being a collection of links to übercool articles, information, and news you might not otherwise know about (n.b., many, if not most, of these posts are not time-sensitive, so feel free to browse the archives, too)
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All Eyes
Eyes are amazing, but even more amazing, if that's possible, is the fact that some creatures can "see" without them. It's a finding that has mesmerized ~ and frustrated ~ the scientists who study it. "We're not just focusing on eyes that look like our eyes," says Duke University biologist Dr. Sönke Johnsen. For example, the new thought about sea urchins, which don't have identifiable eyes and yet seem to be able to see, is that they are, in fact, giant, spiny eyeballs. Octopuses have eyes that we recognize as such, but their skin also contains photoreceptors, and the Asian swallowtail butterfly has a grouping of photoreceptors on its genitals. It comes down to molecules called opsins, which are what allow the photoreceptors in animal retinas to see. “What it means to be an eye is so much broader than we originally thought,” says Johnsen: https://www.sciencenews.org/article/some-animals-%E2%80%98see%E2%80%99-world-through-oddball-eyes?utm_source=Society+for+Science+Newsletters&utm_campaign=e02b1e7c5b-editors_picks_week_of_0516165_21_2016&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_a4c415a67f-e02b1e7c5b-104586561
Lower School
taking a break from the climb Chinatopix via AP |
Just Because: 'litany'
Mahogany L. Browne |
" 'litany' was written," writes poet Mahogany L. Browne in what is the best possible introduction to this poem, "after the anniversary of 'I Wish I Knew How It Felt To Be Free,' made famous by Nina Simone. And I sat with what that meant, years later—when I am still wishing for a certain type of freedom. To think of the time passing but of senseless deaths of black and brown bodies remaining. The poem was a mulling of all that has changed and all that has not. Injustice has not changed. Poverty has not changed. The idea that I am writing from poem to check to mouth/house is no coincidence. And the building on my corner was most certainly burned to the ground, leaving folks homeless. Within two weeks there was talk of building condos. And my neighbors and I, free to watch, stood on the opposite corner of the destroyed building as contractors stomped in and out of the remains. Someone smiled loudly about the 'new multimillion-dollar building plans.' And it didn't feel like freedom at all." from poem-a-day:
I wish I knew how
It would feel to be free
I wish I could break
All the chains holding me
—Nina Simone
today i am a black woman in america
& i am singing a melody ridden lullaby
it sounds like:
the gentrification of a brooklyn stoop
the rent raised three times my wages
the bodega and laundromat burned down on the corner
the people on the corner
each lock & key of their chromosomes
a note of ash & inquiry on their tongues
today i am a black woman in a hopeless state
i will apply for financial aid and food stamps
with the same mouth i spit poems from
i will ask the angels of a creative god to lessen
the blows
& i will beg forgiveness when i curse
the rising sun
today, i am a black woman in a body of coal
i am always burning and no one knows my name
i am a nameless fury, i am a blues scratched from
Chasing Lolita
butterfly hunting in Switzerland Horst Tappe/Getty Images |
Who knew? Russian-American author Vladimir Vladimirovich Nabokov (1899-1977) is most well-known ~ and venerated ~ for his seminal novel Lolita. But who knew he was also a lepidopterist? And that he created chess challenges? And that he was a synesthete? AND that he wrote the aforementioned masterpiece over five years as his wife, Véra, drove them in their black Oldsmobile from New York to Arizona, Utah, Colorado, Wyoming, and Montana so he could chase butterflies? People have undertaken many journeys following in the footsteps of those they admire, and this particular road trip follows not just the author but two of his most memorable creations, Humbert Humbert and his Lolita (and thanks to MD for reminding me): http://www.nytimes.com/2016/05/29/travel/vladimir-nabokov-lolita.html?smid=fb-share&_r=0
Just Because: 'The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Universe'
In honor of Towel Day May 25 (see post immediately below this one), which, in its turn, is in honor of everyone's favorite geek-author, Douglas Adams (1952-2001), and in a spirit of unending generosity toward those who may not have heard of him or his indispensable Guide or any of its sequels, the tantalizing first couple of pages, lovingly transcribed (and as you're reading the first and only sentence of the second paragraph, it would behoove you to remember that it and every sentence before and after it were published in 1979):
Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the Western Spiral arm of the Galaxy lies a small unregarded yellow sun.
Orbiting this at a distance of roughly ninety-eight million miles is an utterly insignificant little blue-green planet whose ape-descended life forms are so amazingly primitive that they still think digital watches are a pretty neat idea.
This planet has—or rather had—a problem, which was this: most of the people living on it were unhappy for pretty much of the time. Many solutions were suggested for this problem, but most of these were largely concerned with the movements of small green pieces of paper, which is odd because on the whole it wasn't the small green pieces of paper that were unhappy.
And so the problem remained; lots of the people were mean, and most of them were miserable, even the ones with digital watches.
Many were increasingly of the opinion that they'd all made a big mistake in coming down from the trees in the first place. And some said that even the trees had been a bad move, and that no one should ever have left the oceans.
And then, on Thursday, nearly two thousand years after one man had been nailed to a tree for saying how great it would be to be nice to people for a change, a girl sitting on her own in a small café in Rickmansworth suddenly realized what it was that had been going wrong all this time, and she finally knew how the world could be made a good and happy place. This time it was right, it would work, and no one would have to get nailed to anything.
Sadly, however, before she could get to a phone to tell anyone about it, a terrible, stupid
Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the Western Spiral arm of the Galaxy lies a small unregarded yellow sun.
Orbiting this at a distance of roughly ninety-eight million miles is an utterly insignificant little blue-green planet whose ape-descended life forms are so amazingly primitive that they still think digital watches are a pretty neat idea.
This planet has—or rather had—a problem, which was this: most of the people living on it were unhappy for pretty much of the time. Many solutions were suggested for this problem, but most of these were largely concerned with the movements of small green pieces of paper, which is odd because on the whole it wasn't the small green pieces of paper that were unhappy.
And so the problem remained; lots of the people were mean, and most of them were miserable, even the ones with digital watches.
Many were increasingly of the opinion that they'd all made a big mistake in coming down from the trees in the first place. And some said that even the trees had been a bad move, and that no one should ever have left the oceans.
And then, on Thursday, nearly two thousand years after one man had been nailed to a tree for saying how great it would be to be nice to people for a change, a girl sitting on her own in a small café in Rickmansworth suddenly realized what it was that had been going wrong all this time, and she finally knew how the world could be made a good and happy place. This time it was right, it would work, and no one would have to get nailed to anything.
Sadly, however, before she could get to a phone to tell anyone about it, a terrible, stupid
Towel Day Is Coming!
© kreg.steppe, license: creative commons
|
Can you evade the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal for 42 seconds to save the world? (game): http://survive42.github.io/Survive42/
The Hard Times of Mrs. Dickens
Catherine Dickens |
One Ring To Rule Them All
The story of the dynasty started by Mayer Amschel Rothschild (1744-1812) affirms the long-suspected fact that money in politics is nothing new. Also that money is power. And that, of course, should come as no surprise. But check out this book's subtitle: The Secret Origins of the First World War. This is about more than one family using its considerable and zealously guarded wealth to buy politicians and to manipulate them and events to their own ends. Here's a book summary from Random House Books (Australia): "Hidden History uniquely exposes those responsible for the First World War. It reveals how accounts of the war's origins have been deliberately falsified to conceal the guilt of the secret cabal of very rich and powerful men in London responsible for the most heinous crime perpetrated on humanity." This excerpt, though, focuses on one family, perhaps as representative of the group. from delanceyplace.com:
Today's selection -- from Hidden History by Gerry Docherty and Jim Macgregor. The Rothschild dynasty controlled a banking empire that financed royalty and nations throughout Europe and beyond. They were the wealthiest family in the world, and their power was such that it rivaled and often surpassed the power of kings:
"The Rothschild dynasty was all-powerful in British and world banking and they considered themselves the equals of royalty, even to the extent of calling their London base 'New Court'. Like the British royal family, their roots lay in Germany, and the Rothschilds were possibly the most authentic dynasty of them all. They practised endogamy as a means of preventing dispersal of their great wealth, marrying not just within their own faith but also within their own immediate family. Of 21 marriages of the descendants of Mayer Amschel Rothschild, the original family patriarch, no fewer than 15 were between cousins.
"Wealth begets wealth, never more so when it can provide or deny funds to governments and dominate the financial market on a global scale. The Rothschilds were pre-eminent in this field. They manipulated politicians, befriended kings, emperors and influential aristocrats, and developed their
Today's selection -- from Hidden History by Gerry Docherty and Jim Macgregor. The Rothschild dynasty controlled a banking empire that financed royalty and nations throughout Europe and beyond. They were the wealthiest family in the world, and their power was such that it rivaled and often surpassed the power of kings:
"The Rothschild dynasty was all-powerful in British and world banking and they considered themselves the equals of royalty, even to the extent of calling their London base 'New Court'. Like the British royal family, their roots lay in Germany, and the Rothschilds were possibly the most authentic dynasty of them all. They practised endogamy as a means of preventing dispersal of their great wealth, marrying not just within their own faith but also within their own immediate family. Of 21 marriages of the descendants of Mayer Amschel Rothschild, the original family patriarch, no fewer than 15 were between cousins.
"Wealth begets wealth, never more so when it can provide or deny funds to governments and dominate the financial market on a global scale. The Rothschilds were pre-eminent in this field. They manipulated politicians, befriended kings, emperors and influential aristocrats, and developed their
Math and the Mind
trinity.edu |
The View From Now
screen shot |
Free To Be You and Me?
Apparently not. Just as the astronomic advances in medical technology and neuroscience have brought us more and more helpful information about ourselves, they have also brought us, kicking and screaming, to a truth that negates all that we have wanted to believe about ourselves. Like one of the monoliths in 2001: A Space Odyssey (cue the Blue Danube Waltz), this discovery at once fascinates and frightens, and like the monolith, once comprehended, it cannot be uncomprehended. Its consequences, both for the individual and for society, are huge. So perhaps the question is, How do we live with it? Depending on which camp one chooses (if you will, and pardon the pun) to join, it can either "free" us or it can enslave us: http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2016/06/theres-no-such-thing-as-free-will/480750/
Seeing Life From Both Sides Now
Women, obviously, know firsthand the pros and cons of being female. Males, just as obviously, know firsthand the pros and cons of being male. But there's a growing number of individuals who know firsthand the difference between being female and being male. And it's not just about how others treat them. It's also about how they, themselves, feel and act. The people interviewed for this story were born female but transitioned to male. Their comments are truly eye-opening. Take, for example, this, from Canadian newscaster James Gardner: "As a female there was black and white and everything in
between. When I started taking the hormones, it was more black and
white. If I get into a disagreement with someone
at work, I don’t have that feeling afterwards of, 'I hope I didn't hurt
his or her feelings. I’m not a worrier as much as I was in the female
body." ... Any other women around here suddenly feel like maybe a little shot of testosterone wouldn't be such a bad thing?!? (story, video): http://time.com/transgender-men-sexism/
People on Glass Bridges
Brave Man's Bridge ChinaFotoPress/Getty |
Of course, the fact that another glass bridge, at Yuntai Mountain, sent tourists running for terra firma after a section cracked underfoot last year (allegedly, when a tourist dropped a Thermos) just makes this new one all the more enticing for some (story, video): https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/morning-mix/wp/2015/10/07/chinas-new-glass-bottom-bridge-cracks-3500-feet-above-earth/
About a Bard
knot garden (#10), this one at Barnsley House, Gloucestershire |
And for even more Elizabethan entertainment, you might check out "The Complete Works of William Shakespeare," free for the taking: http://shakespeare.mit.edu/
Just Because: 'The Rocking-Horse Winner'
This short story by D.H. Lawrence (1885-1930), published in 1926, has long been one of my favorites. It's written almost like a fairy tale ~ and it's just as dark. At least some of it must have been inspired by the author's own childhood. The son of a barely literate miner and a former teacher, Lawrence could look back on a childhood of illness and poverty overshadowed by his parents' quarrels. Of it, he once said, "If I think of my childhood it is always as if there was a sort of inner darkness, like the gloss of coal in which we moved and had our being." His mother, with whom he is said to have been very close, had to take a job in a lace factory to help the family. She, apparently, was obsessed with the idea of his becoming successful. She died of cancer shortly after his first novel was published.
There was a woman who was beautiful, who started with all the advantages, yet she had no luck. She married for love, and the love turned to dust. She had bonny children, yet she felt they had been thrust upon her, and she could not love them. They looked at her coldly, as if they were finding fault with her. And hurriedly she felt she must cover up some fault in herself. Yet what it was that she must cover up she never knew. Nevertheless, when her children were present, she always felt the center of her heart go hard. This troubled her, and in her manner she was all the more gentle and anxious for her children, as if she loved them very much. Only she herself knew that at the center of her heart was a hard little place that could not feel love, no, not for anybody. Everybody else said of her: "She is such a good mother. She adores her children." Only she herself, and her children themselves, knew it was not so. They read it in each other's eyes.
There were a boy and two little girls. They lived in a pleasant house, with a garden, and they had discreet servants, and felt themselves superior to anyone in the neighborhood.
Although they lived in style, they felt always an anxiety in the house. There was never enough money. The mother had a small income, and the father had a small income, but not nearly enough for the social position which they had to keep up. The father went into town to some office. But though
There was a woman who was beautiful, who started with all the advantages, yet she had no luck. She married for love, and the love turned to dust. She had bonny children, yet she felt they had been thrust upon her, and she could not love them. They looked at her coldly, as if they were finding fault with her. And hurriedly she felt she must cover up some fault in herself. Yet what it was that she must cover up she never knew. Nevertheless, when her children were present, she always felt the center of her heart go hard. This troubled her, and in her manner she was all the more gentle and anxious for her children, as if she loved them very much. Only she herself knew that at the center of her heart was a hard little place that could not feel love, no, not for anybody. Everybody else said of her: "She is such a good mother. She adores her children." Only she herself, and her children themselves, knew it was not so. They read it in each other's eyes.
There were a boy and two little girls. They lived in a pleasant house, with a garden, and they had discreet servants, and felt themselves superior to anyone in the neighborhood.
Although they lived in style, they felt always an anxiety in the house. There was never enough money. The mother had a small income, and the father had a small income, but not nearly enough for the social position which they had to keep up. The father went into town to some office. But though
Who's Embalmed in Lenin's Tomb?
If Abraham Lincoln or, say, Ronald Reagan had been embalmed and was available for viewing, would Americans flock to his bedside? Would he become a tourist attraction? Four and a half little circles on Trip Advisor? The Russians, perhaps taking a page out of ancient Egypt's Book of the Dead, preserved Vladimir Lenin's body when he died in 1924. Originally, they did it to keep him looking spiffy for the crowds that filed past him in the days immediately after his death. But then the real work began. Scientists got to work on a chemical mixture just for him, and a string of specialists, at one time numbering around 200, has been keeping him in shape ever since. As you may imagine, such expertise doesn't come cheap, even in Russia, and when the Soviet Union fell, there was a moment there when it seemed the top comrade might take his place alongside the country's lesser luminaries: http://www.theguardian.com/world/2016/may/09/lenin-lab-team-keeping-first-soviet-leader-embalmed-moscow
Rome and the Refugees
Battle of Adrianople, 378 AD historynet.com |
Eau de Book
KW |
Who wants to smell like generic flora when you can smell like Flowers for Algernon? It seems that the latest in perfume captures the evocative fragrance of old books. And as any book lover or anyone who's stepped into a used-book store knows, it's a very particular scent indeed. That's because, as this article explains, "Wood-based paper contains lignin, a chemical closely related to
vanillin, the compound that gives vanilla its fragrance. As the pages
age and the compounds break down, they release that signature scent." Not only that, but "An
experienced rare book handler can date a volume by scent alone, according to the International League of Antiquarian Booksellers." Just as long as they don't try to date a perfume wearer's age that way (story, video): http://qz.com/684424/the-sweet-sexy-smell-of-old-books-is-a-perfume-fad/
Sweet Home São Paulo
Brazilians Philip and Eloiza Logan © AP |
Quantum Communication
from extremetech.com |
The Other Side
the California-Tijuana border KW |
"Smuggling will never stop unless you can stop poverty or hunger. It will never stop because people will always want to help their families." An interview with a Mexican pollero: http://www.pbs.org/frontlineworld/stories/mexico704/interview/smuggler.html
The Things Moms Do
© Arthur Morris/Birds as Art |
And we think some human moms are overprotective. A deep sea octopus brooded her eggs for four and half years. Australian crab spiders allow their young to eat them so they don't eat each other. Dominant meerkats get others to babysit for their own young by killing other females' pups. (story, video): http://www.bbc.com/earth/story/20141127-mothering-marvels
Interestingly, none of these make Animal Planet's list of Top 10 Animal Moms. (Well, the octopus does ~ and for very good reason ~ but not the deep sea octopus specifically.) Who's number one? The elephant, of course, given that prestigious spot for her 22-month pregnancy that ends in giving birth to a 200-pound child that is born blind into a matriarchal society (slideshow): http://www.animalplanet.com/wild-animals/10-animal-moms/
Workin' in a Coin Mine
So we think we know the real identity of Satoshi Nakamoto, which is the nom de guerre (if you will) of the creator of Bitcoin. Or do we? There's so much about this cryptocurrency that is, well, cryptic. Like where it's actually generated. One of those secret places is in a town in China that is at such a high altitude that visitors need to bring their own oxygen cans along. The owner is Chandler Guo, a 30-year-old entrepreneur, and the workers are mostly male, mostly young, and mostly former farmers and new grads. They all live onsite. “All day we mine 50 bitcoins,” Guo explains. “24 hours this machine never sleeps. ... Two years ago Chinese mining was just 40% of all the
mining equipment in the world. Right now it’s already 70%.” And Guo plans to be an even bigger part of that. He is in the process of building what he says will be the largest mine in the world (story, video): http://www.bbc.com/future/story/20160504-we-looked-inside-a-secret-chinese-bitcoin-mine
I Watch Videos, Therefore I Am
Plato, Descartes, Kant, Heidegger, Spinoza? Existentialism, Solipsism, Secular Humanism, Objectivism? Yikes! Kind of wish you'd taken a philosophy course in college? Took one but forgot it all? Well, despairest-thou not, for 25 short videos introducing the major philosophers can be yours for the taking. So pull up a chair and take notes, because, as British playwright Terry Johnson said, "Have you ever noticed how 'what the hell' is always the right decision to make?" (story, videos): http://www.openculture.com/2016/04/animated-introductions-to-25-philosophers-by-the-school-of-life.html
Just Because: 'Out of Africa'
Out of Africa ~ the book, not the movie, and that is an important distinction ~ is, IMHO, a work of art. Published in 1937, it displays some of attitudes of those times that we now, looking back, call elitist and racist, but the simple honesty and naïveté with which Danish author Isak Dinesen (aka Baroness Karen von Blixen-Finecke, 1885-1962) wrote shine a light on the many shades of gray that exist in human behavior and beliefs. She was a well-meaning person who loved Africa and its people, but she was also in many ways a product of her times, as are we all. To let that overshadow her spirit and talent would be to lose out on the joy of reading an artwork and intimate account of another place and time. Dinesen's prose is profoundly poetic, her descriptions vivid but almost dreamlike in their ability to capture essence and symbol at the same time.
I HAD A FARM in Africa, at the foot of the Ngong Hills. The Equator runs across these highlands, a hundred miles to the North, and the farm lay at an altitude of over six thousand feet. In the day-time you felt that you had got high up, near to the sun, but the early mornings and evenings were limpid and restful, and the nights were cold.
The geographical position, and the height of the land combined to create a landscape that had not its like in all the world. There was no fat on it and no luxuriance anywhere; it was Africa distilled up through six thousand feet, like the strong and refined essence of a continent. The colours were dry and burnt, like the colours in pottery. The trees had a light delicate foliage, the structure of which was different from that of the trees in Europe; it did not grow in bows or cupolas, but in horizontal layers, and the formation gave to the tall solitary trees a likeness to the palms, or a heroic and romantic air like fullrigged ships with their sails clewed up, and to the edge of a wood a strange appearance as if the whole wood were faintly vibrating. Upon the grass of the great plains the
1
Kamante and Lulu
From the Forests and Highlands
we come, we come.
The Ngong Farm
I HAD A FARM in Africa, at the foot of the Ngong Hills. The Equator runs across these highlands, a hundred miles to the North, and the farm lay at an altitude of over six thousand feet. In the day-time you felt that you had got high up, near to the sun, but the early mornings and evenings were limpid and restful, and the nights were cold.
The geographical position, and the height of the land combined to create a landscape that had not its like in all the world. There was no fat on it and no luxuriance anywhere; it was Africa distilled up through six thousand feet, like the strong and refined essence of a continent. The colours were dry and burnt, like the colours in pottery. The trees had a light delicate foliage, the structure of which was different from that of the trees in Europe; it did not grow in bows or cupolas, but in horizontal layers, and the formation gave to the tall solitary trees a likeness to the palms, or a heroic and romantic air like fullrigged ships with their sails clewed up, and to the edge of a wood a strange appearance as if the whole wood were faintly vibrating. Upon the grass of the great plains the
Cotton Candy Chemistry
Summer's almost here, and in addition to that meaning the time is right for dancing in the street (it doesn't matter what you wear, just as long as you are there), it's also time for all things outdoors, like fairs, for example. Invariably, most will include that very traditional of delightfully unhealthy treats, cotton candy. Oddly, one of the two men who, way back in 1897, applied for a patent for the cotton candy machine was a dentist. Little could he or his partner have imagined that his "revolvable or rotating pan or vessel containing candy or melted sugar" would, more than a century later, help scientists grow artificial tissues: http://www.bbc.com/future/story/20160427-the-amazing-chemistry-of-candyfloss
For more details about how cotton candy ~ or fairy floss, as it was originally called ~ is made, check out http://science.howstuffworks.com/innovation/edible-innovations/cotton-candy.htm
For more details about how cotton candy ~ or fairy floss, as it was originally called ~ is made, check out http://science.howstuffworks.com/innovation/edible-innovations/cotton-candy.htm
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