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Did The Simpsons Predict The Rise Of Labubu? This Video Claims So
Did The Simpsons Predict The Rise Of Labubu? This Video Claims So

News18

time21 hours ago

  • Entertainment
  • News18

Did The Simpsons Predict The Rise Of Labubu? This Video Claims So

Last Updated: Labubu dolls have been in the trend, becoming a fashion symbol among celebrities and the young generation. With the Labubu trend becoming a global phenomenon, there has been a huge surge in demand over the past months. The plush toys, which could not have cost more than a few dollars, have now turned into a luxury thanks to celebrities and social media. From being carried as designer arm candy to the youth making it a street-style staple, the toys have clearly become a fashion symbol. Labubu was born from the brain of Hong Kong-based artist Kasing Lung, seemingly making its appearance around 2015. With such unexpected popularity, have you ever wondered if the rise of Labubu dolls was predicted? The Simpsons appears to have dropped a hint. In a video going viral on social media, it seems like the iconic animation show had an idea of the trend, even believing that the dolls could possess negative energy. Shared by the Instagram handle of Walt Motivates, the video shows a particular scene from The Simpsons where the family receives a spooky statue as a gift. Unaware of its purpose, Homer started entertaining his kid with the gift, only to get possessed. Next, one can see a series of unusual activities in the room, suggesting the evil presence. The major highlight? The statue has been named Pazuzu—a name rhyming with Labubu. While there seems to be no resemblance between the looks of the statue and the Labubu doll, the fan-made clip leaves a lot of room for discussion. Reacting to the video, while some sounded convinced about the similarities between the two, others wondered if the trendy dolls actually have dark energy. One wrote, 'I freaking knew it!" while another added, 'I knew there was something wrong with this toy. Faces are weird and kind of dark." 'Those figures have a deeper meaning for something really dark. Whether it was channeled or intentional," another comment read. One of the users added, 'The Simpsons has gotten even better than I remember." she labubu on my pazuzu until i — tyler oakley ( (@tyleroakley) June 24, 2025 The video has surfaced at a time when Labubu dolls have already been associated with demons and evil energies. Multiple conspiracy theories are circulating online, with 'spiritual experts' and influencers making the claims. In one instance, a picture of the Labubu was even shared alongside an AI image of the Mesopotamian demon Pazuzu, hinting that the plush toy is a modern-day demon in disguise. First Published:

How Much Of The Past Should We Bring Back To Life?
How Much Of The Past Should We Bring Back To Life?

Scoop

time19-06-2025

  • Science
  • Scoop

How Much Of The Past Should We Bring Back To Life?

There is an incredible amount of scientific effort put toward understanding the past and bringing some of it back to life. Everyone agrees it's nice to have some old structures around—like the pyramids at Giza and the Great Wall of China—but what about the living creatures we once lived alongside? With recent advances in genetic technology, de-extinction may be a possibility—but should we be doing it? Several scientific disciplines are currently geared specifically to provide us with realistic insights into what life would have been like in the past. Archaeology in particular has rank after rank of specialists tuned toward reconstructing the built environment—monuments, houses, caves, and even whole towns—and the ways people would have lived in those environments. We conduct these experiments to understand the choices our species has made as we evolved into the cultures and societies that exist today, and we conserve the walls and temples of our pasts because they mean something to the people who visit them. We have highly trained conservators who carefully rebuild, brick by brick, the great Mesopotamian temples of 5,500 years ago (alongside conservators who are not as well-trained but whose good intentions outstrip their abilities, as seen with the case of the Ecce Homo reconstruction in Borja, Spain). There are also an extraordinary number of experimental archaeology projects aimed at unraveling even the most intangible mysteries of the past—helping us see that the beautiful Paleolithic art in caves like Lascaux may have been an early form of animation when seen under a torch, or that making some stone tools requires special cognitive abilities. Advances in technology make the reconstruction of the past increasingly realistic. But what if we could recreate the living environment of our evolutionary past? What if we could bring back species that haven't been seen since the last Ice Age? This is exactly the question that a major new research effort is asking. The Colossal project is a private enterprise that wants to use advances in genetics to attempt the 'de-extinction' or 'resurrection' of an iconic Ice Age animal: the woolly mammoth. De-extinction has certainly grabbed imaginations (not to mention headlines), but as research funding is squeezed by economic conditions around the globe, scientists must ask themselves: what will this achieve? For Colossal, there are clear benefits. There is the wow factor of creating a cold-adapted elephant that has not existed for thousands of years, and of course, there is the potential of developing new and, possibly, incredibly lucrative bioscience tech based on modifying genetics. Perhaps these technologies could save animals from extinction and bring back the past, even if many scientists are concerned about the prospect due to ethical and technical reasons. However, as archaeology has learned, bringing back the past is never as straightforward as it seems. Something as obvious as preserving 1,000-year-old ruins for future generations to marvel at becomes less clear-cut when future generations might need to build their own monuments and walls (or even just roads). How much of the past should we bring back? The debate over how much of the Stonehenge prehistoric landscape should be sacrificed to build a tunnel for one of the most congested roads in England has shown that even trained professionals can't agree on what is 'enough' of the past to save. This makes for some tricky questions for those who want to rebuild and recreate the past. What will happen if we really do succeed in the 'de-extinction' of a woolly mammoth—an animal that will be born alone into a world that it is not adapted to? Will it help us save the elephants that are under threat today? Colossal is putting a lot of effort into elephant conservation, but how will creating a genetically cold-adapted elephant address the habitat loss that has led our big-bodied species to face extinction? Would we be better off spending our research efforts on recreating the environments of the past, or the charismatic animals who once roamed them? What parts of the past to preserve—and which to leave behind—remains a complicated tangle of ethical, practical, and even philosophical quandaries. The toppling of a historic statue of a slave trader into Bristol harbor in 2021 by outraged citizens is a clear example of how governments, citizens, and professionals are still grappling with how we bring the past into the present. As technology advances, we will be confronted with even thornier issues—like the ethics of bringing animals or even people back to life. If we cannot agree on the morality of preserving the past as a cold metal statue, how will we resolve the question surrounding the consequences of bringing something that lives and breathes back into the world? Author Bio: Brenna R. Hassett, PhD, is a biological anthropologist and archaeologist at the University of Central Lancashire and a scientific associate at the Natural History Museum, London. In addition to researching the effects of changing human lifestyles on the human skeleton and teeth in the past, she writes for a more general audience about evolution and archaeology, including the Times (UK) top 10 science book of 2016 Built on Bones: 15,000 Years of Urban Life and Death, and her most recent book, Growing Up Human: The Evolution of Childhood. She is also a co-founder of TrowelBlazers, an activist archive celebrating the achievements of women in the 'digging' sciences.

US Army turns 250: How military parades became a symbol of national pride
US Army turns 250: How military parades became a symbol of national pride

Indian Express

time14-06-2025

  • Politics
  • Indian Express

US Army turns 250: How military parades became a symbol of national pride

A massive military parade will be held in Washington on Saturday evening (June 14) to commemorate 250 years of the US Army. The date coincidentally also happens to be US President Donald Trump's 79th birthday, as well as Flag Day. According to the White House, June 14 marks the day 'the sword and shield of our Republic were forged when the Second Continental Congress voted to establish what would later become the United States Army.' The parade will be the first since the Victory Celebration of 1991 to welcome returning veterans of the Gulf War. The event is estimated to cost between $25 million and $45 million, and feature over 6,000 soldiers, 128 army tanks, armoured personnel carriers and artillery, as well as an aerial display featuring 62 aircraft, according to an AP report. It would culminate the day-long festivities at Washington's Lincoln Memorial, featuring NFL players and fitness competitions. The timing of the parade is significant, even as the president showed his eagerness to deploy National Guard and Marine troops to suppress protests over immigration raids in Los Angeles over the past week. Historical accounts have described strong displays of soldiers and weaponry and their role in asserting national pride. Accounts dating to the Mesopotamian civilisation mention marching soldiers. Through the sacred Gate of Ishtar in Babylon, returning warrior kings would march into the city down a passage flanked by 60 giant lion statues on either side, with murals of the gods smiling upon them. In the heyday of the Roman Empire, victorious generals would lead a procession into the capital, surrounded by frenzied crowds on all sides. The grand show of force displayed by an organised marching contingent of soldiers cemented legacies of triumph and near-mystical power in the minds of onlookers and beyond. As empires crumbled and made way for nation-states, the tone of the military parade has endured. The rise of nationalism in Europe in the 19th century converted military parades into national symbols meant to capture the collective frenzy of a nation's inhabitants into feelings of nationalism. The Prussian army is said to have pioneered modern military parades. The notorious 'goose-step' which would become a symbol of the Nazi army, as well as several popular formations seen today trace their origin to Prussia. During the British Raj, royal parades and processions were commonplace in India. They projected British power not only to Indians but to the rest of the world, especially competing European colonial powers. As India gained its independence, it retained many erstwhile British traditions, including the parade. A military parade marked India's first Republic Day in 1950. At the time, the country's leaders wanted to commemorate the occasion as a day of national celebration. While the day marked India's new constitution officially coming into effect, leaders saw it as a day of victory for the Indian state and its people – victory against colonial rule and the coming of a new, sovereign and strong republic. Thus, the military parade was chosen as an integral part of Republic Day celebrations. The Republic Day parade began to include many non-military elements, such as the iconic tableaux, adding not only colour to the stoic military tone but also becoming symbols of India's diverse culture. As tensions among Indian states endured over fears of cultural imposition and linguistic differences, the tableaux showcasing the best of several states came to become a means to celebrate India's differences while representing a coherent national identity. The Army Day parade is the culmination of Trump's eight-year-long fascination with the military parade. In 2017, after attending the Bastille Day festivities on French President Emmanuel Macron's invitation, Trump described it as one of the most dazzling spectacles he had ever seen. In the run-up to Saturday's event, he has promised a grand display of patriotism. 'It's going to be an amazing day,' he said earlier this week. 'We have tanks. We have planes. We have all sorts of things, and I think it's going to be great. We're going to celebrate our country for a change.' The parade will feature different eras of the Army's history, ranging from the Revolutionary War to the present day. TROOPS: The parade will feature 6,169 soldiers. 150 troops in period costume will display important military events from the Battle of Lexington, which kicked off the Revolutionary War, to the present day. They will be followed by hundreds of troops in contemporary uniforms. TANKS AND AIRCRAFT: 128 Army tanks, armoured personnel carriers and artillery, as well as 62 aircraft, will be featured. In keeping with the chronological theme, the parade will feature the first World War I Renault tank and the World War era aircraft, including two B-25 Mitchell bombers, four P-51 Mustang fighter aircraft and one C-47 Skytrain. As the procession makes its way into the modern day, the Army's M1A2 Abrams tanks and troop carriers like the Joint Light Tactical Vehicle and Stryker combat vehicle would be featured. The parade will also feature High Mobility Artillery Rocket Systems (HIMARS) mobile rocket launchers. The parade will culminate with a long air parade of UH-60 Black Hawk, AH-64 Apache and CH-47 Chinook helicopters flying overhead. The final section of marching troops would feature new recruits, new enlistees in training and military cadets, representing the future of the Army.

‘Leave our marshes alone'
‘Leave our marshes alone'

The Star

time04-06-2025

  • Business
  • The Star

‘Leave our marshes alone'

PLANS to drill for oil in the protected Mesopotamian marshes of southern Iraq have galvanised villagers and activists determined to save the mythical wetlands already battered by years of drought. 'We will never accept it,' marshes activist Murtada al-Janubi told a meeting, seeking to reassure anxious residents gathered in a traditional hall made of woven reeds from the wetlands, to discuss the government's plans for the Unesco-listed area that is their home. Everyone nodded in approval. If they fail to save the Huwaizah Marshes, 'a historical era... with its heritage and southern identity will vanish for ever,' Janubi, 33, said during a tour of the wetlands that straddle the Iraq-Iran border. The millennia-old history of the marshes - the reputed home of the biblical Garden of Eden – 'would end with this oilfield', said the moustached, tanned activist. In 2023, the oil-rich country awarded a Chinese firm the rights to explore the Huwaizah field. A fisherman showing his catch. Plans to drill for oil in the protected Mesopotamian Marshes of southern Iraq have galvanised villagers and activists determined to save the mythical wetlands already battered by years of drought. — AFP Several residents of Abu Khsaf, the village in Missan province where the meeting with activist Janubi was held, said that at the time they did not fully grasp the implications. Only this year, when heavy machinery was brought in to conduct seismic studies and open a new road, did the residents say they recognised a 'threat' to the swamplands that have sustained their traditional way of life. The government says that the oil and environment ministries are collaborating closely to avoid endangering the wetlands, and that any activity would occur near, not inside, the marshes. Satellite images of the area from March, obtained from Planet Labs, show tracks left by heavy vehicles. Wim Zwijnenburg of Dutch peace organisation PAX said the images point to the 'rapid' construction of 'a 1.3-kilometre-long dirt road in the vegetation of the marshes'. Missan province already has several oilfields, including one just kilometres from the marshes. Its emissions fill the sky with heavy grey smoke, and its gas flares can be seen from the fishing boats that roam the depleted marshes, suffering after years of harsh drought and dwindling water supplies. Papyrus plants grown in Iraq's marshes of Huwaizah. — AFP Nestled between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers, the Mesopotamian marshes depend on rivers and tributaries originating in neighbouring Turkiye and Iran. Sparse rainfall and reduced water flows blamed on climate change, upstream dams and government rationing have created shortages with severe impacts on the marsh ecosystem. Residents expect the marshes to dry up in summer, hoping for a long-absent good rainy season to revive them. The current water level in many areas is less than a metre deep. Um al-Naaj lake, once teeming with fish, is now just 3m deep, compared with at least six before the drought. Rowing his boat on the lake, fisherman Kazem Ali, 80, said that while the new project may create some jobs, 'we, the average people, will not benefit'. 'All we want is water,' he said. Rasul al-Ghurabi, a 28-year-old buffalo farmer, said he would never quit 'the marshes and the freedom that comes with them' even if the oil company offered him a job. One cool March morning, as he led his buffaloes to the marshes to graze, Ghurabi was surprised to see workers laying cables and drilling holes. A cable caused one of his animals to stumble, he said. The marshes contain a core area that serves as a habitat for numerous species, including migratory waterbirds, surrounded by a buffer zone for protection. Environmental activists meeting with the indigenous people of Huwaizah. — AFP Activists have accused authorities of conducting seismic studies within the core, which the state-owned Missan Oil Company denies, saying that the vehicles spotted in the area were carrying out work for a separate field nearby and had since left. The Huwaizah oilfield was discovered in the 1970s, and Iraq shares it with Iran, which has been extracting oil for a long time. The Missan Oil Company says that 300sq km of the field's area overlap with the marshes' buffer zone, but that the oilfield does not encroach on the core. An environmental impact assessment concluded in 2024 would provide 'the baseline for work in the field', the company said, adding that exploration would take place 'without harming the natural habitat.' According to environment ministry official Jassem Falahi, the protected status of the marshes does not bar development projects. 'But investment is subject to specific conditions and standards that must not disturb the core area... or affect the site and its biodiversity,' he said. Iraqi activist Ahmed Saleh Neema, a vocal advocate for the protection of the marshes, expressed concerns that oil companies might not adhere to regulations and further drain the marshes. A Unesco spokesman said that 'concerns have been raised in recent years' over the potential impact of oil-related activities on the marshes. Across the border in Iran, local media have long warned against the environmental impact of oil projects. In a report earlier this year, two decades into oil activities in the wetlands known in Iran as Hoor al-Azim, the Tasnim news agency said energy companies had obstructed water flows and drained areas to build infrastructure. Tasnim also said that oilfields have polluted water resources. Environmental activist Neema said authorities should strike 'a balance between two great resources: the oil and the marshes.' Iraq is one of the world's largest oil producers, and crude sales account for 90% of state revenues. But while oil is financially vital, the marshes represent the livelihood of its people and 'the heritage, the folklore, and the reputation of Iraq,' Neema said. Back in the village of Abu Khsaf, Janubi said: 'Our region is already teeming with oilfields. Isn't that enough?' 'Leave our marshes alone.' — AFP

From soul to spectacle: How Iraqi music lost its voice
From soul to spectacle: How Iraqi music lost its voice

Shafaq News

time03-06-2025

  • Entertainment
  • Shafaq News

From soul to spectacle: How Iraqi music lost its voice

Shafaq News/ Once steeped in spiritual and emotional richness, Iraq's music now struggles against noise, nostalgia, and a shifting cultural identity. Despite its historical richness and deep emotional resonance, Iraqi music has steadily lost much of its identity, nuance, and poetic core—deteriorating under the weight of social transformation and political turbulence. Today, critics argue, Iraqi music is no longer guided by artistic intent or heritage but by superficial rhythms designed to 'make shoulders move,' as one folklorist described. Historical Foundations Iraq's musical heritage stretches back thousands of years, with significant development over time—particularly after the introduction of the oud and the addition of its fifth string, as well as refinements in rhythm and the evolution of the Iraqi maqam (musical mode). The 1920s marked a golden era, witnessing the emergence of prominent female vocalists. Later decades brought a new generation of influential composers such as Abbas Jamil, Nazem Naeem, Mohammed Nushi, Koukab Hamza, Jaafar Al-Khafaf, and Talib Al-Qaraghuli, whose melodies remain etched in the nation's collective memory. Sufi Roots and Identity The 20th century witnessed a global musical revolution. Western composers like Igor Stravinsky and Arnold Schoenberg broke classical conventions, while jazz, blues, rock, and electronic music reshaped cultural norms. Technological innovation accelerated music production and access—digitization and online platforms have made music more available than ever before. Iraq's music still bears a distinct cultural signature. 'Mesopotamian music has characteristics unlike any other musical form in the world,' Nasser Jamal, a member of the National Music Ensemble, indicated in an interview with Shafaq News. 'These rhythms are not found elsewhere. Iraq's musical legacy is essentially a Sufi one, originating in ancient temples and religious traditions of Mesopotamia.' The 1950s saw the widespread popularization of maqam-infused songs, with Jewish Iraqi composers like Saleh and Daoud Al-Kuwaiti playing foundational roles. Jamal emphasized that even the most iconic works of that era were anchored in maqam. The 1970s then brought a major transformation, particularly through the merging of rural music into the Baghdadi soundscape—infusing compositions with sorrow and longing. Figures like Talib Al-Qaraghuli, Mohammed Jawad Amouri, and Mohsen Farhan defined the tone of the decade. But in the 1980s, music became an instrument of political propaganda. 'Nearly all compositions were militarized to serve the regime, with only rare exceptions,' Jamal said. The 1990s carried a unique identity of their own. Jamal suggests that many of those songs deserve to be musically re-arranged today, as they mark a stylistic shift distinct from other eras. Cultural Reflection Music in Iraq has long served as a reflection of cultural, political, and social shifts. Yet even amid decades of change, its signature melancholy tones have remained a defining feature. 'The sorrowful melodies are among the most prominent characteristics of Iraqi music,' composer Mohammed Al-Khazaali told Shafaq News, adding that they reflect the emotional turbulence of Iraqi society. Al-Khazaali notes that the music of the 1970s represents a high point. 'That era produced beautiful voices, graceful compositions, and poetic lyrics. Iraqi songs ranked second in the Arab world after Egypt in terms of influence and reach,' he stated. Then, Iraqi music veered away from these foundations, degenerating into indecent lyrics and erratic compositions. This decline is attributed to Iraq's volatile environment and harsh socio-political changes, according to Al-Khazaali. However, he sees hope in initiatives like the Iraqi Symphony Orchestra and the Dajla Birds Ensemble led by Maestro Alaa Majid, who are reviving the country's musical heritage through live performances. He also credits the Musicians' Syndicate and the Iraqi Musicians' Association for promoting quality compositions that still appeal to refined tastes. From Song to Spectacle Heritage and folklore critic Ali Shibib sees today's music as lacking in artistic depth. 'Contemporary Iraqi songs rely heavily on technology,' he told our agency. 'But instead of using it to enhance musical integrity, it's mostly used to create shoulder-shaking beats—without structure or sophistication.' Shibib believes that lyrics are now shaped more by consumer trends than cultural consciousness. 'Modern remixes often distort the original compositions. Attempts to modernize old songs are usually unstudied and superficial.' Rise of the Noise Maestro Ahmad Abdul-Jabbar, artistic director at the School of Music and Ballet, laments what he calls the rise of 'noise.' 'Iraqi music used to be rooted in authenticity and heritage. Today, it's buried under chaotic sounds that stray from its core principles.' Speaking with our agency, he acknowledges that 1990s music differed from that of the 1970s—especially in tempo—but still preserved its beauty and soul. 'Now, Iraqi music has become a hybrid of noise and shallow melody,' he said. 'It lacks artistic depth and fails to represent the country's civilization and cultural heritage.' Despite this, Abdul-Jabbar believes the foundational elements of Iraqi music are resilient. 'It remains a distinctive form—immune, to some extent, to the randomness flooding the music market today.'

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