Got jammed up with a work thing tonight, so I’ll leave you this image to contemplate. Click the pic to embiggen. It’s from the Nashille, Tennessean newspaper of 1964: Christmas shoppers turning out shortly after Thanksgiving.
It’s from my FaceBook feed(!); a group about Nashville, my kinda sorta hometown. People frequently post pictures of downtown street scenes, and there’s something deeply unsettling about recognizing a shop or a restaurant that I hadn’t seen or thought about for forty years. I dunno why. Because these things are trivial — and were trivial then — but still leap vividly out of old gauzy braincells.
I don’t know why I found this picture so interesting. Because everything and everyone are jammed together so tightly? Because the people are all dressed up? Maybe it’s just because this seems like a whole ‘nother world.
December 11, 2014 — 11:03 pm
File this under d’oh — why didn’t I think of that? Important documents have been written on parchment for thousands of years, right? Some still are. Parchment is made from the skin of cows, goats and sheep, right? We’ve got millions and millions of ’em. In the case of many documents, with actual dates written on.
In other words, stuff that can be DNA sampled!
Eh? Eh? Millions of precisely dated DNA samples going back millenia. What an awesome reservoir of information! I mean, if you think the evolution of domestic animals is interesting (and who doesn’t?).
If you’re at all interested (and who isn’t?) have a look at the Royal Society’s longer explanation of some of the ongoing studies. Good stuff.
Some samples, for example, show the DNA of several species…meaning that a variety of different animal hides were being batch-processed. Thereby telling us a little bit about industrial production methods.
Selective breeding didn’t start until the 18th C in Britain and, apparently, the shift from somewhat random characteristics to breeding for specifics is showing up the in the record.
Oh, and the Dead Sea scrolls were written on ibex and goat skin.
By the way, if you hit the Society link and are fascinated (as I was) by the thumbnail in the sidebar, the cover of the January 2015 Philosophical Transactions, I am sorry to tell you that is a photo of a pile of bones, not the skull of a single fabulous monster. Boo.
December 10, 2014 — 7:59 pm
December 6 is Finnish Independence Day and, apparently, it’s not uncommon for marches and demonstrations to happen alongside the celebrations. This year’s fun and games, though, did €100,000 worth of damage to businesses.
Here’s the thing, though: the article above goes into great detail about what was damaged and where and how the shopkeepers will get it back together for Christmas shoppers. It says absolutely jack about who the protesters were and what they’re agitating for.
Beyond labeling them as “left wing anarchists”. And this picture, which appears to say FUCK CAPITA. I seriously doubt Finnish anarchists are unhappy about the British personnel firm Capita. It seems unlikely our scholar will have room to spray FUCK CAPITALISM in the space provided. But, really, FUCK CAPITAL doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. Whatevs.
Who are these people? We’ve had protests in the UK and the US and all over Europe, with millions in damages. The last ten years? Twenty? They were the core of the Occupy protests and the London riots. There are always signs from the Socialist Workers Party and similar socialist orgs. Lots of Anarchist symbols. We know they are turning up in Ferguson (and muddying up their nice race riots). And, really, wherever there’s trouble in the streets.
It’s bizarre that nobody seems to give a shit who they are or what they want (which makes what they’re doing utterly ineffective, other than to throw a pinch of sand under the wheels of the mighty juggernaut of Western Commerce).
Is it a homogeneous group? Is it just stupid local kids attracted to violence? Or is somebody bankrolling this stuff, and to what purpose?
I know lefty journalists (which is most of them) are blinded by their allegiances, but even they seem completely uninterested in digging into this phenomenon. And we do have a few righty journalists.
C’mon, guys — this shit is creepy and it’s costing us money.
December 9, 2014 — 10:26 pm
It’s a nativity scene made up entirely of Henrys.
Henry. It’s a vacuum cleaner. He’s a British institution. I’ve written about him before.
Oh, well. Excuse lameness. My doctor was over an hour late for my appointment today, and it turns out those rough patches on my legs are psoriasis. I’m feeling sorry for myself.
If you’re an American of a certain age, your brain automatically corrected that to the heartbreak of psoriasis.
December 8, 2014 — 10:42 pm
Geez, sorry you guys. We went to the movies tonight and I didn’t queue up a post beforehand because I didn’t realize how long the movie was going to be.
We went to see Interstellar. It was only three hours long, but we aged a hundred and fifty years.
That was Uncle Badger’s joke.
December 5, 2014 — 11:58 pm
Believe it or not, this is not a ferocious set of brass knuckles. It is a pony skin handbag. It’s an Alexander McQueen — if that means anything to you, it’ll mean something to you — and it was one of the things taken in a recent London house robbery.
Brief article, short on details, but here’s guessing one of the robbers was a relative. Who else would know she had this pile of ugly crap that was worth a shit-ton of money?
How weak is the connection between money and taste.
Speaking of which, if you haven’t watched the video linked off Drudge yet, do it. The one with the Hillary song. When cynical manipulation goes wrong, it goes hilariously, toe-curlingly wrong.
Hillary is like the anti-Slick Willy.
December 4, 2014 — 11:05 pm
So, Steam informs me I can get early access to this today. Um, yay?
If you watch the videos, it’s not all that far outside the bounds for a video game: slice of bread and its desperate quest to become toast. You oonch your way along one corner at a time trying to find ways to immolate yourself.
For six quid, I…no. Not really my thing. Not enough blood.
December 3, 2014 — 8:31 pm
Checked the chickens on this miserable drizzly December night and found Maggie dead in her nest box.
She’s the black and white one in the front. If you recall, she had an accident when she was about six months old (we think she panicked at the sight of a fox and banged he spine on the edge of the chicken house) and her legs were paralyzed. I didn’t expect her to live long after that, but I kept her fed and clean and occupied and damn if she didn’t live another fifteen months. Reasonably happy, as far as I could tell.
Unlike her sister, the pretty little black hen in the picture, who grew to be a beautiful big fat bird and dropped dead for no apparent reason at less than a year old.
Chickens. They’re a bit like that.
Funny thing, though — we’ve had six bantams now, and every one was a unique entity. They have separate personalities and different tastes in food. I can tell their voices apart. When chickens are added or die, the weight of their personalities changes the behavior of the whole flock. They have chickeny souls, dammit.
And I’m having chicken for dinner again. I can’t process this. I think I shall drink instead.
Join me in a glass in honor of Magpie, won’t you? A nice little bird who never got a chance at the life she deserved.
December 2, 2014 — 10:47 pm
Another day, another article about saturated fats and how, ummm…maybe they aren’t so awful for you after all.
Disclaimer: I’m one who thrived on Atkins’ low carb ideas and I’m still sore about the absolute shit way he and his ideas were treated in his lifetime. I want those people to feel his vindication. Good and hard.
But long before I knew Atkins, my mother (who was a nurse) told me to be careful cutting fat, because fats contribute satiety. And if you’re not sure how important feeling full and satisfied to a dieter, reflect: if they get hungry enough, human beings have been known to murder and eat their children. ‘Kay? You can’t guilt people for giving in to the most powerful biological force known to all living organisms.
What we’ve done for the past forty years is tell fat people to cut the fats and eat lots of carbs — a diet guaranteed to make them crazy-eat-their-young hungry — and then wondered how so many of them went from merely obese to sideshow fat. Honestly, somebody needs to swing for this.
So, read any good fat articles lately? Do share. I won’t rest until lard is properly recognized as the life-giving superfood we all know it to be.
December 1, 2014 — 10:19 pm
Welp, it’s Steam Sale time again, that Amok Time when Valve cuts prices so low you buy a ton of shit you don’t need and somehow believe you’ve saved a bunch of money. Ninety percent off Goat Simulator? Sign me up!
So I was browsing titles and came across Castlevania — you play an old and weary Dracula, yearning to retire. But first you have to fight your boss, Satan, to get out of your contract. It is rated 17+ for Blood and Gore, Intense Violence, Language, Nudity.
The punters loved it. The critics, not so much. In fact, it got a mysteriously low Metascore of 58 (user votes are excluded from Metascore). A halfway decent game is always going to be 80+. Then I noticed the disclaimer above.
For those who haven’t been following this particularly complicated internet shit-storm, the simple version is: pro-#GamerGate = people who love videogames just the way they are. Anti-#GamerGate = people who think today’s video games promote violence and sexism and would like to see that change. Much of the professional gaming press — like our lefty betters in journalism everywhere — are firmly in Column B.
See the little #GamerGate recommends icon? Yeah. Steam is promoting games off of the back of the #GamerGate controversy. Gabe Newell is a sooper genius.
Hells yes I bought Castlevania.
And, um, Goat Simulator, too.
Good weekend, folks. Assuming you’ve shaken off the tryptophan coma yet.
November 28, 2014 — 10:06 pm