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This week, Drake had his Views. On Becky with the good hair, Beyoncé had hers. Trump called Lena Dunham B-list. Obama pleaded his last case for the EU. Colombia legalized gay marriage. Finnish mail carriers started mowing lawns because business is just that bad. The New York Times sounded the end for its Paris bureau. And some kook ran a marathon in outer space.

In ​n+1​, Anna Wiener attempts something of a Slouching Towards Bethlehem for the startup era—a Sisyphean struggle up and up and up San Francisco's steep hills, past the libertarians and self-deluders, with the VC cash and the despair rolling back on down.

I attend a networking event at an office whose walls are hung with inspirational posters that quote tech luminaries I’ve never heard of. The posters say things like “Life is short: build stuff that matters” and “Innovate or die.” I am dead. Our interior designer tried hanging posters like these in our office; the front-end engineers relocated them to the bathroom, placed them face to the wall. The event is packed; people roam in clusters, like college freshmen during orientation week. There are a few women, but most of the attendees are young men in start-up twinsets: I pass someone wearing a branded hoodie, unzipped to reveal a shirt with the same logo. I google the company on my cellphone to see what it is, to see if they’re hiring. “We have loved mobile since we saw Steve Jobs announce the first iPhone,” their website declares, and I close the browser, thinking, ​how basic.


There goes the neighbourhood.
Last week, our one thing was an old Hilton Als piece on The Purple One. Here he is again, inimitable as ever—on Prince, Cecil Taylor, and the queen of Lemonade herself. Cos damn.

The Berlin Biennale's theme this year is "Fear of Content." We're like moths to a flame on that one. Start with Rob Horning's reframing of Sontag for our current noise, and rummage on through from there.

Here’s a good reminder not to take any of it, this life, too seriously. Science has proven that human beings are incapable of perceiving an external reality. In fact, our internal simulations are “nothing like reality.” Which explains why everyone is bananas

The great Sebastian Junger retired from the front lines of war reporting after his longtime collaborator Tim Hetherington died in Libya. In a beautiful discussion in ​Outside, he talks about how his work, informed by the struggles and societal alienation of the returned veterans he's come to know and care for, has taken a turn to the interior—to ideas of connectedness, community, and home.

Odds are you’ve all read this week’s widely circulated piece by Rose Eveleth on bodyhacking women. But look, Donna Haraway wrote about that stuff 30 years ago. 

For all of the academic work on zine and postering culture over the years, there's been very little on the enabling technology behind it. Kate Eichhorn's Adjusted Margin is a fascinating history of the photocopier and the (perhaps) accidental spaces of resistance its invention opened up. This’ll be print nerd cultural studies reading of the highest order.

Well, this is bleak. In the ongoing battle by human rights organizations to hold multinational corporations to account for their mining and manufacturing practices, campaigner Michael Hobbes makes the claim in Foreign Policy that the more visible victories of human rights orgs are being rendered essentially meaningless by a new wave of audit- and boycott-proof corporations headquartered far, far away from accountability. You can't threaten the reputation of something that, by design, doesn't need one.

The families of the 96 victims of the Hillsborough stadium disaster fought for 27 long years, with the overwhelming weight of the state and the news media against them (Rupert Murdoch's Sun is still used only for kindling in Liverpool). They never gave up the fight for justice, which was finally delivered this week when a verdict of unlawful killing was handed down against the police. David Conn's brilliant here in The Guardian, as he has been with his reporting on the horrors of this for years. The detail of the story can be unbearably gruesome at times, but make it through to the video at the end, of the families on the court steps singing “You'll Never Walk Alone,” and just try not to cry.

In lighter football news, whenever the 5000-1 no-hopers of Leicester City finally clinch the English Premier League—which is about to happen!—you’re going to read some of the best sports writing you ever did read. This sort of magical impossibility doesn’t just transcend football, but sport itself. Of more use than analyzing the play on the field, Deadspin takes a reading on the sparkling, crackling, untethered electricity surging through the club’s home stadium in the moment just before what seems now to be the beautiful inevitable.

Show your friends the way to the OP. Bye sweetnesses. 

The Overprint is a weekly newsletter from Make Ready + The Alpine Review.
Illustration by Chris Lange.
 
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