@kevinvdahlgren Seeing how much waste piles up got me into thinking where it goes after cleanup. We have that issue here in Lane County too. That’s why I’m curious whether CleanLane can recover more useful material from the waste we already produce.
@strengthencare It's not just about hospitals. Rural communities need the pharmacies and other healthcare services around them to stay accessible too. We needed to look onto them because they needed the care too.
@Floridianpress If it helps patients to see what they could actually pay, that’s helpful. At the end of the day, all the negotiating in the world doesn’t mean anything if people can’t actually end up paying less for their medications.
La escena de baile de Pulp Fiction (1994) es uno de los momentos más icónicos y replicados en la historia del cine.
Protagonizada por John Travolta (Vincent Vega) y Uma Thurman (Mia Wallace), la secuencia tiene lugar en el restaurante temático retro de los años 50 Jack Rabbit Slim's, durante un concurso de twist improvisado.
Los personajes se mueven al ritmo de "You Never Can Tell" de Chuck Berry (1964), una canción clásica de rock and roll que narra de forma irónica y alegre la vida de una joven pareja.
Quentin Tarantino ideó la escena antes de tener el reparto definitivo. Su intención era romper el ritmo violento y tenso de la trama con una secuencia puramente estética donde los cuerpos hablaran por sí mismos.
El propio Travolta, con experiencia previa en cine musical, aportó y refinó los pasos para hacerlos memorables.
Tarantino se inspiró fuertemente en el cine de Federico Fellini —específicamente en la danza caricaturesca y sensual de la película 8½ (1963)— así como en el filme francés Bande à part de Jean-Luc Godard.
@nicksortor If this pushes manufacturers to rethink US pricing, that could have a much bigger impact than a temporary discount. Lasting changes in pricing behavior are what people would like to see.
She Doesn’t Just Play the Drums. She Owns Them.
Watching this woman play the drums is a reminder that good drumming is never just about hitting the right notes.
She’s at an outdoor bar at night, under string lights and palm trees. Blonde hair flying, patterned blouse moving with every hit, white pants, full body in the groove. She doesn’t sit stiff and careful. She leans in, swings the sticks high, drops them hard, and lets her whole upper body follow the rhythm. You can see she’s not performing the idea of drumming — she’s inside it.
What stands out first is the energy. She plays with real physical commitment. Hair whipping across her face, shoulders rolling, one arm shooting up before crashing back down on the cymbal. That kind of movement only works when the player trusts their body and isn’t afraid of looking intense. A lot of people play drums correctly. Fewer people play them like they mean it.
Underneath the flair is solid coordination. Hands and feet move independently but stay locked together. The snare, hi-hat, and kick keep talking to each other without getting tangled. That independence is one of the hardest things to develop. It takes time for the brain to stop treating the limbs as one unit and let them operate on their own while still serving the same groove.
Her timing stays steady even when the playing gets aggressive. She doesn’t rush when the energy rises. The pulse holds. That quiet control is what separates someone who can play fills from someone who can actually drive a song. Speed and power mean little if the foundation drifts.
There’s also clear stamina. This isn’t a careful, measured performance. She’s going at it hard for the whole stretch of the clip and still looks present rather than drained. Drumming at that intensity asks for more than technique — it asks for physical conditioning and the willingness to keep pushing when it starts to burn.
What makes the video especially watchable is how comfortable she looks in the moment. She smiles, closes her eyes, throws her head back. The expression isn’t forced for the camera. It feels like the natural result of being fully inside the music. That kind of freedom usually comes after the basics are no longer a struggle. When the hands and feet already know what to do, the player can stop thinking and start feeling.
Taken together, the clip shows the real requirements pretty clearly. Strong sense of time. Independent limb control. Physical endurance. And the courage to commit fully instead of holding back. Gender doesn’t change any of that. The same ingredients apply whether the person behind the kit is a woman or a man.
Some drummers impress with precision. Others make you feel the music in your chest. This performance leans hard into the second kind — and that’s why it stays with you after the video ends.