Excerpts

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Walter Kirn went a little hyperbolic in his 2007 Atlantic essay about the high cost of multitasking in the Information Age, but it’s still a provocative piece. An excerpt;

“It isn’t working, it never has worked, and though we’re still pushing and driving to make it work and puzzled as to why we haven’t stopped yet, which makes us think we may go on forever, the stoppage or slowdown is coming nonetheless, and when it does, we’ll be startled for a moment, and then we’ll acknowledge that, way down deep inside ourselves (a place that we almost forgot even existed), we always knew it couldn’t work.

The scientists know this too, and they think they know why. Through a variety of experiments, many using functional magnetic resonance imaging to measure brain activity, they’ve torn the mask off multitasking and revealed its true face, which is blank and pale and drawn.

Multitasking messes with the brain in several ways. At the most basic level, the mental balancing acts that it requires—the constant switching and pivoting—energize regions of the brain that specialize in visual processing and physical coordination and simultaneously appear to shortchange some of the higher areas related to memory and learning. We concentrate on the act of concentration at the expense of whatever it is that we’re supposed to be concentrating on.

What does this mean in practice? Consider a recent experiment at UCLA, where researchers asked a group of 20-somethings to sort index cards in two trials, once in silence and once while simultaneously listening for specific tones in a series of randomly presented sounds. The subjects’ brains coped with the additional task by shifting responsibility from the hippocampus—which stores and recalls information—to the striatum, which takes care of rote, repetitive activities. Thanks to this switch, the subjects managed to sort the cards just as well with the musical distraction—but they had a much harder time remembering what, exactly, they’d been sorting once the experiment was over.

Even worse, certain studies find that multitasking boosts the level of stress-related hormones such as cortisol and adrenaline and wears down our systems through biochemical friction, prematurely aging us. In the short term, the confusion, fatigue, and chaos merely hamper our ability to focus and analyze, but in the long term, they may cause it to atrophy.”

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Sometimes I find myself thinking about the remembrance of Wendy Wasserstein, the playwright who sadly died way too soon, that Frank Rich wrote for the New York Times Magazine in 2006. She was apparently inscrutable to even her close friends, even more than the rest of us are to ours. An excerpt:

The Wendy Wasserstein who was always there for everybody (including me) at every crisis and celebration, the Wendy with that uproarious (yet musical) laugh and funny (yet never bitchy) dialogue for every fraught situation, the Wendy the whole world knew and adored was also an intensely private person who left many mysteries behind. Though she had countless circles of friends, the circles didn’t always overlap: her life was more compartmentalized than she let on. Though she had written a memorable memoir for The New Yorker about her personal and physiological journey to childbirth, the subject of her child’s paternity was strictly off-limits. Though it was apparent that she was ill for several years before her death, she hid the specifics and terminal gravity of her illness (lymphoma) until the endgame gave her away. By then she was out of reach of intimates who might have wanted to have a cognizant goodbye.

After her death, her closest friends were left to compare notes and clues about what had gone unsaid. But we had no answers. Roy Harris, the devoted stage manager for many of Wendy’s plays, including her last, Third, spoke for many of us when he published a tender reminiscence that also acknowledged his anger “that she hadn’t allowed any of her friends to be a part of her final months.”

As Roy wrote, dying was entirely Wendy’s “own business.” She was entitled to her decisions and her secrets. But the fact that she so successfully took so many of those secrets to the grave was a major revelation in itself. How could the most public artist in New York keep so much locked up? I don’t think I was the only friend who felt I had somehow failed to see Wendy whole. And who wondered if I had let her down in some profound way. I grieve as much for the Wendy I didn’t know as the Wendy I did.•

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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"He called it 'revolutionary suicide.'"

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

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

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

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

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There were 918 dead but some survivors:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Documentary about Lotto “winner” Michael Carroll;

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Cocoon trailer, 1985:

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

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

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Harvey Shine + Bubba Smith:

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

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

“Shoot,” 1971:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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An Atlantic article by Betsy Morais explores whether the simian engineering in Rise of the Planet of the Apes could actually occur. While no one expects chimps to transform into geniuses overnight, there is fear that introducing human DNA into non-human creatures could create unfortunate hybrids. An excerpt;

Nature magazine published a report last year suggesting that non-human primates with sections of human DNA implanted into their genomes at the embryonic stage—through a process called transgenics—might develop enough self-awareness ‘to appreciate the ways their lives are circumscribed, and to suffer, albeit immeasurably, in the full psychological sense of that term.’

‘That’s the ethical concern: that we would produce a creature,’ says bioethicist Dr. Marilyn Coors, one of the authors of the Nature report. ‘If it were cognitively aware, you wouldn’t want to put it in a zoo. What kind of cruelty would that be? You wouldn’t be able to measure the cruelty—or maybe it could tell you. I don’t know.’

Although Walker doesn’t know of anyone doing research to enhance cognitive function in apes, and Coors knows of no transgenic apes, Coors points out that scientists theoretically have the technical capability to produce them.”

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Ham, the first Astrochimp, 1961:

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The opening ofThe World of Blind Mathematicians,” Allyn Jackson’s article which describes just that:

“A visitor to the Paris apartment of the blind geometer Bernard Morin finds much to see. On the wall in the hallway is a poster showing a computer generated picture, created by Morin’s student François Apéry, of Boy’s surface, an immersion of the projective plane in three dimensions. The surface plays a role in Morin’s most famous work, his visualization of how to turn a sphere inside out. Although he cannot see the poster, Morin is happy to point out details in the picture that the visitor must not miss. Back in the living room, Morin grabs a chair, stands on it, and feels for a box on top of a set of shelves. He takes hold of the box and climbs off the chair safely—much to the relief of the visitor. Inside the box are clay models that Morin made in the 1960s and 1970s to depict shapes that occur in intermediate stages of his sphere eversion. The models were used to help a sighted colleague draw pictures on the blackboard. One, which fits in the palm of Morin’s hand, is a model of Boy’s surface. This model is not merely precise; its sturdy, elegant proportions make it a work of art. It is startling to consider that such a precise, symmetrical model was made by touch alone. The purpose is to communicate to the sighted what Bernard Morin sees so clearly in his mind’s eye.”

Another mathematician post:

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Sci-fi writer and futurist Bruce Sterling donated his papers to the University of Texas in decidedly lo-fi form. Kari Kraus explains why at the New York Times:

“LAST spring, the Harry Ransom Center at the University of Texas acquired the papers of Bruce Sterling, a renowned science fiction writer and futurist. But not a single floppy disk or CD-ROM was included among his notes and manuscripts. When pressed to explain why, the prophet of high-tech said digital preservation was doomed to fail. ‘There are forms of media which are just inherently unstable,’ he said, ‘and the attempt to stabilize them is like the attempt to go out and stabilize the corkboard at the laundromat.”

Mr. Sterling has a point: for all its many promises, digital storage is perishable, perhaps even more so than paper. Disks corrode, bits ‘rot’ and hardware becomes obsolete.”

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Sterling predicts the nature of media in 25 years:

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Major League Baseball Commissioner Bud Selig believes that players may be trying to get around the ban on performance-enhancing drugs by ingesting–no kidding–deer antler spray, which is believed to contain some of the same muscle-building properties as steroids. From ESPN:

“MLB players have been issued a warning over the use of deer-antler spray, a substance administered under the tongue that includes a banned chemical known for its muscle-building and fat-cutting effects, SI.com has reported.

Players had felt free to use the spray at nearly no risk until the warning was sent last week by the league, the report said.

In its warning, issued in reaction to reports from the drug-testing industry, MLB requested players not use the spray because it contained ‘potentially contaminated nutritional supplements’ and had been added to the league’s cautionary list of products.”

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Dingers:

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I’ve long admired “Staring Into the Heart of the Heart of Darkness,” Ron Rosenbaum’s 1995 New York Times Magazine essay. In it, he looked at how Tarantino subtly introduced the idea of moral relativism into key scenes of Pulp Fiction. I think ideas of depth are scarce in film right now. Offhand, I can only think of Dogtooth and Exit Through the Gift Shop from last year as being rife with ideas. And certainly the Coens’ A Serious Man from the previous year. But there’s currently little such cinema. Hollywood used to dream the biggest dreams and science-fiction used to predict science, but no more. I try to figure out why there are so many ideas in tech right now and so few in film, since both are aimed at a global audience. I suppose it’s because film is about content and tech about function, and function is more readily translatable if it’s intuitive. Anyhow, an excerpt from Rosenbaum’s essay:

PERHAPS IT’S UNDERSTANDABLE THAT SO MUCH OF THE critchat discussion about Pulp Fiction has missed the point: the flashy violence, trashy language and bloody brain spatterings are red herrings that easily distract.

In fact, in its own sly but serious way, Pulp Fiction is engaged in a sustained inquiry into the theological problem of the relativity of good and evil. What I love about Quentin Tarantino’s screenplay is how apparently throwaway time-passing dialogue often embodies tricky theological questions.

Consider the much-discussed but little-understood ‘mindless chitchat’ about the French names for Big Macs and Quarter Pounders with cheese that preoccupies the hit men, Vincent and Jules, as they cruise through L.A. on the way to commit a contract hit for their big-time drug-dealer boss.

Just two bored ‘thick-witted hit men’ (as the jacket copy for the published version of the screenplay inaccurately describes them) filling time. No, wrong: the Quarter Pounder exchange is one of the key poles of the sophisticated philosophic argument underlying Pulp Fiction.

Like the discussion of the contextual legality of hash bars in Amsterdam (‘It’s legal, but it ain’t a hundred percent legal’) and the gender-based framework for judging the transgressiveness of giving the boss’s wife a foot massage (‘You’re sayin’ a foot massage don’t mean nothin’ and I’m sayin’ it does. . . . We act like they don’t, but they do’), the exchange about Quarter Pounders is ultimately about the relativity of systems of value.”

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Royale with cheese:

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Information that is collected will be utilized, and in ways that we didn’t necessarily anticipate. Carnegie Mellon researchers have shown how social network photos can be repurposed into identity recognition materials. From Techsac;

“A Carnegie Mellon University researcher today described how he built a database of nearly 25,000 photographs expropriated from students’ Facebook profiles. Then he set up a desk in one of the campus buildings and asked few volunteers to peep into Webcams.

The results: face recognition software put a name to the face of 31 percent of the students after, on come, lower than trey seconds of rapid-fire comparisons.

In a few years, ‘facial visual searches may be as popular as today’s text-based searches,’ says Alessandro Acquisti, who presented his development in cooperation with Ralph Receipts and Fred Stutzman at the Black Hat computer conference.

As a check of idea, the Carnegie Mellon researchers also formed an iPhone app that can position a exposure of someone, piping it through facial recognition software, and then exhibit on-screen that person’s canvas and essential statistics.’

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Free face-recognition software: 

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As education shifts further online, Stanford is offering an online course beginning in September, Introduction to Artificial Intelligence. The course will be taught by Sebastian Thrun and Peter Norvig, and they’ll be weekly lectures and homework. The course is estimated to take 10 hours per week of work and certificates will be awarded.

Overview

CS221 is the introductory course into the field of Artificial Intelligence at Stanford University. It covers basic elements of AI, such as knowledge representation, inference, machine learning, planning and game playing, information retrieval, and computer vision and robotics. CS221 is a broad course aimed to teach students the very basics of modern AI. It is prerequisite to many other, more specialized AI classes at Stanford University.” (Thanks MetaFilter and Marginal Revolution.)

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Should someone who’s an adopter of e-books bring his paper volumes with him when moving cross country? It’s a question pondered by of New York Times journalist Nick Bilton in a blog post. An excerpt:

“During a work meeting at The Times, I began talking about my move to San Francisco, and which of my personal belongings would make the trip. When I voiced my reluctance to ship my books, one of my editors, horror-stricken, said: ‘You have to take your books with you! I mean, they are books. They are so important!’

The book lover in me didn’t disagree, but the practical side of me did. I responded: ‘What’s the point if I’m not going to use them? I have digital versions now on my Kindle.’ I also asked, ‘If I was talking about throwing away my CD or DVD collection, no one would bat an eyelid.'”

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Horror punk icon Glenn Danzig shares his book collection:

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NYC Mayor Michael Bloomberg’s plans to build a world-class science and engineering campus in Manhattan is the impetus for a debate in the New York Times about whether the Big Apple can ever overtake Silicon Valley as America’s center of tech. I think it’ll be a long haul at best. Tech-centric culture has been gradually and relentlessly built and nurtured in the Valley ever since Shockley and Hewlett and Packard set up shop there. It’s kind of like asking why Los Angeles can’t do better than Broadway or why a country that has never known democracy has trouble installing one. Minds have to be changed before reality can. An excerpt from the Times piece, which was written by Flipboard‘s Craig Mod:

“To be in Silicon Valley is to be completely immersed in technology. The building, the pushing, the hacking, the designing, the iterating, the testing, the acquisitions, the funding — it is everywhere and wholly inescapable. Here is a culture and place that emerged seemingly from nothing, and yet over the last 50 years it has developed a mythology deep and inspiring and all its own.

Anyone can take part in this great valley mythology. For a place so overflowing with money, there is shockingly little pretension. With sufficient curiosity and gumption you are in. This is what captures the minds of entrepreneurs around the world. That the great founders aren’t in Ivory Towers — they are standing in front of you, eating yogurt. That the great companies aren’t just of the past — they are being replaced by even greater companies. And those greater companies are hiring like mad.”

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Babies with tablets is probably inevtiable, as a piece in the Atlantic about a new $389 model suggests:

“This month, Vinci, the 7-inch touch-pad tablet displayed above, will go on sale through Amazon, which is already accepting pre-orders. ‘The Vinci is not an imitation — it is a real touch-screen Android-based product, bringing the most advanced technology to the benefit of our youngest citizens,’ according to the product’s website.

Designed to compete with LeapFrog’s new LeapPad, a $99 tablet aimed at 4- to 9-year-olds, the Vinci targets an even younger audience (0- to 4-year-olds) — one it could potentially grow up with for some time. With its protective soft-corner case, this tablet is meant to last. And don’t let the non-toxic packaging or the durable handles fool you: This is far different than any other electronics you’ll find in the baby aisle. Vinci lacks Wi-Fi or 3G capability, but, with a Cortex A8 processor and 4GB of internal storage, it still packs a serious punch — it’s even outfitted with a built-in microphone and a 3-megapixel built-in camera to capture that special moment when your child first realizes just powerful our current computing technology is.”

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In “Practical Magic,” Russell Davies of Ogilvy & Mather provides his vision of the Internet of Things, which is borne of regular people futzing around with endless reams of data and cheap physical materials:

“Do you remember Big Mouth Billy Bass – the strange animated fish that became a popular novelty a few years back? It looked like a regular fisherman’s trophy but when you hit a button on the frame it would suddenly come to life and start singing ‘Take Me to the River’ or some other amusing aquatically themed song.

Now imagine that Billy had the intelligence of your average smart phone. He’d know where he was in the world. What the time was. What the weather was like. Who’d won the football. Whether the trains were running late. And, assuming you’d programmed a little bit of profile information into him, he’d know which of your Foursquare friends were nearby, and which of your favorite bands were playing in the area. He’d know a lot. With some simple text-to-speech stuff in his head and a bit of ingenuity, he’d be able to tell you all sorts of interesting and useful things when you pressed that button. And you would press that button, wouldn’t you?

Well, something like Billy will get made. It’s bound to. Cheap electronics, cheap plastics and cheap intelligence are going to get welded together with free, ubiquitous data feeds to make hundreds of products just like him. It’s the warped magic you’ll get when two waves of innovation crash together – the flood of data from the internet and the sea of stuff from Chinese factories. That right there is your Internet of Things.”  (Thanks Browser.)

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Big Mouth Billy Bass:

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Tbilisi, 1911.

Sweltering summer temperatures seem to be just part of the reason why the people of Tbilisi, Georgia, tend to see the apocalypse hurtling toward them from all directions. From an interesting New York Times report by Ellen Barry:

“Word that scorpions had been sighted on her street clinched it, as far as Nana Beniashvili was concerned.

The giant locusts had been bad enough, and the snakes, which are known in Georgian as ‘that which cannot be mentioned.’ She actually hadn’t seen any scorpions herself, but she believed that one of her neighbors had, and in the asphalt-melting, earth-parching, brain-scrambling heat of midsummer, she was not in the mood to be fastidious about evidence.

‘This means the apocalypse is coming,’ said Ms. Beniashvili, 72, who was leaning out of a window. ‘I cannot tell you exactly when, because I am not very knowledgeable about this. But it is clear that the apocalypse is coming. The world has gone crazy.

‘Anyway, I hope we will survive,’ she sighed, and went inside to look for lemonade.”

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UFOs attack Tbilisi:

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