2010

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I seem less criminal-ish when I smile and dance.

Tom DeLay: I would have loved to be right in the middle of the health care reform fight.

Decoder: Health care industry lobbyists have tons of cash.

Tom DeLay: Dancing with the Stars was the best fun I ever had.

Decoder: Except for the time I posed for that mug shot. Dang, that was good times.

Tom DeLay: There is an argument to be made that these unemployment benefits keep people from going and finding jobs.

Decoder: The non-existent jobs that don’t exist.

Tom DeLay: There is a rage in this country–I’ve been sitting out of D.C. for a long time–that I have never seen before.

Decoder: Maybe there’d be less rage if I hadn’t turned the Republican Party into an ATM machine to be filled by K Street lobbyists and Russian oil barons. Man, I hope my senior aides convicted in the Abramoff scandal are having fun in prison.

Tom DeLay: The rage against Republicans is that they want to see Republicans stand on principles and fight for the principles.

Decoder: I am completely fucking unprincipled, but maybe one of the other Republicans can do it. Is that guy Herb around? Maybe he can give it a try.

Tom DeLay: We have budget considerations that are incredibly important now that Obama is spending monies we don’t even have.

Decoder: I helped Bush turn a budget surplus into a $600 billion deficit.

Tom DeLay: I am rooting for the Tea Party activists. I think it’s a great opportunity for the Republicans if they will take it.

Decoder: Other people see hatred, racism, paranoia and incoherence, but I see opportunity. Maybe other Republicans are put off by weirdos blaming the government for all the problems in their jackass lives, but not an unethical scumbag like me.

Tom DeLay: [Republicans] ought to be reaching out to [Tea Party activists], accommodating them.

Decoder: Pander to the dummies, throw them a bone. That’s what I was doing with the birther movement and the Terry Schiavo case. Use them like we used born-again Christians to get W. elected. Opportunists need zealots to carry the water.

Tom DeLay: You’re going to think I’m crazy, but I really don’t care. I am who I am and I did what I did. I’m proud of what I did.

Decoder: Yeah, I really am crazy. Maybe I’ll plead insanity if my Texas money-laundering case ever comes to trial.

Read other Decoders.

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During his 1970 gubernatorial race against Ronald Reagan in California, the philosopher, LSD guru and countercultural icon, Dr. Timothy Leary, was railroaded into a 20-year prison sentence for the dubious charge of possession of two joints. Leary escaped from the penitentiary, spent time in Algeria with Black Panther Eldridge Cleaver before the two had a falling out, and was finally recaptured at an airport in Afghanistan. He was returned to the states to continue his sentence at Folsom Prison.

During his stint there, Leary was able to film a 27-minute interview that his wife Joanna could use to stump for his release. Despite being made by Leary and his spouse and not an objective third party, it’s an interesting encounter.

California Governor Jerry Brown released Leary in 1976 and the controversial figure ended up focusing the last two decades of his life encouraging the construction of space colonies and being an early Internet enthusiast. Despite being right on many issues, Leary always seemed to me like a slickster with the gigantic ego of a small child. But you can decide for yourself while watching the video.

Structural damage in Fallujah may be the least of that city's problems.

The BBC has a very scary story about a reportedly high number of birth defects showing up in newborns in Fallujah. The Iraqi city was the site of some of the most intense fighting at the height of the ongoing American war there.

Some Iraqi medical researchers think that chemicals from sophisticated weapons are the cause, though the U.S, is saying it has yet to see any conclusive data proving a spike in birth defects in Fallujah. An excerpt:

“British-based Iraqi researcher Malik Hamdan told the BBC’s World Today program that doctors in Fallujah were witnessing a ‘massive unprecedented number’ of heart defects, and an increase in the number of nervous system defects.

She said that one doctor in the city had compared data about birth defects from before 2003–when she saw about one case every two months–with the situation now, when, she saw cases every day.

‘I’ve seen footage of babies born with an eye in the middle of the forehead, the nose on the forehead,’ she added.”

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Chinese president Hu Jintao with Brother None-Too-Sharp.

Those enterprising economists over at the wonderful Marginal Revolution pointed me in the direction of this fascinating Independent article about a homeless man in Ningbo, China, nicknamed “Brother Sharp,” who has become a style icon and symbol of shabby chic bohemian coolness.

Brother Sharp, also dubbed “Handsome Vagabond” and “Beggar Prince,” has an online posse that considers him the coolest man in China. It’s good to know that people in China are just as shallow and stupid as we are. An excerpt:

“He is 5′ 8”, around 35 years old, and always has a cigarette between his fingers. He also appears to have a fondness for women’s clothes, which has only served to fuel his status as a fashion icon. His good looks are reminiscent of popular Asian actors like Takeshi Kaneshiro or the Oscar-nominated Ken Watanabe.

His identity remains a secret, and social workers in Ningbo say they want to keep it that way. ‘Homeless people are vulnerable. It is incorrect to use them for entertainment purposes,’ said one worker at a homeless centre in Ningbo. Brother Sharp is said to appear mentally disturbed when approached on the street.

In China, begging is technically illegal, as the Communist Party-run state provides all a citizen could need. In reality, the rapid development of the Chinese economy in the last 30 years has marginalized many.

The rumors surrounding Brother Sharp’s true identity persist. Some say he is a university graduate who lost his mind after his girlfriend left him. Others have blogged about how they sought him out and tried to help him find work or to go back to his family, but that he appeared frightened and cried out without speaking.”

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You better keep me away from the time machine. (Image by Brett Weinstein.)

“Magistrate’s Ire Aroused,” declares the sub-heading of this article from the December 1, 1902 issue of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle. It seems that several days before he turned 16, a boy married a bride several years his senior and then saw fit to abandon her. The judge wasn’t a fan of these May-December relationships, especially when the groom was a minor. There may have been steam shooting out of his ears during the hearing. An excerpt:

“‘There should be some way of punishing ministers who marry children,’ said Magistrate Furlong, in the Myrtle avenue court yesterday, when Mrs. Tessie Mich Gordon, who says she is 18 years old, caused her 16 year old boy husband, James C. Gordon of 262 Fifteenth street, to be arraigned on a charge of abandonment.

The Magistarte’s face was flushed, and it was obvious he was not in favor of early marriages–at least, early marriages, of that kind. Young Gordon, the groom, who is a mere stripling, both in years and in size, and who has not even the suspicion of a mustache, stood in front of the judge in a semi-dazed way, as if he were not thoroughly conscious of the important step which he had taken in life. His bride, whom he married less than three months ago, was a Miss Tessie Mich, who gives her age at 18, but is thought to be two years older, is a pretty blond, with bright expressive eyes and a rich head of hair falling in innumerable ringlets. She is petite in figure.

When Court Officer William J. Wyse arrested young Gordon at his father’s house, 262 Fifteenth street, on Saturday night, the boy was at supper, with other members of his family.

‘I have seen a great many strange things over the course of my career on the police force,’ said Oficer Wyse, ‘but I can tell you I was surprised on finding out that the man I was in search of on a charge of abandonment was only a boy.'”

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German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche: "God is dead and Afflictor is stupid." (Image by Hanns Olde.)

How great that our little Brooklyn website has continued its international expansion by ringing up its first visitor from Germany. It looked for a while like there was a wall between us, Germany, but then it came tumbling down and now we’re together at last. But who among you has so much free time on their hands that they can waste precious moments browsing our idiot website? Was it you, Rammstein lead singer, Till Lindemann, with your crotch o’ fire? Was it you, Chancellor Angela Merkel, with your generous cleavage? Was it you, 18th-century philosopher Immanuel Kant, with your elongated forehead? Well, whoever it was, we extend warm greetings to the whole of Germany. Welcome to Afflictor Nation!

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"Astrology is the practical part of the science of Astronomy."

It’s 1863, you’re in the Boston area, you’re down to your last 50 cents and you need someone to cause a speedy marriage. What do you do? You get yourself over to the temporary Winter Street offices of Professor Baron, a presumably preeminent practitioner in the field of astrology.

This print ad from that year doesn’t state where Mr. Baron earned his Ph.D. in astrology, but it touts his amazing abilities. In the incredibly sexist spirit of that time, women were charged only 50 cents for a reading whereas men had to fork over a dollar.

The Professor’s quarters were located “above Mr. Emerson’s Trimming Store.” An excerpt from the copy:

“Has profound knowledge of the rules of the Science of the Stars, and as the hand of fate has marked out the path of each individual, so Professor Baron unfolds its meanderings of the past, present and future, covering the whole field of all that relates to your happiness or misery, through life. If you wish to know whether you will be successful and prosperous in any undertaking, or to hear from an absent relative or lover, call on Professor Baron. He will reveal unto all who consult him secrets that no living mortal ever knew before, and those who call will be sure to be more successful through life. The Professor can bring success out of the most perilous undertakings.”

See other Old Print Ads.

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Gray Woman: I have two eyeballs and I don't share them.

With the aid of Edith Hamilton‘s classic text, Mythology, and the Theoi Greek Mythology site, I bring you the top five lesser-known misogynistic mythological creatures.

  • Harpies: Frightful flying creatures with hooked beaks and claws who always left behind a loathsome stench.
  • Gray Women: Extremely withered and strange trio of women. Shared one tooth and one eye. Inserted and removed eyeball in their foreheads.
  • Gorgades: A tribe of female creatures whose bodies were covered entirely with hair.
  • Akhlys: The demon of misery. Pale green hag with bleeding cheeks and tear-stained eyes.
  • Empousai: Fierce underworld demons who used the guise of sexually attractive raven-haired women to lure young men to their death. Had mismatched legs of brass and donkey.

Read other Listeria lists.


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I am late hockey goalie George Hainsworth. In addition to playing for the Montreal Canadiens, I was also a net minder for the Saskatoon Sheiks.

I knew the second I put up a post that mentioned hockey that Afflictor.com would have its first visitor from the incredibly cold and underpopulated nation of Canada. But, you know, what took you guys so long? You’re sitting right up north there and many other far-flung countries have already joined Afflictor Nation. Too busy counting your 26 Olympic medals? That’s 11 fewer than the USA won, so it shouldn’t have taken you that long, Canada. Well, thanks for taking a break from curling and pretending you’re proud of Celine Dion long enough to throw us a bone. Better late than never, Canada. We welcome you to Afflictor Nation!

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Documentarian Ondi Timoner is no stranger to volcanic egos, having chronicled a couple of feuding rock bands in her excellent 2004 doc, Dig! But even she couldn’t have been completely prepared for the unrestrained and unstable hubris that was Web 1.0 entrepreneur Josh Harris, when she was asked to film his exhibitionistic Manhattan commune during the final month of December 1999. That project and others perpetrated by Harris are the subject of the fascinatingly repellent doc We Live in Public.

The poster child for the extreme excess of Silicon Alley in the late ’90s, Harris was a misanthrope with a sadistic streak who cashed in a couple of early web businesses for the disposable income to hatch disturbing “art projects” that investigated his personal issues with voyeurism, exhibitionism and mind control.

The first one, called “Quiet: We Live in Public,” housed 100 volunteers in a Manhattan bunker that was filled with free food, a firing range with a massive cache of weapons and ubiquitous surveillance cameras to capture every last instant of the participants’ lives. People had sex, showered, went to the bathroom and sat for humiliating interrogations before the lenses. Harris was no Warhol but he created a Warholian police state, until the NYPD shut down an increasingly ugly scene.

Harris followed up this wacky project with other similar ones, until he had burned through tens of millions of dollars and disappeared himself from the public eye (and his creditors). Before his retreat, he foresaw the increasing invasiveness and exhibitionism of our media-drenched world: social networking web sites, the explosion of reality TV and the information-collecting of search engines.

But getting there first isn’t necessarily a distinction worth having, since he behaved like a creep when he arrived. Surveillance can no doubt alter human behavior, but you have to believe Harris is no charmer even when no one’s watching.•

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I’ve never been as big a fan of Joan Didion’s novel Play It As It Lays as some are, but I love her non-fiction, especially her must-read collections about the ‘6os and its aftermath, Slouching Towards Bethlehem and The White Album.

The title essay in the former collection, a first-person account of the so-called Summer of Love, is brilliant street-level reportage and a ugly riposte to depictions of the time and place as paradisiacal.

Didion had descended into a personal torpor previous to heading to the Bay Area, but she emerged with a clear-eyed portrait, which was originally published in the Saturday Evening Post. An excerpt:

“I am looking for a guy named Deadeye and I hear he is on the Street this afternoon doing a little business, so I keep an eye our for him and pretend to read the signs in the Psychedelic Shop on Haight Street when a kid, sixteen, seventeen, comes in and sits on the floor beside me.

‘What are you looking for?’ he says.

I say nothing much.

‘I been out of my mind for three days,’ he says. He tells me he’s been shooting crystal, which I pretty much already know because he does not bother to keep his sleeves rolled down over the needle tracks. He came up from Los Angeles some number of weeks ago, but he does not remember the number, and now he’ll take off for New York, if he can find a ride. I show him a sign offering a ride to Chicago. He wonders where Chicago is. I ask where comes from. ‘Here,’ he says. I mean before here. ‘San Jose, Chula Vista, I dunno. My mother’s in Chula Vista.’

A few days later I run into him in Golden Gate Park when the Grateful Dead are playing. I ask if he found a ride to New York. ‘I hear New York’s a bummer,’ he says.”

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Curvature is completely normal. (Image by David Wilmot.)

Dear Mr. Anthony Litner,

While all the men in the Afflictor offices appreciated your recent spam email that promised we could have “stronger bone-ons” if we purchased items from you online store, we’re happy to report that our “bone-ons” are plenty strong already. While we are indeed “sick and tired of being sick and tired” as the body of your email suggests, our sickness and tiredness have thus far had no debilitating effect on the potency of our “bone-ons.” We assume a lifetime of jogging and not smoking or abusing alcohol and drugs has allowed for our continued “bone-on” strength. To sum up: Your concern for our “bone-ons” is appreciated, Mr. Litner, but unnecessary. Please be advised that if any “bone-on” issues should arise (so to speak) in the future, you will be the first to know.

Sincerely,

Afflictor Office

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"General Tom Thumb": I might have been just 31 inches tall, but I was P.T. Barnum's greatest attraction.

  • “Aldiborontiphoscophornio”: James Ballantyne (1772-1833) Scottish printer.
  • “Ape”: Carlo Pellegrini (1839-1889): Italian caricaturist.
  • “Bastard of Orleans”: Jean Dunois (1402-1468) French count/military commander
  • “Blind Traveler”: James Holman (1786-1857) British navy lieutenant who went blind, made long solo journeys.
  • “General Tom Thumb”: Charles Sherwood Stratton (1838-1882) Diminutive entertainer from Connecticut, worked for P.T. Barnum.
  • “The Great Profile”: John Barrymore (1882-1942) American actor.
  • “Insects’ Homer”: Jean-Henri Fabre (1823-1915) French entomologist.
  • “Mob’s Hero”: James Manners, Marquess of Granby (1721-1770) British military commander.
  • “Nestor of Golf”: Tom Morris (1821–1908) British golfer.
  • “Prince of Interviewers”: Nassau William Senior (1790-1864) English economist.
  • “Puck of Commentators”: George Steevens (1736-1800) Shakespearean commentator.
  • “Sillographer”: Timon (320 B.C.-230 B.C.) Greek poet and philosopher.
  • “Thunderbolt of Italy”: Gaston Foix (1489-1512) French nobelman.
  • “Touch Doctor”: Valentine Greatrakes (1629-1683) Irish physician.
  • “Vinegar Joe”: Joseph Stilwell (1883-1946) American military commander.

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The Dharavi Slum in Mumbai bustles with life despite the poverty. Some slums in India are home to one million people per square mile. (Image by Kounosu.)

For most of the past decade, New Urbanists have been touting the slum or squatter city (especially the massive ones in India) as the key to understanding the future of urban dwelling. Whole Earth Catalogue founder Stewart Brand makes a cogent argument for this type of thinking in “How Slums Can Save the Planet,” a new article in Prospect. It’s well worth reading, especially since Brand has been spookily prescient in the past.

A billion people currently reside in squatter cities and by all estimates, that number is likely to grow at a rapid pace in the coming decades. And that’s good news for the planet, since cities are far more green than rural areas, thanks to their population density. While there is danger in well-fed Westerners being too sanguine about the lives of slum denizens–the poverty there still is crushing despite the ingenuity of the people–there’s much for all urbanites to learn from these bustling quarters. An excerpt:

“One idea that could be transferred from squatter cities is urban farming. An article by Gretchen Vogel in Science in 2008 enthused: ‘In a high-tech answer to the ‘local food’ movement, some experts want to transport the whole farm shoots, roots, and all to the city. They predict that future cities could grow most of their food inside city limits, in ultraefficient greenhousess. A farm on one city block could feed 50,000 people with vegetables, fruit, eggs, and meat. Upper floors would grow hydroponic crops; lower floors would house chickens and fish that consume plant waste.’”

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David Stern: I've been NBA Commissioner for so long that people have stopped questioning if that's a good thing. It is not. (Photo by Cody Mulcahy.)

David Stern, NBA (1984- ):
In the last ten years on Stern’s watch, the league has become a gigantic money pit ($400 million this year alone), attendance has plummeted despite the presence of huge stars and there’s been a gambling scandal involving an on-court official (thanks to the lax management of officiating). Stern did an exceptional job marketing the game and its stars during the ’80s and ’90s and fostering the globalization of basketball, but even the Michael Jordan glory years will have to be rethought if it ever surfaces that the Bulls legend stepped away from the game for a couple of years for some sort of unseemly reason.

Verdict: It is well beyond time for Stern to be replaced.

Roger Goodell, NFL (2006- ):
Just go the gig, so there isn’t enough of a body of work to judge him on. Has shown a serious interest in the concussion problem that has plagued the NFL. Has tried to be firm but fair-minded when it comes to off-the-field misbehavior by players. Showed initiative by moving Pro Bowl to the week before the Super Bowl to give it some relevance. One hopes that he will pay more attention to the plight of former players than his predecessor did. He should also try create a better system of financial education for current players, as the majority of them end up broke a few years out of the league.

Verdict: Has shown promise and deserves an opportunity to live up to it.

Gary Bettman, NHL (1993- ):
Thought it was a good idea to move an ice hockey franchise from Canada to Arizona. Allowed the league to expand ridiculously so owners could cash some quick checks at the expense of the level of play and the long-term health of the NHL. Placed far too many teams in Southern U.S. markets and not enough in hockey-crazed Canada. Two labor stoppages have occurred on his watch, including the complete cancellation of the 2004-2005 season. Has done nothing to reduce the number of teams that qualify for the playoffs, which seriously diminishes the meaning of the long regular season. Has postured that he will no longer allow NHL players to participate in the Olympics, which is great publicity for the league. Current TV deals with NBC and Versus aren’t befitting a pro sports league. Revenues have increased during his tenure, but revenues are not the same thing as profits or long-tern viability.

Verdict: The NHL Commissioner job is not an easy one, but Bettman has been subpar from the beginning. Should be replaced.

Bud Selig, MLB (1992- ):
Whether it’s steroids, exorbitant ticket prices or late starting times, Selig is always the last one to know there’s a problem. A former owner, he’s remained popular with current ones by allowing them to greedily pocket short-term cash at the expense of fans and the game’s future. People have been claiming baseball is on the wane since the 1880s, but Selig does actually test the game’s resiliency. To his credit, he’s been behind the push to globalize the sport and has supported RBI (Reviving Baseball in Inner Cities).

Verdict: Should be ousted and replaced by someone with discipline and vision. Scheduled to retire in 2012, but the owners will simply install a similarly ineffectual mediocrity.

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Governor Paterson: Bros before hos, allegedly.

Governor Paterson: For the past 25 years, it has been my highest privilege to serve the people of New York.

Decoder: Except for all the times I did blow. I felt even more privileged to be high those times.

Governor Paterson: All the while I have tried to improve the quality of lives of families and fought special interests.

Decoder: By “special interests,” I mean women who were allegedly trying to file complaints against my buddies for allegedly abusing them.

Governor Paterson: I have laid the foundation for our fiscal economic rescue.

Decoder: And many women who are not my wife. That’s how D-Patz swings, baby.

Governor Paterson: We have eradicated the Rockefeller Drug Laws.

Decoder: I’m like a one man Cheech & Chong. What did you expect?

Governor Paterson: I am ending my campaign for governor of the state of New York.

Decoder: My unwinnable, unwanted, vomit-inducing campaign.

Governor Paterson: It has become clear that I cannot run for office and manage the state’s business at the same time.

Decoder: Actually, I can’t do either one separately. Not competently.

Governor Paterson: I am looking forward to a full investigation into actions taken by myself and my administration.

Decoder: I am likewise looking forward to someone performing exploratory surgery on my groin with a pickaxe.

Governor Paterson: I believe when the facts are reviewed, the truth will prevail.

Decoder: But, oh god, I hope not.

Governor Paterson: There are 308 days left in my term. I will serve every one of them fighting for the people of the state of New York.

Decoder: Until I step down in the next couple of weeks. Get ready, Dick Ravitch. Tag, you’re it, bitch.

Governor Paterson: I would like to thank New Yorkers for the wonderful opportunity to serve them.

Decoder: Though no one actually voted for me to be in this office. I walked into it ass backwards when Governor Sexy Socks got tossed out on his jockstrap.

Governor Paterson: I hope that history will remember that I fought the good fight and did what was hard.

Decoder: Especially hard drugs and hard alcohol.

Read other Decoders.

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On "M*A*S*H," Radar loved Grape Nehi.

This matchbook cover bears an advertisement for the once-popular Nehi sodas, because nothing goes better with lung cancer than orange soda. There’s no exact date linked to this advertisement, but it had to be 1955 or thereafter.

Nehi (pronounced “Knee High”), the brainchild of Georgia grocer and philanthropist Claud Adkins Hatcher, was first sold in 1924. Although the Nehi brand is no longer a supermarket staple (the 16-ounce orange was once incredibly popular), it was the foundation product of what eventually became the Royal Crown Cola corporation.

The Hatcher family website reveals how Nehi came to be. An excerpt:

“There is an interesting story about the origin of the Nehi trademark that took place in the 1920s. Supposedly, Claud Hatcher overheard a route salesman enter the plant one day and describe a competitor’s tall bottle as being ‘knee-high.’ This phrase falling on the receptive mind of Claud Hatcher became Nehi, which was destined to become America’s best known soft drink flavor line. The Nehi line of fruit flavours (orange, grape, root beer, etc.) was introduced in 1924.”

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Wanna hang? (image courtesy of Chris 73.)

I found this old print article in the February 3, 1853 issue of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle. Like all great stories, it contains a hanging, witchcraft and a pair of pants. The two men who were hanged, William Saul and John Howlett, were river pirates convicted of murdering a watchmen on the deck of a vessel. An excerpt from “Witchcraft–High Price of Old Pants”:

“We had supposed that witches, witchcraft and all things appertaining thereto, except spiritual rappings, were quietly resting in their graves for the last century. But it appears we are mistaken. A curious proof that such superstitions are not altogether exploded, occurred in relation to Saul and Howlett, who were executed a few days back.

A Dutchman who was to be present at the execution, was applied to by another Dutchman to procure him a small piece from the clothes in which the malefactors were to be hanged, and for which he promised to pay a liberal price. The man to whom the application was made, asked the applicant what inducement he had to procure pieces of the malefactors’ dress. ‘I want it,’ replied he, ‘to witch people.’

A day or two after the execution, the man who wanted to ‘witch people’ applied to his friend for what he had bespoken from him, but the latter had forgotten to procure it and instead of delivering the real article according to contract, he cut two strips from an old pair of pants and received $10 for them, and no doubt they were just as good as the genuine article.”

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A photo of the 1906 ruins taken by Arnold Genthe, also famous for his shots of San Fran's Chinatown.

February 27, 2010 was a historically tragic day in Chile due to an 8.8-magnitude earthquake. President Michelle Bachelet officially declared a “state of catastrophe.” In 1906, a similar magnitude earthquake rocked San Francisco, causing massive devastation.

Fires started by the quake created a second wave of terror, and things were so frightful that Mayor Eugene Schmitz gave police and order to kill anyone found looting (though perhaps he should have been shot). The Press Democrat of Santa Rosa declared that “it came with awful force and suddenness, hurling many people from their beds. Before the terrified community could realize what had happened, the entire business section was a mass of ruins, every residence had been more or less damaged, some being completely wrecked, and approximately half a hundred or more people had been swept into eternity.”

The results of the natural disaster can be seen in a five-minute Edison newsreel recorded in the aftermath of the quake. View it here.

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I thought we were gonna rule the planet. Was Charlton Heston just fucking with me? (Photo by Kabir Bakie.)

The New Scientist has an interesting post about the superlative Australian author and explorer Paul Rafaele. The site reviews his new book, Among the Great Apes: On the Trail of Our Closest Relatives, which predicts the disappearance of the magnificent creatures in the next few decades, due to the compromised nature of their habitats. They also interview the globe-trotting writer about his new work. An excerpt from the Q&A:

New Scientist: Some of the places you travelled to are notorious trouble spots, yet you still went. Why?

Paul Rafaele: Looking at captive apes doesn’t tell you much about them. In the wild, each subspecies of ape has its own culture and behaviour. It’s the great apes’ bad luck that their habitats are in some of the most violent, corrupt places on earth. But if you are going to report a war you have to go and see for yourself, and if you are going to report on great apes you have to do the same.

New Scientist: Can the great apes be saved?

Paul Rafaele: The only way to guarantee there will be some left in the wild in 50 years is to have pockets of heavily defended habitat with anti-poaching patrols at least as well armed as the poachers. The impetus and the funding must come from western governments and they must ensure that it goes where it is needed.”

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Ford to New York: Drop dead, you filthy, egg-sucking dogs. I will dine on your rotting carcasses. (Photo by David Hume Kennerly.)

With the aid of the fun book, New York Year by Year: A Chronology of the Great Metropolis by Jeffrey A. Kroessler, I previously presented you with the ten most amazing historical moments in NYC in 1906 and 1967. Before I return the book to my shelf, I go to it one last time to help me present the biggest and best in NYC for 1975.

Read other Listeria lists.


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Michael Sheen screams for mercy as an embattled soccer manager Brian Clough.

In the past few years, Michael Sheen has played Tony Blair (three times!), David Frost and now, in The Damned United, football coach Brian Clough, making a habit of portraying hyper-ambitious Brits who are determined to push their luck until it turns bad.

Director Tom Hooper’s film investigates the tumultuous 44-day period in 1974 when Clough assumed the position of manager of the fabled Leeds United club, stepping into the shoes of his hated rival, Don Revie. But it also looks at about a dozen years of backstory that saw Clough use his unending hunger for success and big mouth to go from nobody to somebody to nobody he ever wanted to be.

Sheen is brilliant as a man determined to do great things–and then undo them–and Timothy Spall and Colm Meaney deliver excellent supporting performances, working from an economical, insightful script by Peter Morgan (Frost/Nixon). Jimmy Breslin once opined that if you want to tell a great sports story you have to go into the loser’s locker room, and The Damned United does that with distinction.

Read other Film posts.

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Do not lick this icon. It is the symbol for arsenic. It will kill you.

I came across a review on the Guardian of James C. Whorton’s new book, The Arsenic Century: How Victorian Britain Was Poisoned at Home, Work, and Play. The book details how the vast majority of deaths in Victorian England from arsenic weren’t perpetrated by sinister poisoners but resulted from incidental contact with a substance that permeated nearly every aspect of British life at the time.

In Kathryn Hughes’ review, she details how an interior decorating trend proved lethal because of arsenic’s use in the creation of green dye. An excerpt:

“Even more fateful was the craze for deep green wallpaper, which led to thousands of families meeting their deaths as a result of their taste in home furnishings. Not that they actually licked their walls: the dye was very unstable, so the slightest breeze could dislodge a puff of toxic dust. Queen Victoria herself was so appalled by the homicidal tendencies of green wallpaper that she ordered every room in Buckingham Palace to be stripped of the stuff.”

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The intrepid octogenarian photojournalist Bill Cunningham. (Image by Georg Petschnigg.)

The great kottke.org pointed me in the direction of a cool-sounding forthcoming documentary by Richard Press called Bill Cunningham New York, which is set to open the New Director/New Films series at MoMA. Cunningham, an octogenarian style/street photographer for the New York Times, still gets around Manhattan on a Schwinn.

An excerpt from Cunningham’s reminiscences about how he ended up being a street photographer who focused on fashion, after having been everything from a waiter to a writer to a milliner to an Army recruit:

“After that, I went to work for The Chicago Tribune, for Eleanor Nangle. She had been there since the 1920’s. A wonderful woman. The best of the best. The Tribune had an office in New York, in the Times building. One night, in about 1966, the illustrator Antonio Lopez took me to dinner in London with a photographer named David Montgomery. I told him I wanted to take some pictures. When David came to New York a few months later, he brought a little camera, an Olympus Pen-D half-frame. It cost about $35. He said, ‘Here, use it like a notebook.’ And that was the real beginning.

I HAD just the most marvelous time with that camera. Everybody I saw I was able to record, and that’s what it’s all about. I realized that you didn’t know anything unless you photographed the shows and the street, to see how people interpreted what designers hoped they would buy. I realized that the street was the missing ingredient.”

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Please come to the crappy Knicks, LeBron. Otherwise, we will suck forever. (Photo by Keith Allison.)

Bill Simmons is the preeminent national sports columnist of the day, combining the profane passion of a rabid fan with the objective, gimlet-eyed analysis of the Freakonomics guys. In his recent column on ESPN, “A Fan-Friendly Solution to Fix the NBA,” Simmons analyzes the very troubled league, which Commisioner David Stern has acknowledged will lose $400 million this year. (Here’s one way to start fixing the NBA: Stern, who has done an absolutely atrocious job for the past decade, needs to be replaced.)

In one passage, Simmons gets to the heart of why so few deep-pocketed Americans are willing to buy a professional basketball franchise these days. An excerpt:

“For instance, when I was in Dallas for All-Star Weekend, I asked an extremely wealthy person the following question: ‘Why haven’t you bought an NBA team?’

His answer: ‘Because they’re still overvalued. Anyone who buys in right now is doing it for ego only. That’s why the league grabbed the Russian’s [Mikhail Prokhorov’s] money [for the New Jersey Nets] so quickly. He has a big ego and deep pockets, and he didn’t know any better. He just wanted in. The pool of American buyers who fit that mold has dwindled. Look at [Oracle CEO] Larry Ellison. Five years ago, he would have jumped on the Warriors like Cuban jumped on the Mavericks. Now he’s being much more cautious. He doesn’t think they’re worth more than $325 [million] and they aren’t. Not with the current revenue system, not without a new arena, and not with a lockout coming. It’s a dumb investment.'”

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