2011

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Hunter S. Thompson: great writer, tiresome fuck. (Image by MDC Archives.)

Hunter S. Thompson screwing around with a good ol’ boy at Churchill Downs as part of his 1970 Scanlan’s Monthly article, “The Kentucky Derby Is Decadent and Depraved“:

“I shook my head and said nothing; just stared at him for a moment, trying to look grim. ‘There’s going to be trouble,’ I said. ‘My assignment is to take pictures of the riot.’

‘What riot?’

I hesitated, twirling the ice in my drink. ‘At the track. On Derby Day. The Black Panthers.’ I stared at him again. ‘Don’t you read the newspapers?’

The grin on his face had collapsed. ‘What the hell are you talkin’ about?’

‘Well…maybe I shouldn’t be telling you…’ I shrugged. ‘But hell, everybody else seems to know. The cops and the National Guard have been getting ready for six weeks. They have 20,000 troops on alert at Fort Knox. They’ve warned us — all the press and photographers — to wear helmets and special vests like flak jackets. We were told to expect shooting…’

‘No!’ he shouted; his hands flew up and hovered momentarily between us, as if to ward off the words he was hearing. Then he whacked his fist on the bar. ‘Those sons of bitches! God Almighty! The Kentucky Derby!’ He kept shaking his head. ‘No! Jesus! That’s almost too bad to believe!’ Now he seemed to be sagging on the stool, and when he looked up his eyes were misty. “Why? Why here? Don’t they respect anything?’

I shrugged again. ‘It’s not just the Panthers. The FBI says busloads of white crazies are coming in from all over the country — to mix with the crowd and attack all at once, from every direction. They’ll be dressed like everybody else. You know — coats and ties and all that. But when the trouble starts…well, that’s why the cops are so worried.’

He sat for a moment, looking hurt and confused and not quite able to digest all this terrible news. Then he cried out: ‘Oh…Jesus! What in the name of God is happening in this country? Where can you get away from it?’

‘Not here,” I said, picking up my bag. ‘Thanks for the drink…and good luck.'”

••••••••••

And they’re off!:

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"Cheetah is designed to be a four-legged robot with a flexible spine and articulated head."

Most of you live in cheetah-free neighborhoods, but it doesn’t always have to be that way. Boston Dynamics has won contract to produce a cheetah bot. An excerpt from a Wired story:

“Boston Dynamics, maker of the Army’s BigDog robotic mule, announced today that Darpa has awarded it a contract to build a much faster and more fearsome animal-like robot, Cheetah.

As the name implies, Cheetah is designed to be a four-legged robot with a flexible spine and articulated head (and potentially a tail) that runs faster than the fastest human. In addition to raw speed, Cheetah’s makers promise that it will have the agility to make tight turns so that it can ‘zigzag to chase and evade’ and be able to stop on a dime.”

Boston Dynamics’ BigDog bot:

Ken Maynard and Evalyn Knapp appear "In Old Santa Fe" in 1934.

I got my coarse yet practiced hands on a crumbling copy of a 1935 songbook of 25 ditties used in the Westerns of old-time oater star Ken Maynard. The magazine-style periodical notes on the cover that “each song has melody, ukulele chords, words, piano accompaniment and guitar chords.” The songs have titles like “Christine Le Roy,” “The Dreary Black Hills” and “Curly Joe.” The introduction has a biography of Maynard, written by someone named Nancy Smith. A few excerpts follow.

••••••••••

Ken Maynard was born July 21 in Mission, Texas. The first few years of his life were spent on a ranch near this town.

His father is William H. Maynard, who now lives in Columbus, Indiana. He was a building contractor and his work caused him to continually move from place to place. Ken’s mother owned extensive Texas lands which they had bought with the proceeds of Kentucky farm lands. Ken says when he was a boy, no one would have the Texas land as a gift, but now that they have sold it all, it is becoming fabulously rich in oil production.

••••••••••

When he was eight years of age, he could imitate the tricks done by the average cow puncher. Incidentally, Maynard says that the fancy trick riding is a product of the circus and not of the range. The cow men’s trick in those days consisted chiefly of swinging toward the ground for a hat or some other simple stunt. The boy learned all of this quickly and began to develop his own style of riding.

••••••••••

At the age of twelve Ken tired of the range and ran away with a cheap wagon show that came to their village. Wagon shows were plentiful in those days. Ken remained with the show for three weeks before his father came and took him home. The boy said it felt like three years and he promised to stay home.

••••••••••

In 1914 Ken joined the Kit Carson show. In 1915 he went with the Hagenbeck and Wallace outfit. In 1918 he went with them a second time having appeared with Pawnee Bill in the meanwhile. Then he left show business to enlist in the army and was assigned to Camp Knox in Kentucky.

••••••••••

Maynard’s first role was that of Paul Revere in the Marion Davies’ film Janice Meredith. He won the part by superior riding ability.

••••••••••

Maynard has his own airplane and a government’s pilot license. He recently bought a 42-foot yawl and spends many week-ends cruising. He is a home owner, having purchased a large residence in  Los Angeles.

••••••••••

He is regarded as the outstanding Western star in pictures today. Incidentally, all his pictures are based on historical facts of the west, the actor contending that boys and girls may be educated in history through the proper presentation of events on the screen.

••••••••••

 

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Marlon Brando refused his Best Actor Oscar for The Godfather at the 1973 awards show, via Sacheen Littlefeather, as some sort of protest in the name of Native Americans. The Academy Awards meant nothing back then, too, but the show was much more fun when there was stuff like this and Cher rocking otherworldly Bob Mackie get-ups.

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"Somebody famous such as Paul Walker, Johnny Depp, or even Mike Tyson himself smoked and threw away." (Image by Anna Altheide.)

The Best Collectible Item. – $500 (Midtown)

Okay, after walking out of Sargies on 3rd avenue and eating every thing my wife could hold in her pregnant stomach left me for broke. I do not have a dollar to my name, I mean literally, I don’t even have enough gas in my car to take me to work because I left it below E when I parked it only who know’s where because I was drunk looking for parking. (probably over $300 in parking tickets, that’s new york for ya) But I’ve realized something that should’ve hit me LONG ago. I probably could’ve had more money to feed my pregnant wife, or buy the baby diapers and milk in which it’s due in the next month I don’t have a dollar for that either..

So while walking out of my crappy 4th floor apartment with no elavators or some guy to open the door for me on my way out or open the door for me on my way in like you see on those movies.

THERE IT IS!!!!!!!!! I SPOT IT. A CIGARETTE BUTT. ONLY FROM WHO? IN WHICH REMAINED THE MYSTERY!

SO this is what I have to offer for sale.

BOOM! I know you’re asking, “Why is this collectible, is this guy out of his mind? What the hell is this guys problem?” Well let me fix it for you.

You see, this cigarette butt, could be somebody’s famous cigarette butt, Somebody famous such as Paul Walker, Johnny Depp, or even Mike Tyson himself smoked and threw away. The fact that makes it unknown makes it even more interesting! Infact, somebody NOT famous at the time could’ve smoked it and then BAM, now he’s famous and look what I collected off him. I am assuming it’s a HE because girls who smoke kill their cigarettes at the smokers outpost in corner of 34th and 7th avenue.

Anyway, if you’re interested in buying this cigarette butt, I have a few more in different colors.

I’m also into trades for automobiles with this. $500 obo.

 

 

Brooklyn-born Burt Fisch was a child prodigy with the viola who collaborated with everyone from Duke Ellington to John Cage during his amazing musical career. An excerpt from his obituary in the North County Times of California:

“Burt Fisch died on Sunday, February 13, 2011. He was able to celebrate his 90th birthday on February 8 with family and friends. Burt was a professional viola musician since the age of six. At 11, he entered the Juilliard School of Music, where he received his degree in 1940. After a brief stint in the Minneapolis Symphony, he was drafted into the Army in 1942 and was a member of the Army Band where he played piano, tuba, trumpet, and bugle, and conducted the dance band. After the war, he won a coveted spot in the CBS Orchestra in New York, and performed countless times on radio, television, and film. He played with practically every major pop and jazz musician of the time, including Paul Anka, Tony Bennett, Sammy Davis Jr., Duke Ellington, Benny Goodman, Lena Horne, Burl Ives, Johnny Mathis, Artie Shaw, and Frank Sinatra. Another notable gig was with John Cage in 1958. Even more significant was Burt’s role in the history of one of the great works in the viola repertoire: Bla Brtok’s Viola Concerto. When the Hungarian composer Bartk died in 1945, one of his unfinished compositions was a substantial concerto for viola. Burt was chosen to perform and record the work, which was the first recording of the music. Today, Brtok’s Viola Concerto is universally considered one of the greatest compositions for the instrument. In 1968, Burt moved to Fallbrook, California, and managed an avocado grove. He also formed chamber groups with other retired musicians, attended summer festivals and workshops, and performed extensively throughout Southern California. He was a founding member of the Striano Piano Quartet and arranged all of the music they played. He was also a musician for the San Luis Rey Chorale. He was known for his humor, charm, wit, intelligence, generous nature, and organizational skills.”

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Well, good aim, anyhow.

 

A few search engine keyphrases bringing traffic to Afflictor this week:

Afflictor: Sorely disappointing that woman who kind of looks like Rosie O'Donnell since 2009.

Crowds: very useful, but very creative?

I’m all in favor of the great utility of crowdsourcing and, for example, use Wikipedia, which is powered by a collaborative effort, on a daily basis. But those who laud Wikipedia as a creation of crowdsourcing are only half right: Wiki has been made possible by a collective, true, but it was created by two inventors: Jimmy Wales and Larry Sanger. The crowd can marshal great force to complete a task, but invention still doesn’t seem to me a domain of the many. Not that the people who toiled for no money to make Wikipedia such an amazing tool are less important than its creators, but the crowd needs an idea to rally around. It seems unlikely that the many can dream with the same sharp precision–let alone genius–as a Tesla, Tucker or Jobs. Joel West wondered about the same thing last month on the Open Innovation Blog:

“At the #BAexec event last week, one of the interesting questions from the floor was ‘could the iPhone have been produced via crowdsourcing?’

My immediate reaction was ‘no.’ What’s made Apple so special for the past 13 years has been the solitary, laser-focused vision of product design brought by its CEO. Of course, that’s just the supposition of a 35-year Apple-watcher.

What I think was more interesting was: what are the limits of crowdsourcing? Those who study crowdsourcing consider its advantages for accessing heterogeneous knowledge bases or sheer scale of ideas. But integrating that hodgepodge of ideas — no matter how good — can be daunting if not labor intensive.”

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From Aaron Saenz on the Singularity Hub: “The robots are coming, the robots are coming! This spring, the San Mateo Fairgrounds will host RoboGames, the annual international event that sees robots face off in a variety of exciting competitions. Robots battle to the death in the famous RoboGames arena, shoot to win in soccer matches, fight fires in miniature mazes, and much much more.”

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"I need to find a fake pregnant belly."

Fake Pregnant Belly (East Harlem)

Hello.
I am shooting a film for my senior thesis in April on a very small budget, and I need to find a fake pregnant belly (preferably something latex). We can pay a little bit, but would love to have one donated, and we can return it unscathed once the film is done.

Any help at all would be greatly appreciated, even if it’s just a recommendation for where to look!

Thanks!

 

Longform pointed me to “The Choke Artist,” an interesting 2007 New Republic article by Jason Zengerle about Dr. Henry J. Heimlich, the creator of the anti-choking thrust, who’s searched, somewhat dubiously, for a second life-saving act in his career while being criticized for his methods. An excerpt:

“‘A serious matter has been brought to my attention,’ the letter began. Addressed to an official in the Office for the Protection of Research Subjects at the University of California at Los Angeles, it accused two UCLA medical researchers of participating in illegal human experiments on HIV patients in China. “These experiments consist of giving malaria to people already suffering from HIV and full-blown AIDS,” the letter alleged, before going on to make an even more startling claim: ‘[T]hese experiments have been conducted under the direction of Dr. Henry J. Heimlich, known for the Heimlich maneuver.’

The letter, which was sent via e-mail in October 2002 and was from a ‘Dr. Bob Smith,’ was merely the first in a series of epistolary attacks against Heimlich. A few months later, editors at more than 40 publications—ranging from The New York Times to the medical journal Chest—received missives from someone calling himself ‘David Ionescu’ that accused Heimlich of improperly taking credit for inventing a type of esophageal surgery. And then, in September 2003, the website heimlichinstitute.com went online. Its URL was almost identical to the official website of Henry Heimlich’s Heimlich Institute, heimlichinstitute.org, but, rather than being dedicated to burnishing the doctor’s legend, it was devoted to tearing it down. The site featured a long, angry indictment of Heimlich and accused him of all sorts of medical misconduct. The site’s proprietor was listed as ‘Holly Martins’—the protagonist in the 1949 film noir The Third Man.

The octogenarian Heimlich seemed an unlikely target of so many people’s ire. He had entered into the pantheon of medical history not for inventing a disease-eradicating vaccine or for isolating the DNA of a killer virus but, rather, for developing an anti-choking maneuver that even a child could perform. And, yet, it is the very simplicity of Heimlich’s lifesaving technique that makes it so ingenious; because anyone can perform the maneuver, anyone can save a life. Since its invention in 1974, it has become a standard First Aid procedure around the world; and, while it may have been hyperbole for Norman Vincent Peale to once declare that Heimlich ‘has saved the lives of more human beings than any other person living today,’ it was fair to say that, by the measure of name recognition at least, the maneuver had made Heimlich America’s most famous doctor.”

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You thought you were safe? No, you’re not safe. (Thanks Reddit.)

A picture from earlier this month of the Shard under construction. (Image by George Rex Photography.)

 

The Digital Journal has an article about Romeo, a fox that made its way to the top of the Shard, an under-construction building which will be London’s tallest tower when completed. An excerpt:

“A young fox who was discovered living at the top of the 288 metre (945 foot) Shard building in London was captured and released.

The animal is believed to have gone up the stairwell at the Shard building, which is still under construction, and lived there for two weeks, surviving on food builders left for him.

The fox was called Romeo by council staff because he was captured shortly after Valentine’s Day.”  

 

Joe Keohane has an interesting piece, “The Lost Art of Pickpocketing,” on Slate. An excerpt:

“Pickpocketing in America was once a proud criminal tradition, rich with drama, celebrated in the culture, singular enough that its practitioners developed a whole lexicon to describe its intricacies. Those days appear to be over. ‘Pickpocketing is more or less dead in this country,’ says Harvard economist Edward Glaeser, whose new book Triumph of the City, deals at length with urban crime trends. ‘I think these skills have been tragically lost. You’ve got to respect the skill of some pickpocket relative to some thug coming up to you with a knife. A knife takes no skill whatsoever. But to lift someone’s wallet without them knowing …'”

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I hate everything about Star Wars, except for this. (Thanks Reddit.)

“But seriously, you should’ve seen my mother. She was wonderful. Blonde, beautiful, intelligent, alcoholic. Once they picked her up for speeding. They clocked her doing 55. All right, but in our garage?”


“The rich have got their channels in the bedrooms of the poor,” groaned Leonard Cohen not so long ago, decrying the way the powerful could cajole and pacify the masses when communications was in the hands of the few. But that was before the democratization of the media, before everyone had a channel or two hundred, before Survivors and Idols and Bachelors. Back when the playing field was still uneven and a
lack of discernible talent was considered a detriment, there was a simple man named Rupert Pupkin who stormed the gates.

Pupkin (Robert De Niro), an obsessed, delusional fan of New York talk show host Jerry Langford (Jerry Lewis), lives in his mother’s basement and ekes out a tiny existence while dreaming big. He’s a peasant who sees himself as a king—the king of comedy, to be precise. Rupert hones stand-up material in his dank apartment during the night, chats with cardboard cut-outs of Liza and the like and works on one-liners. He spends the rest of the time with stalkerish autograph hound Marcia (Sandra Bernhard), who makes him seem relatively balanced by comparison.

An awkward meeting with Jerry leads Rupert to believe that he’ll soon be sharing couch space with the legendary host, but it only brings the aspiring comic rejection and humiliation. Desperate, Rupert schemes with Marcia to kidnap Jerry and keep him until he gets his ransom—the chance to do the monologue on Langford’s show. Will his moment in the spotlight transform Rupert’s life or only confirm his failure? After all, unfettered democracy guarantees neither greatness nor meritocracy, only opportunity.•

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"Yummm"

Girl Scout Thin Mints~ (Brooklyn or Manhattan)

Nope, this isn’t a joke. I’m in a desperate, delicious search for girl scout thin mints. It’s finally that season again and I haven’t been able to find them in the past few years. I’ll buy a ton from you if you or your child is selling and pay you if you can somehow get some for me. Please email if you do have, can have, or know where I can get some. Thanks a bunch! yummm

 

A Trenta-sized touchscreen created by the Media Merchants is currently being tested at two Canadian Starbucks outlets. (Thanks Singularity Hub.)

"Employees are more productive when they're allowed to engage in 'Internet leisure browsing.'" (Image by Mateo Inurria.)

It’s obvious that creative thinking requires time to just space out, that your brain can’t connect the dots if it doesn’t have free moments to recognize they exist and understand the relation between them, but science backs up what’s intuitive in this case. An excerpt from Bother Me, I’m Thinking” in the Wall Street Journal, neuroscientist Jonah Lehrer’s article about the value of not focusing:

“Scientists have begun to outline the surprising benefits of not paying attention. Sometimes, too much focus can backfire; all that caffeine gets in the way. For instance, researchers have found a surprising link between daydreaming and creativity—people who daydream more are also better at generating new ideas. Other studies have found that employees are more productive when they’re allowed to engage in ‘Internet leisure browsing’ and that people unable to concentrate due to severe brain damage actually score above average on various problem-solving tasks.

A new study led by researchers at the University of Memphis and the University of Michigan extends this theme. The scientists measured the success of 60 undergraduates in various fields, from the visual arts to science. They asked the students if they’d ever won a prize at a juried art show or been honored at a science fair. In every domain, students who had been diagnosed with attention-deficit disorder achieved more: Their inability to focus turned out to be a creative advantage.”

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The story of a Beijing telephone collector.

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The classic Ronco product, the Pocket Fisherman.

From “The Pitchman,” Malcolm Gladwell’s great 2000 New Yorker profile of inventor and marketing maven Ron Popeil:

“In the last thirty years, Ron has invented a succession of kitchen gadgets, among them the Ronco Electric Food Dehydrator and the Popeil Automatic Pasta and Sausage Maker, which featured a thrust bearing made of the same material used in bulletproof glass. He works steadily, guided by flashes of inspiration. This past August, for instance, he suddenly realized what product should follow the Showtime Rotisserie. He and his right-hand man, Alan Backus, had been working on a bread-and-batter machine, which would take up to ten pounds of chicken wings or scallops or shrimp or fish fillets and do all the work–combining the eggs, the flour, the breadcrumbs–in a few minutes, without dirtying either the cook’s hands or the machine. ‘Alan goes to Korea, where we have some big orders coming through,’ Ron explained recently over lunch–a hamburger, medium-well, with fries–in the V.I.P. booth by the door in the Polo Lounge, at the Beverly Hills Hotel. ‘I call Alan on the phone. I wake him up. It was two in the morning there. And these are my exact words: ‘Stop. Do not pursue the bread-and-batter machine. I will pick it up later. This other project needs to come first.’ The other project, his inspiration, was a device capable of smoking meats indoors without creating odors that can suffuse the air and permeate furniture. Ron had a version of the indoor smoker on his porch–‘a Rube Goldberg kind of thing’ that he’d worked on a year earlier–and, on a whim, he cooked a chicken in it. ‘That chicken was so good that I said to myself’–and with his left hand Ron began to pound on the table–‘This is the best chicken sandwich I have ever had in my life.’ He turned to me: ‘How many times have you had a smoked-turkey sandwich? Maybe you have a smoked- turkey or a smoked-chicken sandwich once every six months. Once! How many times have you had smoked salmon? Aah. More. I’m going to say you come across smoked salmon as an hors d’oeuvre or an entrée once every three months. Baby-back ribs? Depends on which restaurant you order ribs at. Smoked sausage, same thing. You touch on smoked food’–he leaned in and poked my arm for emphasis–‘but I know one thing, Malcolm. You don’t have a smoker.'”

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"The child was adopted nearly a year ago by parties who stipulated that no record of its new owners he made."

I’m not even sure I completely understand this insane 1900 story about the desperate search for a baby that was given up for adoption, but the article spells the word “clue” as “clew,” so that’s good enough for me. An excerpt:

“Williamsport, Pa,. July 19.–Six years ago the wife of Philip Castner of Indianapolis, under an assumed name, gave birth to a son in the Williamsport Hospital. She gave it to the Home for the Friendless and later was divorced from her husband. Recently Castner heard of the birth and came for his son.

At the Home for the Friendless he learned that the child was adopted nearly a year ago by parties who stipulated that no record of its new owners he made. It is reported that the presence of the baby is necessary for the recovery of a fortune, which, if the child is not found within a given time, will revert to other parties. Mr. Castner left the city without having obtained a single clew as to the child’s whereabouts.”

 

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A brief look at the wacky world of Kenneth Anger, one of cinema’s all-time unusual characters, who’s made acclaimed shorts and also penned the scandalous Hollywood Babylon. How Anger describes himself:

“Offering a description of himself for the program of a 1966 screening, Kenneth Anger stated his ‘lifework’ as being Magick and his ‘magical weapon’ the cinematograph. A follower of Aleister Crowley‘s teachings, Anger is a high level practitioner of occult magic who regards the projection of his films as ceremonies capable of invoking spiritual forces. Cinema, he claims, is an evil force. Its point is to exert control over people and events and his filmmaking is carried out with precisely that intention.” (Thanks to The Documentarian.)

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