Word: mash
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...much as Wall Street did last week. For one thing, the outbreak of war means that, 10 or 20 years down the road, someone will make an honest film denouncing it. ("All Quiet on the Western Front" came a dozen years after WWI ended, "Patton" 25 years after WWII, "MASH" 17 years after Korea and "Platoon" more than a decade after the last U.S. helicopter escaped Saigon.) For another, war gives members of the industrial-entertainment complex - a business designed to offer diversion from the little murders of daily life - to take the world seriously. And that's a spectacle...
Forget American Idol. Mash-ups, as these musical shotgun marriages are known, are the real road to success for today's harmonically challenged pop wannabes. The expertise required would make Beethoven blush. If you have ever listened to a mash-up and thought, I could do that, you're absolutely right. The necessary equipment: a PC, your CD collection and a pair of ears. No cash required, at least not until you're ready to unleash your motley mix upon an unsuspecting world...
What really matters is your choice of mixing software. Even semiserious mashers should consider splurging on the Plasma 2003 ($39.95 with registration at cakewalk.com or the superior Acid Music 3.0 ($69.97 at sonicfoundry.com) But you don't need either of these programs to flex your mash-up muscles. Sonic Foundry also offers a serviceable stripped-down, free version called Acid Xpress. And if you know how to finger-paint, you know how to make...
...next: sensors used to secure naval-base perimeters are being adapted to protect nuclear power plants and major landmarks. As for those dummies--technically, "medical simulator mannequins"--they have been deployed by the military to train MASH units and are being adapted for civilian emergency medical teams and teaching hospitals. The more sophisticated civilian models, costing $50,000 to $150,000 each, have variable pulses, respiration rates, oxygen saturation counts, pupil dilation and other programmable manifestations of sickness and injury...
...lying if I said that I was anything but completely ecstatic to be inside the global headquarters of corporate-approved hipness. The studios were decorated in stainless steel faux-warehouse chic. The walls were even sprayed with graffiti. MTV hopefuls, the requisite mish-mash of minorities and uber-prepsters sat on a plush couch. I joined my fellow VJ wannabes and sat silently pondering the room’s aesthetic of exposed plumbing...