Miami has the greatest concentration of Art-Deco architecture of any city (though not the most, overall) because it was so unattractive a place to builders for for so long. It was left to debilitate, though it turned out to be surprisingly benign neglect. No one wanting to build there for decades allowed for the survival of those gorgeous old buildings that had passed into disrepair. They otherwise most certainly would have been razed and replaced with lesser structures. By the time Miami was ready to roar back, the citizens realized they possessed unburied treasures. Thus we have modern Miami, an architectural hotspot. Decay–to a point–can be a favor.

Information, like architecture, often requires benign neglect to survive, especially since it’s not always immediately clear what information is most vital. From Sebastian Stockman’s Atlantic article about the history of note-taking:

“Historically, notes were not always well preserved. Pliny the Elder, for instance, took ‘prodigious’ notes, according to the conference’s other co-organizer, Harvard history professor Ann Blair. Pliny would have first made notes on clay tablets before copying them to parchment. But no third copies were made, and we only know that Pliny the Elder was a serious note-taker because Pliny the Younger said so.

The notes that do survive, Blair said, have done so thanks to ‘long periods of benign neglect, combined with crucial moments of careful stewardship’ by various libraries and other institutions. This conference was held in part to highlight such stewardship at many of Harvard’s libraries, and the fact that anyone can now view digitized versions of these annotations here. You can examine high-resolution images of John Hancock’s commonplace book, say, or pages from William James’diary. You might also follow one or more of the guided itineraries through the collections, curated by conference participants and others. (Price’s tour is here; Blair’s is here.)

While there was plenty of fascinating history (Did you know that ‘off the cuff’originally referred not to the practice of extemporaneous speaking, but to a speaker’s surreptitious glance at penciled notes on his starched shirt cuff? Or that Elizabethan-era theater-goers used to crib from plays not the main plot points, but the funniest jokes or the best pick-up lines?), the conference considered the future of note-taking.

Because it does have a future.”

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Vertical farming in Singapore attempts to bring crops to urban areas. It’s still more expensive right now than traditional farming, but if there’s expansion the scale may take care of that. (Thanks Next Big Future.)

From the October 12, 1885 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

St. Paul, Min.–There is considerable excitement in Belgrado, this county, in a settlement of Swedes, over a case of what they believe is witchcraft. A woman has been sick for three years and accuses her aunt of being a witch and causing her sickness. The Swedish Church has had a trial, and witnesses solemnly testify to a belief in witches and state what they had seen in this particular case. The statement was made by one woman that she was posted in witchcraft and had seen witches send the craft off through the air and seen it strike persons who were soon after taken sick. What will be done with the alleged witch has not been determined.”

The opening of Kwame Anthony Appiah’s New York Review of Books piece about Rorschach readings of politics in the age of Obama:

“You know the joke. A psychiatrist shows a patient a series of inkblots. Each time, the patient sees an erotic episode. ‘You seem to be preoccupied with sex,’ the psychiatrist concludes. The patient protests: ‘You’re the one with all those dirty pictures.’ Ask people to read the inkblots of American political life and that result, too, is likely to tell you more about them than it does about what is really going on.

Jamie Barden, a psychologist at Howard University, ran an experiment that demonstrated this very nicely. Take a bunch of students, Republicans and Democrats, and tell them a story like this: a political fund-raiser named Mike has a serious car accident after a drunken fund-raising event. A month later he makes an impassioned appeal against drunk driving on the radio. Now ask them this question: Hypocrite or changed man?

It turned out that people (Democrats and Republicans both) were two and a half times as likely to think Mike was a hypocrite if they were told he belonged to the other party. This experiment only confirms a wide body of work in social psychology demonstrating that we’re biased against people we take to be members of a group that isn’t our own, more biased if we think of them as the opposition. That’s not something most of us needed a psychologist to tell us, of course. The news is not that we are biased, it’s how deeply biased we are.”

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“I can host.”

Daddy’s Babygirl

I have always been curious about enema, suppository, exam play. Figured that I only live once, so why not? I’ve personally never had an enema or used suppositories. I’ve also never had a complete exam done before. Looking for the perfect Daddy/Doctor type. I’d perfer that all of this come from a lovely Daddy caring for his little girl, but I could also get into the gentle Doctor too. I wanna play the little girl who doesn’t feel well and is having tummy trouble. That leads Daddy to call the doctor and the doctor tells daddy that he has to take my temperature rectally. Then give me a rectal exam. Upon which Daddy decides babygirl needs an enema and suppository medicine. Babygirl has NEVER had anything in her bottom before and is really afraid.. and very tense and tight…

Basically, send me a story. If it arouses me in the proper way, I’ll get back to you to possibly set up a meeting so we can do this in real life. I can host. Must be D&D free. Can’t wait to read your stories!!

“We can do this in real life.”

A piece of a fun 1971 Merv Griffin interview with Dennis Hopper, who had just shown Hollywood a way out of its post-Studio System doldrums with the cheap indie smash, Easy Rider, and was in the process of undermining his own newly booming career with the quixotic, drug-fueled mess, The Last Movie.

See also:

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TechJet’s Dragonfly bots, customizable, can spy and photograph. You have been warned. From Discovery:

TechJet, led by cofounders Jayant Ratti and Emanuel Jones, pictures different Dragonfly versions being used for gaming, dynamic photography, home security and military surveillance. Inspired by the way real dragonflies can fly and hover, they developed a four-winged robot weighing less than one ounce that can do the same.

Each Dragonfly has stereoscopic vision, flight control systems and a camera-ready operating system, according to the company. TechJet will be offering different options for robotics elements such as wings and actuators through its website, depending on what the user wants to do. For example, one version could be made more stable with better endurance for aerial photography.”

Dracula is of course one of the most famous literary characters ever created, delivered from Bram Stoker’s dark consciousness deeply into our own. Neither Industrial nor Technological Revolutions have been able to erase his vision. It’s not likely you’ve missed the Google Doodle commemorating Stoker’s 165th birthday today. Here’s an excerpt from the first notice of the Irish theater manager’s novel in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, from the January 15, 1900 issue:

Dracula by Bram Stoker is the name of a book from the pen of the accomplished manager of the Lyceum Theater, London, and of the dramatic companies headed by Sir Henry Irving and Ellen Terry. The publishers are the Doubleday & McClure Company, New York, and the chaste and attractive work of the printer and binder is a worthy setting of the clear thought, the weird imagination and the reverential spirit of a volume of originality, interest and power. The story has been issued both in Great Britain and American for several weeks, but more than acknowledgment for its appearance has not yet been made in many quarters, for it requires, while it rewards, very careful reading, since its point of view is novel, profound and startling.

The Quick and the Dead’–long before, ages before it was the title of an essentially cheap and brief lived story in these states, the product of erotic fancies and anaemic thinking–became the comprehensive summary of the two divisions of humanity which, according to the creed, are to be arraigned at the final assize. The term was thought to be all embracing. Mr. Stoker adds to ‘The Quick and the Dead’ a third lot, whom he calls, for want of a better word, the ‘un-Dead.’ They comprise the vampire class. If not as a whole, at least as many of them are affected by a relation to the race of man. The ‘un-Dead’ are inanimate and powerless by day. They are viciously effective and malignly mobile by night. Of the number of them the book gives neither statement nor intimation. It deals with a housed or castled small colony of them in a mountain fastness of Transylvania, of whom the chief is the Count Dracula, who gives name to the book, a ‘tall man with a long brown beard, very bright eyes, which seemed red in the lamplight; a hard-looking mouth, with very red lips and sharp looking teeth, white as ivory; prodigious strength, his hand actually seemed like a steal vise.’ This he appeared when he whisked the main character up a mountain side to his rocky lair–the proper word is undoubtedly lair. But he is a lightning change artist, and the foregoing description was true of him only when he was acting as his own coachman. In his revealed person, the one in which he figures throughout the book, he is thus described:

‘His face was a strong– a very strong aquiline, with high bridge of the thin nose and peculiarly arched nostrils; with lofty domed forehead, and hair growing scantily round his temples but profusely elsewhere. His eyebrows were very massive, almost meeting over the nose, and with bushy hair that seemed to curl in its own profusion. The mouth, so far as I could see it under the heavy mustache, was fixed and rather cruel-looking, with peculiarly sharp white teeth; these protruded over the lips, whose remarkable ruddiness showed astonishing vitality in a man of his years. For the rest, his ears were pale, and at the tops extremely pointed; the chin was broad and strong, and the cheeks firm though thin. The general effect was one of extraordinary pallor.”

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Just a brief note that I haven’t been able to post as much as usual this week because I’ve been trying to help some older relatives left in bad shape by the hurricane. Normally a Presidential election would have meant that I would be posting stuff 24/7.

A big thanks to all the FEMA representatives I’ve met. They’ve been wonderful. And if you mention Mitt Romney’s loss to any of these people, you will experience the very definition of gloating. Apparently they were none too thrilled by his primary season proposal to dismantle their agency. Let’s hope the age of demonizing government workers and schoolteachers ends. These folks are not the enemy.

Japan Display has developed a paper-like, low-power color video display. From Dig Info: “”This display has what’s called a Light Control Layer. When the display simply reflects light as usual, it looks metallic, like a mirror. When we add this layer, the display collects light to some extent, in the direction of the user’s eyes, making it look similar to paper. But the light returns efficiently in the direction of the eyes. By developing this layer, we’ve achieved good color, which couldn’t be done with ordinary digital paper. This display can show video, so we think it’ll lead to new solutions and applications.” (Thanks Next Big Future.)

Data is key, but perhaps not everything should be quantified. The opening of “Literature Is Not Data,” Stephen Marche’s essay at the L.A. Review of Books:

“BIG DATA IS COMING for your books. It’s already come for everything else. All human endeavor has by now generated its own monadic mass of data, and through these vast accumulations of ciphers the robots now endlessly scour for significance much the way cockroaches scour for nutrition in the enormous bat dung piles hiding in Bornean caves. The recent Automate This, a smart book with a stupid title, offers a fascinatingly general look at the new algorithmic culture: 60 percent of trades on the stock market today take place with virtually no human oversight. Artificial intelligence has already changed health care and pop music, baseball, electoral politics, and several aspects of the law. And now, as an afterthought to an afterthought, the algorithms have arrived at literature, like an army which, having conquered Italy, turns its attention to San Marino.

The story of how literature became data in the first place is a story of several, related intellectual failures.

In 2002, on a Friday, Larry Page began to end the book as we know it. Using the 20 percent of his time that Google then allotted to its engineers for personal projects, Page and Vice-President Marissa Mayer developed a machine for turning books into data. The original was a crude plywood affair with simple clamps, a metronome, a scanner, and a blade for cutting the books into sheets. The process took 40 minutes. The first refinement Page developed was a means of digitizing books without cutting off their spines — a gesture of tender-hearted sentimentality towards print. The great disbinding was to be metaphorical rather than literal. A team of Page-supervised engineers developed an infrared camera that took into account the curvature of pages around the spine. They resurrected a long dormant piece of Optical Character Recognition software from Hewlett-Packard and released it to the open-source community for improvements. They then crowd-sourced textual correction at a minimal cost through a brilliant program called reCAPTCHA, which employs an anti-bot service to get users to read and type in words the Optical Character Recognition software can’t recognize. (A miracle of cleverness: everyone who has entered a security identification has also, without knowing it, aided the perfection of the world’s texts.) Soon after, the world’s five largest libraries signed on as partners. And, more or less just like that, literature became data.”

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Our society has gone from one that is verbally driven to one that is defined by algorithms, and politics is no exception. There was a time when Newt Gingrich and his ilk felt they could control the power if they could control the language. But it doesn’t work anymore. Data is king now. The opening of “Inside the Secret World Of the Data Crunchers Who Helped Obama Win,” by Michael Scherer at Time:

“In late spring, the backroom number crunchers who powered Barack Obama’s campaign to victory noticed that George Clooney had an almost gravitational tug on West Coast females ages 40 to 49. The women were far and away the single demographic group most likely to hand over cash, for a chance to dine in Hollywood with Clooney — and Obama.

So as they did with all the other data collected, stored and analyzed in the two-year drive for re-election, Obama’s top campaign aides decided to put this insight to use. They sought out an East Coast celebrity who had similar appeal among the same demographic, aiming to replicate the millions of dollars produced by the Clooney contest. ‘We were blessed with an overflowing menu of options, but we chose Sarah Jessica Parker,’ explains a senior campaign adviser. And so the next Dinner with Barack contest was born: a chance to eat at Parker’s West Village brownstone.

For the general public, there was no way to know that the idea for the Parker contest had come from a data-mining discovery about some supporters: affection for contests, small dinners and celebrity. But from the beginning, campaign manager Jim Messina had promised a totally different, metric-driven kind of campaign in which politics was the goal but political instincts might not be the means. ‘We are going to measure every single thing in this campaign,’ he said after taking the job. He hired an analytics department five times as large as that of the 2008 operation, with an official ‘chief scientist’ for the Chicago headquarters named Rayid Ghani, who in a previous life crunched huge data sets to, among other things, maximize the efficiency of supermarket sales promotions.

Exactly what that team of dozens of data crunchers was doing, however, was a closely held secret. ‘They are our nuclear codes,’ campaign spokesman Ben LaBolt would say when asked about the efforts. Around the office, data-mining experiments were given mysterious code names such as Narwhal and Dreamcatcher. The team even worked at a remove from the rest of the campaign staff, setting up shop in a windowless room at the north end of the vast headquarters office. The ‘scientists’ created regular briefings on their work for the President and top aides in the White House’s Roosevelt Room, but public details were in short supply as the campaign guarded what it believed to be its biggest institutional advantage over Mitt Romney’s campaign: its data.”

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  • President Obama led the race every day, in both the popular vote and electoral vote, since the moment Mitt Romney won his party’s nomination. His lead grew after the DNC and shrunk after the Denver debate dud, but it was always there. National polls that suggested otherwise were wrong.
  • Intelligent readings of the polls were incredibly accurate. Will cable news still cherry pick polls four years from now to push false narratives? Probably.
  • Obama benefited from weak opponents in 2008 and now. If the Republicans had a more attractive ticket, they probably would have won this time around. (Of course, putting together an attractive duo when you have to pander to wingnuts isn’t easy.) You’ll hear plenty of pundits claiming America has become a liberal country, but I don’t agree. The current GOP extremism came awfully close and a more traditional brand of conservatism would have probably been a winner. Let’s remember that Team Obama was better in every way organizationally than its opposition and it needed to be. It’s still a conservative country.
  • But that may not be the case four years from now. Many Latino teens, part of the fastest-growing population, will have aged into the voting pool by then. Unless the Republicans seriously adjust their policies, they could lose this bloc for several election cycles.
  • Paul Ryan ultimately had little impact. He was a poor selection. Romney knew Ryan’s policies would be troubling, so why choose him only to hide him? Either Marco Rubio or Bob Portman would have been better picks. The former may have delivered Florida.
  • Romney’s strategy in Ohio was puzzling. Because of his reaction to the auto bailout, it was going to be a steep climb. But he absolutely had to have this state. There was no way around it. Why let Obama have 100 more field offices in Ohio? Would not go all in?
  • A lot of people owe Nate Silver an apology. It’s funny that Silver got his start as a stats guru in baseball, since many sports and political pundits have similarly reacted to logic and math with ad hominem attacks and general ignorance.
  • That sure is an incredibly ugly piñata hanging sadly at the empty Romney celebration. Oh wait, that’s Karl Rove.

Chriis Matthews: Nutsac tingling all night long.

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“It is not suspected that there is anything wrong connected with the finding.”

From the May 17, 1881 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

“About eleven o’clock yesterday morning, a little girl entered the Butler Street Station House and reported that Mrs. Mary Spencer, living at No. 52 Wyckoff Street, had found a skeleton in a box in her house. Sergeant Cadden detailed Officers Lowe and Smith to make an investigation. The found a skeleton skull and thigh bones in a box addressed to Mr. E.B. Chamberlain, who had hired apartments from Mrs. Spencer, and whose intention it was to take up his residence in her house to-morrow morning. Chamberlain is employed in a wholesale liquor store at No. 75 New Street, New York. The box came from Delaware. Mr. Chamberlain has not yet been seen by the police, but it is not suspected that there is anything wrong connected with the finding of the skeleton in his room. The gentleman is spoken of as being exemplary in his habits, although a full explanation will have to be forthcoming as to how the skull and bones come into his possession.”

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Demonstration of Harvard’s pop-up robotic bee.

“Hello Doug. Would you personally miss bees if they disappeared?”:

I would have preferred Paul Thomas Anderson.

Steven Spielberg has made a movie about the life of President Abraham Lincoln. I personally think they should have waited until he was dead before making the movie. Oh, I’m not taking about Lincoln. I mean Spielberg.

Some Lincoln posts:

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“I will give you my word.”

Need a $3000 loan (Williamsburg)

I need a $ 3000 loan.

I tried many banks but do not get the loan because i have very bad credit.

But I will give you my word I will repay you back.

I will pay you $ 50 dollars extra when I pay it back.

Thanks.

In the insanity of Hurricane Sandy, I never ran a post about the recent passing of Letitia Baldrige, one of the grand dames of American manners. If you think people are rude today, you should have seen things before Baldrige. She was the one who convinced everybody that when they had violent diarrhea they needed to say “excuse me” before heading to the can to let it rip. Prior to that, people would just run out of the room clutching their fiery anuses while screaming at Jesus. And she strongly suggested you wash after you were done fingering yourself, even if you weren’t going to shake hands with anyone for a couple of hours.

I am a horrible man. Seriously, Baldrige was a lovely person who did her best to make us less cretinous. I personally have a complicated relationship with manners: I think we should behave well but not repress our true emotions. It’s a difficult balance. From her New York Times obituary, written by Anita Gates:

“In the 1970s she established herself as an authority on contemporary etiquette, writing a syndicated newspaper column on the subject and updating Amy Vanderbilt’s Complete Book of Etiquette in 1978, less than four years after Ms. Vanderbilt’s death. Ms. Baldrige’s face soon appeared on the cover of Time magazine, which hailed her as the nation’s social arbiter.

After that, her own name was enough to attract readers, and in 1985 she published Letitia Baldrige’s Complete Guide to Executive Manners, which dealt with behavior in the workplace and outside it. In that book, she declared it acceptable to cut salad with a knife. She recommended that whoever reaches the door first — either man or woman — open it. And she suggested infrequent shampooing when staying on a yacht, to be considerate about conserving water.”

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If we live in a multiverse and not a universe, then what we’ve long believed to be true is not true. Or at the very least, it’s a small sliver of the truth. From an excellent Aeon article on the topic by Michael Hanlon: 

“The new terrain is so strange that it might be beyond human understanding.

That hasn’t stopped some bold thinkers from trying, of course. One such is Brian Greene, professor of physics and mathematics at Columbia University in New York. He turned his gaze upon the multiverse in his latest book, The Hidden Reality (2011). According to Greene, it now comes in no fewer than nine ‘flavours’, which, he says, can ‘all work together’.

The simplest version he calls the ‘quilted multiverse’. This arises from the observation that the matter and energy we can see through our most powerful telescopes have a certain density. In fact, they are just dense enough to permit a gravitationally ‘flat’ universe that extends forever, rather than looping back on itself. We know that a repulsive field pervaded spacetime just after the Big Bang: it was what caused everything to fly apart in the way that it did. If that field was large enough, we must conclude that infinite space contains infinite repetitions of the ‘Hubble volume’, the volume of space, matter and energy that is observable from Earth.

If this is correct, there might — indeed, there must — be innumerable dollops of interesting spacetime beyond our observable horizon. There will be enough of these patchwork, or ‘pocket’, universes for every single arrangement of fundamental particles to occur, not just once but an infinite number of times. It is sometimes said that, given a typewriter and enough time, a monkey will eventually come up with Hamlet. Similarly, with a fixed basic repertoire of elementary particles and an infinity of pocket universes, you will come up with everything.

In such a case, we would expect some of these patchwork universes to be identical to this one. There is another you, sitting on an identical Earth, about 10 to the power of 10 to the power of 120 light years away. Other pocket universes will contain entities of almost limitless power and intelligence. If it is allowed by the basic physical laws (which, in this scenario, will be constant across all universes), it must happen. Thus there are unicorns, and thus there are godlike beings. Thus there is a place where your evil twin lives. In an interview I asked Greene if this means there are Narnias out there, Star Trek universes, places where Elvis got a personal trainer and lived to his 90s (as has been suggested by Michio Kaku, a professor of theoretical physics at the City University of New York). Places where every conscious being is in perpetual torment. Heavens and hells. Yes, it does, it seems. And does he find this troubling? ‘Not at all,’ he replied. ‘Exciting. Well, that’s what I say in this universe, at least.’”

••••••••••

Brian fails to complete his novel in several universes:


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Like most remaining travel agencies and record stores, erstwhile video-rental giant Blockbuster is a (barely) existing ode to obsolescence in an age of constant connectivity and digital downloads. It’s gotten sad. For some reason, an employee at one of the remaining stores subjected herself to an Ask Me Anything on Reddit. A few passages follow.

__________________________________

Question:

What kind of people are your clients nowadays?

Answer:

Video gamers, couples in the 20’s, men in the 60’s, bascially all types. However the average IQ of our customers is probably around 80.

__________________________________

Question:

The store in my town seems to keep pushing sales and used sales more and more into the spotlight. There are some good deals.

Answer:

Sales is probably the #1 most important aspect of our job. And because dish now owns us, we sell dish. One step below cell phone saleswoman.

__________________________________

Question:

How is the business there?

Answer:

It depends on the time of year, day of the week, etc. Some days I can work a 5 hour shift with only having like 10 customers the entire time. Other times we actually have lines.

__________________________________

Question:

Are you circumcised or not?

Answer:

Neither because I’m a lady!

I was listening to one of  Marc Maron’s WTF podcasts not to long ago, the one with Doug Stanhope. I really like the both of them and think they’re incredibly talented. But one passage rubbed me the wrong way. The host and his guest both agreed that voting for one politician or another doesn’t matter, that they’re all the same and nothing really changes. You can chalk it up to just two comics riffing, but I hear this bullshit too much, almost always from educated people. It’s as if they’re disappointed idealists who can’t have perfection so they don’t want to try.

Voting really matters. Not all politicians are the same. People’s lives really hang in the balance. Social Security is very important. It means a great deal to older Americans. Only some politicians would have fought for it. Invading Iraq was a decision that led to the deaths of at least tens of thousands of people. Thirty million at-risk Americans having health insurance will only occur if the Affordable Care Act survives. FEMA run correctly can save lives–or it can be dismantled as can Medicaid, Medicare and other programs.

Neither candidate in this or any other election is going to be perfect, is going to make everything alright. But the idea that everything is corrupt and nothing matters is as much an impediment to progress as any venal politician. 

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Governor Chris Christie of New Jersey, not exactly a favorite of mine because of his economic politics and lapses into rudeness, acted correctly, bravely and resolutely in the face of Hurricane Sandy, putting the interests of Americans before politics. And that’s something Mitt Romney did not do once during the election season. 

Doesn’t Christie realize what party he’s in? For four years, even before his inauguration was complete, President Obama has dealt with an obstructionist opposition that didn’t want to moderate his policies but desired to bring him down. If Obama adopted a conservative idea (e.g., individual mandates), it became a “socialist” policy. And the American people are the ones who’ve paid.

Christie, who has been labeled cynical and egomaniacal by Republicans for his righteous embrace of the President during the crisis, has actually won wide respect from most average Americans. It wasn’t his goal, but he may have earned some votes and certainly earned much respect. About Christie’s calm during the storm, by Benjamin Wallace-Wells in New York:

“Which brings us to the defining gesture of Christie’s political career so far: His embrace, after the storm, of President Obama—a man whom two weeks earlier the governor had called arrogant, wondering, ‘What the hell is he doing asking for another four years?’ Suddenly, they were together, two politicians who double as literary archetypes—the rector and the brawler—looking down over battered amusement parks and swallowed towns, each borrowing the other’s authority and reputation for empathy to enhance his own. The president’s response was ‘outstanding,’ Christie said; Obama ‘ deserves great credit.’ When he was asked on Fox News whether he’d also tour the state with Mitt Romney, the governor dismissed the question as absurd: ‘I’ve got a job to do in New Jersey, and it’s much bigger than presidential politics.’ The reaction was divided between those (mainly Democrats) who viewed his gesture as heroic and those (Republicans and cynics) who detected some tactical play for the White House in 2016 and argued that Christie was nothing but a megalomaniac.

As if heroism and megalomania are not very often the same exact thing. One of the few things that Christie and Obama share is a palpable sense that their political opponents are lesser men, though in Obama this exhibits itself as an airy idealism and in Christie as an all-encompassing disgust. What the president’s embrace gave Christie was a grand identity—a national leader, bigger than politics—that for once matched his own self-image. And so here he was, Chris Christie, guardian of the boardwalk, canceler of Halloween, bard of the sausage-and-pepper stand, raging against the storm, ministering to sorrow, a man in full.”

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I can’t say that I’ve been the biggest fan of Leos Carax’s films, but my smart little brother Steven Boone has an article in Capital New York about the director’s latest work, the fantasy drama Holy Motors, which has convinced me I need to catch up on it. Boone draws comparison between Carax’s take on the oft-brutal changes of our technological revolution with Chaplin’s meditation on the hardships the Industrial Revolution wrought a century ago. An excerpt:

“We’re at a cultural crossroads, those of us who live in countries where iPhones and social media mean something. We’re leaving behind a whole range of physical products forever, in favor of ones that exist only as data or abstractions. We’re crossing these precarious bridges on faith, or just resignation to the tools set before us as we scramble to survive.

What are we losing in the transfer? In Holy Motors, glimpses of ancient Etienne-Jules Marey motion photography and still-stunning Edith Scob (star of the 1960 French classic Eyes without a Face) as Lavant’s limo driver, seem to cry for continuity with the past.

Now that whole archives are trusted to ‘the Cloud,’ there’s as much risk of losing it all as there is promise in the way digital media smuggle history over to the very demographic that mega-corporations prefer to remain unawares, the youth. (Go to YouTube and witness all the awed teenagers commenting under classic silent movies.)  Carax is thinking about all that stuff in Holy Motors, pitting Lavant’s Lon Chaney makeup kit and costumes and absurdly luxurious limo against a world that suddenly moves faster than any vehicle, silently, invisibly, through data cables and air waves.”

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An evolution in the screening of breast tissue for cancer has arrived via First Warning Systems. From Singularity Hub: “A new test could provide a way for women to detect breast cancer much earlier than is possible with mammograms or even MRI. And the best part is, it’s as easy as wearing a sports bra.

The high-tech undergarment, First Warning System, is based on chronobiology, the scientific study of how the body is affected by time. The device specifically tracks changes in temperature, searching for aberrant spikes that could be a tumor. When tumors form, they recruit blood vessels to supply them with the increasing blood flow they need to feed their multiplying number of cells. This extra growth generates more heat than surrounding tissue containing normal amounts of blood vessels.”

Marcello Mastroianni was a sensitive, befuddled male icon of screen in the second half of the 20th century, often crumbling under the modern world and its changing mores. At the end of 8 1/2, in one of cinema’s greatest scenes, he walks away from all that he’s built, realizing the folly of constructing on a shifting landscape. In real life, the Italian actor was none too fond of the era’s feminist movement, never quite grasping that an unequal society is a sick one for masters and servants alike. Though, yeah, the masters have it way better. An excerpt from a 1965 Playboy interview with Mastroianni during the early days of the cultural revolution:

PLAYBOY:

All the films you’ve made, in one way or another, are about weak men—psychologically, socially and often sexually impotent. Is that you?

MASTROIANNI:

Yes and no. It’s part of me; and I think it’s part of many other men today. Modern man is not as virile as he used to be. Instead of making things happen, he waits for things to happen to him. He goes with the current. Something in our society has led him to stop fighting, to cease swimming upstream.

PLAYBOY:

What is that something?

MASTROIANNI:

Doubt, for one thing. Doubt about his place in society, his purpose in life. In my country, for example, I was brought up with the thought of man as the padrone, the pillar of the family. I wanted to be a loving, caring, protective man. But now I feel lost; the sensitive man everywhere feels lost. He is no longer padrone—either of his own world or of his women. 

PLAYBOY:

Why not?

MASTROIANNI:

Because women are changing into men, and men are becoming women. At least, men are getting weaker all the time. But much of this is man’s own fault. We shouted, “Women are equal to men; long live the Constitution!” But look what happened. The working woman emerged—angry, aggressive, uncertain of her femininity. And she multiplied—almost by herself. Matriarchy, in the home and in the factory and in business, has made women into sexless monsters and piled them up on psychiatric couches. Instead of finding themselves, they lost what they had. But some see this now and are trying to change back. Women in England, for example, who were the first to raise the standard of equality, are today in retreat.

PLAYBOY:

How about American women

MASTROIANNI:

They should retreat, but they don’t. I’ve never seen so many unhappy, melancholy women. They have liberty—but they are desperate. Poor darlings, they’re so hungry for romance that two little words in their ears are enough to crumble them before your eyes. American women are beautiful, but a little cold and too perfect—too well brought up, with the perfume and the hair always just so and the rose-colored skin. What perfection—and what a bore! Believe me, it makes you want to have a girl with a mustache, cross-eyes and runs in her stockings. I got to know a few of them when I was there, but I swear it was like knowing only one woman. Geraldine Page was the only exception—and an exciting one.” (Thanks Cinema Archive.)

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