Last night my dreams were literally cinematic, as in they consisted of a sequence of shots, closeups on action and so on. They even followed conventions like the 180 degree rule, which was kind of weird. Their content was pretty unremarkable, though. Mostly turtles jumping on top of other turtles.
I think one can make an intelligent case for dropping the SAT as an admissions requirement, which Richard C. Atkinson, the University of California president, is proposing. I worked as an SAT tutor for a while, ministering to the children of Palo Alto's rich and powerful, and it's getting pretty freaky how much emphasis these poor overachieving kids and their parents place on it. They'll plunk down $400 in a second for a thirty-point increase. And the goddamn test isn't even about anything other than itself; the only trick involved is in learning to think like the people who wrote it. It measures one very limited type of aptitude: a narrow thread of analytical thinking which says nothing about intelligence in a more holistic sense, and most importantly says nothing about drive, motivation or any of those other qualities that get lumped under "character." Those latter attributes are (duh) the biggest determinant for success in college and beyond.
Let the kids focus on their classes, where (theoretically) they're actually learning something useful, and it'll come out in the grades without wasting so many resources on these prep courses. Particularly if you come from a background where you don't even have such resources; then you're just screwed. If standardization is a must, one could always reweight the process toward SAT II or AP tests, which are actually about subjects other than their own methodologies. Even the ACT is better.
Getting lost in the Catholic fracas over Renée Cox's "Yo Mama's Last Supper" is that it really is a damn cool piece. Check out how she's playing with the 14th-century triptych style for religious paintings, only with five panels. (Pentaptych? Is that a word?) And the detail here: I don't know anything about photography, but somehow she's given it an oil-type texture. Plus if her personal site is any indication, she's pretty pro-God.
Holy shit, they're transplanting hands now? The sad bit is the story at the end:
The first hand transplant was done in France in 1998. Clint Hallam, 50, who had lost his hand in prison, failed to follow the anti-rejection drug regimen. Last week, the hand was amputated.
It must suck to have that happen twice.