Now Antidepressant-Induced Chronic Depression Has a Name: Tardive Dysphoria | Psychology Today.

This is a rather disturbing read and should give pause to anyone thinking of taking antidepressants. The pharmaceutical industry should be called to task to answer to this information, though their response is all but assured to be naught but denial of such effects or even knowledge of such a possible outcome. The prerequisite to line their pockets makes the testimony of any representative of large business suspect (at best). I hope that additional information is forthcoming on this subject, we are the proverbial blind being led by the blind. Our understanding of the brain is woefully inadequate to our desire to control, or even just to tweak, it.

FMS: Feature [Part I: Igor Stravinsky on Film Music].

In some sense it is fascinating to see an artist rail against the progression of art and the coming new paradigm. It is also a bit famiar, the old guard dismissing a new medium. The rebuttal is perfect, as is Stravinsky’s reported remarks on it:

What’s with Raskin? Why does he attack me?

Wood: Is It What's For Dinner? on Vimeo.

This is a good way to present science ideas to the general public. I can see this specific technique getting old, but the general idea of Kickstarter style video presentation might see more micro funding opportunities.

Via MeFi.

Too Honest Moms: Futility.

Whack-A- Mole | Momastery.

The Winter Olympics Would Be Much So Better With Superheroes.

The Last of Us — Futures Exchange — Medium.

Breaking Madden: The Super Bowl, in which the machine bleeds to death – SBNation.com.

My god this is beautiful and disturbing.

via Ezra Klein

Rage Against the Minivan: All the birth control you've ever needed in six pictures of ponytails.

Man … it’s so true.

The Dark Power of Fraternities – The Atlantic.

One warm spring night in 2011, a young man … was struck by what seemed to him—under the influence of powerful inebriants, not least among them the clear ether of youth itself—to be an excellent idea: he would shove a bottle rocket up his ass and blast it into the sweet night air. And perhaps it was an excellent idea. What was not an excellent idea, however, was to misjudge the relative tightness of a 20-year-old sphincter and the propulsive reliability of a 20-cent bottle rocket. What followed ignition was not the bright report of a successful blastoff, but the muffled thud of fire in the hole.

Though this article starts of with the above humorous anecdote, the main theme is bleakly serious and does not reflect well on the fraternity “industry” and culture or the universities that enable them.