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Coffee in Space: Keeping Crew Members Grounded in Flight

Happy National Coffee Day, coffee lovers! 

On Earth, a double shot mocha latte with soymilk, low-fat whip and a caramel drizzle is just about as complicated as a cup of coffee gets. Aboard the International Space Station, however, even just a simple cup of black coffee presents obstacles for crew members.

Understanding how fluids behave in microgravity is crucial to bringing the joys of the coffee bean to the orbiting laboratory. Astronaut Don Pettit crafted a DIY space cup using a folded piece of overhead transparency film. Surface tension keeps the scalding liquid inside the cup, and the shape wicks the liquid up the sides of the device into the drinker’s mouth.

The Capillary Beverage investigation explored the process of drinking from specially designed containers that use fluid dynamics to mimic the effect of gravity. While fun, this study could provide information useful to engineers who design fuel tanks for commercial satellites!

The capillary beverage cup allows astronauts to drink much like they would on Earth. Rather than drinking from a shiny bag and straw, the cup allows the crew member to enjoy the aroma of the beverage they’re consuming.

On Earth, liquid is held in the cup by gravity. In microgravity, surface tension keeps the liquid stable in the container.

The ISSpresso machine brought the comforts of freshly-brewed coffees and teas to the space station. European astronaut Samantha Cristoforetti enjoyed the first cup of espresso brewed using the ISSpresso machine during Expedition 43.

Now, during Expedition 53, European astronaut Paolo Nespoli enjoys the same comforts. 

Astronaut Kjell Lindgren celebrated National Coffee Day during Expedition 45 by brewing the first cup of hand brewed coffee in space.

We have a latte going on over on our Snapchat account, so give us a follow to stay up to date! Also be sure to follow @ISS_Research on Twitter for your daily dose of space station science.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space: http://nasa.tumblr.com.

romidant-diarmi  asked:

Since it's on it's way: imagine having to explain April Fool's Day and/or the concept of pranking one's friends for the sake of amusement. Like, maybe the aliens understand setting something up in regards to honing reflexes or something, but things like whoopee cushions and complex Rube Goldberg machines to fling shaving cream at someone just baffle them. Also the concept of a prank war in space is just amusing.

Thrnawxh watched in confusion as Human Frankie attached some sort of transparent film to the entryway, snickering to themself and occasionally looking over their shoulder as if fearing they were being watched. It put Thrnawxh ‘on edge’ as the humans would say.

In xir experience, if a human was worried, anyone else ought to be terrified.

Eventually, xir worry won out, causing xem to ask what Human Frankie was doing.

“It’s the first day of April.” Human Frankie said, baring their teeth in a show of either aggression, or bizarrely enough pleasure. Usually Thrnawxh would be able to guess which one it was based on a human’s statement, but this one made no sense.

“Also known as April Fool’s day, and oh boy does Sara got something coming for her.” Frankie continued, apparently having no idea that xe didn’t understand their explanation. What’s worse was that Human Sara apparently had something hunting them.

“And this device will stop Human Sara’s would-be attackers?” Xe asked, not sure how that would work, but xe had seen humans accomplish much more demanding things with seemingly worse odds.

“No, no what I meant is that Sara doesn’t-” they began before pausing, seemingly to reconsider whatever they were going to say. “You remember when I explained human humour to you, right?”

“Yes, when I believed you were ill because of your stomach contracting while you looked at an oddly shaped root vegetable.”  Thrnawxh confirmed, not seeing the relevance.

“Great. So this is a joke. I’m going to play a prank on Sara, because it’s April’s Fool’s day.” They said, though some of the words didn’t seem to translate well or at all to xir native language.

“I do not understand,” xe said, looking up at them in a way xe hoped Human Frankie would realise was questioning. Xir hopes were however not high.

“Shit, right okay. Erm. So a prank is a trick - you know what a trick is, right? Good. It’s a trick that you pull on someone because it’s funny, or like today, because it’s tradition. Sometimes they’re mean, but unless you’re a dickhead, they’re just funny. Like… shoving a pie in someone’s face, or pulling cellophane across the doorway and having them walk into it. Just, harmless fun, you know? And April Fool’s day is the first day of April - that’s one of our months; one of the sub-parts we divide the time it takes for our home planet to orbit the sun into. So it’s the first day of that sub-part, and it’s tradition to prank people.” Human Frankie explained, giving a small nod when they were done as if confirming what they’d just said.

“Why?” Xe asked, getting only a shrug in return - a signal of uncertainty or non-commitment. “What purpose does it serve?”

“Oh, no no purpose. I mean, maybe it did at one time? Superstition or what ever, but it’s just fun.” Human Frankie said before delving into a story of a prank they and a friend did on an authoritarian learning monitor when they were younger.

The story itself was interesting, though Thrnawxh was hardly able to focus when xe had so much new information to process about human behaviour.

Xe certainly had a lot left to learn.

deadline.com
Jeffrey Tambor accused of sexually harassing two transgender actresses during filming of 'Transparent'
“This information will be added to the ongoing investigation,” an Amazon spokesperson said today of Lysette’s accusations.
By Dominic Patten

Jeffrey Tambor, the star of Amazon’s hugely successful series Transparent, has now been accused of sexual harassment by two transgender women who work on the show. 

Most recently, actress Trace Lysette says that Tambor made inappropriate comments toward her and approached her physically in a sexually aggressive way. (Read her full statement here.) Tambor’s former assistant, Van Barnes, has also come forward about Tambor sexually harassing her. 

Amazon opened an investigation when Barnes reported Tambor last week. Lysette has suggested that Amazon “remove the problem and let the show go on.” And Tambor vehemently denied Barnes’ allegations. 

“For the past four years, I’ve had the huge privilege — and huge responsibility – of playing Maura Pfefferman, a transgender woman, in a show that I know has had an enormous, positive impact on a community that has been too long dismissed and misunderstood,” Tambor said Thursday. “Now I find myself accused of behavior that any civilized person would condemn unreservedly.”

He added: “I know I haven’t always been the easiest person to work with. I can be volatile and ill-tempered, and too often I express my opinions harshly and without tact. But I have never been a predator – ever. I am deeply sorry if any action of mine was ever misinterpreted by anyone as being sexually aggressive or if I ever offended or hurt anyone. But the fact is, for all my flaws, I am not a predator and the idea that someone might see me in that way is more distressing than I can express.”

Damn. Sending strength and love to Trace and Van for speaking up; we cannot let this slide and continue to pretend there’s not a systemic problem here. 

Love in Other Words
(Part Two of Two)

Part One


By the time Jamie caught up to Ian and Claire, Ian had worn down much of Claire’s resistance. When she saw Jamie and the pleading in his eyes, the rest dissolved. She had come for more than just herself; she had come to bring him news of his daughter and was slightly ashamed to have been so quick to run away.

That didn’t make the prospect of meeting with him in the house he shared with another woman any more palatable, however.

With Ian accompanying them on the walk to that house, there was little either was comfortable saying to the other. Luckily, the lad––who had come to Edinburgh to surprise his uncle and enjoy himself––was more than happy with the excitement of the unexpected turn of events.

“Mam says ye’re the one told her to start plantin’ potatoes and that it’s a right miracle ye did,” he informed Claire as he worked on recounting everything he’d ever heard said of her, the mysterious aunt who healed folk and seemed to have the sight––might even be a fairy or possibly a witch.

“That’s right,” Claire confirmed for him.

“Dinna talk yer auntie’s ear off before we even get home,” Jamie chided, then flushed as he caught Claire looking sideways at him.

Claire took a deep breath as Ian ran ahead to the front door of what must be Jamie and Mary’s house; it looked like the two houses on either side had crowded in on it and in response it had sucked in it’s stomach and raised itself on its toes in an attempt to be taller and skinnier.

Jamie’s hand was suddenly on her elbow helping to guide her up the steps and through the door behind Ian.

It smelled wonderful. Mary had meat roasting in a deep skillet set at the edge of the hearth and Claire thought she smelled some vegetables and butter alongside them. The space, while small, was clean, warm, and inviting. There was already a small pallet in one corner with blankets that Ian was arranging for his use that evening. There were a few shelves with books, a shadow of the study and library he’d had at Lallybroch; perhaps he had even printed those copies himself. A pair of chairs sat opposite each other near the hearth, a basket of knitting and mending next to one, the other in reach of the bookshelves. Claire could easily picture them sitting together in the evening, Mary mending Jamie’s shirt while he read to her.

Jamie kept contact with Claire, his hand drifting from her elbow to the small of her back as he led her inside.

Mary appeared from the doorway that led to the kitchen and dining area and smiled encouragingly at Claire.

“Supper will be ready presently. Jamie can show ye upstairs to wash if ye like.”

Claire turned to Jamie who nodded but she could also see the self-consciousness in the flush creeping up his neck.

The stairway was narrow and steep and Claire was incredibly aware of everything around her as Jamie opened to what could only be the bedroom he shared with Mary. The bed sported two distinct depressions––she couldn’t help noting the space between them; there was a single small table that they clearly shared with Mary’s brush and hair pins on one side and a small stack of paper with a bottle of ink and a single quill marking Jamie’s side.

Claire spotted the second smaller table with its basin and ewer and a small mirror next to the door and moved to do something that, after years of surgery, she found incredibly calming. Jamie poked around the room while Claire poured the water and scrubbed away the dust and sweat of her journey then dampened a nearby cloth to wipe it from her face and neck too. She caught Jamie’s reflection in the mirror watching her from a seat on the edge of the bed as she toyed with some loose tendrils of her hair, repinning them and patting down the frizz.

It was easier for her to begin while not looking at him directly.

“I thought he was your son,” she said quietly.

“I ken what ye thought,” Jamie admitted. “He’s more a son to me than any of Jenny and Ian’s other bairns––they’ve six and near twice as many grandbairns now… But I’ve no children with Mary.”

There was a beat and Claire waited for him to finish the thought or by any other women but when his eyes found hers––even in the reflection of the mirror––she could see that it wasn’t coming. His fear that she would flee again was also evident when his eyes drifted from hers to the door just a foot away. She swallowed then carefully rinsed and wrung out the dirty cloth she’d been using before folding it and setting it next to the basin.

“I do have a son, but I need ye to let me explain,” he begged.

Claire nodded and moved to sit beside him on the bed, her hands flat on the fabric of her skirt.

“Go ahead,” she told him keeping her eyes on the fading redness in her fingers from where she had scrubbed the skin hard from habit.

Jamie told her about his time at Helwater and Ardsmuir before that; about Major Grey and how his brother had spared his life after Culloden; he told her about the cave and the one night he shared there with Mary.

“When we wed––Mary and I––she said that night had been consummation enough though it was years before. That night before I was handed over… she was right––it gave me something that helped me when I went to Ardsmuir… but it took something from me too,” Jamie tried to explain. He couldn’t look at Claire but he could feel her sitting there beside him listening and saying nothing. “I think she didna want me to lose more of whatever it was… that what there was to gain wasna enough to justify that loss.”

“And… you lost some of that with… with the woman at Helwater?” Claire asked.

Jamie nodded. “I dinna quite ken what it is but… I think it’s to do with you… with the man I was when I was with ye; the man ye made me.”

“Did the boy––your son––did… did he give some of it back?”

The corner of Jamie’s mouth ticked up but Jamie shrugged. “Perhaps. He was a braw lad and did bring me joy though I couldna claim him for my own. I didna see him much when he was a wee thing––more when he got so he could walk and would make his nurses mad wi’ findin’ trouble. His mother’s family would ha’ let him commit murder wi’out taking him to task but he minded me well enough and the horses fascinated him. I could see… He didna have my hair––and thank the lord for small miracles for that… but I could see a bit of myself in him and the way he looked. I always… wondered…” Jamie peeked up at Claire then but she was still looking at her hands in her lap. “I wondered… did he look like his brother? Was Brian that old when he walked first or started talkin’… I didna think you would be so indulgent as William’s nurses were.”

“Brian?” Claire blinked, momentarily confused.

Jamie watched tears flood her eyes as his meaning settled and Claire reached for something in her skirt pocket, something that rustled.

“You can see for yourself,” she explained extricating a small packet that had some sort of shiny film encasing it. “But, your William doesn’t have an older brother,” she handed him the packet. They seemed to be some sort of printed paper but of a thick stock and with a shiny finish that was different from the transparent film that Claire had removed. “I called her Brianna,” Claire told him, adjusting the item in his hands so that he could make out the image of a swaddled newborn. “She’s named for both your parents, actually––Brianna Ellen. She did inherit your hair…” Claire pointed to one of the images that was brightly colored, the lass’ ruddy hair vibrant enough to touch. She moved that image behind to stack to bring a new one to the front. Brianna looked out from the photo with annoyance and disgust as laughs escaped both Jamie and Claire. “She’s got more than a bit of your temper and stubbornness too.”

“She’s beautiful, Claire,” Jamie said, his voice full of tears and his fingers gripping the photographs tightly.

She looked up at him with worry. His eyes were still locked on the photos though she knew he couldn’t see them through the tears.

“I’m… I’m so sorry I couldna… that I canna…” he mumbled.

Instinctively Claire slipped an arm around him and guided his head till it came to rest on her shoulder. The photos fluttered as his grip loosened and they drifted to the floor, his freed hands and arms tightening desperately around Claire. She clung to him, too.

“Do ye think… Do ye feel…” Jamie mumbled into her hair.

“What do I feel?” Claire asked before sighing and letting her head rest against his, her cheek pressed to the warmth of his throat. “I feel… tired. I’m tired of missing you; I’m tired of being angry with you for making me go; I’m tired of being scared of what you’ll think or what you’ll say.” As she spoke her tears flowed freely, wetting his throat and dribbling down the back of his neck. She was vaguely aware of his tears dampening the collar of her dress. “I’m tired of living without you.”

“Aye… In twenty years there’s not a day I’ve not thought of ye and longed to have ye with me… that I’ve no wanted to talk to ye or just have yer hand to hold,” he murmured. “Now ye’re here… If ye go again…”

Claire sniffed and turned her face away from his neck, keeping her cheek pressed to his shoulder but looking at the table with Mary’s things on it.

“And what about Mary? If you didn’t have another wife…”

Jamie’s deep breath shuddered through Claire causing her to pick up her head and pull back to look at him. He rubbed at his red and watery eyes.

“If… If Mary weren’t my wife any longer…”

“I didn’t come here to break apart whatever it is you’ve built with her,” Claire interrupted firmly but with evident pain. “I’ve been close enough to the other side before––”

“Frank had a wife before ye and she came back for him did she?” Jamie quipped but Claire wasn’t amused. Jamie bent to begin retrieving the fallen photographs.

“I might not have loved Frank the way I love you––maybe not even the way you care for Mary––but I’ve been close enough to having someone else upend my entire life without asking. I’m not about to do the same to someone else––especially not someone who’s done nothing wrong,” Claire argued.

“Ye’re right… It’s no the same wi’ me and Mary as it was for you and Frank,” he said rising from the bed to retrieve the scattered photographs from the floor. “She never sought to replace ye or made me feel guilty for no bein’ able to let ye go. She’s been a comfort and no mistake but you…” He set the carefully stacked photographs with his things on the table and crossed to take Claire’s face gently between his hands, making it impossible for her to look away from him. “You alone heal me down to my very soul. Havin’ ye near makes me feel whole again, makes me feel stronger. Ye’re the heart of my life.” He bent his head and kissed the tracks of her tears along her cheeks until she took hold of his wrists and offered him her lips.

The kiss left her breathless and the silence stretched between them as he rested his forehead against hers. They could hear the commotion downstairs as Mary told Ian that supper wasn’t ready just yet and the over-eager teen whined about how hungry he was.

“I should go see if she needs any help,” Claire whispered. “It’s the least I can do.”

Jamie nodded and helped pull Claire to her feet. She led the way while he secreted the photographs of Brianna away.


Once his stomach was full, Ian curled up on the pallet in the corner and promptly fell asleep.

“Did anyone notice whether he turned around three times first?” Claire asked quietly.

It had surprised her how calm everything had been after she and Jamie came back downstairs; Mary smiled and asked Claire about her journey, about where she’d been and what had happened, how she’d heard about Jamie and found him after all this time. It was impossible not to relax confronted with such warmth and welcome. Ian too had chimed in with questions––what was life like for her in France, had she kept in touch with the other Jacobites who had managed to escape, why hadn’t she written to his parents once she was settled to let them know she lived.

“I’m sorry if it feels like I’m questioning ye too much,” Mary apologized, rising to remove the bowls and dirtied plates. “It’s just… ye always were such a mystery even before.”

“Let me help you wash up,” Claire offered taking her own bowl to the kitchen area. She heard Jamie rising and locking the house up for the night, adding a log to the fire and pulling a third chair over.

Alone with Mary, Claire felt compelled to apologize.

“If I had known about you and Jamie…”

Mary waved a dismissive hand at Claire. “If either of ye had kent the truth about the other bein’ still alive, there wouldna be anythin’ for ye to worry yerself over. It shouldna take too long to straighten this mess.”

“You… truly don’t mind?” Claire asked, still unconvinced.

Mary smiled to herself. “I ken ye didna notice me so much about Lallybroch when ye were there––no wi’ what ye had just gone through yerself.”

Claire blushed at the memory of those early days back in Scotland after everything that had happened in France. It did take a while for the comforts of Lallybroch and the reassurance of having Jamie with her where they belonged had healed those still-fresh hurts.

“I noticed you,” she assured Mary. “I don’t know that I ever told you how sorry I was about what happened to your husband––to Ronald, that is.”

Mary nodded. “I tried to dissuade him, ye ken. After the beating Jamie gave him and Rabbie goin’ to work in yer stables. I tried to get him to leave it but he wouldna heed and… Ye’d done my Rabbie a kindness and I tried to repay ye… tried and failed. And Mistress… that is… Jenny––she and Ian showed still more kindness givin’ me a place at Lallybroch too after the fire. And when ye came back and Rabbie had his fits…”

Claire heard the thickening of Mary’s voice as she rambled and the somewhat strangled noise as Mary swallowed her tears.

“I ken what ye would say––that ye’d have done as much for anyone––and I’m sure ye would. You and Jamie both… It’s just yer way. But it’s meant so much to me and mine… Yer Jamie needed someone to turn to when ye were gone and I’ve tried to be that for him since I couldna prevent what Ronald did before… I think I’ve done him some good though what he needed of me wasna what I first expected. Now ye’re here the best good I can do for both of ye is to let ye be. No… I truly dinna mind.”

Claire crossed and wrapped Mary in a hug surprising the other woman into briefly laughing before returning the embrace.

“Thank you,” Claire whispered. “Thank you for taking care of him.”

“Ye’re welcome, Mistress.”

Claire shook her head. “Claire. Please… call me Claire.”

“Ye’re welcome, Claire.”

Pulling back and wiping her own damp eyes, Claire rolled up the sleeves of her gown and moved to fetch the large kettle from where it was warming near the hearth, then brought it to the washtub where Mary was depositing the dirty dishes.

“Do you have an idea for what you will like to do once everything is settled? I don’t expect you’ll want to go back to Lallybroch.”

“My Rabbie’s settled in London now––with a wife. He’s asked me to come for a visit a few times now but I’ve no been in a position to do so before…” She looked to Claire conspiratorially casting her glance toward the light from the other room where the crisp sound of a page turning could occasionally be heard amongst the crackling of the fire in the hearth. “I’ve no told Jamie yet––the letter only came yesterday and I didna have a chance to go through it till this morning––but Rabbie writes they’re expectin’ a bairn.”

“Congratulations,” Claire whispered with sincere relief.

“Aye. Ye needna feel ye’re puttin’ me out. Like as not were ye here or no I’d be goin’ to London for a time anyhow. Now I dinna have to feel so torn about comin’ back or no.”


Jamie offered to sleep on the floor by Ian so the two women could have the comfort of a proper bed but Mary wouldn’t hear of it.

You ken better than anyone how easy I sleep in that chair,” Mary teased Jamie. “I enjoy the stories well enough but the sound of his voice sends me straight to sleep,” she explained to Claire. “He tried carryin’ me to bed once and put his back out and I scolded him enough he’s never tried it since.”

Claire pursed her lips as she took in the redness of Jamie’s face.

“Are you sure you don’t sleep better down here because you don’t have to listen to his snoring?” she asked, earning a glare from Jamie.

“I dinna snore so loud as you do, Sassenach.”

“Then I’ll sleep doubly well so far from both of yer snoring,” Mary said ushering the two of them to the stairs with a knowing grin that had Claire blushing alongside Jamie.

Nerves overcame Claire when she and Jamie were alone in the bedroom again. She crossed to where she saw Mary’s things and grabbed up the first things that her hands found.

“Mary will be needing these,” she stammered heading for the door again. “I’ll be right back.”

Mary already had a blanket spread in her lap and her feet propped up on a small footstool when Claire hesitantly approached.

“I thought you might want these,” Claire said, placing them on the floor beside Mary’s chair.

“He’s as nervous as you are,” Mary said quietly, her eyes still closed.

Claire rolled her eyes and slipped away again. Knowing Jamie was nervous too didn’t help quell the anxious fluttering in her stomach but it did steel her resolve.

A sole candle lit the room when Claire eased her way back in. Jamie’s clothes had been folded and set aside next to his boots and stockings. She could make out the shape of him sitting up in bed, waiting for her.

Reaching behind her, Claire took a deep breath that she let out as she pulled the zipper of her dress down to the base of her spine, the loose fabric slipping from her shoulders and baring her torso. The rest of the dress fell to the floor in a whisper of cotton a moment later. She swallowed as she stepped out of the dress, out of her shoes, and approached Jamie’s side of the bed in just her stockings.

“Jamie,” she breathed, extending one leg towards him in the dim, flickering light. “Will you help me with these?” There was nothing teasing or sultry in her voice, just a simple invitation to help them ease their way back into something that had once been accomplished with a look, a touch, a sigh.

Jamie shifted to the edge of the bed, his legs sliding free of the blankets. He took hold of Claire’s calf and gently raised her leg higher, resting her foot on one of his knees. His fingers skimmed their way up the silk stocking to find the garter holding it in place a few inches up her thigh and finding the gooseflesh his touch had raised when he overshot his mark.

The silk of her stocking was replaced by the light touch of his lips on her sensitive inner knee. Lowering one leg, she offered him the other and he did the same, resting his hand on her hip when he was done and guiding her closer to him till she stood between his knees. Her hands found their way into his hair, pulling his head back so he had to look her in the eye.

“Ye’re beautiful,” he whispered. “I’ve never wanted ye more than I do right now.”

She believed him and leaned into his kiss. He pulled her to him, easing back onto his elbows as she knelt above him on the bed before reaching between them and taking him into her. He closed his eyes for a moment, his head lolling back, then a smile lit his face.

“I thought when ye walked into the print shop ye must be a vision––one of my dreams escaped the night and found its way to me in the day,” he murmured as Claire slowly rocked her hips.

“Do you need me to pinch you to prove you’re not dreaming?” Claire offered. Her hand slid through the sparse hair on his chest as she reached for and found one of his nipples, gently squeezing between her thumb and forefinger and making his breath catch, his hands tighten on her waist.

“No, I ken ye’re no a dream,” he said, his hands applying pressure to her hips guiding her slowly forward and then back. “I could always tell when I took ye in a dream that there was something missing––I could feel my blood poundin’ wi’ yearning for ye but my chest felt empty. It’s full now, though; you are my heart restored to me. I am whole again.”

We are whole again,” Claire informed him before bending to kiss him once more and smiling against him as his need refused to be contained and he rolled with her so he could ride her hard and fast. They had all night and twenty years to make a start of remedying.

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Lightning 2000 Plasma Lamp: low pressure noble gasses glow due to discharge from high voltage. A small high frequency coil at center creates the high voltage potential between the center electrode dome and the outer glass dome which is coated with a thin transparent film of metal. Current flow through the thin gas produces the glowing zigzagged path like that of lightning but more rounded. Shown here in 480 fps slow motion.

thoughts on hearing about the little shop off horrors remake:

  • you literally cannot improve on the 1986 film’s execution. it was already intentionally dated as a period movie when it came out so it feels like its visuals and sense of humor haven’t aged a day. the casting and acting are spot-on. no cgi could rival that audrey ii animatronic. the only thing that needs updating is the racism, and i somehow don’t feel confident that that’ll be a priority for the guy who directed monster trucks. i don’t even trust him with the heavy-handed jewish coding, though i’ve never found that antisemitic as much as an in-joke…
  • another possible route to a good movie: a more direct adaptation of the stage musical. imo, frank oz probably left off some of my favorite songs “now (it’s just the gas),” “mushnik and son,” and the latter half of “the meek shall inherit” for a good reason: film and stage are fundamentally different. on stage, you’re sharing a space with your audience, and it makes sense to vocalize thoughts. on film, the transparent wall between performer and viewer is thicker, and monologuing is less believable, even in a movie as stylized and novel as little shop. but soliloquy on film is far from unprecedented, and the new movie might try to pull that off. personally, i prefer the 1986 ending to the stage show ending because i think killing off a female character to punish a male character is obsolete at best, but whatever. the rest is fine and i hope this movie tries to set itself apart from ‘86 somehow.
  • the big joke about both seymour and audrey is that they’re supposed to be seen as pathetic. seymour is nebbishy, unfashionable, weak-willed, and unsuccessful without the help of a murderous plant. audrey has “led a terrible life” and there are jokes about her wearing too much make-up and tacky clothes. even though i don’t see anything about audrey as deserving of judgment, it’s clear you’re supposed to think the only thing either of them has going for them is that they’re nice. i just worry about how that supposed pathetic/unattractive quality is going to be treated with 2 fat comedians both of whom are known for playing pathetic/unattractive characters. @_@ but that part is just anxiety more than a judgment, they could end up proving me wrong.

Top: Early concept art of Scorn Guy wearing a bio-mask and the playstation VR head set. This was back when Ebb Software was trying to pitch the game to Sony.

Bottom: Current concept art of Scorn Guy in a bio-mask and the Oculus Rift head set. 

Considering how the both bio-masks involve the top part of his face covered in a transparent veiny pink film and have some sort of structure wrapping around his mouth and up the sides of his head leaving only his chin exposed, I suspect the mask in the bottom picture is an updated version of the one in the top picture and isn’t a completely separate one. Also notice how both masks involve something wrapping around his neck while it’s completely absent in the VR headset pictures. 

On the bottom one specifically, there’s some kind of cord stemming from it.