How to Defeat the US with Math: An Animated North Korean Propaganda Film for Kids

Yes, North Korea won yes­ter­day. Threat­en­ing 9/11-like vio­lence, the DPRK scared Sony and Amer­i­ca’s four largest the­ater chains into pulling the plug on the release of The Inter­view. And, just like that, Amer­i­cans lost their right to watch their own pro­pa­gan­da films — even dumb fun­ny ones — in their own the­aters. But, don’t despair, we can still watch pro­pa­gan­da films from North Korea on YouTube — like the vin­tage ani­ma­tion for chil­dren above. You don’t need to under­stand what’s being said to get the gist. Take your school­work seri­ous­ly, bone up on your geom­e­try, and you can launch enough mis­siles to force Amer­i­ca into sub­mis­sion. True, geom­e­try does­n’t put you in a good posi­tion to hack cor­po­rate com­put­ers. But seem­ing­ly you can get that help from Chi­na.

via The Week

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Don­ald Duck’s Bad Nazi Dream and Four Oth­er Dis­ney Pro­pa­gan­da Car­toons from World War II

Neu­ro­science and Pro­pa­gan­da Come Togeth­er in Disney’s World War II Film, Rea­son and Emo­tion

How the CIA Turned Doc­tor Zhiva­go into a Pro­pa­gan­da Weapon Against the Sovi­et Union

 

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Animated Louis CK Shows Demonstrates How “Animation Lets You Do Anything”

Father­hood is a fer­tile sub­ject for come­di­an Louis C.K.

Kids do say the darnedest things, but Louis’ obser­va­tions reveal the depth of his invest­ment.

He lit out after stan­dard­ized test­ing and the Com­mon Core on Twit­ter.

He made a pas­sion­ate case against giv­ing kids smart­phones to Conan O’Brien.

Is it any won­der that the “dumb­er, fun­nier” ver­sion of him­self he cre­at­ed for his TV show is pre­oc­cu­pied and often thwart­ed by his respon­si­bil­i­ties as the sin­gle dad of two young daugh­ters?

(Real life may pro­vide inspi­ra­tion, but the writer and star dis­plays appro­pri­ate bound­aries when he says that his actu­al daugh­ters are marked­ly dif­fer­ent char­ac­ters than their TV coun­ter­parts.)

But the knife of father­hood cuts both ways. Louis’ trou­bled rela­tion­ship with his own dad gets less atten­tion than the father-daugh­ter bond, but it’s there in his work. The prospect of spend­ing time with his estranged father caus­es the fic­tion­al Louis to vom­it at the din­ner table in sea­son three.

The ani­mat­ed approach seen above, gives Louis more con­trol over the sit­u­a­tion. Ani­ma­tion, like read­ing, makes pos­si­ble flights of fan­cy where­in children—including grown ones like Louis—can do “absolute­ly any­thing.” Fly­ing and using a rain­bow as a slide are among the fan­tas­ti­cal activ­i­ties the 2‑D Louis sam­ples. Mean­while, the qual­i­ty of his nar­ra­tion con­veys an under­ly­ing dis­taste for the sort of canned “imag­i­na­tive” sug­ges­tions foist­ed on chil­dren by well-mean­ing edu­ca­tion­al pro­gram­mers.

Left to their own devices, most kids will come up with sce­nar­ios and pow­ers far weird­er than any­thing ped­dled to them by an adult. Why “swim through the ocean like a fish” when you can anthro­po­mor­phize your elder­ly father as a malev­o­lent spi­der, lodged in your chest, poop­ing out reg­u­lar lit­tle “infes­ta­tions of hate”?

Ani­ma­tion lets you go all the way, and C.K. cer­tain­ly does, lop­ping off heads, and (SPOILER!) inad­ver­tent­ly Bon­nie and Clyd­ing him­self from with­in.

Someone’s made a lot of progress since the 90’s, when he used his time on Dr. Katz’s ani­mat­ed couch to dis­cuss K‑Mart and Chips Ahoy.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

The Sur­re­al Short Films of Louis C.K., 1993–1999

Sein­feld, Louis C.K., Chris Rock, and Ricky Ger­vais Dis­sect the Craft of Com­e­dy (NSFW)

20-Year-Old Louis CK Per­forms Stand Up (1987)

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, home­school­er, and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

Blade Runner Spoofed in Three Japanese Commercials (and Generally Loved in Japan)

Blade Run­ner’s vision of a thor­ough­ly Japan­i­fied Los Ange­les in the year 2019 reflects the west­ern eco­nom­ic anx­i­eties of the ear­ly 1980s. And while that once far-flung year may not have come quite yet, Japan — giv­en the burst­ing of its post­war finan­cial bub­ble and the “lost decade” of the 1990s that fol­lowed — looks unlike­ly to own a frac­tion as much of the Unit­ed States as Rid­ley Scot­t’s Philip K. Dick adap­ta­tion (and many oth­er futur­is­tic sto­ries besides) assumed it even­tu­al­ly would. Still, the film’s cul­tur­al proph­esy came true: even dur­ing its eco­nom­ic stag­na­tion, Japan exer­cised more “soft pow­er” than ever before, turn­ing the world to the unique claims of its cul­ture, from the refine­ment of its cui­sine to the hyper­ac­tive exu­ber­ance of its music and ani­ma­tion to the match­less ele­gance of its tra­di­tion­al aes­thet­ics.

Even as Blade Run­ner showed us how much Japan­ese style would one day influ­ence, the style of the film had, for its part, an imme­di­ate influ­ence on Japan. Though famous­ly unap­pre­ci­at­ed by west­ern­ers on its ini­tial release (“a waste of time,” said Siskel and Ebert), its pro­to-cyber­punk sen­si­bil­i­ty won the hearts of Japan­ese view­ers, and Japan­ese cre­ators, right away. The video at the top of the post col­lects three Japan­ese tele­vi­sion com­mer­cials that both spoof and pay homage to Blade Run­ner: the first for the Hon­da Beat, a Japan-only road­ster; the sec­ond (an astute par­o­dy of a par­tic­u­lar­ly mem­o­rable scene) for Meni­con con­tact lens­es; and the third for mobile ser­vice provider J‑Phone.

But the movie’s effect on Japan did­n’t stop at the adver­tis­ing indus­try. The 1987 ani­mat­ed series Bub­blegum Cri­sis, which fol­lows the adven­tures of a cyborg-bat­tling team in the “Mega Tokyo” of 2032, plays so much like a home­grown Blade Run­ner that a fan could cre­ate the sec­ond video above: an ani­mat­ed recre­ation of Blade Run­ner’s trail­er, using all its orig­i­nal sound, with Bub­blegum Cri­sis’ footage. The 1988 video game Snatch­er stars the decid­ed­ly Har­ri­son-For­dian Gillian Seed, a detec­tive in pur­suit of the tit­u­lar killer androids in the “Neo Kobe” of 2044. You can still semuch of what the film inspired, and what inspired in the film, in major Japan­ese cities today. Even Los Ange­les has made strides here and there toward the Blade Run­ner future, though I regret to admit that we still await our tow­er-side geisha.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Art of Mak­ing Blade Run­ner: See the Orig­i­nal Sketch­book, Sto­ry­boards, On-Set Polaroids & More

The Blade Run­ner Pro­mo­tion­al Film

Blade Run­ner: The Pil­lar of Sci-Fi Cin­e­ma that Siskel, Ebert, and Stu­dio Execs Orig­i­nal­ly Hat­ed

Philip K. Dick Pre­views Blade Run­ner: “The Impact of the Film is Going to be Over­whelm­ing” (1981)

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Animated Introductions to Quantum Mechanics: From Schrödinger’s Cat to Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle

If you nev­er quite got a hang of quan­tum mechan­ics, you can take anoth­er run at it by watch­ing four ani­mat­ed Ted-Ed primers, cre­at­ed by Chad Orzel, Asso­ciate Pro­fes­sor in the Depart­ment of Physics and Astron­o­my at Union Col­lege. He’s also the author of How to Teach Quan­tum Physics to Your Dog. In Par­ti­cles and waves: The cen­tral mys­tery of quan­tum mechan­ics (above), Orzel briefly traces the con­cep­tu­al devel­op­ment of quan­tum mechan­ics, high­light­ing the con­tri­bu­tions of physi­cists like Max PlanckNiels Bohr and Louis de Broglie.

Next up, Orzel tack­les the famous thought exper­i­ment known as Schrödinger’s cat, devised, of course, by the Nobel-prize win­ning Aus­tri­an physi­cist Erwin Schrödinger in 1935. For anoth­er primer on this top­ic, you should also check out this les­son pre­sent­ed by Six­ty Sym­bols, a web site spe­cial­iz­ing in physics and astron­o­my videos host­ed by The Uni­ver­si­ty of Not­ting­ham. The two remain­ing videos in Orzel’s series appear below.

Ein­stein’s bril­liant mis­take: Entan­gled states

What is the Heisen­berg Uncer­tain­ty Prin­ci­ple?

via Ted-ED

Relat­ed Con­tent:

64 Free Online Physics Cours­es

The Feyn­man Lec­tures on Physics, The Most Pop­u­lar Physics Book Ever Writ­ten, Now Com­plete­ly Online

Albert Ein­stein Reads ‘The Com­mon Lan­guage of Sci­ence’ (1941)

“Do Sci­en­tists Pray?”: A Young Girl Asks Albert Ein­stein in 1936. Ein­stein Then Responds.

New Archive Puts 1000s of Einstein’s Papers Online, Includ­ing This Great Let­ter to Marie Curie

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Scenes from Waking Life, Richard Linklater’s Philosophical, Feature-Length Animated Film (2001)

Richard Lin­klater’s lat­est film Boy­hood has earned quite a lot of press by accom­plish­ing the unprece­dent­ed cin­e­mat­ic feat of telling a sto­ry over a decade long with a pro­duc­tion over a decade long, fol­low­ing the same char­ac­ters, played by the same grow­ing and aging actors, the whole time through. View­ers have under­stand­ably found it a strik­ing view­ing expe­ri­ence, but most of Lin­klater’s projects do some­thing no oth­er film has done before. His 1990s “Indiewood” break­out Slack­er (watch it online), for instance, offered not just the por­trait of the so-called Generation‑X, and not just a por­trait of the then-ris­ing Amer­i­can coun­ter­cul­tur­al Mec­ca of Austin, Texas, but a form of sto­ry­telling that seemed to drift freely from one char­ac­ter to the next, cross­ing town on the winds of idle, every­day, intense, and even non­sen­si­cal con­ver­sa­tion.

And what does Wak­ing Life do? Released in 2001, Lin­klater’s first ani­mat­ed film (he would make a sec­ond, the Philip K. Dick adap­ta­tion A Scan­ner Dark­ly, in 2006) not only fur­ther devel­ops the neglect­ed branch of ani­ma­tion known as roto­scop­ing, which involves draw­ing over live-action footage, but puts it to work for the cause of the philo­soph­i­cal film. But rather than approach­ing that enter­prise straight on, the movie inter­prets the phi­los­o­phy with which it deals through a vast cast of char­ac­ters both eccen­tric and mun­dane — intel­lec­tu­als, often, but also crack­pots, gad­flies, and just plain slack­ers. When they speak their thoughts aloud, as they do in the short clips fea­tured here, they speak on themes as var­ied, but as intrigu­ing­ly inter­con­nect­ed, as real­i­ty, free will, anar­chy, sui­cide, and cin­e­ma, all of which the ani­ma­tion vivid­ly illus­trates.

Wak­ing Life could not come at a bet­ter time,” wrote Roger Ebert when the movie opened, less than a month after 9/11. “It cel­e­brates a series of artic­u­late, intel­li­gent char­ac­ters who seek out the mean­ing of their exis­tence and do not have the answers. At a time when mad­men think they have the right to kill us because of what they think they know about an after­life, which is by def­i­n­i­tion unknow­able, those who don’t know the answers are the only ones ask­ing sane ques­tions. True believ­ers owe it to the rest of us to seek solu­tions that are rea­son­able in the vis­i­ble world.” Some view­ers will no doubt write off Wak­ing Life’s dia­logue — whether spo­ken by actors, pro­fes­sors, Lin­klater reg­u­lars, or utter ran­doms — as mere “dorm room con­ver­sa­tion,” but the film seems to ask an impor­tant ques­tion on that very point: are you real­ly hav­ing more inter­est­ing con­ver­sa­tions now than you did in the dorms?

If you have a sub­scrip­tion to Ama­zon Prime, you can watch Wak­ing Life for free right now. A ver­sion appears on Youtube for $2.99.

It’s also worth not­ing that Wak­ing Life appears on the list we recent­ly explored, 44 Essen­tial Movies for the Stu­dent of Phi­los­o­phy.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More

Watch The Idea, the First Ani­mat­ed Film to Deal with Big, Philo­soph­i­cal Ideas (1932)

Orson Welles Nar­rates Ani­ma­tion of Plato’s Cave Alle­go­ry

Watch Free Online: Richard Linklater’s Slack­er, the Clas­sic Gen‑X Indie Film

In Dark PSA, Direc­tor Richard Lin­klater Sug­gests Rad­i­cal Steps for Deal­ing with Tex­ters in Cin­e­mas

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Discover the 1950s & 1960s Computer & Cut-Up Animation of Pioneering Filmmaker Stan VanDerBeek

Hey, lovers of ani­ma­tion and exper­i­men­tal film: do you know the name Stan Van­Der­Beek? If not, you’ll enjoy learn­ing it, for more rea­sons than that it allows you to type four cap­i­tal let­ters. End­less­ly adven­tur­ous in his quest to find new ways to craft (not to men­tion dis­play) mov­ing images, Van­Der­Beek, who in col­lege encoun­tered the likes of John Cage, Mer­ce Cun­ning­ham, and Robert Rauschen­berg, mobi­lized for his ani­ma­tion a vari­ety of tech­nolo­gies that, in his day, peo­ple did­n’t have much of a sense of what to do with, artis­ti­cal­ly or oth­er­wise. “Every­thing that artists made art from, or with, in the sec­ond half of the 20th cen­tu­ry, he pret­ty much touched,” this NPR piece quotes MIT LIST Visu­al Arts Cen­ter cura­tor Joao Ribas as say­ing about him. “The medi­um, what­ev­er he was work­ing with, was not ade­quate enough. Paint­ing was too sta­t­ic, and then one film was too lin­ear, and then four films were too cum­ber­some.”

You can see here some of the fruits of this dri­ve that kept Van­Der­Beek “con­stant­ly try­ing some­thing else that could get clos­er and clos­er to what he saw.” At the top, we have a 1966 exam­ple of the ani­mat­ed poet­ry he cre­at­ed with Bell Labs com­put­er graph­ics pio­neer Ken Knowl­ton, using a pro­gram­ming lan­guage of Knowl­ton’s own design and a score by jazz drum­mer Paul Mot­ian. But Van­Der­Beek built more of his rep­u­ta­tion with his mas­tery of cut-and-paste ani­ma­tion, the kind you see in action in 1959’s Sci­ence Fric­tion just above. Five years lat­er, he would put out Breathdeath below, which Tate calls “a sur­re­al fan­ta­sy based on 15th cen­tu­ry wood­cuts of The Dance of the Dead” made of “cut-up pho­tos and news­reels, reassem­bled into a black com­e­dy ded­i­cat­ed to Char­lie Chap­lin and Buster Keaton.” Does this all remind you a bit of Ter­ry Gilliam? It should. The Mon­ty Python ani­ma­tor, a notable Van­Der­Beek fan, named Breathdeath one of the best ani­mat­ed films of all time.

Find more exper­i­men­tal films in our col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Best Ani­mat­ed Films of All Time, Accord­ing to Ter­ry Gilliam

Watch 13 Exper­i­men­tal Short Films by Tezu­ka Osamu, the Walt Dis­ney of Japan

Opti­cal Poems by Oskar Fischinger, the Avant-Garde Ani­ma­tor Hat­ed by Hitler, Dissed by Dis­ney

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Handmade Animation Shows You “How To Make a 1930 Paramount Record”

The his­to­ry of Amer­i­can music—the blues, jazz, gospel, etc.—has been told, and sold, so many times over that it seems hard to jus­ti­fy yet anoth­er ret­ro­spec­tive. And yet, I for one am very hap­py to see the huge two-vol­ume box set The Rise & Fall of Para­mount Records appear on the scene. Grant­ed, I can’t cough up $800 for, in total, 1600 remas­tered dig­i­tal tracks, 12 LPs, 900 pages of artist bios, por­traits, discogra­phies, and ful­ly-restored adver­tise­ments from the Mid­west­ern musi­cal pow­er­house of the 20s and 30s. And that’s not to men­tion the beau­ti­ful, peri­od pack­ag­ing, “first-of-its-kind music and image play­er app… housed on cus­tom met­al USB dri­ve,” and more. But even those of us too skint to afford all the glo­ri­ous swag can sam­ple some of the fruit of the enor­mous labors that went into this joint pro­duc­tion of Jack White’s Third Man Records and folk gui­tar hero John Fahey’s Revenant Records (if only by proxy). And we can learn a lit­tle about the labors that went in to mak­ing the orig­i­nal records them­selves.

Paramount records label

Just above, we have a beau­ti­ful hand­made video by Kel­li Ander­son which “recre­ates the inner work­ings of the defunct Para­mount Records Fac­to­ry (where records by artists like Blind Lemon Jef­fer­son, Louis Arm­strong and Charley Pat­ton were pressed in the 1920s and ‘30s).” Made “entire­ly from paper atop a ply­wood set,” the stop-motion ani­ma­tion sim­u­lates the pro­duc­tion of Paramount’s “race records,” accom­pa­nied by Charley Patton’s 1930 “High Water Every­where, Part 1,” whose “thick, ana­log noise,” Ander­son writes on her blog, “is a reminder that some of history’s most inven­tive musi­cians were record­ed on the most infe­ri­or equip­ment of their day.” She quotes Dean Black­wood of Revenant, who writes that the Para­mount fac­to­ry “sat perched above the Mil­wau­kee Riv­er riverbed. Dirt from that riverbed was one of the key ingre­di­ents in their shel­lac dough, which was low­er on shel­lac con­tent and high­er on unex­pect­ed com­po­nents like riverbed clay, cot­ton flock, and lamp black.”

But from these hum­ble, dirty, cheap mate­ri­als came a sound like no other—one that can nev­er be dupli­cat­ed and which deserves the high­est qual­i­ty preser­va­tion. Just above, see a video trail­er for vol­ume 1 of the mas­sive box set, and read much more about this project at Third Man’s site (Vol­ume 1, Vol­ume 2).

Relat­ed Con­tent:

R. Crumb’s Heroes of Blues, Jazz & Coun­try Fea­tures 114 Illus­tra­tions of the Artist’s Favorite Musi­cians

Mud­dy Waters, Howl­in’ Wolf, Sis­ter Roset­ta Tharpe & Oth­er Amer­i­can Blues Leg­ends Per­form in the UK (1963–66)

‘Boom Boom’ and ‘Hobo Blues’: Great Per­for­mances by John Lee Hook­er

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

A History of Ideas: Animated Videos Explain Theories of Simone de Beauvoir, Edmund Burke & Other Philosophers

The UK’s Open Uni­ver­si­ty has become a depend­able source of very short, online video intro­duc­tions to all sorts of things, from weighty sub­jects like reli­gion, eco­nom­ics, and lit­er­ary the­o­ry to lighter, but no less inter­est­ing fare like the art and sci­ence of bike design. With breezy tone and seri­ous intent, their ani­mat­ed “60-Sec­ond Adven­tures” make seem­ing­ly arcane aca­d­e­m­ic ideas acces­si­ble to laypeo­ple with no pri­or back­ground. Now they’ve teamed up with writer and BBC broad­cast­er Melvyn Bragg of In Our Time fame for a series of video shorts that run just a lit­tle over 60 sec­onds each, with ani­ma­tions by Andrew Park of Cogni+ive, and nar­ra­tion by comedic actor Har­ry Shear­er from Spinal Tap, The Simp­sons, and, most recent­ly, Nixon’s the One.

Drawn from Bragg’s BBC 4 radio pro­gram “A His­to­ry of Ideas,” the shorts intro­duce exact­ly that—each one a pré­cis of a long­stand­ing philo­soph­i­cal prob­lem like Free Will vs. Deter­min­ism (top) or the Prob­lem of Evil (above). Unlike some sim­i­lar­ly rapid out­lines, these videos—like the tie-in Bragg radio program—don’t sim­ply sketch out the issues in abstract; they draw from spe­cif­ic approach­es from fields as diverse as neu­ro­science, moral phi­los­o­phy, the­ol­o­gy, and fem­i­nist the­o­ry. In the video on free will at the top, for exam­ple, Shear­er intro­duces us to the Libet exper­i­ments, per­formed in the 1980s by neu­rol­o­gist Ben­jamin Libet to test our abil­i­ty to make vol­un­tary, con­scious deci­sions. The “Free Will Defense” video above references—at least visu­al­ly—Bertrand Russell’s noto­ri­ous teapot in its rather skep­ti­cal pre­sen­ta­tion of this the­o­log­i­cal bug­bear.

Some of the videos get even more spe­cif­ic, focus­ing in on the work of one thinker whose con­tri­bu­tions are cen­tral to our under­stand­ing of cer­tain con­cepts. Just above in “Fem­i­nine Beau­ty,” we have an intro­duc­tion to exis­ten­tial philoso­pher Simone de Beauvoir’s argu­ment that fem­i­nine beau­ty, and gen­der pre­sen­ta­tion more gen­er­al­ly, is social­ly con­struct­ed by pre­vail­ing patri­ar­chal norms—a con­cept cen­tral to the fem­i­nist work of lat­er thinkers like Judith But­ler. And below, we have the 18th cen­tu­ry con­cept of the “Sub­lime,” a sup­pos­ed­ly high­er, more threat­en­ing and inef­fa­ble aes­thet­ic mode, as dis­cussed in the work of con­ser­v­a­tive polit­i­cal philoso­pher Edmund Burke (also a sub­ject dear to Immanuel Kant, who had his own take on the idea).

See more “A His­to­ry of Ideas” short, ani­mat­ed videos—including “Diotima’s Lad­der,” “The Gold­en Ratio,” and “The Harm Prin­ci­ple”—on Youtube or the BBC Radio 4 site. The scripts for the clips, we should add, were writ­ten by Nigel War­bur­ton, whose Phi­los­o­phy Bites pod­cast you should nev­er miss.

And for much more exten­sive dis­cus­sions of these age-old philo­soph­i­cal ques­tions with real liv­ing “philoso­phers, the­olo­gians, lawyers, neu­ro­sci­en­tists, his­to­ri­ans and math­e­mati­cians,” down­load episodes of Melvyn Bragg’s “A His­to­ry of Ideas” show here or on iTunes.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

120+ Free Online Phi­los­o­phy Cours­es

“Hei­deg­ger in the Kitchen”: Alain de Botton’s Video Essay Explains the Philosopher’s Con­cept of Being

8‑Bit Phi­los­o­phy: Pla­to, Sartre, Der­ri­da & Oth­er Thinkers Explained With Vin­tage Video Games

The His­to­ry of Phi­los­o­phy With­out Any Gaps – Peter Adamson’s Pod­cast Still Going Strong

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

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