2011

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FromHuman Skin Used As Computer Input Device,” Stuart Fox’s post at Innovation News Daily about the intermingling of flesh and silicon:

“Phones, makeup kiosks, car dashboards, televisions, rolls of paper, museum exhibits; it’s hard to find somethinghat hasn’t been transformed into a computer interface device. Soon, the back of your hand will join that list, as a new device debuted here at the SIGGRAPH interactive technology conference can instantly convert a patch of skin into a multitouch controller for a computer.

Designed by Kei Nakatsuma, a researcher at the University of Tokyo Department of Information Physics and Computing, this new touch interface uses infrared sensor technology to track a finger across the back of a hand, as if it was a digital stylus or mouse. The device itself fits onto a wristwatch-sized band, giving users an adaptable computer control wherever they go.

‘The advantage for using the back of your hand is that your skin can provide haptic (touch-based) feedback,’ Nakatsuma told Innovation News Daily.”

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Dr. Jay Parkinson was a young physician who set up an innovative medical practice using all the modern tools of communication and information exchange and got only grief in return from the medical establishment. Just sad all around. An excerpt from his post (but read the whole thing):

“Upon finishing my second residency at Hopkins in Baltimore in September of 2007, I moved back to Williamsburg to start a new kind of practice:

  1. Patients would visit my website
  2. See my Google calendar
  3. Choose a time and input their symptoms
  4. My iphone would alert me
  5. I would make a house call
  6. They’d pay me via paypal
  7. We’d follow up by email, IM, videochat, or in person

It was simple, elegant, and affordable for me to start. But most importantly, it just made sense given how we all communicate and do business today. Starting a new practice was obviously challenging for me having never done so before, but my patients loved the experience— I was an accessible, affordable doctor in their neighborhood who communicated just like them.” (Thanks Marginal Revolution.)

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Amazing 1928 animation by Max and David Fleischer, who also gave us Betty Boop and Popeye.

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"He called it 'revolutionary suicide.'"

I posted some time ago about Congressman Leo Ryan, who was murdered in 1978 on an airstrip in Guyana as prelude to the Rev. Jim Jones’ Kool-Aid massacre. Scott James of the Bay Citizen section of the New York Times has a scary addendum to the shocking story. Jones apparently had a 9/11-style act of terrorism in mind. An excerpt:

“Twenty-five years before the Sept. 11 attacks in 2001, a religious extremist plotted to hijack a commercial airliner — filled with 200 or so unsuspecting passengers — and deliberately crash it.

The target was San Francisco. And the would-be perpetrator was not a jihadist, but the man who would become one of history’s more infamous villains: the cult leader Jim Jones of the Peoples Temple, whose headquarters was then on Geary Boulevard in San Francisco.

With the hijacking plot, described in a coming book and recently confirmed by a former Peoples Temple leader, Mr. Jones is said to have wanted to cause death on a scale that the world would not soon forget. He called it ‘revolutionary suicide,’ a warped vision of religious martyrdom he would ultimately fulfill two years later, in 1978, with cyanide poisonings and shootings in Jonestown, Guyana, that left 918 people — most of them church members — dead.”

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There were 918 dead but some survivors:

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From 1980.

"You got to watch out for the other guy."

Pony tail, black dress, blue bag & brown bag (Graham Ave.)

6PM, Thursday, Aug. 11, brunette in pony tail, black dress, blue bag and brown bag, walking down Graham while reading her e-book. She almost got hit by a car! You got to watch out for the other guy. 

Discharged patients can have their progress tracked. (Thanks New Scientist.)

"Her mamma taught her the part of Little Buttercup when she was about 5 years old."

Long before moving pictures “normalized” the idea of children entertainers like Jackie Coogan and Shirley Temple, there were half-pints on stage who drew audiences and criticism. One of the first was “Little Corinne,” a sassy singer and actor, who some feared was being corrupted by show business. She probably was. Of course, there were children all over the country who were impoverished and being completely ignored while the Corinne case was being argued vociferously. An excerpt from a story about Corinne in the November 30, 1881 New York Times:

“A handsome, dark-complexioned little girl, quick of movement and vivacious in manner, was taken before Judge Donohue, in Supreme Court, yesterday, by Mr. E. Fellows Jenkins, the Superintendent of the Society for the Preservation of Cruelty to Children. She was well dressed and in every respect looked like the child of loving and wealthy parents. Accompanying her and her custodian was a stout, good-looking woman, who wore a silk circular lined with fur. The child clung to this woman, and gave every evidence that she loved her. Mr. Eldridge T. Gerry, President of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children, informed the court that the child was the little actress and singer known as ‘Corinne.’ He said that his society had taken charge of her because, being only 9 years old, she was ‘unlawfully exhibited and employed’ in dancing, singing, and acting on the theatrical stage. The authority for her arrest was an order of the court, based upon a petition of the society averring that ‘Corinne’ was thus unlawfully employed by Jennie Kimball, or Flaherty, who was neither her lawful guardian nor a fit person to have control of her, or to be intrusted with her education. It was the intention of Jennie Kimball, it was averred, to exhibit ‘Corinne’ at the Metropolitan Casino in plays in which she will be compelled to sing and dance, and prior to which she will have to commit to memory large portions of plays. All these things are alleged to be detrimental to the proper physical and mental development of the child, who is of remarkable beauty and of a quick, nervous, and excitable temperament. It is also averred that Corinne’s parents are dead, and that she has no natural or legal guardian.

"I gave it ti mamma to save; what else would I do with it?"

Mrs. Flaherty avowed that she had had the custody of the child ever since she was 2 years old, and that ‘Corinne’s’ mother appointed her as guardian. She asserted that it pleased the child to learn her lines and music, and that Corinne was in excellent health, that she walks every pleasant day, and has a maid, and a carriage and horses to ride whenever she chooses.

The inquiry into the circumstances of the child was then begun. Corinne was the first witness and she gave her testimony in a clear and interesting manner. She said she would be 10 years old next Christmas. She had known her mamma (Mrs. Flaherty) a very long time, but she could not tell how long. Her mamma taught her the part of Little Buttercup when she was about 5 years old, and she played in Boston a long time. She liked to sing and act, and she did not get tired, although she was often called out by the audience. Once a big ship, in which was $1,500, was presented to her. She was asked by Mr. Gerry what she did with the money, and she answered sharply:

‘I gave it to mamma to save; what else would I do with it?’

She said that she wanted to play in the Metropolitan Casino. ‘All the other little girls are allowed to play,’ she said petulantly, ‘and I am not. I don’t think that is right.’ As Corinne declared that she was tired, the examination was adjourned until noon to-day. The child was much distressed at being separated from Mrs. Flaherty and at the fear of being taken to prison. She was finally reassured, and went away to the house of Superintendent Jenkins, accompanied by her maid and her dog Fritz.”

More recent Old Print Articles:

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A fool and his money are soon parted, even if we’re talking about Lotto millions. Alex Tabarrok of Marginal Revolution wrote a post about the predictable results of lottery winners mishandling new-found wealth. In it, he links to a Mail Online story about a British trashman who blew through his lottery winnings and returned to hauling trash. An excerpt:

“He became the self-proclaimed king of the chavs after turning up to collect his £9.7million lottery win wearing an electronic offender’s tag.

But eight years on, having blown all that money, Michael Carroll is practising for a return to his old job as a binman.

The 26-year-old, who squandered his multi-million fortune on drugs, gambling and thousands of prostitutes, has since February claimed £42 a week in jobseeker’s allowance.

But he is keen to get off the dole and back to earning £200 a week collecting rubbish near his home in Downham Market, Norfolk.

The father of two told The People: ‘I can’t wait to stop signing on and start getting paid for doing a proper job like normal people.’”

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Documentary about Lotto “winner” Michael Carroll;

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From 1959.

"By all means avoid practitioners of Falun Gong." (Image by ClearWisdom.net.)

From Andrew Jacobs’ interesting new article in the New York Times about the odd instructions given by the Chinese government to their citizens visiting more liberal Taiwan:

“TAIPEI, Taiwan — As two dozen anxious Chinese travelers began their maiden voyage across the Taiwan Strait, their tour guide called an impromptu meeting in the airport departure lounge.

He warned them about littering, spitting, flooding hotel bathroom floors — and the local cuisine. ‘Our Taiwanese brothers do not like salt, oil and MSG the way we do,’ the guide, Guo Xin, said with a sigh.

Then his voice grew serious, the way a coach might caution his team about the impending face-off with a deceptively courteous opponent. Do not talk about politics with the locals, he warned, say only positive things about Taiwan and China, and by all means avoid practitioners of Falun Gong, the spiritual group whose adherents roam freely on Taiwan but are regularly jailed on the mainland. ‘They will definitely try to talk to you,’ he said. ‘When that happens, get away as fast as you can.'”

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So the market is losing/down bigtime (doesnt affect me one bit)

I dont give a shit what anyone says about mortgage rates and prices and all that other shit.

I was laid off in february 2009 and picked up a lower paying job a month later.

I still have my 3 family house on a fixed rate, but other than that my family lives paycheck to paycheck.

We have nothing in the market. We dont have reitrement accounts anymore.

We are living on the edge and we know it. There is nothing that you can throw at us that would make things any worse.

If we lost our current jobs it would be kind of bad, but even then we would figure something out.

So let this shit go down, I dont give a shit anymore. The market is going to do what it does and no amount of worrying about from me is going to make a bit of difference.

I really want the riots in England to start up over here. I have the banks and businesses scoped out that I would raid during the mayhem.

Lets all fucking start this party and just take the whole system down.

Ted Koppel reports about militaristic paintball games played by adults, in 1987.

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I recently quoted Craig Mod in a post about NYC’s attempt to catch up to Silican Valley as a tech center. Here’s an excerpt from “Post-Artifact Books and Publishing,” Mod’s blog post about the nature of books and what digital means for them in the future:

Take a set of encyclopedias and ask, ‘How do I make this digital?’ You get a Microsoft Encarta CD. Take the philosophy of encyclopedia-making and ask, ‘How does digital change our engagement with this?’ You get Wikipedia.

When we think about digital’s effect on storytelling, we tend to grasp for the lowest hanging imaginative fruits. The common cliche is that digital will ‘bring stories to life.’ Words will move. Pictures become movies. Narratives will be choose-your-own-adventure. While digital does make all of this possible, these are the changes of least radical importance brought about by digitization of text. These are the answers to the question, ‘How do we change books to make them digital?’ The essence of digital’s effect on publishing requires a subtle shift towards the query: ‘How does digital change books?'”

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If Salvador Dali and Whitey Ford could team up to shill for Braniff Airlines, why not Andy Warhol and Sonny Liston?

The opening of The Devil and Sonny ListonNick Tosches beautiful, bruising biography of the boxer, who died young and mysteriously: “The corpse was rolled over and lay face down on the metal slab. It was then that the coroner saw them; the copper-colored whipping welts, old and faint, like one might imagine those of a driven slave.

To say that Charles Liston had been a slave would be to render cheap metaphor of the life of a man. And yet those scars on his back were as nothing to deeper scars, the kind that no coroner could ever see, scars of a darkness far less imaginable than those from any lash. Charles Liston, the most formidable of men, the most unconquerable of heavyweight boxers, had been enslaved by the forces of that darkness: enslaved, conquered, and killed by them.

Born with dead man’s eyes, he had passed from the darkness of those scars on his back to the darkness of the criminal underworld, to a darkness beyond, a darkness whose final form was the last thing he ever saw.”

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China’s economic boom has helped fund a spike in the world’s oldest supply and demand, as told by Dan Levin in a new article in the New York Times:

“BEIJING — Jian, a 42-year-old property developer in the booming southern metropolis of Shenzhen, had acquired just about everything men of his socioeconomic ilk covet: a Mercedes-Benz, a sprawling antique jade collection and a lavishly appointed duplex for his wife and daughter.

It was only natural then, he said, that two years ago he took up another costly pastime: a beguiling 20-year-old art major whose affections run him about $6,100 a month.

Jian, who asked that his full name be withheld lest it endanger his 20-year marriage, cavorts with his young coed in a secret apartment he owns, a price he willingly pays for the modern equivalent of a concubine.

‘Keeping a mistress is just like playing golf,’ he said. ‘Both are expensive hobbies.'”

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Perhaps everyone else knew that communicators on Star Trek inspired Martin Cooper to create the cell phone, but I didn’t.

Dr. Martin Cooper, in 2007, with the first cell phone.

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Life extension predictions that seem too optimistic, fromThe Coming Death Shortage,” Charles C. Mann’s provocative 2005 Atlantic article:

“In the past century U.S. life expectancy has climbed from forty-seven to seventy-seven, increasing by nearly two thirds. Similar rises happened in almost every country. And this process shows no sign of stopping: according to the United Nations, by 2050 global life expectancy will have increased by another ten years. Note, however, that this tremendous increase has been in average life expectancy—that is, the number of years that most people live. There has been next to no increase in the maximum lifespan, the number of years that one can possibly walk the earth—now thought to be about 120. In the scientists’ projections, the ongoing increase in average lifespan is about to be joined by something never before seen in human history: a rise in the maximum possible age at death.

Stem-cell banks, telomerase amplifiers, somatic gene therapy—the list of potential longevity treatments incubating in laboratories is startling. Three years ago a multi-institutional scientific team led by Aubrey de Grey, a theoretical geneticist at Cambridge University, argued in a widely noted paper that the first steps toward ‘engineered negligible senescence’—a rough-and-ready version of immortality—would have ‘a good chance of success in mice within ten years.’ The same techniques, De Grey says, should be ready for human beings a decade or so later. ‘In ten years we’ll have a pill that will give you twenty years,’ says Leonard Guarente, a professor of biology at MIT. ‘And then there’ll be another pill after that. The first hundred-and-fifty-year-old may have already been born.'” (Thanks TETW.)

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Cocoon trailer, 1985:

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"The hair have to be relatively long."

Looking for hair, for an art project (Lower East Side)

Looking for hair, for an art project

I need to sew the hair into a piece of fabric, the hair have to be relatively long.

Are you drastically going to cut your hair, yo wanted to help a piece of art

Iran Air TV ad that ran in the U.S. in the 1970s. Because of political fallout from the Islamic Revolution, the final flight from NYC was November 7, 1979.

"Some surgical operations on the brain result in increasing the intelligence of the patient."

Neurosurgery was a brave new world in the 19th century, and the Brooklyn Daily Eagle greeted its dawning with its usual shaky grasp on facts. An excerpt from an article in the October 13, 1895 issue:

“It is only in the late years that surgeons have operated on the brain. They can remove a pistol ball from the brain where, as in some cases, it has lodged without fatal results, and send the patient about his business in less than two weeks’ time. A quarryman by the premature explosion of a blast had a drill driven through his head, piercing his brain through and through. A successful surgical operation was performed upon him.

Some surgical operations on the brain result in increasing the intelligence of the patient. An eminent expert in brain surgery in this country (Dr. Kean of Philadelphia) made a particularly successful operation on an epileptic boy of 16 who in ten years had 5,000 fits. An extraneous growth of nearly an ounce was removed from the right parietal region. Another expert has predicted that in course of time operations of the brain will be performed for the relief of apoplexy and epilepsy, and that such operations will be successful. A few years ago there was a little girl patient in one of the hospitals of Paris. She exhibited an almost utter absence of intelligence. She had a mournful look, lackluster eyes and could not be aroused even to take an interest in dolls. She breathed with difficulty in consequence of the thorax having stopped its development, and her brain had ceased to grow at an early age owing to the premature coalescence of the bones in infancy. The surgeon Lannelongue attributed her unfortunate condition to the narrowness of the cranial box, and believed that if more space were given to the brain her idiocy would disappear and she would attain a normal existence. The operator who had previously experimented on dead children in studying the same trouble made a long and narrow incision in the middle of the skull, and on the left side, which was more depressed than the right, removed a substance of tissue bone nine centimeters long by six millimeters broad. The dura matter, which is in the exterior envelop of the brain, was not touched, and the superficial wound was united by the skin again. Within three weeks after the operation there was a remarkable change in the child; she walked, smiled and became interested in all  that was going on around her. An operation exactly parallel to this was performed by an American surgeon in Cincinnati; in this case the child was much younger, but the operation was completely successful.

Another singular case was that of a housemaid employed in a New York family. She began to show signs of exceptional stupidity; so much that she became unable properly to attend to her duties. One of the first things the girl did was to visit a New York hospital on a friendly call to her sister, who was employed in the institution. The discharged servant had often complained of having severe headaches. A young physician in the hospital, hearing her speak of her trouble, made an examination of her head and found that the bones of her skull had never knitted together. A surgeon operated on her head and succeeded in closing the aperture. Only a few days after the operation the girl became as bright as she had ever been, was taken back by her former employer, where she was soon recognized as one of the most accomplished housemaids.”

From Michael Weinreb’s Grantland postmortem of the larger-than-life existence of towering football player-Police Academy thespian Bubba Smith, who just passed away:

“Smith — who was found dead in his Los Angeles home yesterday, apparently of natural causes, at age 66 — wanted to follow his brother to Kansas, but they didn’t want another Smith brother there; he wanted to go to the University of Texas, but, like most southern schools in the early 1960s, they couldn’t take him. And so he went to East Lansing, having never really interacted with white society before. The first time he stood up to meet his white roommate, the roommate’s parents nearly fainted. It was not a utopian community — Smith and his teammates often had trouble finding an apartment to rent in town — but Bubba had an unmistakable charm. He reportedly joined a Jewish fraternity; he was voted the most popular student on campus, even as he tested the limits of authority. His senior year, according to Mike Celizic’s The Biggest Game of Them All, he drove an Oldsmobile with his name written in gold letters on the door, most likely paid for through the largesse of alumni and boosters. Occasionally, Bubba parked it in the university president’s space.”

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Harvey Shine + Bubba Smith:

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An amazing Matchbox-centric work, “Metropolis II,” by artist Chris Burden. (Thanks Singularity Hub.)

From Peter Schjeldahl’s 2007 New Yorker piece about Burden: “An efficient test of where you stand on contemporary art is whether you are persuaded, or persuadable, that Chris Burden is a good artist. I think he’s pretty great. Burden is the guy who, on November 19, 1971, in Santa Ana, California, produced a classic, or an atrocity (both, to my mind), of conceptual art by getting shot. ‘Shoot’ survives in desultory black-and-white photographs with this description: ‘At 7:45 p.m. I was shot in the left arm by a friend. The bullet was a copper jacket .22 long rifle. My friend was standing about fifteen feet from me.’ Why do such things? “I wanted to be taken seriously as an artist,’ Burden explained, when I visited him recently at his studio in a brushy glen of Topanga Canyon, where he lives with his wife, the sculptor Nancy Rubins. ‘The models were Picasso and Duchamp. I was most interested in Duchamp.””

“Shoot,” 1971:

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In this classic January 13, 1971 photograph, President Richard Nixon and his wife Pat rest in their San Clemente home, the “Western White House,” as it had become known, on couches with the type of garish upholstery that was inexplicably popular at that time. The seaside home, formerly known as the H.H. Cotton House and La Casa Pacifica, hosted a slew of politicos during Nixon’s abbreviated two-term presidency, including Soviet premier Leonid Brezhnev. The house was the disgraced president’s oasis after he was forced to resign from office in 1974 during the Watergate scandal. The famous Frost/Nixon interviews were planned to be held at the San Clemente abode, but radio signals from the nearby Coast Guard station interfered with the TV equipment. From a 1983 New York Times article about Nixon’s lifestyle in San Clemente:

“San Clemente was in its prime in the early 1970’s when President Nixon’s Spanish-style residence here, Casa Pacifica, served as the ‘Western White House.’ Memories of the excitement of Government helicopters whirring overhead are still fresh. Regardless of how they feel about Mr. Nixon, a lot of people here miss that.

”I find it pretty humorous that San Clemente looks at Richard Nixon as a claim to fame,’ said Harold Warman, a college instructor who said he believed ”any man who becomes President of the United States has made so many moral compromises he’s sold out long before he even got there.’

But even as one of Mr. Nixon’s few critics in San Clemente, Mr. Warman suggested that the status of being a President’s home away from home gave life here a certain style.

‘If he wanted a pizza, they’d circle Shakey’s Pizza with the Secret Service,’ he recalled. ‘One day when I was down there, they brought him in by helicopter and closed the pizza parlor off. That’s pretty impressive.'”

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Soundless footage of the Nixons receiving celebrity guests (John Wayne, Glenn Campbell, Frank Sinatra, etc.) at their San Clemente home in 1972:

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A 1993 report about the rise of the Internet as a mass tool.

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