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The celebrants, audience, and cow will then process to Harvard Divinity School, where Dean William A. Graham will open a second half-hour ceremony at 5:30 pm. Speakers will include William Martin, Emeritus Chavanne Professor of Religion and Public Policy at Rice University (and Professor Cox’s first graduate student advisee at Harvard), and Diana Eck, Professor of Comparative Religion and Indian Studies and director of the Pluralism Project at Harvard, who will reflect on the significance of cows in world religions. The cow will then receive its evening milking. –“Renowned Harvard Professor Claims Privilege of Grazing Cow In Harvard Yard,” Harvard Divinity School (via)
The list of powers that supposedly come with the tattoos is long and includes: imperviousness to bullets, anti-landmine protection, invisibility, an amplified voice to address troops and “great gravity” magic to make one’s fists into heavier, deadlier weapons. –“With Art as Their Armor,” John Maloy, GlobalPost
And now, said the Daily News, “Dr. Roxanne Shanté” has “launched an unconventional therapy practice focusing on urban African-Americans,” in which she “incorporates hip-hop music into her sessions, encouraging her clients to unleash their inner MC and shout out exactly what’s on their mind.” The story was endlessly blogged and tweeted, heralded as an example of a heroic triumph by a girl from the projects over her evil record label. Credulous music-industry critics lapped it up; Techdirt, after stating flatly that Warner had “tr[ied] to cheat [Shanté] out of her contract,” reflected the online sentiment: “It’s nice to see how Warner Music actually did some good in the world, even if it had to be dragged there kicking and screaming.” One problem: Virtually everything about the Daily News’ heartwarming “projects-to-Ph.D.” story appears to be false. –“Roxanne’s Nonexistent Revenge: Heard about the rapper who forced her label to pay for her Cornell Ph.D.? It never happened,” Ben Sheffner, Slate
Years ago, I lived in Montana, a land of purple sunsets, clear streams, and snowflakes the size of silver dollars drifting through the cold air. There were no speed limits and you could legally drive drunk. My small apartment in Missoula had little privacy. In order to write, I rented an off-season fishing cabin on Rock Creek, a one-room place with a bed and a bureau. I lacked the budget for a desk. My idea was to remove a sliding door from a closet in my apartment and place it over a couple of hastily cobbled-together sawhorses.
Annual premium on a $6,000 life insurance policy for a champion German shepherd:
Astronomers discovered a pulsar called a superbubble, which spins 716 times per second.
Nigerian president Muhammadu Buhari told reporters that his wife “belonged to” his kitchen.
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“Matt was happy enough to sustain himself on the detritus of a world he saw as careening toward self-destruction, and equally happy to scam a government he despised. 'I’m glad everyone’s so wasteful,' he told me. 'It supports my lifestyle.'”