What if yet another seeming half-mad charlatan announced that the end of days were upon us but that person was actually correct? That’s the premise of writer-director Michael Tolkin’s fearless 1991 drama, The Rapture,  one of the most uncompromising films to ever come out of Hollywood.

Sharon (Mimi Rogers) is a Los Angeles telephone operator who interrupts the mundanity of her life with lascivious outings with Vic (Patrick Bauchau), an operator of a different kind. Vic is a sleazy swinger who looks like he makes his money by selling Amway to pornographers. He trolls airport bars to find couples that want to get down and dirty. The amoral encounters begin to take their toll on Sharon, though, and her suicidal thoughts are only put to rest when she has a religious awakening and is born again. But born into what?

Sharon becomes a part of a quiet but intense Jesus cult that believes the end is near and has members that babble incessantly about “the Boy” and “the Dream” and “the Pearl.” She marries one of her former hook-ups (David Duchovny) and the pair raise a daughter while they wait for the four horseman to ride into town.

Six years pass and the Boy announces to the followers that the end of days is finally arriving. A true believer, Sharon gathers her daughter and heads to the desert to await God. But their wanderings in the desert are disatrous and Sharon’s faith runs dry just as the Rapture truly does arrive.

Tolkin, who also singed Los Angeles life as screenwriter of The Player, understands the pseudo-religious fringe of the city and recreates it with a flesh-crawling verisimilitude. But while the film gets its milieu from L.A., it boldly looks for universal truths. While Sharon is an anti-hero, the villain, audaciously, is a needy, vicious God who demands a faith that has not been earned.•

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Recent Film Posts:

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A discussion about wearable computing from Andrew Goldman’s smart interview with Silicon Valley bigwig Marc Andreessen, in this Sunday’s New York Times Magazine:

People view you as an oracle in the valley. I was hoping you’d blow my mind with something you see in the future. 

Gordon Bell at Microsoft is working on wearable computing, where it literally records everything around you all the time — video, your conversations. He wants to get to where it’s like a pendant around your neck. We also have a company called Jawbone that makes peripherals for smart phones and tablets. Today, they sell Bluetooth headsets and speakers, but soon they will sell all kinds of wearable computing devices.

Will we soon be dealing with antigaming laws so that drivers can’t play wearable video games while driving down the highway?

That assumes they’re driving. Google is working on self-driving cars, and they seem to work. People are so bad at driving cars that computers don’t have to be that good to be much better. Any time you stand in line at the D.M.V. and look around, you’re like, Oh, my God, I wish all these people were replaced by computer drivers. Ten to 20 years out, driving your car will be viewed as equivalently immoral as smoking cigarettes around other people is today.”

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Gordon Bell records his whole life:

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Sherry Turkle, who is fond of robots, opines on identity in the Internet Age.

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"Is anyone else freaked out about stem cells in face creams?"(Image by Tomas Castelazo.)

Stem cells in a face cream!?

Is anyone else freaked out about stem cells in face creams? What if there were a way to get the benefits of stem cells… without actually putting them on your face… that would do something about the wrinkles this polluted, stressful city gives us?

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"It was an exceptionally valuable plant and could not be bought for its weight in gold."

Cactus thieves ran wild in Brooklyn back in the day, as a story filed in the May 15, 1890 Brooklyn Daily Eagle proves. An excerpt:

“John G. Reather, a retired German manufacturer, occupies, with his family, a neat frame cottage, surrounded with well kept lawns and flower beds, on Pacific Street, between Troy and Albany Avenues. Mrs. Reather is noted for her fondness for choice plants. In her garden are some of the rarest and most expensive varieties of flowers. Held up against the front of the house with a galvanized trellis was, until a few days ago, a valuable cactus. It was an exceptionally valuable plant and could not be bought for its weight in gold. Mrs. Reather had cultivated it from a slip obtained in Europe twenty-five years ago. It stood over 5 feet in height, and bore a flower over eight inches in diameter. Before removing to the Twenty-fifth Ward the family lived at the corner of Bergen Street and Carlton Avenue, and Mrs. Reather’s cactus was the subject of admiration to the residents generally thereabouts.

Last Saturday morning the cactus was found to have disappeared. It had evidently been dug up and removed during the night. A trail of dirt and particles of the plant led from the front yard of the house along the sidewalk toward Albany Avenue. The theft was reported to the police of the Twelfth Precinct and an advertisement offering a reward for information that would lead to its recovery was published in last night’s Eagle. Thus far no trace of the thief or thieves has been discovered. A possible clew is furnished the police by Mrs. Reather. She states that on Saturday morning a street vendor with a wagon load of plants drove up to her door. The peddler had two assistants who, in light of recent events, she recalls, expressed great admiration for the cactus. They asked Mrs. Reather the value of the plant and she replied that money could not buy it. She purchased one or two plants and the wagon drove off. Beside the cactus several other plants were stolen on the same night from the Pacific Street garden. Mrs. Reather stated yesterday evening that it was her firm belief that the peddler referred to came back after nightfall on Saturday and robbed her garden.”

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Margarita Island: Trouble in paradise. (Image by Spazzaven.)

Venezuelan prisons are often run by well-armed inmates, but the San Antonio penitentiary on Margarita Island is essentially Spring Break with Uzis and cockfights. The opening of Simon Romero’s stunning New York Times report:

“On the outside, the San Antonio prison on Margarita Island looks like any other Venezuelan penitentiary. Soldiers in green fatigues stand at its gates. Sharpshooters squint from watchtowers. Guards cast menacing glances at visitors before searching them at the entrance.

But once inside, the prison for more than 2,000 Venezuelans and foreigners held largely for drug trafficking looks more like a Hugh Hefner-inspired fleshpot than a stockade for toughened smugglers.

Bikini-clad female visitors frolic under the Caribbean sun in an outdoor pool. Marijuana smoke flavors the air. Reggaetón booms from a club filled with grinding couples. Paintings of the Playboy logo adorn the pool hall. Inmates and their guests jostle to place bets at the prison’s raucous cockfighting arena.”

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The “main disk partition had fallen down.” Or so I’m told. My apologies.

In his 1998 book, Machine Beauty: Elegance And The Heart Of Technology, David Gelernter implored technologists to study art history and create more pleasing products. It would seem his hopes have been realized, but not because of some academic intervention. It’s simply because of the iPod and subsequent Apple products which offered great external aesthetics and software to match. Competitors were forced to try to keep pace. An excerpt from Gelernter’s book:

“Great technology is beautiful technology. If we care about technology excellence, we are foolish not to train our young scientists and engineers in aesthetics, elegance, and beauty. The idea of such a thing happening is so far-fetched it’s funny — but, yes, good technology is terribly important to our modern economy and living standards and comfort levels, the ‘software crisis’ is real, we do get from our fancy computers a tiny fraction of the value they are capable of delivering…. We ought to start teaching Velázquez, Degas, and Matisse to young technologists right now on an emergency basis. Every technologist ought to study drawing, design, and art history…. Art education is no magic wand. But I can guarantee that such a course of action would make things better: our technology would improve, our technologists would improve, and we would never regret it.”

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"There is enough genius in their hatred to kill you." (Image by Commonurbock23.)

THE GENIUS OF THE CROWD

there is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average
human being to supply any given army on any given day

and the best at murder are those who preach against it
and the best at hate are those who preach love
and the best at war finally are those who preach peace

those who preach god, need god
those who preach peace do not have peace
those who preach peace do not have love

beware the preachers
beware the knowers
beware those who are always reading books
beware those who either detest poverty
or are proud of it
beware those quick to praise
for they need praise in return
beware those who are quick to censor
they are afraid of what they do not know
beware those who seek constant crowds for
they are nothing alone
beware the average man the average woman
beware their love, their love is average
seeks average

but there is genius in their hatred
there is enough genius in their hatred to kill you
to kill anybody
not wanting solitude
not understanding solitude
they will attempt to destroy anything
that differs from their own
not being able to create art
they will not understand art
they will consider their failure as creators
only as a failure of the world
not being able to love fully
they will believe your love incomplete
and then they will hate you
and their hatred will be perfect

like a shining diamond
like a knife
like a mountain
like a tiger
like hemlock

their finest art

The most unlikely and politicized Schick ad ever. (Thanks Open Culture.)

Another Jean-Luc Godard post:

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It was on the first day in July 1912 when pioneering aviator Harriet Quimby made her final flight. The first American woman to receive a pilot’s license, Quimby had become famous for also being the first female to fly across the English Channel. But those achievements were no help during her last flight, in which Quimby flew a demonstration over Boston Harbor in her new monoplane. Everything went well until a sudden, unexplained pitch caused her and her passenger, William Willard, to be ejected from the craft and plummet from an altitude of 1,500 feet to their deaths. In the above classic photograph from the Bain Collection, Quimby sits in a monoplane in the year before she was killed. A section from her July 5, 1912 New York Times obituary:

“Dr. Watson, who in speaking of the career of Miss Quimby, took a chapter from Revelation as his text, said, in part:

‘Her name is added to the long list of those who have freely given their lives in order that the world might be larger and better, in order that life might be greater and grander.

‘But in our sorrow to-night there rests still a joyous note of triumph. For we realize that through this death there has come progress and that, therefore, Miss Quimby’s life was a victory over those very elements which at the end brought on her tragic end. For through such as she was to do we reach nearer and nearer to the far-off goal of our hope.”

The aftermath of the Quimby crash.

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"Your identity would remain absolutely confidential."

MEN who have cheated needed for Art Work (Chelsea)

Hello, I’m a New York City based visual artist and photographer exploring a new subject matter through my practice. I’m interested in working around several ideas of liberation, guilt and the reconfiguration and reconstruction of social institutions such a marriage and commitment to a significant other. I’m looking for MEN who would be interested in collaborating with ME who have cheated on their wives, girlfriends, partners, etc. Your identity would remain absolutely confidential for this project intends to be CONCEPTUAL and NOT representational. Let me know if you would like to help.

M.

From the BBC in the 1980s.

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"The presence of such an enclave of graceless pleasures in such an environment is so improbable that only science fiction can manage it." (Image by Matthew Field.)

I was looking at The Browser and came across a book about American deserts by the late architectural critic Reyner Banham, a British expat who adored the buildings of Los Angeles. A quote from this seemingly eccentric book that I’ve yet to get my hands on:

“Las Vegas is a symbol, above all else, of the impermanence of man in the desert, and not least because one is never not aware of the desert’s all pervading presence; wherever man has not built nor paved over, the desert grimly endures – even on some of the pedestrian islands down the center of the Strip! The presence of such an enclave of graceless pleasures in such an environment is so improbable that only science fiction can manage it; the place is like the compound of an alien race, or a human base camp on a hostile planet. To catch this image you need to see Las Vegas from the air by night, or better still, late in the afternoon, as I first saw it, when there is just purple sunset light enough in the bottom of the basin to pick out the crests of the surrounding mountains, but dark enough for every little lamp to register. Then – and only then – the vision is not tawdry, but is of a magic garden of blossoming lights, welling up at its center into fantastic fountains of everchanging color. And you turned to the captain of your spaceship and said, ‘Look Sir, there must be intelligent life down there,’ because it was marvelous beyond words. And doomed – it is already beginning to fade, as energy becomes more expensive and the architecture less inventive. It won’t blow away in the night, but you begin to wish it might, because it will never make noble ruins . . . .”

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Previously posted, this playful 1972 BBC doc captured Banham in his favorite element: Los Angeles. There’s a fun passage in which Edward Ruscha opines on L.A. gas stations:

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"Then Picard handed me a pair of special glasses."

New Scientist has a great article by Sally Adee about eyeglasses that help wearers accurately read the emotions of those they are looking at. It could be a boon for people with social development disorders and kind of frightening for all of us, since we have to fake our way through unpleasant situations in life in order to not offend people. What if our true feelings were laid bare at all times? How would that change who we are and how we interact?

Eventually you would think these glasses will be “worn” on the inside, as the progression for medical advancement is often external to internal. When pacemakers were first invented, they were external units that were the size of luxury sedans before becoming internal and tiny. It sounds like chips in our brains to go along with ones in our hearts. The opening of the New Scientist article:

“ROSALIND PICARD’S eyes were wide open. I couldn’t blame her. We were sitting in her office at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology’s Media Lab, and my questions were stunningly incisive. In fact, I began to suspect that I must be one of the savviest journalists she had ever met.

Then Picard handed me a pair of special glasses. The instant I put them on I discovered that I had got it all terribly wrong. That look of admiration, I realised, was actually confusion and disagreement. Worse, she was bored out of her mind. I became privy to this knowledge because a little voice was whispering in my ear through a headphone attached to the glasses. It told me that Picard was ‘confused’ or ‘disagreeing.’ All the while, a red light built into the specs was blinking above my right eye to warn me to stop talking. It was as though I had developed an extra sense.

The glasses can send me this information thanks to a built-in camera linked to software that analyses Picard’s facial expressions. They’re just one example of a number of ‘social X-ray specs’ that are set to transform how we interact with each other. By sensing emotions that we would otherwise miss, these technologies can thwart disastrous social gaffes and help us understand each other better. Some companies are already wiring up their employees with the technology, to help them improve how they communicate with customers. Our emotional intelligence is about to be boosted, but are we ready to broadcast feelings we might rather keep private?”

 

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Walter Cronkite anchors a look at the first Earth Day in 1970, with this segment focusing on New York, Boston, Chicago and Los Angeles. As Cronkite says, cities were thought of at the time as “major population and pollution centers,” when, in fact, populous cities are now known to be very green.

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c_mundaneum Before the World Wide Web and Wikipedia, there was the Mundaneum, an attempt in the early twentieth-century by two Belgian lawyers and documentalists, Paul Otler and Henri La Fointaine, to collect all the important knowledge of the world in one place and create a sort of international utopia of the mind that was accessible and hyperlinked. Although it was not technologically possible at the time, Otlet ambitiously outlined plans that would allow everyone in the world to see the info through “electronic telescopes,” which would also enable users to send each other messages. The facility to house the information was to be built in Switzerland by Le Corbusier, but it never came to fruition. The collection, though, would up with 12 million documents. It lives on as a museum.

In his 1994 article, “Visions of Xanadu,” W. Boyd Rayward republished a 1914 pamphlet about the fledgling knowledge-sharing organization:

The International Centre organises collections of world-wide importance. These collections are the International Museum, the International Library, the International Bibliographic Catalogue and the Universal Documentary Archives. These collections are conceived as parts of one universal body of documentation, as an encyclopedic survey of human knowledge, as an enormous intellectual warehouse of books, documents, catalogues and scientific objects. Established according to standardized methods, they are formed by assembling cooperative everything that the participating associations may gather or classify. Closely consolidated and coordinated in all of their parts and enriched by duplicates of all private works wherever undertaken, these collections will tend progressively to constitute a permanent and complete representation of the entire world.•

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Bill James, the statistics outsider who brought sabermetrics to baseball’s mainstream and helped deliver two world championships to a title-starved Boston Red Sox franchise, has an abiding interest that may be even deeper than the National Pastime: crime–why people commit evil deeds and why we’re obsessed with the topic. Chuck Klosterman of Grantland just interviewed James about his new book on the topic, Popular Crime, and they discussed whether everyone is capable of murder. An excerpt:

OK, so tell me this: In 1984, O.J. Simpson had not (allegedly) killed anyone. But was he already a murderer? Did that capacity to kill already exist within him, a decade before Nicole Brown Simpson was dead?

I think the capacity to commit terrible acts exists in all of us, myself included. I think we could all do things we’d be very ashamed of. I’m sure that capacity was within O.J. in 1984, as it was in myself in 1984.

You’re speaking hypothetically, but I’m curious: What would have to happen in order to make you commit a murder? Can you picture a scenario where you kill someone?

For most of us who are living successful lives, we systematically steer away from those situations. We steer away from those stresses. But, you know … if the kids have to eat and there’s no money in the bank, who knows what you might do? So you try to keep money in the bank. You try to avoid that circumstance. If a woman drives you crazy, you’ll do things that you wouldn’t normally do — so you try to stay away from women who make you crazy. Or drugs: Any one of us can become a drug addict. And once you do, you will kill somebody to get drugs. So maybe that’s the way to think about this: Any real drug addict will kill you in order to get drugs.

Wait — are you suggesting the addiction to cocaine or heroin is greater than whatever internally stops us from committing murder?

Sure. But what I’m really trying to say is that this is probably how we need to think about these types of things: It is not as if we walk through one doorway and decide that murder is acceptable. You have to walk through many doorways. The first doorway leads to a party, where people are doing drugs and having fun. The second doorway leads to more partying. It’s a long, long series of doorways, until you end up in a room where a terrible thing happens. So the question is, ‘How many doorways away are you?’ It’s not a question about a person’s capacity to commit a murder. It’s a question of how many doorways we keep between ourselves and that situation.”

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For all the attention that illegal immigrants from Mexico receive, one important factor has been missed: The flow of illegals from our Southern neighbor has markedly decreased–and probably not mostly because of tougher border enforcement. According census figures, more than half a million Mexicans were coming into the U.S. illegally as recently as 2004; the number has shrunk to around 100,000 today. Shifts in Mexico’s demographics, economy and education system seem the likely reasons. So the good news is that there will be a lot more jobs in American rendering plants for natural-born citizens. The opening of Damien Cave’s New York Times article on the topic:

“The extraordinary Mexican migration that delivered millions of illegal immigrants to the United States over the past 30 years has sputtered to a trickle, and research points to a surprising cause: unheralded changes in Mexico that have made staying home more attractive.

A growing body of evidence suggests that a mix of developments — expanding economic and educational opportunities, rising border crime and shrinking families — are suppressing illegal traffic as much as economic slowdowns or immigrant crackdowns in the United States.

Here in the red-earth highlands of Jalisco, one of Mexico’s top three states for emigration over the past century, a new dynamic has emerged. For a typical rural family like the Orozcos, heading to El Norte without papers is no longer an inevitable rite of passage. Instead, their homes are filling up with returning relatives; older brothers who once crossed illegally are awaiting visas; and the youngest Orozcos are staying put.

‘I’m not going to go to the States because I’m more concerned with my studies,’ said Angel Orozco, 18. Indeed, at the new technological institute where he is earning a degree in industrial engineering, all the students in a recent class said they were better educated than their parents — and that they planned to stay in Mexico rather than go to the United States.” (Thanks Marginal Revolution.)

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"I have a theory that your staff is also just a bunch of extremely lost former customers." (Image by Calvin Teo.)

You’re just a fantastic maze of shit. (Red Hook)

Ikea, why do you do this to me? Why do you beckon me to come and waste three hours of my life inside of you, only to spend the last two just trying to get out. I have a theory that your staff is also just a bunch of extremely lost former customers. Also, stop trying to sell me cheap things with human names. I don’t need to come home only to have to comfort Billy the fucking bookshelf because it’s depressed about its generic exterior and lack of girlfriend. I am not a fucking furniture therapist.

That said I still feel attracted to your meatballs. Maybe we can work something out?

The Age of Aquarius faded into memory, and science outpaced ethics. Also: Screenwriters had bottomless bowls of cocaine!

"He broke my windows with a sling shot and threw tomato cans at me." (Image by Ralf Roletschek.)

The tomato can was the Molotov cocktail of nineteenth-century Brooklyn, as this trio of articles from the Brooklyn Daily Eagle illustrates.

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“Mrs. Klein’s Troubles–She Says They Lock Her Up and Throw Tomato Cans at Her” (November 23, 1886): “Mrs. Katrina Klein, an elderly German woman, lives at 461 Carroll Street. The boys in the neighborhood are more than usually mischievous and according to her statement, render her life miserable. On the night of November 10 a gang of youngsters fastened her door with a piece of rope and then threw stones through the window. When Mrs. Klein succeeded in getting out she seized upon Peter Sterling, a lad who lives next door, and gave him into custody. This morning he was arraigned before Judge Walsh.

‘Do you know this villain?’ asked the Court.

‘I do your Honor. He is the worst boy in the world. He broke my windows with a sling shot and threw tomato cans at me. Whenever I go out he calls ‘Klein, Klein’ after me.’

The judge gave Sterling a lecture and then allowed him to go, as he denied having broken the windows.”

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“Much Trouble in the Flat” (August 7, 1901): “Interdomestic troubles in the flat at 117 Carlton Avenue occupied the attention of Magistrate Naumer of the Myrtle Avenue police court this morning. Mrs. Mary Deegan, who occupies an apartment on the third floor of this flat, was in the court as complainant against Charles, Thomas and John Dunn, inhabitants of the first floor. She charged that these three young men forcibly entered her room Sunday afternoon and brutally assaulted her daughter Jennie, a school girl, and herself.

"They alleged also that Mrs. Deegan dropped a tomato can on the head of Thomas."

Mrs. Deegan swore that Charles and Thomas first burst into the room; that Charles seized her bodily and threw her on the floor, while Thomas struck Jennie in the eye and cried out, ‘I owe you that.’ Then, she says, Thomas threw Jennie on top of her. Just as she was regaining her feet, so she says, John entered the room and slapped her face.

The three Dunns denied the charge and swore they had never been in Mrs. Deegan’s rooms in their lives. They said they had a quarrel with Mrs. Deegan on Sunday afternoon, but it was conducted from their respective windows and was the result of Mrs. Deegan spitting on their sister’s head while she was leaning out the window. They alleged also that Mrs. Deegan dropped a tomato can on the head of Thomas. Magistrate Naumer held the boys under $200 bail each for the Court of Special Sessions.”

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“Who Threw the Tomato Can” (December 15, 1891): “Patrolman Horahue of the First Precinct had some trouble with a number of young men on Tillary Street, near Lawrence on the night of the 8th. Somebody threw a tomato can at him and it struck him on the bridge of the nose. Shortly afterward he appeared at the Adams Street Station with Peter Dolan of 163 Tillary Street and James Cleary of 33 Main Street as prisoners. He had thumped them both on the head with his club and both required the services of an ambulance surgeon. This morning Justice Walsh tried Dolan on a charge of assault preferred against him. The prisoner’s head was still bandaged and he looked weak. Horahue swore that Nolan threw the tomato can, but when he was cross examined his evidence on that point was somewhat hazy. Dolan, who is a plumber in business for himself, and a pretty good fellow, his neighbors say,denied the charge. Justice Walsh discharged him with the comment that the evidence against him was not satisfactory and that Dolan had been punished enough in his judgement.”

In 1970, Life magazine published an article about the environmental movement that had shocking predictions that proved wildly inaccurate–at least so far. An excerpt:

“Unless something is done to reverse environmental deterioration, say many experts, horrors lie in wait. Others disagree, but scientists have solid experimental and theoretical evidence to support each of the following predictions–

  • In a decade, urban dwellers will have to wear gas masks to survive air pollution
  • In the early 1980s air pollution combined with a temperature inversion will kill thousands in some U.S. city
  • By 1985 air pollution will have reduced the amount of sunlight reaching earth by one half
  • In the 1980s a major ecological system–soil or water–will break down somewhere in the U.S.
  • New diseases that humans cannot resist will reach plague proportions
  • Increased carbon dioxide in the atmosphere will affect the earth’s temperatures, leading to mass flooding or a new ice age
  • Rising noise levels will cause more heart disease and hearing loss. Sonic booms from SSTs will damage children before birth
  • Residual DDT collecting in the human liver will make use of certain common drugs dangerous and increase liver cancer

There have long been rumors that in 1973 Jackie Gleason accompanied President Richard Nixon to Homestead Airforce Base in Florida and was shown what were supposedly the pickled bodies of extraterrestrials who had reached Earth. Perhaps it was a payoff for Gleason supporting Nixon in 1968.

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FromHow to Stop Worrying and Learn to Love the Internet,” Douglas Adams’ perceptive 1999 piece about Web 1.0 and where it was all headed:

“But the biggest problem is that we are still the first generation of users, and for all that we may have invented the net, we still don’t really get it. In The Language Instinct, Stephen Pinker explains the generational difference between pidgin and creole languages. A pidgin language is what you get when you put together a bunch of people – typically slaves – who have already grown up with their own language but don’t know each others’. They manage to cobble together a rough and ready lingo made up of bits of each. It lets them get on with things, but has almost no grammatical structure at all.

However, the first generation of children born to the community takes these fractured lumps of language and transforms them into something new, with a rich and organic grammar and vocabulary, which is what we call a Creole. Grammar is just a natural function of children’s brains, and they apply it to whatever they find.

The same thing is happening in communication technology. Most of us are stumbling along in a kind of pidgin version of it, squinting myopically at things the size of fridges on our desks, not quite understanding where email goes, and cursing at the beeps of mobile phones. Our children, however, are doing something completely different. Risto Linturi, research fellow of the Helsinki Telephone Corporation, quoted in Wired magazine, describes the extraordinary behaviour kids in the streets of Helsinki, all carrying cellphones with messaging capabilities. They are not exchanging important business information, they’re just chattering, staying in touch. ‘We are herd animals,’ he says. ‘These kids are connected to their herd – they always know where it’s moving.’ Pervasive wireless communication, he believes will ‘bring us back to behaviour patterns that were natural to us and destroy behaviour patterns that were brought about by the limitations of technology.’

We are natural villagers. For most of mankind’s history we have lived in very small communities in which we knew everybody and everybody knew us. But gradually there grew to be far too many of us, and our communities became too large and disparate for us to be able to feel a part of them, and our technologies were unequal to the task of drawing us together. But that is changing.

Interactivity. Many-to-many communications. Pervasive networking. These are cumbersome new terms for elements in our lives so fundamental that, before we lost them, we didn’t even know to have names for them.”

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