2011

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dylan

D.A. Pennebaker interviewed about his landmark 1966 Bob Dylan doc, Don’t Look Back, by the legendary music and culture journo Greil Marcus.

From a 1967 Life magazine review of the movie:

Technically, Don’t Look Back is not much above a home movie. Pennebaker uses available light and his sound pick-up equipment seems to be immersed in potato salad, which loses him a lot of dialogue. But Dylan emerges as a human being. He checks himself in the mirror a couple of times, puncturing forever the theory that he is groomed by a Waring blender. He loses his temper. He reads articles about Bob Dylan and giggles. Fans pursue him, a drunk incites him to violent cursing, friends relax him, a pre-concert wait creates tension. He is alone early on stage (the tour antedated the electric accompaniment he uses today), where his voice and soulful images have the power and the beauty to transfix an audience of thousands.•

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"You will receive any local or national media exposure gained from this unique story."

PLEASE HELP SAVE MY LIFE!! (Green Bay, WI)

I’m offering a chance for you to help save my life…

I can’t quit smoking. I’m looking for any new idea, incentive, service or gift that will motivate me to never smoke again. I will agree to quit smoking for one calendar year and you will receive any local or national media exposure gained from this unique story and you will also be credited for saving my life. If I do not quit smoking all offers will be VOID. At the end of one year of being smoke free I will collect on any of the incentives that were offered. I’m not looking for tons of offers, rather just one that motivates me the best. That will also ensure you or your company will receive the media advertising gained by this. If you want to offer something just to help someone, I will accept that as well.

I’m taking a risk by putting my number out there but I want to show that I’m a very serious and motivated about this. Thank you, Benjamin

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A steam train on the Third Avenue El, over the Bowery, 1896.

The famous (and infamous) New York City neighborhood known as the Bowery has rustic roots, it’s name a derivation of the Dutch term “bouwerie,” which means “farm.” But it has historically been a raffish area that more often resembled a funny farm. The above classic photograph shows the Bowery in 1896. The quartet of articles below from the Brooklyn Daily Eagle provides a look at the colorful characters who inhabited the area around that time.

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“Dropped Dead in a Dive” (November 15, 1890): “‘A number of woman frequenters of the lower end of the Bowery in New York sat around a table in the back room of the saloon at 20 Bowery, corner of Pell street, shortly before 1 o’clock this morning drinking beer. Suddenly one of the party grew deathly pale, fell back in her chair and grasped for breath. Before anything could be done for her she was dead. She had met death amid surroundings to which she had been accustomed for years. The death of the woman caused much excitement about the place.

The dead woman was Annie A. Heffernan. She was 29 years old. She had frequented the lower end of Elizabeth street and the Bowery for several years, and was a habitue of the dives and low resorts in that part of the city. Among her class she was, perhaps, more highly thought of than any of her kind. That was because she was the mistress of John, alias Kid, McManus, the burglar who is now serving a term of imprisonment in the Connecticut state prison. Annie was an English girl and came here when she was still quite young. She drifted into bad ways at an early age, and several years ago she fell in with ‘Kid’ McManus. Annie might have been a good looking girl in her younger days, but traces of any former beauty had long since disappeared.”

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“Robbed and Imprisoned” (June 14, 1890): “Rafalo Calisondi, a Bowery, New York, boot black, snatched 50 cents from Georgia Carcuo, a young woman from Dover Plains, N.Y., while going through the Bowery last night. In the Tombs Police Court to-day Justice McMahon held him for trial on $100 bail. The young woman was sent to the House of Detention.”

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“Robbed of Five Cents” (July 16, 1896): “Emery M. Rogers of 45 Bowery, New York, was seized violently by the throat shortly after midnight this morning at Bowery and Bayard street by William C. Lyons, the lightweight boxer. The men struggled desperately for some time and in the struggle Rogers was knocked down. He then alleges that Lyons placed his hand in his pocket, and stole 5 cents, all the money he had. Lyons was arrested. The charge made against him in the police station was highway robbery. Magistrate Kudlich refused to accept that complaint and ordered one of disorderly conduct to be taken. On the latter charge a fine of $5 was imposed. Lyons smiled at the light sentence imposed.”

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“Stabbed in the Stomach” (January 16, 1897): “Two men and a woman were seen quarreling in front of 83 Bowery, New York, early this morning, and the woman and one of the men were arrested. The other one made his escape. At the station house the man gave his name as Charles Brown. He refused to tell where he lived and said he was a sailor. the woman is a well known character. Her name is Carrie Tammany. It was discovered that blood was dripping from the tips of the fingers of the sailor’s right hand, and on the investigation it was found that he had a severe stab wound on his arm. Further inspection revealed a terrible stab wound in his stomach. He was taken to Gouverneur Hospital.

It is believed that the man who made his escape did the stabbing. Neither of the prisoners would tell anything about the affair. The woman was locked up on a charge of disorderly conduct.”

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Bowery dancers Kid Foley and Sailor Lil do a “Tough Dance” in 1902:

"These days I play video games in the morning, play video games in the afternoon and spend my evenings playing video games."

The opening of journalist Tom Bissell’s account in the Guardian of how he has willfully pissed away several years of his life on twin addictions to Grand Theft Auto IV and cocaine:

“Once upon a time I wrote in the morning, jogged in the late afternoon and spent most of my evenings reading. Once upon a time I wrote off as unproductive those days in which I had managed to put down ‘only’ a thousand words. Once upon a time I played video games almost exclusively with friends. Once upon a time I did occasionally binge on games, but these binges rarely had less than a fortnight between them. Once upon a time I was, more or less, content.

‘Once upon a time’ refers to relatively recent years (2001-2006), during which I wrote several books and published more than 50 pieces of magazine journalism and criticism – a total output of, give or take, 4,500 manuscript pages. I rarely felt very disciplined during this half decade, though I realise this admission invites accusations of disingenuousness. Obviously I was disciplined. These days I have read from start to finish exactly two works of fiction – excepting those I was also reviewing – in the last year. These days I play video games in the morning, play video games in the afternoon and spend my evenings playing video games. These days I still manage to write, but the times I am able to do so for more than three sustained hours have the temporal periodicity of comets with near-earth trajectories.” (Thanks Longreads.)

 

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Supercomputer pioneer Seymour Cray was so far ahead of his time that it took decades for the industry to catch up to him. The Computer History Museum remembers the maverick inventor with this video.

Seymour Cray talking about the merging of the digital and the biological, in 1995: “The whole concept of living things are digital I think we all have to face now. They are truly digital. They are made of molecules, that we don’t understand how they work but we’re beginning to understand their physical properties. It’s a very exciting time coming. Very scary because we don’t know what kind of mess we’re going to get into here with biological tampering I would say is the right word. I certainly don’t want to take any moral responsibility in this area but clearly humans are going to mess with it in the future.”

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"The fact is, they know very little about him. He has had no baseball career." (Image by "Sports Illustrated.")

As April Fools’ Day and baseball season approach, it’s time to look back at one of the greatest pranks ever pulled, a George Plimpton article in Sports Illustrated entitled “The Curious Case of Sidd Finch,” which was published on April 1, 1985. The piece, about a newly discovered, larger-than-life baseball player who could supposedly throw a fastball 168 miles per hour, was presented as fact by the mag and fooled people across the nation for several days. Outside of War of the Worlds, it may be the best large-scale hoax in American history.

And it’s unlikely to be surpassed. You see some person or another tricked occasionally on April Fools’ Day now, but a mass prank that permeates through the culture over the course of a week is only really possible in a world where communication is limited, information imperfect and a sense of wonder prevalent. The information explosion has passed April Fools’ Day into obsolescence. In our time, it’s much easier to be shocked by truths than tricks. An excerpt from the article:

“The phenomenon the three young batters faced, and about whom only Reynolds, Stottlemyre and a few members of the Mets’ front office know, is a 28-year-old, somewhat eccentric mystic named Hayden (Sidd) Finch. He may well change the course of baseball history. On St. Patrick’s Day, to make sure they were not all victims of a crazy hallucination, the Mets brought in a radar gun to measure the speed of Finch’s fastball. The model used was a JUGS Supergun II. It looks like a black space gun with a big snout, weighs about five pounds and is usually pointed at the pitcher from behind the catcher. A glass plate in the back of the gun shows the pitch’s velocity — accurate, so the manufacturer claims, to within plus or minus 1 mph. The figure at the top of the gauge is 200 mph. The fastest projectile ever measured by the JUGS (which is named after the oldtimer’s descriptive — the ‘jug-handled’curveball) was a Roscoe Tanner serve that registered 153 mph. The highest number that the JUGS had ever turned for a baseball was 103 mph, which it did, curiously, twice on one day, July 11, at the 1978 All-Star game when both Goose Gossage and Nolan Ryan threw the ball at that speed. On March 17, the gun was handled by Stottlemyre. He heard the pop of the ball in Reynolds’s mitt and the little squeak of pain from the catcher. Then the astonishing figure 168 appeared on the glass plate. Stottlemyre remembers whistling in amazement, and then he heard Reynolds say, ‘Don’t tell me, Mel, I don’t want to know. . . ‘

The Met front office is reluctant to talk about Finch. The fact is, they know very little about him. He has had no baseball career. Most of his life has been spent abroad, except for a short period at Harvard University.”

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To see photos of the Windy City snapped for Look magazine in 1949 by the future filmmaker, go here.

Chicago-based bodybuilder Gene Jantzen and wife Pat give their 11-month-old a workout. (Image by Stanley Kubrick.)

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In 1966, Kubrick discusses becoming a pro photographer while still a teen:

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"Help a Red Sox fan make good on a humiliating bet."

yanks fan wtd

hey…. i’m looking for a die-hard yanks fan to help a red sox fan make good on a humiliating bet. shoot me an email if you might be interested…

This way you won’t have to make any effort in life. (Thanks Live Leak.)

Words fail us all sometimes, but what if they fail absolutely? That was the case in 1902 for a woman found in Brooklyn, who was suffering from aphasia and unable to identify herself to those who wanted to assist her. A speech expert named Mme. Eugenia Dilla was called into try to clarify matters, but it’s not clear that she was a great help. An excerpt about the locked-in, worn-out woman from the August 1 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

“The identity of the young woman who was remanded to the Ozanam House from the Myrtle avenue police court yesterday as a vagrant is still unknown. The woman, who is suffering from aphasia, appears to be as eager as her custodians to have the mystery solved, but so far she has been wholly unable to give any definite information about herself.

When an Eagle reporter called at the Ozanam House to-day the young woman was in the reception room, where she was undergoing a searching cross examination in at least nine different languages at the hands of an elderly woman, named Mme. Eugenia Dilla. Mme. Dilla read of the plight of the unknown young woman in last night’s Eagle. Mme. Dilla is an American, but is the wife of a Cuban cigar manufacturer. She has the utmost confidence in her ability to communicate intelligently with any person in the world, be the person deaf, dumb and blind, Eskimo or Hindustani. If her work is judged by the quantity of results, she certainly has a high claim to the championship in her line of work. Mme. Dilla talks with her mouth, with her eyes, with her arms, with her shoulders and with her hands. With her hands she speaks first the universal sign language, and beside this, she speaks deaf mute in English, French, Spanish, German and many more tongues, or rather, hands.

When the unknown woman had been put through her inquisition to-day Mme. Dilla stated with absolute assurance that the woman’s name was Favorita, Eurica, Juanita Frederica, Jacinta Irenita Futurita. This was her first name. Her last, or family, name was Farina Irena Jacinita.

‘Do you think she has a middle name?’ the expert communicator was asked.

"Etta betta buega eeny meeny ming no? Ya?"

Mme. Dilla renewed the attack with face, arms, hands, voice and eyes. What she did with her face and eyes and arms cannot be described. What she said sounded like:

‘Etta betta buega eeny meeny ming no? Ya?’

The unfortunate woman bowed and smiled in a mystified way and Mme. Dilla said, with triumph in her voice:

‘Oh, yes, she understands. She says I’m her friend and I’m the only one who understands her. Her middle name? Oh, yes,’ and then addressing the lost woman:

”Looka syta moya numo?’ and other similar things.

‘She says her middle name is Florencita,’ announced Mme. Dilla.

The superintendent of the home, referring to Mme. Dilla, said in a whisper to the Eagle reporter:

‘I think she’s too fussy.’

Mme. Dilla overheard the remark and said with dignity: ‘I assure you that I can find out all that any one can. This woman should be returned to friends. She is lost and she says I am the only friend she has. I insist on finding out all about her.’

"She tooted like a steamboat."

Some one suggested that the madame might obtain fine results with a deck of cards. The madame scorned the idea and continued her sextuple language of signs, passes, spoken and written words and symbols. All that she did and said cannot be reproduced or even indicated. She made noises like all kinds of guns and cannons. She tooted like a steamboat. She turned imaginary keys and broke imaginary windows. She rang imaginary bells and she fell over as if shot. The young woman looked on with wonder depicted in every feature. At last she apparently decided that the madame was trying to amuse her and she smiled and nodded and once or twice clapped her hands. Mme. Dilla kept up her attack for an hour. Then she announced that she had learned the story of the woman’s life. This is the story as told by Mme. Dilla:

‘She is 30 years old and has been married, but her husband is dead. She was born in the Western part of Cuba and suffered much from the Spanish oppression during the war. One of her ancestors was a Chinaman, a very common thing in Cuba. At the time of war she was rich and happy, but lost everything and joined the reconcentrados. She witnessed the death of her husband, who was shot down before her eyes. The shock was so great that she was completely prostrated, and has never recovered the power of speech. She came to this country on a boat and took a furnished room on the wharf. She came to find her brother, who has been in New York for several years. She got into a crooked house of some sort. They took from her everything she had and turned her adrift in the street.’

The superintendent of the Ozanam House did not appear to have much confidence in this story.”

 

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I don’t trust the girl with the mustache who says she’s 12. Amazingly, the company that produced this video is still in business. (Thanks Reddit.)

 

Ketchel killer's were captured and convicted to life sentences, though both were eventually paroled.

John Lardner was a New Yorker writer in the 1930s-50s, a superlative scribe on all topics, best known for his boxing stories. He died before turning 50 and his name has largely fallen into disuse except among the dwindling legions of boxing enthusiasts, a graying and nostalgic crew. When he is remembered it’s usually for a single sentence he wrote among thousands. In a piece called the “Down the Great Purple Valley,’ an account of the 1910 murder of famous boxer Stanley Ketchel, which was published in 1954 in the long-defunct True: The Men’s Magazine, Lardner delivered what is thought of as one of the greatest leads in journalism history, an eloquent line that sets up the whole piece. Here it is:

“Stanley Ketchel was 24 years old when he was fatally shot in the back by the common-law husband of the lady who was cooking his breakfast.”

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In the year before he was slain, middleweight Ketchel fights valiantly but is clearly over-matched by the great heavyweight champion, Jack Johnson, in a bout in Colma, California.

Singer-songwriter John Denver, who was always seeking, never quite finding, was a proponent of the controversial self-help movement, the Erhard Seminar Training. When Denver substituted for vacationing host Johnny Carson on the Tonight Show in 1973, it was natural that he would invite the man behind the verbally abusive est workshops, Werner Erhard.

The footage is shaky and black-and-white, but worth watching. Oh, and that’s puppeteer Shari Lewis of Lamb Chop fame to Erhard’s right.

Suzanne Snider recalls the origins of est in a 2003 Believer magazine:

“Born John Paul Rosenberg in 1935, Werner Erhard changed his name in 1960 and left his wife and three children in Philadelphia to fly West with his mistress June Bryde. The two cobbled together a conspicuously Teutonic moniker for the nice Jewish boy from Pennsylvania (inspired by two different people—German finance minister Ludwig Erhard and atomic scientist Werner Heisenberg—both mentioned in an in-flight article on Germany’s economic recovery). Erhard resumed his career in sales when he reached San Francisco, working for Encyclopedia Britannica, Parents magazine, and Great Books, while experiencing a wide range of what the Human Potential Movement had to offer: Gestalt therapy, Zen Buddhism, Mind Dynamics, Dale Carnegie, Scientology, and a book by Napoleon Hill called Think and Grow Rich. In 1971, Erhard had his infamous epiphany while driving over the Golden Gate Bridge. He said in his biography, ‘…after I realized that I knew nothing—I realized that I knew everything… everything was just the way that it is, and that I was already all right… I realized I was not my motions or thoughts. I was not my ideas, my intellect, my perceptions, my beliefs…I became Self.’ His revelation became the basis for est workshops, his shrewdest business scheme to date.

Erhard’s new view on life, which treads a fine line between Zen Buddhism and mild psychosis, would appear a hard sell. It wasn’t lucid on an intellectual level, if at all, and other parties would have to comprehend it through means, admittedly, other than reason and logic. Nonetheless, est (which stands for Erhard Seminars Training, and also means ‘it is’ in Latin) began in the ballroom of the Jack Tar Hotel in San Francisco, and became the singularly most influential group to emerge from the Human Potential Movement. Understandably, this strange new program, consisting of heady imagery, emotional confessions, est-specific jargon (‘racket,’ ‘asshole,’ ‘barrier’) and aphorisms (‘I know that you know that I love you, what I want you to know is that I know you love me’ or ‘If God told you exactly what it was you were to do, you would be happy doing it no matter what it was. What you’re doing is what God wants you to do. Be happy.’), captured the imagination of men and women across the United States. Between 1971 and 1984, 700,000 people enrolled in the est workshop to ‘get it.’ Participants who approached their est workshops and the elusive ‘it’ with good sense and literalism were rebuffed. One est trainer responded to a participant’s thoughts with ‘Don’t give me your goddamn belief system, you dumb motherfucker.'”

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Parachute: An apparatus like an umbrella, used by aeronauts when their balloon is in danger. In recent years many descents from balloons have been made by means of parachutes for the amusement of the public, and some fatalities have attended these exhibitions.

Pedestrianism: The best and the most beneficial form of exercise. The alternate forward motion of the legs and feet procures progression, but every limb is called into play by pedestrianism, and the circulation of the blood stimulated throughout the system. Even prolonged walking in good air, beyond the tiring point, is salutary, but for the ordinary purposes and convenience of present-day life, it is not often necessary except for observation purposes. One should, however, be capable of long and quick walking, though there is no occasion to aim at emulating the speed or endurance of such pedestrians, as P.P. Murray, who walked a mile in 6 minutes, 29 2/3 seconds, at New York, October 27, 1883, or S.S. Morill, who walked 8 miles at Boston in 1 hour, 2 minutes, 8 1/2 seconds. On September 12, 1908, T.E. Hammond walked 131 miles, 800 yards in 24 hours, over the public roads in England. Captain Barclay of Ury in Britain, was the first to walk a thousand consecutive miles in a thousand consecutive hours. Daniel Weston, the veteran American pedestrian, walked from the Pacific to the Atlantic, a distance of 3.500 miles, in exactly 77 days. On October 23, 1910, Herr Hanslian was reported to have reached Zurich after a journey of 40,000 miles on foot around the world. He left Vienna seven years previously, with his wife, who had since died, and his little daughter, and proceeded to Vienna to claim a wager, which he expected to win with his walk.

Pessimism: The theory, as taught by Schopenhauer that this is the worst of all worlds, and that it is better to sleep than wake, and to die than sleep.

Pillory: An instrument of public punishment of offenders, disused in England since 1837. It consisted (essentially) of an upright plank to which two transverse planks were attached. In the upper one there was a hole for the neck and in the lower were two holes in which the hands were inserted. Unpopular offenders, like perjurers, forgers and the like were severely pelted with eggs, mud, etc.; but for those with whom the people sided, the pillory was a slight punishment.

Prison: A place of confinement for criminals, debtors, or political suspects. Lack of means and organization made imprisonment a difficult matter is early ages, and they were generally outlawed, banished, enslaved or put to death. The Greek mode was to deny them use of water and fire in their own land. The early Germans proclaimed them wolves, giving every man the right to plunder, injure or kill them. As castles developed in the Middle Ages, their dungeons became terrible places of detention and were used without form of law. The English, in the eighteenth century, inflicted death for stealing bread, or a yard of linen, or a few turnips, as there was no provision for imprisonment. Branding, flogging and the stocks were also generally in use. The country prisons, huddling together debtors and criminals, became dens of jail- and putrid-fever. The Russian system, combined with its Siberian exile, is still the disgrace of Europe. All other civilized countries have made diligent efforts toward combining justice and reformation; the most important objects being to build sanitary prisons, to provide entirely separate criminal systems for children and lads, with every possible effort toward reformation. The expense to the state is less important than the reformatory effect of teaching a trade.

•Taken from the 1912 Standard Illustrated Book of Facts.

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"My grandmother is 91 yrs old. She is currently staying with my Aunt Marie."

need help 4 a good life (Upper East Side)

living in the same apt for the last 36 years,with my grand mother, the owners sold the building. now we are being force to vacate the apt.by april 30 2011.my grandmother is 91 yrs old. she is currently staying with my aunt marie. as for me, i work as a maintenance superviser in a 52 unit building,making it just above my nose. the rent here takes 60% of my monthly income. 25% goes to my 3 kids the other 40% goes to light and gas. the food was supplied by my grandmother from her ssi check. we have a 2bedroom apt and pay 800 a month, and i now the new owners wants us out because he wants market value,(im not mad at him). its his house. for 36 yrs my grandmother has the same tel#. my grandmother is the foundation of my life, i love her so much. i so wish that i could get her a beautiful house so we could stay together. im not begging im asking anyone who can just send me what ever they can just because you can. thank you so much in advance

good life

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In one clip, he smokes a cigar, which may have been just a cigar.

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"I worked with Freud in Vienna. We broke over the concept of penis envy. Freud felt that it should be limited to women."

The twentieth century may have been known as the “Century of the Self,” but it was a time when psychotherapy was ascendant, people were questioning their egos and phrases like “Me Decade” were used in the pejorative. There was a sense of introspection and healing, as wrong-minded as the methods may have been at times, as opposed to the sheer exhibitionism that succeeded it. This century may end up being the “Century of You,” but it still seems to be just another way to say “Me.” And minus the introspection.

Woody Allen’s pitch-perfect period-piece mockumentary profiles a unique and now-forgotten Jazz Age character, the protean protagonist Leonard Zelig. A man who fears that being himself will lead to unpopularity, Zelig adapts the personas, professions and attitudes of whomever he encounters. In tall tale tradition, he is able to actually alter his physical appearance. When surrounded by heavyset men, his belly distends. In Paris jazz clubs, his skin darkens so that he can play with musicians of color. In Chicago bars, scars suddenly crawl across his face when he rubs elbows with gangsters. The unusual talent allows Zelig to insert himself into a variety of famous historical moments–and eventually lands him in a mental institution, where he comes under the care of Dr. Eudora Fletcher (Mia Farrow). She hopes to cure the chameleon and make her career all at once. Of course, she encounters difficulties since Zelig insists that he’s also a psychiatrist, wanting to resemble her.

In a twist, Zelig’s ability to subsume his own ego is what helps sustain him at a vital moment. Despte this stroke of good luck, Zelig continues to find it difficult to walk the fine line between utter conformity and unbridled ego. But at least he was trying.•

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"Rodrigo Rosenberg knew that he was about to die."

The first two crisp paragraphs from “A Murder Foretold,” a new New Yorker article about a mysterious killing in Guatemala, penned by the excellent writer David Grann:

“Rodrigo Rosenberg knew that he was about to die. It wasn’t because he was approaching old age—he was only forty-eight. Nor had he been diagnosed with a fatal illness; an avid bike rider, he was in perfect health. Rather, Rosenberg, a highly respected corporate attorney in Guatemala, was certain that he was going to be assassinated.

Before he began, in the spring of 2009, to prophesy his own murder, there was little to suggest that he might meet a violent end. Rosenberg, who had four children, was an affectionate father. The head of his own flourishing practice, he had a reputation as an indefatigable and charismatic lawyer who had a gift for leading other people where he wanted them to go. He was lithe and handsome, though his shiny black hair had fallen out on top, leaving an immaculate ring on the sides. Words were his way of ordering the jostle of life. He spoke in eloquent bursts, using his voice like an instrument, his hands and eyebrows rising and falling to accentuate each note. (It didn’t matter if he was advocating the virtues of the Guatemalan constitution or of his favorite band, Santana.) Ferociously intelligent, he had earned master’s degrees in law from both Harvard University and Cambridge University.”

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“Good afternoon, my name is Rodrigo Rosenberg Marzano, and regrettably if you are watching or listening to this message, it’s because I was murdered by President Alvaro Colom.”

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Cell phone signal towers kill so many birds every year that it’s time for us to create some artificial birds, so that we”ll have more birds to kill. Singularity Hub posted the attached video of Festo’s Smartbird bot, which is patterned after a seagull and is really quite amazing.

An Inuit woman in Nome, Alaska, 1915, as photographed by the Lomen brothers, who were also in the reindeer meat business.

The above photograph of an Aleut woman is stunning not only because of how beautiful it is but because it was taken in 1915 and seems like it could have been torn from a contemporary fashion spread. The image was shot by the Lomen brothers, Minnesota transplants who made the folkways of Alaska their subjects. A brief bio of the brothers from the Glenbow Museum:

“Carl Lomen, 1880-1965, and his father, Gudbrand J. Lomen, 1854-1934, who were from St. Paul, Minnesota, USA went on vacation to Nome, Alaska, USA in 1900, at the height of the Alaska gold rush. Gudbrand did some legal work there and Carl some gold prospecting, and eventually the two decided to make an extended stay. After a brief period in St. Paul over the winter of 1902-1903, Carl and Gudbrand returned to Alaska to settle. Shortly afterwards they were joined by Carl’s mother, Julie, three of his brothers, Harry, Ralph and Alfred, and a sister, Helen. In 1908 the brothers entered into partnership and bought a photo studio with Harry as manager. Equipment and photos from several Alaskan photographers were purchased for the studio, and Alfred soon became main photographer. A year later the brothers bought a drug store with Ralph as manager. Photos from the studio were sold as postcards, and the images, which included those of Inuit, were in demand for many publications. Ralph also operated a studio in Iditarod, Alaska for a few years. The Nome photo studio was destroyed by fire in 1934. From 1913 to 1934 the Lomens also invested in a reindeer herd and shipped meat to the USA by sea.”

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Ocelot: Usually called the leopard cat, is common in the more southern parts of the United States, in Mexico and Brazil. It is about four feet in length, including tail, and of a gray or tawny color, and spotted. It is very destructive to weaker animals, but does not devour them, contenting itself with sucking their blood.

Octopus: The Devil Fish, a marine cephalopod, differing from squid and cuttle-fish in having eight instead of ten arms, extending from the hideous, one-eyed head.

Optical Illusions: These are frequently occasioned by a disordered condition of the nervous system. They are indicative of brain disturbance. Also optical illusions occur in delirium, caused by alcoholic excesses, fever, or injury. They are the outward sign of inward mischief, which needs very serious attention. Morbid affections of this kind have received much attention by specialists in our day, and much more enlightened methods of treatment are employed now than formerly.

Ostracism: A right exercised by the Athenians of banishing for a time any citizen whose services, rank or wealth appeared to be dangerous to the general good.

Otis, James: (1724-1783) An American Revolutionary patriot, famous for his oratory, and especially celebrated for his speech at Boston, in 1761, in opposition to the so-called “Writs of Assistance.” He was waylaid by Tories and a blow on his head destroyed his reason. He was killed by a stroke of lightning.

•Taken from the 1912 Standard Illustrated Book of Facts.

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From the Sexy Software series, whatever that was. (Thanks Reddit.)

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"Looking to bring in extra income."

Advertising Space on my home (New Jersey)

Looking to bring in extra income will rent out, the outside space of my home for Advertisement on the house, (roof) lawn. This could be from 6 months to 1 year, local, state or national business. The fee is something we can talk about. My area gets good foot traffic and other public (car & truck) traffic. Please note, your business must be legal and nothing dealing with sex in any way.

 

In praise of idleness, from Mark Slouka’s 2004 Harper’s essay, “Quitting the Paint Factory“:

“Idleness is not just a psychological necessity, requisite to the construction of a complete human being; it constitutes as well a kind of political space, a space as necessary to the workings of an actual democracy as, say, a free press. How does it do this? By allowing us time to figure out who we are, and what we believe; by allowing us time to consider what is unjust, and what we might do about it. By giving the inner life (in whose precincts we are most ourselves) its due. Which is precisely what makes idleness dangerous. All manner of things can grow out of that fallow soil. Not for nothing did our mothers grow suspicious when we had ‘too much time on our hands.’ They knew we might be up to something. And not for nothing did we whisper to each other, when we were up to something, ‘Quick, look busy.’

Mother knew instinctively what the keepers of the castles have always known: that trouble – the kind that might threaten the symmetry of a well-ordered garden – needs time to take root. Take away the time, therefore, and you choke off the problem before it begins. Obedience reigns, the plow stays in the furrow; things proceed as they must. Which raises an uncomfortable question: Could the Church of Work – which today has Americans aspir ing to sleep deprivation the way they once aspired to a personal knowledge of God – be, at base, an anti-democratic force? Well, yes. James Russell Lowell, that nineteenth-century workhorse, summed it all up quite neatly: ‘There is no better ballast for keeping the mind steady on its keel, and sav ing it from all risk of crankiness, than business.'”

Hoped he would actually juggle pianos. Still, impressive. (Thanks Reddit.)

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