There are a nearly infinite number of battles on the Internet, but we at 国产吃瓜黑料 get fired up over some more than others. The latest? The recent debate about whether sweatpants are poised to replace leggings, ye olde Millennial staple, as peak athleisure wear.

It鈥檚 a tale as old as time. The up-and-coming generation on whom the nation seems to be focused rejects the clothing of the generation that preceded it, choosing their own style that makes whatever came before seem hopelessly lame and outdated. In this case, Gen Z is opting for looser, baggier clothing鈥攅ven at the gym.

For the uninitiated, take as the paradigm of what鈥檚 cool right now. Then read , where redditors debate getting rid of their black leggings forever.

So, are leggings actually out? Who works out in sweats anyway? Because we at 国产吃瓜黑料 pride ourselves on asking the big questions, we put two staffers head-to-head on the issue. Here鈥檚 what they had to say.

Sweatpants Are Definitely the New Leggings.

First, an admission: leggings do have a place in my life, and it鈥檚 a really important one. They are the only pants that allow me to actually maintain tree pose when I do yoga. More billowy bottoms create a situation where, no matter how firmly I press, my heel continuously slides and I spend the whole pose resetting my foot with my hand. So, thank you for your service, leggings.

That said, I certainly do not spend my days in leggings. I do not believe they鈥檝e earned the leisure half of their purported athleisure status. I don鈥檛 like to have anything suctioned to my skin for an entire day. When I realize I have unwittingly spent a lot of time in a pair of leggings, I peel them off as quickly as possible and can practically feel my legs sigh in relief.

I also feel like I bring the wisdom of experience to this debate. I鈥檓 a dyed-in-the-wool Millennial (a fine 1988 vintage, in fact), so I came of age at the peak of the leggings frenzy and thus spent years hanging out and exercising in them. It took a lot to finally admit that I just didn鈥檛 like leggings鈥攅ven when they were considered the go-to sportswear.

These days, I spend most of my non-exercise time in jeans and barrel-style workwear pants. I don鈥檛 mind structured fabric (in fact, I like it), but I don鈥檛 want anything tight on my lower half. My legs like some room to move in their clothing cocoons. That said, I have really gotten into the matching sets game, and I have a few pairs of joggers with matching sweatshirts. These serve me extremely well because they can easily transition from 鈥減ut-together mom at drop off鈥� to 鈥淚 am actually now going to do a quick plyometric workout.鈥� I know the whole 鈥渂usy mom鈥� routine might read as boring or tired (we won鈥檛 get into the whys of that), but when you are a parent trying to accomplish some subset of the endless tasks assigned to you in the course of a day, an outfit that can do more than one thing is valuable. A certain masculinity comes with a matching sweats set versus a leggings and sweatshirt outfit, and our culture gives a little more grace鈥攐r at least less excoriation鈥攖o the masculine.

Then, there鈥檚 the actual feeling of working out in sweats. When I exercise in sweatpants, my joints feel a greater range of motion. When I run in sweats on a cold-weather day, they keep my legs cozier and they allow me to work up a bigger sweat. I鈥檓 like a wrestler. I鈥檓 Rocky running up the stairs. I like that.

And what if I got dressed for the day with every intention of doing an afternoon workout that didn鈥檛 come to fruition? Well, in that case, I got to spend the day in sweats instead of leggings. That鈥檚 a win, too.

鈥� Ryleigh Nucilli, columnist and former digital managing editor听

My Leggings Will Never Be Replaced.听

I get it, Gen Z: sweatpants look cool and casual. You can sleep in them and then go straight to the gym, where it may appear to any passerby as if you just wandered in off the street and began working out by happy accident. That鈥檚 a kind of cultivated nonchalance that I鈥攁s a type-A, semi-professional, wannabe athlete鈥攐nly dream of one day possessing. But, let me tell you, whippersnappers: I, too, was once hesitant to board the leggings bandwagon. 鈥淟eggings aren鈥檛 pants!鈥� my mother would chide in the early 2010s. 鈥淰isible panty lines are unseemly!鈥� my high school friends would gasp. But you know what? Leggings are goddamn practical, and I鈥檓 never going back.

For one thing, the stretch is unmatched. If I鈥檓 climbing, I want to be able to hike my leg up by my face without having to adjust the crotch of my pants first. If I鈥檓 running, I want to maximize my stride without fighting fabric. I love being able to stick a phone in a thigh pocket without feeling like it鈥檚 going to bounce around and whack me in the leg with every step. And, as a very sweaty person, I like the thinness of the material and the sense that I have a second skin rather than some cumbersome exoskeleton with a fat waistband and cloyingly fuzzy interior.

Leggings are also practical outside of sports use. They鈥檙e stretchy enough that I can sit criss-cross applesauce in my office chair or high-step into my van to put groceries away. They take up very little room in a suitcase, and they double as a base layer on ski trips and ice-climbing outings.

It is true that leggings leave little to the imagination, and, as such, not everyone finds them sufficiently versatile for post-exercise use. However, I believe that stigma is rooted in the sexualization of women鈥檚 bodies and on a . Shaming people for wearing leggings in public is an unfortunate misogynistic offshoot that shouldn鈥檛 stop us from dressing in ways we find practical and comfortable.

All that said, what people think of my leggings is neither here nor there. I鈥檓 wearing them for athletic pursuits first and foremost, and I don鈥檛 do sports for the aesthetics, or to feign only casual interest. I do sports to clear my mind and push my limits鈥攁nd I鈥檒l be damned if I let my clothing get in the way, even in the name of convenience or fashion. And if I end up wearing my leggings home afterward, or to the grocery store, or to lunch with friends? So be it. Hot take, mom: leggings are pants. And I鈥檒l keep wearing mine until the day I die.

鈥� Corey Buhay, interim managing editor

The post Are Sweatpants the New Leggings? Two Editors Debate. appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

The Sundance Film Festival is bidding adieu to Park City, Utah, its home for the last 40 years. On Thursday, the festival will relocate to Boulder, Colorado in 2027, and continue there听for the foreseeable future.

“Boulder offers small-town charm with an engaged community, distinctive natural beauty, and a vibrant arts scene, making it the ideal location for the festival to grow,” the Sundance Institute announced in a press release.

The announcement ends more than a year of speculation about the festival’s new home. In April, 2024, the Sundance Institute announced it was looking for a new host city for the festival. The festival’s 13-year contract with Park City is up at the end of 2026, and the that it was looking for a bigger community as a host. The announcement marked a turning point in the festival’s history.

Originally called the U.S. Film Festival, it was launched in August, 1978 in Salt Lake City, and then moved to Park City in 1981. In 1985 the Sundance Institute鈥攖he independent film group founded by actor Robert Redford鈥攖ook over creative control and officially renamed it Sundance Film Festival in 1991. The name was in reference to Redford’s iconic character in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.听

Over the years, the festival became a launchpad for independent films and directors. In 1989, Steven Soderbergh debuted his pivotal听film听Sex, Lies, and Videotape at the festival. In subsequent years, a host of independent films made their debuts at Sundance:听Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, The Blair Witch Project, American Psycho, The Virgin Suicides,听补苍诲听Dogtown and Z-Boys,听among others.

Outdoor films have also featured prominently at the festival. In 2013 the climbing film听The Summit debuted at the festival, and in 2015 the Jimmy Chin documentary听Meru won the festival’s Audience Award.

Boulder is already home to its own film festival, the Boulder International Film Festival, which debuted in 2005.

Ebs Burnough, the board chair of the Sundance Institute, said that Boulder was among three cities to submitted proposals to take over hosting duties of the festival. The other cities were Cincinnati, Ohio, and Salt Lake City, Utah.

鈥淭his decision was informed by a detailed evaluation of the key components essential to creating our festival,” Burnough said in a statement. “During the process, it became clear that Boulder is the ideal location in which to build our festival’s future, marking a key strategic step in its natural evolution.”

Amanda Kelso, the acting chief executive for Sundance, told the Associated Press that Boulder has the right blend of space and energy for the festival to grow.

鈥淏oulder is a tech town, it鈥檚 a college town, it鈥檚 an arts town, and it鈥檚 a mountain town,鈥� she said. 鈥淎t 100,000 people, a larger town than Park City, it gives us the space to expand.鈥�

In statement, Redford thanked Park City for hosting the festival for four decades, and praised the move as a crucial one for Sundance’s future success.

“This move will ensure that the Festival continues its work of risk taking, supporting innovative storytellers, fostering independence, and entertaining and enlightening audiences. I am grateful to the Boulder community for its support, and I look forward to seeing what the future holds for the festival there.鈥�

The post The Sundance Film Festival Is Moving to Boulder, Colorado in 2027 appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

The Forrest Fenn treasure hunt is back on, and if you want to find the loot, you’re going to have to binge-watch Netflix.

That’s the big takeaway from Netflix鈥檚 three-part docuseries Gold & Greed: The Hunt for Fenn’s Treasure,听which went live on Thursday, March 27. The series chronicles the decade-long hunt to find the chest that Fenn buried in the western United States鈥攁nd the lives of the people who became swept up in the frenzy to find it. Over the three 50-minute episodes, the series dives into the good, the bad, and the ugly moments of the Fenn hunt, including the that occurred during it.

(Spoilers ahead)听But the series’ headline-grabbing moment comes in Gold & Greed’s final few minutes. One of the treasure hunters profiled in the series, a software engineer named Justin Posey, reveals that he purchased some of the 476 items from the Fenn treasure after it went up for auction in 2022. And now, he’s put the goodies鈥攁long with additional gold, rubies, and even a meteorite鈥攊n a chest and buried it somewhere out there. To find the trove, you must decipher clues that are hidden in the three-part series.

“I managed to sneak in some hints during the filming of this series鈥攏o one knows what the hints are besides me, not even the producers,” Posey says in the series’ final scene. “So it’s worth your time to watch and listen closely.”

To be honest, the revelation helps explain some of Posey’s curious quirks throughout the docuseries. He drives a truck that’s wrapped in a topographic map, he sits for interviews in front of computer screens showing mountains, creeks, and lakes, and he lives in a house filled with strange artifacts from his own collection.

“Most of my family and friends would categorize me as eccentric,” Posey says in episode one.

So yeah, anyone who wants to find Fenn’s鈥攅r Posey’s鈥攖reasure is going to have to watch Gold & Greed again and again, until they have committed the entire program to memory.

I suppose that’s one way to market a documentary film.

滨蝉听Gold & Greed Worth Watching?

You bet. Aside from serving as a launchpad for Posey’s new treasure hunt, Gold & Greed does an adequate job of capturing the fervor (or, dare I say, psychosis) that prompted thousands of people to tromp into the wilderness searching for Fenn’s riches. 国产吃瓜黑料 covered the Fenn treasure hunt between 2015 and 2023 with a series of longform features, news stories, analytical stories, and podcast episodes. But for anyone who isn’t familiar with the ordeal, Gold & Greed听serves as an ideal explainer.

The opening episode devotes substantial time to profiling Fenn, the retired pilot and art dealer from Santa Fe, New Mexico, and to understanding why he launched the hunt back in 2010.

Fenn, who died in 2020 at age 90, famously kicked off the hunt with a poem he included in his memoir, titled听Thrill of the Chase.听The poem included extremely vague clues (Begin it where warm waters halt, and take it in the canyon down, not far, but too far to walk, put in below the home of Brown) about the location of the treasure, and these confusing directions were open to extreme interpretation.

Gold & Greed strongest contribution to the trove of Forrest Fenn coverage is showing how people become convinced that their interpretation of the poem is the right one.

One group, a family of self-proclaimed Wyoming rednecks named the Hurst family, believes that clues describe topography in the backwoods near their trailer. Over the course of a decade, the Hursts embark on one Sisyphean mission after another, and at one point spend two years attempting to excavate a massive boulder because they think the treasure chest is underneath it.

Another hunter, a California airline pilot named Lou Boyer, goes on one extreme Internet deep-dive after another until he’s convinced that the treasure is buried on a swath of private property along the Colorado-New Mexico border. Boyer takes his family on various vacations to the area, but is repeatedly thwarted by closed gates, flat tires, and other calamities.

Cynthia Meachum, a retiree, believes the key to finding the treasure is building a personal relationship with Fenn himself, and over the years she soaks up clues from Fenn that convince her it’s buried in Yellowstone National Park.

And then there’s Posey, who approaches the hunt with an analytical fanaticism that is equally impressive and concerning. He builds his own facial recognition software to analyze Fenn’s television interviews, hoping to decipher clues from the 85-year-old man’s mannerisms. He also trains his dog to sniff out buried gold and bronze.

Like Meachum, Posey becomes convinced that the treasure is somewhere in Yellowstone, and during one trip he searches the exact area where the box was eventually discovered in 2020 by a medical student named Jack Steuf.

As I watched听Gold & Greed,听I often thought about my teenaged fascination with playing Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon while watching听The Wizard of Oz听and watching the music create a perfect soundtrack for the film. It took me years to realize that this dynamic was simply caused by my brain instinctively making connections between the film and the album. Well, that and the pot smoke.

This psychological quirk, likely the remnant of some evolutionary trait, adds fuel to the hunters searching for Fenn’s treasure. They see patterns everywhere, and don’t require a bong rip to drop what they’re doing and hike off into the woods.听But there are also very human dynamics propelling them. 听Posey’s brother, who also hunts the treasure, dies by suicide, and the tragedy convinces Posey that he must locate it. The Hurst family seeks the gold as a way to escape poverty and provide a better life for their disabled sister.

And all of the groups admit that the spirit of outdoor adventure is also driving them to walk into the backcountry searching for gold. Despite the rather unseemly elements of the Fenn hunt鈥攎ore than a few weirdos stalked Fenn and his family, and one even broke into his house鈥�Gold & Greed argues that this spirit of outdoor exploration made the ordeal worth it. Whether or not you believe this conclusion is entirely up to you.

What Gold & Greed鈥檚 Director Has to Say

I recently had the pleasure of interviewing听Gold & Greed’s听director and executive producer, Jared McGilliard, who gave me the backstory on how the film came together.

OUTSIDE: Did you have any misgivings about having the documentary also serve as the launchpad for Justin Posey’s new treasure hunt?

McGilliard: Justin announcing that he’s hid a treasure in this series might be the first page of his new treasure hunt, but in my mind, it’s also the final page of his story searching for Forrest Fenn’s treasure. My focus was telling Justin’s story intimately and truthfully from beginning to end. To not include his new treasure hunt at the end of this series would have been not fully embracing the true arc of his story…and the impact Forrest and his treasure had on Justin’s life.

You chose four different groups of Fenn hunters to profile. What led you to each one?

The common ingredient was that they were all deeply obsessed. They had searched for years, and they all had highs and lows within their experiences. With all of them, they had this first chapter where they go out there, and over time they get deeper into it, and the hunt takes on more meaning鈥�I’m going to solve the poem.听I didn’t want to tell surface-level stories, I wanted to find stories where there were stakes and high ranges of emotion. Tragedy, beauty, adventure. I was also looking for a broad range of socioeconomic points of view, so I could show what finding the treasure really meant to them. And finally I wanted people with different strategies. Since this is Netflix it has to be a fun ride. You want the audience to grasp onto different subjects and root for them.

What did you learn about the human condition from following these groups?

One thing that’s top of mind is that we all create our different versions of truth, and that trumps everything else. People had these ideas about the poem that oh, this can’t be just a coincidence, even though the poem is so vague that it could literally fit anywhere. I could walk out of my own backdoor and find connections in the woods behind my house. The wonderful thing is that people made these amazing memories, but letting go of the thing was nearly impossible.

I have to imagine that other filmmakers were chasing this project. How did you get it?

I would say relationships helped me. I spent a year creating deep relationships with these subjects. So, when the Fenn family got in touch with us, and I flew to Santa Fe, they wanted to know what about the story was important to me, and I could tell them. I can tell a story that is not disposable, and one that the general audience will understand. I have that level of trust and depth with the subjects, and I can handle the story with care. I know that when were pitching our film there were other companies pitching it too. But we had invested in these subjects.

What do you hope the audience learns from the film?

We often just think about the outcome: whether it’s a win or a loss. I got the treasure or I didn’t. But these people have so many wins and losses throughout their journey, and it brings them together. The Hurst family alone鈥攖he wife almost leaves the family because of this. They mortgage their house, and when they get to the end and don’t find the treasure, they say it saved their lives because it gave them purpose. Cynthia Meechum has no regrets. Each one of these people went out there, and none of them came back holding a box of treasure, but their lives were changed for the better. When I think about why Forrest did this, it was so people would dream and have adventures and find a new side of themselves.

The post Forrest Fenn鈥檚 Treasure Is Hidden Again. The Clues Are in a Netflix Documentary. appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

I cannot stop watching the trailer for The Surfer,听the new psychological thriller starring Nicolas Cage.

The preview went up on YouTube on Wednesday, February 26, and by Monday, March 3, it had generated 1.2 million views. I probably account for one-quarter of those, as I’ve been mindlessly rewatching it again and again, soaking in every hilarious and eye-popping frame.

What’s not to love? There’s surfing. There are hyper-agro Australian surfer dudes. There are strong undercurrents of paranoia, shamanism, and even cult worship. And of course there’s Nicolas Cage, clad in a neoprene wetsuit, : freaking out, melting down, and acting like a lunatic. The Surfer appears to be a meme reservoir of the zany, over-the-top acting we’ve come to expect from the Academy Award-winning actor over the past decade or so.

Cage screams, eye-bulges, and stares into the camera, mouth agape. He also wields a tire iron like a club, bludgeons a bad guy with a signpost, and forces another one to eat a dead rat while screaming “EAT THE RAT!” The trailer makes The Surfer appear to be equal parts Wicker Man (““) and . Someday, we may all text Nicolas Cage GIFs from this crazy movie to one another.

The trailer for The Surfer does kinda sorta tell a story, too, and it’s one that’s laid out in the promotional copy that accompanies the film.

A man returns to the idyllic beach of his childhood to surf with his son. But his desire to hit the waves is thwarted by a group of locals whose mantra is 鈥渄on鈥檛 live here, don鈥檛 surf here.鈥� Humiliated and angry, the man is drawn into a conflict that keeps rising in concert with the punishing heat of the summer and pushes him to his breaking point.听

I assume that the breaking point here is assault with a rodent.

But in truth I hope there’s more to The Surfer than just Nicolas Cage memes and a story of dad-revenge. It’s been 66 years since Gidget, and over the decades, Hollywood’s portrayal of surfing has occasionally been subverted and re-examined. Even the 1991 blockbuster Point Break听was vaguely subversive by portraying its hunky surfers as adrenaline-addicted bank robbers. I think that the surfing subgenre is ready to be tinkered with again.

The Surfer trailer drops breadcrumbs that it may attempt to do this. It touches on some of the familiar tropes found in mainstream portrayals of surfing on TV and in movies. The film is directed by Irish filmmaker Lorcan Finnegan, who made his feature debut with the 2019 sci-fi thriller Vivarium, which I have not seen but apparently .

The Surfer trailer opens with a Cage voiceover. “You can’t stop a wave. Born in a storm, way out to sea, it’s pure energy. And it’s all building to this breaking point.” This is the familiar mumbo jumbo that Hollywood loves to attach to surfing, to highlight the metaphysical connection that surfers have to the waves, the ocean, and maybe even the cosmos. Yeah鈥攕tuff that normies like you and me will never truly understand.

Think Patrick Swaze’s Bodhi from 听saying, “Surfing鈥檚 the source. Can change your life. Swear to God.” Or the opening scene of the 2007 HBO show John from Cincinnati,听where Bruce Greenwood mysteriously levitates above the beach.

The next trope, of course, is the whole localism thing. In The Surfer trailer, neighborhood Aussies terrorize Cage by vandalizing his car, stealing his board, and potentially forcing him slurp an unidentified liquid off of the parking lot. In some scenes, the antagonists appear more like cult worshippers than buddies from the local break. Their antics are a few notches more menacing than that of bad guys (and real-life surf celebrities) Laird Hamilton and Gerry Lopez in the 1987 cult favorite .听But it’s also in-line with the surfing scene in , where the from a car owned by an out-of-towner and drop it into the ocean.

And finally there’s the activity of surfing itself: magical and carefree, riding a pristine wave along the sun-dappled coastline. It’s what Nicolas Cage’s character hopes to pass down to his son鈥攚ell, prior to getting tangled up with all of the violence, fear, and loathing.

How will these traditional tropes mix with paranoia, cult worship, and rat eating? We will have to see. The Surfer hits theaters on May 1. I intend to be there on opening night. I’ll leave my wetsuit at home.

The post What the Heck Is Going on in Nicolas Cage鈥檚 New Film 鈥橳he Surfer?鈥� appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

Dear Sundog: I鈥檝e always been an environmentalist and lived as close to nature as possible. Years ago I was lucky enough to buy a parcel that borders on public land near a river. I鈥檝e designed and built a dream house that allows me to feel like I鈥檓 a part of the natural surroundings. The house is not visible from the river; I intentionally left the bottomlands untouched. My house fits the landscape and accentuates the natural features, and is honestly nicer to look at than the junk cars and trashed mobile home that I hauled away years ago.

People have historically crossed this land to reach the river. They park at a dead end which is technically my land and walk through the floodplain. When I first bought the land, which used to be part of a ranch, local kids would ride dirt bikes and shoot paintballs down there, and I spent a lot of time and money cleaning up after them and blocking the unofficial roads. I鈥檝e restored ecological systems and habitat for wild animals. I鈥檝e put up signs making it clear that it鈥檚 OK for fishermen to walk through my land to reach the river and for mountain bikers to connect to the larger trail system. And yet people keep tearing down the signs, and driving four-wheelers into my woods, and destroying the place I鈥檓 trying to restore and protect. They complained to my face and in letters to the newspaper that I was ruining a public place鈥攅ven though I own it.

They鈥檝e gone to the zoning board to complain about me, accusing me of technicalities over parking spaces, setbacks, even water quality of the nearby stream. I鈥檝e done everything by the book to protect nature, and still people treat me like I鈥檓 trying to sink the Exxon Valdez here. I feel my next step will be to block access completely: build a fence and put up No Parking signs. My vision for this place did not include a damn parking lot! I feel my next option is to start having cars towed, which I think will be the beginning of a long war with strangers that I鈥檓 not sure I can win. Am I the asshole?
鈥�Nature Is My Back Yard (NIMBY)

Dear NIMBY,

I鈥檓 sorry people aren鈥檛 respecting your property, especially when you think you all share values, that you should be on the same team. I also appreciate you building something that will blend into the landscape, instead of plunking down a scale-model Parthenon with marble columns and double-decker five-car garage to house your collection of off-road motorhomes.

I鈥檓 not the type of purist who wants no manmade structures in nature. From the adobe pueblos of New Mexico, to the whitewashed villages of Andalusia, to the mountain-top temples of Nepal, civilizations have long created architectural styles that don鈥檛 merely complement nature but, as Sundog would say, enhance it, by demonstrating the potential for humans and non-humans to live in harmony.

But, NIMBY, I鈥檓 going to venture that the kids racing their Razrs across your floodplain give zero shits about the temples of Nepal.

The first issue, I suppose, is legality, and you seem to be aware that the law is on your side. You can fence it all off, or even hire an armed militia to patrol your personal border. This nation鈥檚 legal system protects property rights鈥攁nd you will be breaking no law.

However, the deeper issue may not be trespassing: it鈥檚 that you want people鈥檚 approval for the architecturally and ecologically sound decisions you鈥檝e made. The bad news, NIMBY, is that you鈥檙e not going to get it. Based on your letter, I鈥檝e made a few assumptions about your socio-economic status. Although you bought a ranch, you鈥檙e not running cattle on it, nor earning a living by extracting some resource like timber or minerals from it. Second, even if your new house is modest and small, it surely cost a lot more money to build than the existing mobile home that you hauled to the dump.

I鈥檓 going to also assume鈥攎erely because your land is near a river where people come to fish鈥攖hat it鈥檚 shared something with the large swaths of the rural U.S. that abut recreational activities: in the past 20 years it鈥檚 become more crowded, popular, expensive, and filled with wealthy newcomers who don鈥檛 work in the traditional industries of mining, logging, farming and ranching.

I would invite you to interrogate your own belief that the work you鈥檙e doing on your property is for the benefit of nature. Nature may be somewhat indifferent. You are doing this for yourself, for your own sense of belonging on the land, and also for other humans, so that they might share and understand your vision. But how is preserving nature (from other people) all that different than locking up the land to build your own private paradise? These days, land conservation can feel a bit like feudalism, in which the wealthy hoard land for themselves. Of course, in old Europe the lord earned income by stealing the labor of his serfs who farmed his land. These days the lord doesn鈥檛 bother trying to make a buck on the earth; he earns his income in some distant industry鈥攆inance, technology, medicine, media, consulting (whatever that is)鈥攚hile keeping the land 鈥減ristine.鈥�

Are you the asshole? That depends on who you ask. Protecting trees and animals will make you a hero to a certain slice of the population. But if you block local people from the paths they鈥檝e walked for generations before you arrived, well, yes, they鈥檒l think you鈥檙e just another rich outsider locking up the land.

There is no easy decision. You believe that by cleaning up and protecting the natural world, you are implementing a more enlightened land ethic than the Genesis story in which Man holds dominion over all other species, and is free to use or misuse the land for whatever purpose suits him. But may I suggest that the land ethic of cultivating your own private garden is equally colonial, rooted perhaps in another Old Testament idea that Man is sinful but the Garden is perfect without him. Your house indicates that you are able to see beauty in nature not despite humankind, but because of it. I wonder if you can apply the same philosophy to the humans wandering through the woods that you now call your own.

Mark Sundeen once built a handsome shed that integrated with the natural landscape. Thus far it has attracted no trespassers or looky-loos.

The post I Built My Dream House in the Woods. My Neighbors Hate It. appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

To celebrate Black History Month we鈥檝e rounded up some of our favorite stories that highlight diverse voices.

Historically, skiing has been a predominantly white sport, which makes it more important than ever to highlight new faces in the industry. Through perseverance and passion, these individuals are breaking barriers on the slopes and helping to foster a more inclusive and welcoming environment within the skiing community.

I met Stan Evans in the winter of 1998 when we were on one of our first feature assignments for a new ski magazine devoted to the wild and aberrant freeskiing movement that was taking off as a ski subculture. This made us misfits by choice, and while I wasn鈥檛 aware of any other Black ski photographers, it didn鈥檛 occur to me that there was anything historic about our assignment. The following winter, Stan organized and produced the first snowboard magazine story featuring all Black riders, shot by a Black photographer. That this had never been done makes it objectively historic, and it stands as a benchmark of winter sports diversity. At the time, however, very little mainstream attention was paid to the quantum gap jump that Stan had just helped the sport clear.

, a Bend, Ore.鈥揵ased skier, and filmmaker, decided to throw out the rulebook with 鈥淭he Blackcountry Journal,鈥澨�a short film that mixes backcountry freeskiing with his lifelong passion for jazz. Beneath the smooth soundtrack and savory facade is a complex story about race in skiing, although the nuance may take a few views to rise to the surface. Shot in monochrome and structured in three parts, the film abstractly follows Duncan鈥檚 story as a black man trying to find his place in the white ski industry.

We sat down with Duncan upon his return from the Banff screening to learn about the making of 鈥淭he Blackcountry Journal.鈥� Be sure to听听when it鈥檚 released to the public on Nov. 8.

On a spring morning at Vail, laughter fills the entire dining room of a restaurant lounge as a group of people gather around a stone fireplace. They clap one another on the back, cackling to inside jokes and generally enjoying each other鈥檚 company. At first glance, you might think you鈥檝e stumbled into a reunion of some sort.

The truth is, most of us have just met each other this morning, brought together by an organization whose mission is to encourage, teach, and inspire Black, Indigenous, and people of color to participate in mountain sports by creating spaces for enjoying the outdoors. This convivial group is here for a ski day with the Denver-based 听(BMC).

An Oral History of the National Brotherhood of Skiers

The nation鈥檚 first Black ski group, the Jim Dandy Ski Club (named after an R&B song by LaVern Baker), formed in Detroit in 1958. By the early 1960s, a handful of U.S. cities had similar clubs, like the Snow Rovers in Boston and the Chicago Ski Twisters. In New York, there was the Four Seasons Ski Club, run by an NBC cameraman named Dick Martin, who owned a ski shop in Harlem and often played ski evangelist to his peers, screening films and proclaiming that a skier need not be a 鈥渂lond-haired, blue-eyed Norse god.鈥� Martin organized weekend ski buses that rolled out of Manhattan at oh-dark-thirty to wend their way north to the mountains of upstate New York. In 1964, a 25-year-old New York University graduate student named Ben Finley climbed on board.

Read the rest here.

Soft Life Ski, has a unique mission built on a combination of unlikely passions: skiing and Afrobeat music. The UK-based group hopes to increase inclusion and diversity in the winter sports space by organizing music-themed trips to ski resorts. 鈥淪oft life,鈥� a term for an easygoing and relaxing lifestyle, is the feeling the group hopes to bring to the slopes. In short, SLS is a traveling music and ski festival aiming to introduce the joys of winter to its Black and African audience.

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Standup comedian didn’t set out to make fun of mountain biking, snowboarding, and other recreational activities on his Instagram feed. Like many professional comics, Losse, 44, spent several years recording videos of his observational humor to see what resonated with his audience.

He mused on the banalities of middle-aged life, weather in Seattle, and shopping at Costco. But then, about year ago, Losse posted a from his local mountain biking park, Duthie Hill. In the video, Losse showed viewers the park’s gnarly jumps and massive drop offs, and then pointed out the easy trails that he uses to circumnavigate the hard stuff. “The fire road is running really good鈥攕uper loamy,” Losse says in his trademark sardonic, dry tone.

A few months later, Losse published another video about the absurdity of snowboarding. “Do you enjoy nature but wish it was more stressful? Try snowboarding at a resort on the weekend,” Losse said into camera.

Both videos generated tens of thousands of likes, as the Instagram algorithm distributed them throughout the outdoor community. After that, Losse began in his standup routine, and also in his videos on Instagram. His angle: joke about the very specific and very absurd elements of cycling, snowboarding, and getting outdoors.

We caught up with Losse to understand why cyclists, snowboarders, and other lovers of outdoor activities enjoy his jokes.

OUTSIDE: How did you decide to start making fun of outdoor recreation culture?
Losse: I’d been doing standup for 12 years and had posted videos of my comedy shows forever without getting much traction. A few years ago I started posting videos of me just talking into the camera鈥攐bservational stuff. I posted one about the absurdity of Microsoft Excel, and how if you want to get ahead in corporate America you just need to know a few excel formulas. That one was a hit,听and for a while I thought I was going to be the office comedy guy. But it never took off.

Then last spring I got back into mountain biking after a few years off, and I realized that the actual media around mountain biking鈥攖rail reviews, especially鈥攍eaned so heavily into the gnarliest and most extreme terrain. It’s all just rock rolls and huge gaps and features that felt so unattainable. I thought it would be funny to make fun of those. It’s like, I don’t want to ride the trail named “Predator” at Tiger Mountain, I want to know how to ride around that trail without hurting myself.

I made the video about going around the gnarly trails. Honestly, I just thought it was stupid and only funny to me. I didn’t think anybody else would like it. But it turns out a lot of people who love mountain biking aren’t trying to attain mastery. My video struck a chord within the community and got distributed by the algorithm, and it got huge pickup. My buddy joked that I picked up a mountain bike and became an influencer within 60 days.

What elements of outdoor recreation are inherently funny?
There’s a super-obsessive part of biking culture that people don’t really talk about. There’s gear obsession, Strava obsession, and a fixation on parts upgrades and how they will make you better. It’s ridiculous, and all of know it is, but nobody acknowledges it. If anything, I’m shedding light on this collective mental illness we all share. You don’t find that in snow sports quite as much, but in cycling it is very apparent. You buy a new bike and the first thing you do is upgrade the parts. I need new handlebars and new grips. There’s an entire industry built around people being insecure about what they are riding.

Your humor is very much focused at the core audience of these sports, and not at casual followers of outdoor rec. What’s the challenge in reaching hardcore groups?
I feel like it would be easy to make videos where I make jokes about mountain biking in such broad terms that anybody could like it. But that would be boring to me. I just don’t think it’s as funny as being super specific to the things that people obsess about in these sports. Because those are things that I am guilty of. I don’t want to talk shit about activities that I’m not also doing. For instance, I made a video where I joked about gravel biking. I did it because at the time I was building up a gravel bike.

I do think it’s what makes my comedy different. It’s reverential. I am making fun of hyper-specific actions done by people in a group that appeals to people in that sport. And I’m trying not to be corny.

How do you straddle the line between joking and being mean?
My comedic sensibility is that I won’t make fun of something that isn’t part of myself. I don’t seek out communities to make fun of that I’m not part of. That helps. I think that when you make fun of a community you’re not part of, it’s easier to be mean. It’s less reverential, and people can tell.

But not everyone knows that I’m making fun of activities I love. I made a joke about gravel biking鈥�do you like mountain biking but wish it were less fun? Try gravel cycling!鈥攁nd people were pretty fired up. A lot of folks didn’t appreciate that one. There are very specific communities within cycling, and some of them take themselves way more seriously than others. Most people who get upset don’t see that it’s satire, or they aren’t familiar with me and don’t know that I also do it. So I try to always nod my cap that I love the sport I’m making fun of. I want the community to be clear that they’re not being attacked by an outsider.

What’s the difference between telling jokes in front of a live audience and telling them on Instagram?
My stand-up humor is more autobiographical and observational. It’s a lot about stories growing up in Washington State, being married, and other normal topics. I tell stories about riding my mountain bike, but they are longer, and tend to take weird twists.

Making jokes online that connect with people is hard. I explain that it’s like trying to get struck by听lightning. It’s pure luck. Luck and repetition. I’ve found that, since getting a bigger audience, you find your lane and stick with it. And mountain biking and snowboarding became my lane in a very unexpected turn of events.

This interview was edited for space and clarity.听

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Rock fans of a certain age likely remember the gritty nineties punk band , rose to fame amid the mainstream success of Green Day, Blink 182, Rancid, and other groups of that era. If you attended the Van’s Warped Tour (which I did, multiple times), you probably saw them live.

Hot Water Music was co-founded by guitarist and singer, Chuck Ragan, who is also a passionate fly fisherman. These days Ragan, 50, operates his own river guiding business at his home near Grass Valley, California, and he continues to , as well as with Hot Water Music. We caught up with Ragan to learn about .

OUTSIDE: How do you make time for fly-fishing when you’re on tour?
These days I tour with two entities: Hot Water Music and my own solo stuff. Touring with Hot Water Music makes it tougher to fish, because I have less control over the agenda, so I just try to get out whenever I can. It’s rare, and it takes a lot of effort. Recently we were playing a show in Denver, had a night off, and then had another show in Phoenix. I was able to get out with my buddy Jim to a lake outside of Denver the night after the show while the rest of the band traveled to Phoenix. We fished for white bass. Then I had to jump on a flight that night.

When I’m touring on my own, I sometimes set up my traveled based around fishing鈥攖he time of year, the species that’s running, stuff like that. My agent may suggest I play in Detroit in January. Well, I love to fish there in March, so that’s when I’ll go.

Ragan: Did you fish much when you were on tour 25 years ago?
I remember it took me years to realize the fishing opportunities I was missing when we were on tour. Now, I look back and think that I was just blowing it. We were going to these amazing places, but we’d be staying up late, ripping it too hard, and then the next day just wake up feeling worthless. You walk outside the hotel room and here we are on the Blackfoot River or some other gorgeous place. I’d love to hit rewind and do that over. I remember on one tour thinking ‘Man, one of these days I’m going to visit these places again and really get out and explore.’

What advice do you have for people who travel frequently but also want to fish?
You really have to plan ahead. These days I find that pretty much everything I do鈥攐ther than little opportunities that pop up鈥攚as planned out a year in advance. I sit down at the beginning of the year and black out the obligations for family, then guiding, then the tours. And I look at the days of the tour and just see where the opportunities lie. For my fishing, sometimes it’s based around moon phases, or when different species are good to chase.

When I do fish on tour, I’m all for supporting local guides, so I’ll usually hire one and use their gear. My advice: if you’re following a guide on social media and you admire then, and they’re chasing a species you like, reach out to them and drop them a note. Find a good time of the year when you may have a trip there, and hire them. For me, fishing on tour is more about the experience of being on the water and connecting with people and learning new methods than actually carrying fish. If we catch a fish, that’s great. But I’ve already caught plenty of fish in my life and I don’t need to chase any records while I’m out there.

How does fly-fishing inform your music?
I’m always working on melodies and phrases and recording them to my phone when I’m on river trips. In the old days I’d walk around with a cassette recorder and more or less do the same thing. When I’m guiding there’s a lot of down time鈥攃ommuting, standing in the water鈥攁nd this is when my brain starts working on my music. A lot of times I end up singing into my phone, or reciting some phrase that comes to mind. Then I go back and sift through the stuff, and every once and a while something good comes out of it. I’ll listen back to my voice memos and I can hear me howling lyrics while the river is raging behind me, and I remember that at that moment something came into my mind that made the hair stand up on my neck. I knew at that moment it was important and I that I should document it. It’s been this way for a while. A lot of those classic Hot Water Music songs were either started or finished out in the woods or at the lake. A lot of my songs have been written this way.

Are there any similarities between professional river guiding and playing music?
There are a lot of parallels between being an independent musician and a guide. I’m out there to have a good time and to share something I believe in with people. If my clients or fans can leave their troubles at the door and enjoy themselves for a minute, then that’s all the better. Playing music is just like going on those fly-fishing trips鈥擨’m not there just to catch fish. If I do catch one it’s a bonus. If someone leaves my show and enjoys the music and gets something out of it, then that’s a big bonus too.

This interview was edited for length and clarity.听

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Why do we venture outside? Because there鈥檚 something deeper out there, something lasting and time-tested. It inspires us to create things, to transform it into something we can share. Maybe that means art, photos, or crafts鈥攚hatever enriches our understanding of our larger roles in nature. Meet two of these makers here, people who inspire us all to go outside, play hard, and care for the planet and each other. And learn how KEEN has adopted this same spirit to build that will stand the test of time.

The Watercolorist: Max Romey

Mission: Get a Million People Painting

Max Romey is a man of big dreams. The latest: get a million people painting in the next three years.

鈥淚t鈥檚 kind of terrifying, to be honest,鈥� he says of the goal. But Romey has done plenty of terrifying things before. Over the years, the Alaska-based trail runner, filmmaker, and environmental educator has made critically acclaimed documentary films, completed 100-mile endurance races, and chased the world鈥檚 best ultrarunners across the Alps with a camera and sketchbook.

Romey credits his grandmother for first putting a paintbrush in his hands when he was just a few years old. 鈥淚鈥檓 dyslexic. School was frustrating at times,鈥� he says. So he went outside, and watercolor became a medium for recording what he learned.

Painting, Romey says, is the epitome of conscious creation. It鈥檚 a timeless medium with no shortcuts. To make accurate brushstrokes, you have to slow down. To mimic the lines and shapes around you, you have to look and really see your surroundings.

That鈥檚 why Romey is so passionate about sharing the art form. He launched a watercolor tutorial series online and became KEEN鈥檚 鈥攃reating much of the brand鈥檚 vibrant art, playful videos, and environmental education content.

 

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鈥淚 really do think the world would be better off if everyone painted,鈥� Romey says. 鈥淵ou just need a couple little tools, and then you have this excuse to sit and stare at the world. And if you look long enough, you see some amazing things.鈥�

Tested:

鈥淭hey鈥檙e really comfortable. No break-in鈥攖hey just fit,鈥� says Romey. 鈥淚鈥檓 also excited to have a shoe that鈥檚 going to stay with me. During the work I do in Alaska, cleaning up marine debris and ocean plastics, we find a lot of shoes on the beaches. The best way to avoid waste is to not make it鈥攖o build things that last. The don鈥檛 delaminate, which means they鈥檒l stay out of the landfill for much longer than the average hiking boot.鈥�

鈥淎nd they鈥檙e versatile,鈥� says Romey鈥檚 partner, Eve. 鈥淭he Targhee IV has the stability of a hiking boot without the weight. Perfect for getting up a mountain carrying my 22-pound toddler!鈥�

Consciously Created

Building anything authentic and sustainable鈥攁nything that will stand the test of time鈥攕tarts with intention. Intention to apply a planet- and people-first philosophy that acts as a north star for any endeavor, from making art to designing products. KEEN calls it 鈥攁 way of reimagining how gear gets made so it supports both humanity and the environment from start to finish. Here鈥檚 how that approach resulted in the new Targhee IV, a shoe that won鈥檛 delaminate and is free of forever chemicals.

The Crafter: Connor Lamoureux

Mission: Inspire Others to Be More Creative

Growing up, Connor Lamoureux never thought of himself as an artist. One of his brothers became a singer and musician. The other became a painter with gallery shows. But Connor? He wasn鈥檛 sure where he belonged.

鈥淚 had so many creative interests. I did woodworking, photography, video creation,鈥� he says. But to be a 鈥渞eal artist,鈥� he wondered, would he need to have a strong, singular focus? No. About a year ago, Lamoureux left his marketing job to create full-time鈥攁nd to inspire others to be more creative in their own lives. Today, his Instagram is filled with playful, accessible DIY projects and crafts, many of which involve upcycling everyday household objects.

鈥淚 want people to know that they don鈥檛 have to buy fancy art materials,鈥� Lamoureux says. 鈥淵ou can do a lot with a hammer and some wood you find on the side of the road. Buy paint brushes from the dollar store. Use materials you find in nature.鈥�

Upcycling also has another benefit. Instead of sending old junk to the landfill, Lamoureux inspires his followers to give those items new life. And he teaches viewers how to craft with care. That way, their new lamp, chair, or wall hanging will be sturdy enough to stand the test of time. 鈥淚f I can encourage more people to find ways to be creative, that鈥檚 a win,鈥� he says. 鈥淩emember: it doesn鈥檛 have to be perfect. Just focus on having fun.鈥�

 

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Tested:

鈥淚 can鈥檛 sit still. I鈥檝e got no chill,鈥� says Lamoureux. 鈥淪o it鈥檚 really nice to have a that鈥檚 super durable as well as really comfy. I know I can just keep charging and I鈥檓 not going to wear them out. They also feel surprisingly lightweight for such a durable boot. The traction is great. I used them on rock, snow, and steep switchbacks this spring, and I felt secure on all of it.鈥�

KEEN is a shoemaker with purpose. Family owned and values-led for more than 20 years, KEEN has been consciously making unapologetically comfortable, innovative footwear that lasts and using its business to do good. In 2003, KEEN started a revolution with the introduction of the original hybrid sandal, the Newport. As a revolutionary, thoughtful shoemaker, KEEN is determined to reduce the impact of how it makes shoes. The brand has been PFAS-free since 2018 and envisions a shoe industry that has a net-positive impact on lives. To get there, KEEN is sharing its sustainable innovations to do more good together. Learn more at .

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Time slows down in the summer. Where I live it鈥檚 too hot to do much unless you鈥檙e out early in the day or late in the evening. It seems like everyone else is on vacation, and the academic back-to-work creep of September is still off in the distance.

In short, it鈥檚 the perfect time to laze about in the midday heat鈥攆or long afternoons of reading on the porch or hiding out in the dark in front of a fan watching a movie.

And this summer we have a lot of good options.

What Books Should I Read This Summer?

My neighbor spotted a mountain lion on our street when she took the garbage out the other night so I have been thinking a lot about human-wildlife interaction. It helps that I鈥檝e been reading , Julia Phillips鈥� novel about what happens to two sisters when a grizzly shows up on San Juan Island.

The story culminates when their diverging reactions to the bear鈥攆ear and fascination鈥攕plit them apart. To understand which of those reactions I should realistically have to my local predators, I鈥檝e also been reading Brandon Keim鈥檚 non-fiction tale, . On the surface, the book is about how we can better live with wildlife, but really is a charming dive into all the way animals interact with each other, and with us. We鈥檙e not as far apart as we might seem, according to Keim.

If summer has you thinking about plants more than animals, check out Olivia Liang鈥檚 new book It’s a whirlwind essayistic mashup of the history of cultivating and colonizing plants, and the ways gardens have been an important source of liberation and inspiration and survival, all set against the background of Liang鈥檚 own quest to rehabilitate a historic garden in the depths of COVID. She fumbles a little when she tries to address warming summers, but she makes up for it in her lush descriptions of growing things.

If gardens (or nonfiction) aren鈥檛 exciting enough for you, the perfect summer read might look something like Liz Moore鈥檚 which incorporates summer camp, family drama, and a set of missing siblings into a twisty, hard to put down thriller. Moore鈥檚 language, and her knack for building character and scene give it that jumpy feeling of stepping outside the campfire鈥檚 light and wondering what鈥檚 around you.

Indie Flicks and Summer Blockbusters

Movies more your summer speed? In , Amy, a visiting New York consultant, in town with her negligent fianc茅, develops a reciprocated crush on Loren, a fishing guide barely skating by in Jackson Hole. The summer light of the Tetons is a character all its own, and the film nails the details of skid life (multiple jobs, insecure housing, the performative localism of second home owners). But the best parts are the painfully tender ones about the shiny, hard-to-achieve appeal of a place like Jackson, and about the ache of not getting to live all the lives you can imagine for yourself and having to commit to just one.

Speaking of films, we could talk about , this year鈥檚 biggest tease of a seasonal blockbuster (Why don鈥檛 they kiss? Why don鈥檛 they talk about climate change?) But the real standout from the movie is the music.

Summer, in my house, is weekend road trip season and the Twisters’ soundtrack feels like exactly what you should be playing on a Friday night when you鈥檙e driving down a dirt road hunting for a campsite.

There are a couple skippable bro-country bombs, but there are also standouts from Oklahoma artists like Wyatt Flores, and a Shania Twain song that sounds exactly like a Shania Twain song should.

Perfect Podcasts for Long Drives

If you鈥檙e not a music in the car person, and if you鈥檙e already missing the drama of the Olympics, there are a couple of podcasts that might scratch your itch. Consider , about mechanical doping in bike racing, or , a CBC podcast about, um, broom doping, in curling, the most adorably Canadian drama ever. They both fall into my favorite category of podcasts: twisty investigative journalism where no one gets hurt or killed.

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