’re all relatively stupid. I work in a sub shop everyday; so when a contractor comes in and doesn’t know what Dave’s Cosmic Sauce is, I become annoyed and dismiss him as being an idiot––even though I don’t know the first thing about construction or even what an auger does. The sooner we all accept the fact that we’re idiots and stop pretending we’re serious, smart, important, popular, well-liked, whatever––the sooner we can slip on a patch of ice without being mortified, ask a dumb question in class, or not become pissed off when some random guy makes a seemingly pejorative comment about your cardigan, even though he probably wasn’t trying to belittle you at all. He probably liked it for real and wasn’t just saying that to be a dick. It seems Audi had it all figured out, even though I had no idea at the time. But that doesn’t surprise me. I am, after all, an idiot.
![nprfreshair:
Plane trails [more] [via coudal]
SFO crunch (by exxonvaldez)](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lp3gavSwAc1qd9dz2o1_500.jpg)
Plane trails [more] [via coudal]
SFO crunch (by exxonvaldez)
Acting dumb is a silent plague, a self-imposed reverse eugenics, and the worst thing that girls do to themselves and accept from each other. It’s totally crackers. I’m not really sure right now if it’s worse to be purposefully stupid, from willful ignorance and the lazies, or to be preternaturally smart but act dumb. So why do girls act dumb? Because.
MORE PEOPLE LIKE YOU
Generally, people are stupid, and generally, stupid people are threatened by smart people. That’s good. However, the US has finally Machiavellied its dominant culture of dummies into thinking that they’re in charge, with their mega-churches and Michele Bachmanns, and turning “elite” into a pejorative and The Great Gatsby into a 3D movie. All of which means that smart people are reviled instead of feared. Too bad, so sad! Anyway, this means that once upon a time people tried to seem smarter than they were (see: The Preppie Handbook; the Ivy League fetish; books) and now people from every social and economic strata are obsessed with you respecting them and their fantasy verb tenses and, basically, Idiocracy came true, especially among women who are ready to swipe at anybody who wants to marginalize them even more. The dumber you are, the realer you are. So, it’s still technically American exceptionalism, but, like, the opposite.
Read the rest at Vice Magazine: GIRL NEWS: WHY GIRLS ACT DUMB - Viceland Today
ADitudes:
Brilliant! A completely original ad featuring a good looking black guy with a cute baby animal!
Coors Light introduces its new pop culture icon to challenge P+G to a handsome-black-guy-off: The Man Your Man Could Copy Off Of.
I have to think that DraftFCB or Commonground, the agencies behind this effort (I’m not sure which one exactly), made this rip-off intentionally blatant, creating buzz about the ad and adding extra value to the campaign. Or maybe they thought no one would notice.
Rules to Live By:
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I’m starting a new “segment” on the blog, in addition to ADitudes, called Rules to Live By––a comprehensive list (brother to The Bro Code, cousin to the Zombie Survival Guide, and achi of The 10 Commandments) of all things necessary to survive this life with class and audacity––so, for all intents and purposes, au-class-ity. And because no one’s listening/reading anyhow, the first rule is this:
Rule to Live By #1:
Read this blog. Duh.
