2011

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"He was universally advised to take the boy at once to Paris and place him under the advisement of Pasteur."

Legendary French chemist and bacteriologist Louis Pasteur treated his first human patient for rabies, or “hydrophobia,” in 1885 after testing his vaccine on fewer than ten dogs. It was a bold move that proved successful in defeating what had been a killer virus. But his treatment hadn’t yet become widespread in the U.S. by the following year when four people were bitten by a rabid dog in Chicago. The only answer was to send them to France and Dr. Pasteur for treatment. The Brooklyn Daily Eagle reported the story on April 28, 1886. An excerpt:

“A big white dog, mad with rabies, appeared on Fulton street, in Pullman, yesterday afternoon. He was heated, but his tongue did not protrude. His jaws were covered with thick foam. The dog went along the street quietly until opposite the house of Al Klingel, a railroad switchman. There the brute turned, dashed across the street, seized Johnnie Klingel, aged 8, by the cheek. The animal then started down the street and meeting a little boy named Connors bit him severely in the hand. Then the dog retraced his way on the street, attacking everything that confronted him, but never turning aside. Meeting another boy, he seized him by the seat of the trousers and nearly tore the garment from the lad, but his teeth did not touch the flesh. A moment later an adventurous dog tried to make the acquaintance of his mad brother. A short fight ensued and the mad dog proceeded. Within a block he attacked another dog and sent the unfortunate away howling. By this time the street was aroused and Police Officer Kane and Cassenbrot pursued the dog to Kensington, where he ran into a saloon.

The officers took refuge on a card table and tried to shoot the dog but failed. The dog escaped from the saloon, followed by the officers. In the street a bold boy attacked the dog with a ball bat. He gave the animal one blow and then climbed the fence. Here the policeman overtook the brute, and Officer Kane fired. The ball struck in back of the dog’s head and he fell. Kane approached him and fired another ball into the dog’s body, thinking to make the killing sure, but the animal struggled up and attempted to escape. Again Kane fired, the shot breaking the dog’s leg. He fell, but once got to his feet and rushed upon Officer Cassenbrot. With a savage crunch he set his teeth in the man’s wrist, lacerating it terribly. Yelling like mad the officer shook him off, and as the dog gathered himself for another attack. Officer Kane fired a bullet into the brute’s mouth by killing him. A search was made for the two dogs bitten by the mad one. They were found and killed. Physicians were at once called to attend the two boys who were bitten. Their wounds were burned with caustic, but the physicians gave no hope of preventing hydrophobia. It was soon learned that the mad dog had been in Wildwood last Saturday. On that day he bit Percy Perkins, son of the Superintendent of the Pullman Iron and Steel Works. The boy is 12 years old. He was bitten on the end of the finger, and yesterday his hand and arm were much swollen and he was suffering great pain.

Mr. Perkins consulted with several physicians yesterday and he was universally advised to take the boy at once to Paris and place him under the advisement of Pasteur. Acting under this advice he made arrangements to start the boy with his mother for Paris to-day. The sympathy expressed in the village last night resulted in the circulation of a subscription paper to raise sufficient funds to send all the bitten children to Paris. A considerable amount of money was subscribed. Mr. Perkins had decided not to send his boy away until this evening, and it is probable the three wounded children will go together. Officer Cassenbrot’s wound is the most severe of any. What treatment he will receive has not been determined upon.”

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The Buffalo Beast has put the 2010 version of its annual “50 Most Loathsome Americans” online. As always, it’s an entertaining read. Three excerpts follow.

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"Cleveland, with no reason left to exist, has slid into Lake Erie." (Image by Dave Hogg.)

LeBron James
Aside from indirectly employing hundreds of Chinese kids in sweatshops, his sole contribution to society is tossing a ball through a hole. A genetic-lottery-winning monstrosity, he demonstrates the sort of unbridled ego deserving of the NBA’s first all-star midget. (Now that little dude can talk all the smack he wants.) Last year, ‘King’ James actually had Nike goons confiscate video of Jordan Crawford dunking on him during his clinic. This year, he imbued his free agency announcement with the import normally reserved for declarations of war. For a full half hour of his torturous hour-long ESPN special The Decision, he waxed smugly on topics unrelated, as the sad city of Cleveland nervously awaited the ultimately crushing news that he was going to South Beach. Cleveland, left with no reason to exist, has since slid into Lake Erie. Totally true.

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"Owes his emotional instability to legendary Merlot consumption and his radioactive Naugahyde complexion to innumerable special interest golf junkets." (Image by Keith Allison.)

John Boehner
Cries so often he embarrasses Glenn Beck’s family. An incorrigibly lazy corporate puppet who owes his emotional instability to legendary Merlot consumption and his radioactive Naugahyde complexion to innumerable special interest golf junkets. His first notable act in Congress was to hand out tobacco lobby checks on the House floor before a vote on anti-smoking legislation; his PAC received $30K from Abramoff-affiliated tribes; he lived in an apartment owned by lobbyist John Milne; he knew about Mark Foley’s page perversion and sat on it. More recently, he compared the financial crisis to an ant and the weak Dodd-Frank bill to a nuke—while concurrently trying to block unemployment benefits. And the most egregious aspect of his drunken weeping on
60 Minutes, about kids having the same education opportunities he did, is that he’s scored hundreds of thousands from for-profit schools and the student loan industry—even sponsoring legislation that would slash public loan funding and redirect it to his golf buddy’s company Sallie Mae. He’s the kind of amoral opportunist who would campaign for Nazi reenactor Rich Iott in secret, not because there is any chance in hell of winning, but because Iott’s stinking rich and bound to repay the favor.

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"Lambasted as the Himmler of the Southwest." (Image by Pete Souza.)

Jan Brewer
Gila Monster eugenics gone horrible awry. Killed two people, and another ninety-six languish, unable to afford the life-saving transplants for which she slashed state funding. Cut health care for kids too. Hates health care. Horny for the NRA; signed law nixing concealed carry permits, which had no ill effects in 2010. None. Don’t worry about it. Not a problem. Seriously. It’s totally cool. Attempted to justify the draconian racial profiling law SB 1070 by repeatedly citing fictional desert decapitations. Lambasted as the Himmler of the Southwest, she protested, saying her father died fighting the Nazis. He was never in the military. He died in ‘51. From lung cancer.

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Footage of the old-school MacLevy Slenderizing Salon health-club chain for women. An excerpt from “Machines Attack the Solid Flesh,” a deeply insulting 1940
Life article about the gyms:

“These pictures were not taken in the torture chamber of a medieval dungeon. They were taken in one of the 200 MacLevy ‘slenderizing salons’ in the U.S. Here massive machines of steel, heavy coil springs and wooden rollers now replace masseuse’s hands in rubbing the fat from lazy female bodies.

To demonstrate these reducing machines Life picked pretty model Pat Ogden, who is placidly letting herself be electrically rolled in the Slendro Massager. With many other New York models, Pat goes to a salon occasionally to keep her figure trim.

Along with Pat, Life sent its fattest researcher to play guinea pig for fat Life readers. She found the machines pleasant and generally painless. The Slendro Massager made her fell ‘like a piece of dough being rolled,’ but like a biscuit she felt no pain. ‘This is like a silent movie where you see yourself being spanked and await with dread the stinging of pain which never arrives,’ she reported.”

Dr. Albert C. Barnes was a working-class boy who made his money by inventing an antiseptic drug that is placed on the eyes of newborn babies.

Lacking all interest in false equivalency, Don Argott’s absorbing documentary takes sides in the battle for the legacy of an astounding art collection, points fingers, names names and seemingly gets it all right. The trove in question is $25 billion dollars of Post-Impressionistic art known as the Barnes Collection, which fell into the greedy hands of a dizzying array of politicians, power brokers and self-promoters after the deaths of collector Dr. Albert C. Barnes and the curator who succeeded him.

Barnes made his fortune in pharmaceuticals and decided to invest a good portion of the proceeds in art, after spending a couple of years educating himself on the topic. He had amazing taste, not only choosing Renoirs and Picassos but the best of them. Barnes built his treasures a gorgeous home in a suburban Philadelphia township and meticulously arranged the works so that they commented on each other. He decided to make the foundation largely an educational institution that was only open to the public a couple days a week. Matisse called the building “the only sane place to see art in America.”

Portrait of Barnes by Giorgio de Chirico.

From his perch in Lower Merion Township, Barnes carried on a war of words with the Philadelphia art, media and business elite, who had panned his collection after an early showing. He relished referring to the City of Brotherly love as an “‘intellectual slum.” He especially enjoyed jousting with Walter Annenberg, the right-wing publisher of the Philadelphia Inquirer who long sought to wrest the collection from his nemesis. When he died in a car accident in 1951, Barnes left an iron-clad will stating he never wanted his collection sold, broken up, moved, taken on tour or, god forbid, relocated to Philadelphia. His successor in running the foundation followed his wishes even as she allowed the building to pass into gentle disrepair. But eventually the foundation’s finances needed work, and the collection became a pawn for people who had their own agendas, especially those who desired to break Barnes’ will and move the art to Philadelphia rather than merely raising some money to preserve the collection as it was, which probably wouldn’t have been difficult to do.

What followed was similar to the legal shenanigans that went on after Mark Rothko’s death, except much more was at stake in this case, so everyone got lawyered up and brazenly attempted to get a piece of the legacy. Here’s a thorny thing: Because of all of this underhanded, illicit behavior, more people will get to see this incredible collection in its new location, even if it is going to be shown in a blockbuster fashion rather than the intimate way Barnes intended. But no amount of eyeballs getting to see this Matisse or that Van Gogh can make up for what went on. Figuratively if not necessarily literally, it was a crime.

Recent Film Posts:

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"With shoulder straps." (Image by Mykl Roventine.)

Hot Dog Cooker with Shoulder Straps – $50 (Midtown)

I’d like to start selling hot dogs and a hot dog cooker is the first step! I don’t care if it’s gas or electric. I can pick it up anywhere, even Jersey.

Also, I’d take any Jets crap you want to get rid of since they lost.

"Books of the coming century will all be printed leaves of nickel, so light to hold that the reader can enjoy a small library in a single volume."

A fun post on John Boitnott’s blog recalls predictions for 2011 that Thomas Edison made 100 years ago. He was asked to prognosticate about the future on June 23, 1911 by the Miami Metropolis. Some hits, some misses, of course. (Thanks Reddit.) An excerpt:

Already, Mr. Edison tells us, the steam engine is emitting its last gasps. A century hence it will be as remote as antiquity as the lumbering coach of Tudor days, which took a week to travel from Yorkshire to London. In the year 2011 such railway trains as survive will be driven at incredible speed by electricity (which will also be the motive force of all the world’s machinery), generated by ‘hydraulic’ wheels.

But the traveler of the future, says a writer in Answers, will largely scorn such earth crawling. He will fly through the air, swifter than any swallow, at a speed of two hundred miles an hour, in colossal machines, which will enable him to breakfast in London, transact business in Paris and eat his luncheon in Cheapside.”

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A friction match, invented by John Walker, was originally called a "lucifer match." (Image by Sebastian Ritter.)

  • The first horse railroad was built in 1826-27.
  • The first lucifer match was made in 1829.
  • The first iron steamship was built in 1830.
  • The first steel pen was made in 1830.
  • Omnibuses were introduced in New York in 1830.

(Taken fron the 1893 Brooklyn Daily Eagle Almanac. Some dates seem questionable.)

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“Once we have computer outlets in every home, each of them hooked up to enormous libraries, where anyone can ask any question…everyone will enjoy learning.”

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"Woolworth tower in clouds, New York City," is credited to Fairchild Aerial Surveys.

This gorgeous 1928 aerial image of the peak of the Woolworth Building provides an unusual perspective of what was the tallest building in the world when it was completed in 1913, soaring to 792 feet. Paid for with cash by discount king Frank W. Woolworth for what was then a staggering sum of $13 million, the landmarked building’s grandeur outlived the stores that financed its construction, as five-and-dimes were replaced by big-boxes. A few excerpts about the Woolworth Tower from a post on New York Architecture Images.

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Frank W. Woolworth, the five-and-dime store king, commissioned architect Cass Gilbert to design a Gothic-style skyscraper on a full-block front on Broadway between Park Place and Barclay Street. When the building was erected it rose across the street from the main downtown Post Office by Alfred Mullett. This massive mansarded structure of 1875 was later demolished and the site reclaimed as part of City Hall Park. Woolworth wanted his building to become the tallest in New York, and in the world, which meant that it needed to rise more than 700 feet– the height of the Metropolitan Life Tower. As the height escalated from a projected 625 feet to 792 feet, the cost grew from an estimated $5 million to the final cost of $13.5 million. Extensive foundations and wind bracing necessary for the tall tower as well as the ornate terra-cotta cladding and sumptuous interior fittings both inflated costs and created one of the masterpieces of early skyscraper design.

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The sumptuous lobby features marble, fine mosaics and a rich program of sculpture, including brackets with medieval-style caricatures, including Mr. Woolworth counting his dimes and Gilbert cradling a model of the building. Allegorical murals of Commerce and Labor and ceiling vaults accented with thousands of gold tesserae make the lobby seem like a church. Indeed, the gothic tower was nicknamed ‘The Cathedral of Commerce.’

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Mr. Woolworth financed the skyscraper in cash, which was unusual for a project of this size and cost, and he noted that the tower would be a valuable generator of publicity for the company. Still, through the 1910s, the Woolworth Company only occupied one and a half stories of the building. The rest of the building was occupied by more than 1,000 tenants. For most of the twentieth century the building never had a mortgage — something almost unheard of for such a large commercial structure. In 1998 the Woolworth Company’s successor, the Venator Group, sold the tower for $155 million: this was the first time the property changed hands in its 85-year history.

A more conventional view of the Woolworth Building. (Image by Jonathan71.)

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(Image by Infrogmation.)

Quality massage for gas

i’m willin to barter a one hour massage for half its value to fill my gas tank either on a weekly basis or biweekly, i own my own private practice and do great bodywork-if ur body can appreciate 5 star quality for half the price contact me via email located on the north shore between commack and smithtown

Architect Gary Chang transforms his micro-apartment in Hong Kong so that it can quickly become 24 different rooms. Meanwhile, I’ve been planning to tighten the towel rack in my bathroom for seven weeks.

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Some of Clarridge's "agents" attempted to get Hamid Karzai's beard clippings, so the hair could be tested for heroin traces. (Image by Cpl Matthew Roberson.)

It’s stunning to realize that there are American citizens running their own shadow versions of the C.I.A., but that’s a reality in the murky era of military outsourcing. Duane R. Clarridge, a former C.I.A. agent and a staunch right-wing interventionist, operates a network of spies from his home base in San Diego who often work in opposition to American foreign policy–and it’s apparently legal. An excerpt from Mark Mazzetti’s eye-popping article on Clarridge in the New York Times:

“Mr. Clarridge — known to virtually everyone by his childhood nickname, Dewey — was born into a staunchly Republican family in New Hampshire, attended Brown Universityand joined the spy agency during its freewheeling early years. He eventually became head of the agency’s Latin America division in 1981 and helped found the C.I.A.’s Counterterrorism Center five years later.

In postings in India, Turkey, Italy and elsewhere, Mr. Clarridge, using pseudonyms that included Dewey Marone and Dax Preston LeBaron, made a career of testing boundaries in the dark space of American foreign policy. In his 1997 memoir, he wrote about trying to engineer pro-American governments in Italy in the late 1970s (the former American ambassador to Rome, Richard N. Gardner, called him ‘shallow and devious”), and helping run the Reagan administration’s covert wars against Marxist guerrillas in Central America during the 1980s.

He was indicted in 1991 on charges of lying to Congress about his role in the Iran-contra scandal; he had testified that he was unaware of arms shipments to Iran. But he was pardoned the next year by the first President George Bush.

Now, more than two decades after Mr. Clarridge was forced to resign from the intelligence agency, he tries to run his group of spies as a C.I.A. in miniature. Working from his house in a San Diego suburb, he uses e-mail to stay in contact with his ‘agents’ — their code names include Willi and Waco — in Afghanistan and Pakistan, writing up intelligence summaries based on their reports, according to associates.”

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"Pezon, the great French lion tamer, owed his success to the use of electricity in taming his beasts."

Not everyone in fin de siècle France had the best of sense when it came to behavior within a lion cage. Great lion tamer Jean-Baptiste Pezon had his wits about him, but others were not so wise. That’s proven in three short articles that follow, which were published in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle between 1892 and 1900.

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“Lion Attacks Man” (October 4, 1900): “There was a serious accident to-day in the menagerie of the country fair near Privas, in the Department of Ardeche. A large audience gathered to witness a local butcher enter the lion’s cage, play a game of cards with the lion tamer and drink a bottle of champagne. The performance was successful until the butcher foolishly and without warning the trainer, approached the lion and held a glass of champagne under his nose, whereupon the lion bounded upon the butcher, ground his shoulder within his jaws and mauled his body dreadfully.

When the butcher was removed he was almost dead. In the meanwhile the audience was panic stricken, and in the stampede to escape from the menagerie many persons were trampled upon and badly injured.”

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“He Was Awake: A Lion Would Not Submit to Hypnotism” (November 30, 1892): “A Miss Sterling entered the lion’s cage at Bezier’s last evening, accompanied by the lion tamer, a professor of hypnotism having already attempted to hypnotize the fierce animals. In the case of one of them, however, he seems not to have been successful, as no sooner was Miss Sterling well within the cage when the powerful brute threw himself upon her and terribly lacerated her limbs. She was barely saved from being torn to pieces by the prompt interference of the lion tamer, who courageously attacked the animal and thus gave the wounded woman time to crawl out of the cage.”

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“Electric Lion Taming” (March 20, 1898): “Pezon, the great French lion tamer, owed his success to the use of electricity in taming his beasts. When a wild lion or tiger was to be tamed live wires were first rigged up in the cage between the tamer and the animal. After a time Pezon would turn his back, and the wild creature would invariably make a leap at him, but encountering the charged wires would receive a paralyzing shock sufficient to terrorize it forever.”

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

Afflictor: Regretting our laser eye surgery since 2009. (Image by Trekphiler.)

  • John Hersey profiles an illiterate soldier who learns to read in 1945.

 

Newspaper Article Of Michael Jackson & Monkey (Astoria)

Unique Photo!!

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"There aren't many things in the world that would make Steve Wienecke look small."

Knokkers, which may be the greatest sport ever, combines bowling and billiards. (Thanks Gizmodo.) An excerpt from an article by Jason Jenkins about the beer-friendly game from Rural Missouri magazine:

“There aren’t many things in the world that would make Steve Wienecke look small. Standing 6 feet 4 inches tall and weighing in at around 270 pounds, this former semi-pro football player and cage fighter casts a large shadow.

But step into his backyard south of Fredericktown and everything, including Steve, shrinks in stature.

Here, in a space large enough to encompass an in-ground swimming pool, Steve has built what he believes is the world’s largest regulation-size pool table. At nearly 30 feet long and 15 feet wide, the table and the hybrid game played on its surface–a combination of billiards and bowling that Steve calls ‘Knokkers’–are the culmination of an idea of 25 years in the making.”

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That’s how you work off the carbs, people. (Thanks Reddit.)

"And, in their final form, the changing robots had developed a more robust gait."

Ray Kurzweil is a brilliant guy who seems maybe a little too optimistic about technological advances on our horizon. But he has an interesting post on his blog about robots that are being developed that start out as “tadpoles” and morph and change over their lives, which seems to help them learn how to walk better. An excerpt:

“In a first-of-its-kind experiment, University of Vermont roboticist Josh Bongard created both simulated and actual robots that, like tadpoles becoming frogs, change their body forms while learning how to walk. Over generations, his simulated robots also evolved, spending less time in ‘infant’ tadpole-like forms and more time in ‘adult’ four-legged forms.

These evolving populations of robots were able to learn to walk more rapidly than ones with fixed body forms. And, in their final form, the changing robots had developed a more robust gait — better able to deal with, say, being knocked with a stick — than the ones that had learned to walk using upright legs from the beginning.

‘This paper shows that body change, morphological change, actually helps us design better robots,’ Bongard says. ‘That’s never been attempted before.'”

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"All I'm saying is that perhaps we can make a revolution without violence." (Image by Roy Kerwood.)

John Lennon was famous for urging everyone to give peace a chance, but there was a moment when he seemed to flinch and curl his fist. It was during a January 1971 interview he and Yoko Ono did with the radical left publication Red Mole. To her credit, Ono wasn’t having any of the macho blather. An excerpt:

Red Mole: Communication is vital for building a movement, but in the end it’s powerless unless you also develop popular force.

Yoko Ono: I get very sad when I think about Vietnam where there seems to be no choice but violence. This violence goes on for centuries perpetuating itself. In the present age when communication is so rapid, we should create a different tradition, traditions are created everyday. Five years now is like 100 years before. We are living in a society that has no history. There’s no precedent for this kind of society so we can break the old patterns.

Red Mole: No ruling class in the whole of history has given up power voluntarily and I don’t see that changing.

Yoko Ono: But violence isn’t just a conceptual thing, you know. I saw a programme about this kid who had come back from Vietnam – he’d lost his body from the waist down. He was just a lump of meat, and he said, ‘Well, I guess it was a good experience.’

John Lennon: He didn’t want to face the truth, he didn’t want to think it had all been a waste…

Yoko Ono: But think of the violence, it could happen to your kids…

Red Mole: But Yoko, people who struggle against oppression find themselves attacked by those who have a vested interest in nothing changing, those who want to protect their power and wealth. Look at the people in Bogside and Falls Road in Northern Ireland; they were mercilessly attacked by the special police because they began demonstrating for their rights. On one night in August 1969, seven people were shot and thousands driven from their homes. Didn’t they have a right to defend themselves?

Yoko Ono: That’s why one should try to tackle these problems before a situation like that happens.

John Lennon: Yes, but what do you do when it does happen, what do you do?

Red Mole: Popular violence against their oppressors is always justified. It cannot be avoided.

Yoko Ono: But in a way the new music showed things could be transformed by new channels of communication.

John Lennon: Yes, but as I said, nothing really changed.

Yoko Ono: Well, something changed and it was for the better. All I’m saying is that perhaps we can make a revolution without violence.

John Lennon: But you can’t take power without a struggle…”

It seems the surest way to announce that your company, products and employees lack genius is to rely heavily on market research and focus groups. What you’re basically saying is that you know you can’t be ahead of the curve so you’d like someone else to help you just keep up. When Steve Jobs was working on the iPad and wanted to rely on touch screens rather than a stylus, his judgement was questioned, particularly because he didn’t do any market research. His response was: “It isn’t the consumers’ job to know what they want,” realizing on his own that moving from mouse to stylus wasn’t a bold step into the future. And I think most great things have been created by one or two people who just knew. There aren’t enough of those people to go around, so we get focus groups instead. (George Lois agrees with me.)

Jobs obviously wasn’t the first one attempt popularizing touch-screen. In the 1983 edition of Computer Chronicles below, Hewlett-Packard reps share their own touch-screen technology. I wonder what market research said about it back then. By the way: The younger host on your right is Gary Kildall.

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"Hit me up if u 4real."

fighting skills wanted (staten island)

im lookin for some1 that can show me how to defend myself and show me how to fight hit me up if u 4real i can pay

Like a lot of people who move to New York to reinvent themselves, Jerzy Kosinksi was a tangle of fact and fiction that couldn’t easily be unknotted. He was lauded and reviled, labeled as brilliant and a plagiarist, called fascinating and a fraud. The truth, as usual, probably lies somewhere in between. Kosinski was a regular on talk shows, at book parties and at Plato’s Retreat. He acted in Reds and posed for magazine covers. But he was too haunted to be a bon vivant, and in 1991, the author committed suicide.

Kosinski did an interview with The Paris Review in 1972. He opined about what he felt was the ever-dwindling importance of written and verbal language. He was very concerned by how much people liked to watch. Since his death, the Internet has supplanted TV as the premium medium, allowing people to write and publish more words than ever before, though that hasn’t really halted our drift deeper into pictures.

An excerpt:

Question:

Since you often teach English, what is your feeling about the future of the written word?

Jerzy Kosinski

I think its place has always been at the edge of popular culture. Indeed, it is the proper place for it. Reading novels–serious novels, anyhow–is an experience limited to a very small percentage of the so-called enlightened public. Increasingly, it’s going to be a pursuit for those who seek unusual experiences, moral fetishists perhaps, people of heightened imagination, the troubled pursuers of the enlightened self.

Question:

Why such a limited audience?

Jerzy Kosinski:

Today, people are absorbed in the most common denominator, the visual. It requires no education to watch TV. It knows no age limit. Your infant child can watch the same program you do. Witness its role in the homes of the old and incurably sick. Television is everywhere. It has the immediacy which the evocative medium of language doesn’t. Language requires some inner triggering; television doesn’t. The image is ultimately accessible, i.e., extremely attractive. And, I think, ultimately deadly, because it tuns the viewer into a bystander. 

Of course, that’s a situation we have always dreamt of . . . the ultimate hope of religion was that it would release us from trauma. Television actually does so. It “proves” that you can always be an observer of the tragedies of others. The fact that one day you will die in front of the live show is irrelevant—you are reminded about it no more than you are reminded about real weather existing outside the TV weather program. You’re not told to open your window and take a look; television will never say that. It says, instead, “The weather today is . . .” and so forth. The weatherman never says, “If you don’t believe me, go find out.”

From way back, our major development as a race of frightened beings has been toward how to avoid facing the discomfort of our existence, primarily the possibility of an accident, immediate death, ugliness, and the ultimate departure. In terms of all this, television is a very pleasing medium: one is always the observer. The life of discomfort is always accorded to others, and even this is disqualified, since one program immediately disqualifies the preceding one. Literature does not have this ability to soothe. You have to evoke, and by evoking, you yourself have to provide your own inner setting. When you read about a man who dies, part of you dies with him because you have to recreate his dying inside your head.

Question:

That doesn’t happen with the visual?

Jerzy Kosinski:

No, because he dies on the screen in front of you, and at any time you can turn it off or select another program. The evocative power is torpedoed by the fact that this is another man; your eye somehow perceives him as a visual object. Thus, of course, television is my ultimate enemy and it will push reading matter—including The Paris Review—to the extreme margin of human experience.•

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Electric headlights never really caught on.

"Sitting Bull was not in the fight, but watched it from a bluff some distance off."

Legendary Sioux warrior Sitting Bull had his bravery and honesty called into question in a revisionist report in the September 15, 1889 Brooklyn Daily Eagle that was originally published in the Minneapolis Journal. An excerpt:

“W.H. Mosher, of Ypsilanti, Mich., is in the city. He was formerly in charge of a store at Standing Rock Agency, Dak., and among his frequent visitors were Sitting Bull, Gall, Red Cloud and others of the famous personages of the Sioux tribe. Mr. Mosher was recently discussing Sitting Bull’s claim to honors in the Custer fight.

‘Sitting Bull has become famous as the hero of the Custer battle on the Indian side, but the fact is that he was not in the fight at all. I can understand Sioux well and speak it fairly. One night Sitting Bull and Gall met in my store and for over an hour discussed the details of the battle, and once or twice almost reached a fighting point. Gall was making an attack on Sitting Bull for attempting to steal his bravery.

‘The fact is that Sitting Bull was the first to reach a telegraph station with the news of the massacre, and he made the most of the opportunity. He pictured himself in the the thickest of the fight and had scalps with him to prove it, but they were all secured after the battle and not in it. Sitting Bull was not in the fight, but watched it from a bluff some distance off. At its close he rushed down and took three or four scalps and then rode away and painted himself a hero. At least that is what the Indians say. Gall was the natural leader and is regarded as a very brave warrior. Sitting Bull was merely a medicine man and had the reputation of being a coward.'”

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