die volle lade "geek"-blogs

gerade diesen kleinen unterground ameisenhügel "http://blogs.23.nu/"endeckt!
Starring netzzensur-blog", "cybercrime", teenage mutant ninja hero coders oder Datenmüll und andere Sehenswürdigkeiten" - sehr cool - danke Maximillian

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sach ich mal garnichts zu: http://www.erfinderfamilie.de/

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hommage an die mintrostrasse

sehr schön: hommage an die mintropstrasse. fuer alle nicht-doofdorfer: die mintropstrasse und umgebung ist so zusagen, das rotlichtviertel duesseldorfs ... strassenstrich is aber woanderes ;)
[via blender]

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NYT: Trouble in Counterculture Utopia

gerade aus der NEW YORK TIMES gefischt, das alle rechte liegen dort, hinter dem "login":

"September 1, 2003 - Trouble in Counterculture Utopia - By BILL WERDE

LACK ROCK DESERT, Nev., Aug. 31 — From all across the desert they came, with luminescent wires in their hair or war paint on their faces. As drum circles pounded out tribal rhythms and roving sound systems blasted techno beats, they walked in their elaborate homemade costumes or drove in bizarre vehicles. They hooted and they cheered, and most of all they came to burn the Man.

The 77-foot-high, skeletal neon-colored Man towers above the center of the Burning Man festival. Every year this weeklong event creates Nevada's fifth largest city in population (about 30,000) before culminating on Labor Day. This year's Burning Man has largely been business as usual. Burners, as festivalgoers are known, can wander five square miles of theme camps, art installations, music, performance pieces and other Burners, expressing themselves in wildly free-spirited ways.

"Burn the Man!" hundreds cried, their faces aglow with the yellow-orange light of flame. "Burn him!" Others voiced compassion; a chain of 15 or 20 people snaked through the crowd with signs that read "Free the Man." At 9:40 p.m. a barrage of fireworks and explosives lighted the Saturday night sky and the Man disappeared beneath a pyre that swirled more than 150 feet into the dusty desert air.

The corporation that organizes the event, the Black Rock City L.L.C., has held the festival here, about 120 miles north of Reno, almost every year since moving it from San Francisco in 1990. But even as this year's desert dramas — imagined or certifiable — unfolded, most of the artists and revelers have been blissfully unaware of another set of Burning Man theatrics centering on about 200 acres a half-hour drive away.

Black Rock Desert may be synonymous with Burning Man to the thousands who come here each year, but it is another swath of desert in Washoe County, those acres owned by Black Rock City in the adjacent Hualapai Valley, that may determine the future of the event and the $10 million or so a year that it pumps into the hard-pressed local economy.

Festival officials call that land the ranch, and they say it is essential to the future of Burning Man. The acreage is a staging ground where the organizers prepare for the festival and store its considerable infrastructure. It is covered with piles of mechanical and structural debris from previous festivals; a Quonset hut housing woodworking and metalworking shops; fuel tanks; and remnants from dozens of past art installations. But to the site's neighbors and a powerful local businessman, the land is an eyesore and a fire hazard; to county officials it is a splitting headache because it is at the heart of a dispute that after a year of legal and political wrangling has arrived at a stalemate.

Black Rock City bought the land for $70,000 in 2001 because its use of the festival grounds was limited to a month or so a year, under a permit from the federal Bureau of Land Management. That purchase quickly roused opponents. One complaint — its source has not been revealed by the authorities — prompted a three-month investigation by Washoe County officials. The county's planning commission ultimately approved three special-use permits for things like storing vehicles, custom manufacturing and salvage operations. The commission also attached more than 90 conditions that had to be met to bring the property up to health, safety and fire codes.

The commission's approval drew an appeal by five residents, who cited insufficient water supplies, potential fire hazards and leftover debris. Among those residents are Michael B. Stewart, whose businesses in the area includes Orient Farms, where he grows garlic; and High Rock Holding L.L.C., a geothermal power company. On May 13 Washoe County commissioners sided with them, reversing the planning commission's approval by a 3-to-2 vote and denying Black Rock City the special-use permits. The company's director, Larry Harvey, likened the ruling to a vote to shut down the Burning Man operation.

Fewer than four weeks later Black Rock City filed a lawsuit seeking $40 million in damages from the county if it were forced to cancel its festival; this year's event was allowed to proceed while a compromise with the county was being negotiated.

Whether the parties can reach an agreement is far from certain. Sitting at their kitchen table, Lou and Sylvia Fascio, who were among the residents who signed the appeal, show photos to support their claim that the Burning Man operation is a hazard. One shows a 110-foot-long bus converted to look like a dragon, which they say was driving without a permit on a local highway. Others show what appear to be piles of junk and Burning Man workers idly watching a substantial blaze on the property.

"Let them move to Mustang," Mrs. Fascio said, referring to a nearby town. "None of us here in the valley want them here."

Festival organizers say they are bringing their fire preparedness up to code, installing fire breaks around the property and keeping 40,000 gallons of water on hand. They also say they have removed 30 truckloads of debris and 20 abandoned cars.

Mr. Harvey, the chain-smoking, Stetson-wearing impresario of the festival, acknowledges that some complaints about the property's appearance are legitimate, but he contends that Mr. Stewart wants the land for water.

"Three underground rivers intersect below the property," Mr. Harvey said. "And Fly Geyser is right next door. Mike Stewart owns a geothermal plant and has made an offer on the property. So what is this really about?"

Mr. Stewart declined to comment. But Donna Potter, the environmental coordinator for Mr. Stewart's companies, said the idea that Mr. Stewart wanted the land for geothermal development was ridiculous.

With a $40 million suit hanging over them, Washoe County officials are working on potential zoning solutions and establishing new deadlines for complying with county codes. A meeting has been set for Thursday involving county commissioners, Burning Man representatives and their local opponents.

"We're hoping to educate the commissioners about the issues," said Marion Goodell, Burning Man's communications director. "We're determined. Worst-case scenario: we'll spend a lot of money, and we'll be on that property. Best-case scenario: we'll work with our neighbors and the county and be on that property."

Mr. Fascio is equally resolute. "I don't know why they want a meeting," he said. "As far as I'm concerned, the county commissioners said no. What's left to discuss? Let them have their day in court."

No court date has been set, but Black Rock City officials said they had begun to entertain offers to relocate their event. One possibility is a Paiute reservation at Pyramid Lake in Nevada; another, in southern Nevada, is in Esmeralda County, whose officials have been courting the event, Burning Man organizers say.

Neither is a perfect fit. Esmeralda is closer to Los Angeles than to San Francisco, home to more Burners than any other city. And while moving the event to a reservation would keep some government regulators at bay, the Paiute are intolerant of nudity, drugs and alcohol, all of which are common at the festival.

"We need five miles of perfect playa just like this,' said Will Roger, Burning Man's public works director, referring to desert and waving his hand toward the bustling festival grounds. "That's not so easy to find."

Mr. Roger gazed at his art car, a 1986 Chevy Sprint converted to resemble a giant carp and customized with 30-foot flame throwers. "This is a matter of perspective," he said. "What our opposition calls rubbish, I call art materials. What they call a salvage yard, I call a recycling center."

Copyright 2003 The New York Times Company


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