The Naked City.

Mad linkage:

Somewhere a dog barks.

Andrew Garfield is the new Spider-man in the Marc Webb reboot.

Is King Tut’s penis missing?

How food gets gendered.

from here.

Stop screaming during sex or you’re going to jail.

So, what do you think of the new Jim Lee-designed Wonder Woman costume?

The 20 best Superman panels.

Side by side comparison of the new trailer for Let Me In, the remake of Let The Right One In.

The male gaze: Objectification, Fetishisation and Violation.

Alison Brie and Mary McDonnell are joining Scream 4.

Tyler Perry vs. Aaron McGruder.

The downside to the recovery of the ozone layer.

The pictures in today’s post by Weegee, otherwise known as Arthur Fellig, an Austrian-born photographer/photojournalist from the mid-1900s, best known for documenting the grim beauty that was the seedy life on the streets of New York City. His nickname came from a phonetic tendering of the word “ouija,” which he got because of his eerily prescient ability to appear at the scene of a crime or a fire or emergency of another kind moments after it happened or was reported to the authorities.

To me, his pictures walk a very fine, very fascinating line between going too far and perfectly capturing the beauty of the worse sides of life, the raw and wounded aspects. Looking back at his pictures now, there’s just something unmistakably real and authentic about them, something that maybe you wouldn’t see as much now?

Fellig was married to Margaret Atwood from 1947 to 1950 before he went to Hollywood and began working in film. He became friends with Stanley Kubrick  (the two of them are pictured together above) and did the still photography for Dr. Strangelove, and it was his accent that Peter Sellers copied for the title character of the film.

You can find more of his pictures here, here, here, and here.

25 anti-music journalist songs.

Including: Guns N’Roses’ “Get In The Ring

Harlan Ellison is having a major book sale.

Mel Gibson may be crazy and kinda racist. Shocking.

10 movies that hipsters need to get over.

The new book by the author of Ghostwritten and Cloud Atlas (which is possibly going to be adapted to film by Tom Tykwer and the Wachowskis?).

Lady business: cleavage in the workplace.

The language of a marriage.

“The easiest kind of a job to cover was a murder. The stiff would be laying on the ground. He couldn’t get up and walk away or get temperamental.”

-Arthur Fellig

In the blood.

Mad linkage:

Finally, a manifesto for the internet that makes sense.

Emergency search and rescue effort launched for teen sailing around the world.

In TV, it’s always the same old news.

Kelly Clarkson steals from Arcade Fire?

Makes me nostalgic for this song.

Not long after Al and Tipper Gore separate, so does their daughter and her husband.

There’s six new True Blood promos!

…and maybe perhaps they’re over-marketing it a little?

Thankfully, Eggs is still dead.

A guide to some of the new characters appearing this season and who they were in the book series.

This season the show promises “sexual insanity.” Story of my life.

Last night I watched the pilot for Persons Unknown, one of the new crop of summer event TV in the vein of a Lost-style mystery. It stars Alan Ruck, some annoying guy who’s been in literally every bad TV, and the guy who played Skippy in Kicking And Screaming and was written and created by Christopher McQuarrie. The last part there is the most trembling since I always liked McQuarrie and this show is amateur hour at best.

Extreme Solitude” by Jeffrey Eugenides.

“I love you! No homo.”

Woman charged with public adultery in New York.

Bye bye, Facebook.

Huge seas once existed on Mars.

The German super rick offer to pay “rich tax.”

The Vaselines to release first new album in 20 years.

Nocturnal altertness improves after exposure to milliseconds of bright light flashes.

Sack tapping can be dangerous. Seriously.

The mystery of the sun’s corona.

The formation of Saturn’s ring moons explained.

Do women manipulate men with noises during sex?