Leftovers & Links #46
You think things are nuts now? In the 1950s and ‘60s, the US had a government program that intended to nuke the moon.
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Trump thought it was totally fine when Capitol rioters chanted ‘Hang Mike Pence’.
Today, though, a link took me to the Adipositivity page on Facebook, where I was allowed to read the whole page, expand posts, even fetch more posts, all without signing up and logging in. That’s never happened before. I spent some serious time there, and added a permanent link to my link collection.
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San Francisco’s most famous twins, Marian and Vivian Brown, are gone. They’ve been gone for several years.
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Yeah, this news is everywhere, but it makes me happy so it’s here, too: Steve Bannon has finally been indicted for contempt of Congress.
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In San Francisco, I lived in a series of residential (rez) hotels, short skyscrapers originally constructed as something akin to a boarding house — you rented a room with a sink, but the toilet and shower were down the hall, shared with other tenants. There’s really no more affordable way to live in an urban area, at least not if you want the modern minimums of heat and plumbing and electricity.
In Madison, the much smaller city where I now live, there simply aren’t rez hotels. Near as I can ascertain, there never have been. I’m not looking to move back to the rez hotel lifestyle, but I’m mildly surprised and saddened it’s not an option.
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43% of the white students admitted to Harvard don’t need to worry about whether they’ll be admitted, because they’re legacies, children of faculty and staff, athletes, or on the dean’s interest list. About 3/4 of that 43% wouldn’t pass the ordinary admissions process, without their unfair advantage.
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Are we on the verge of chatting with whales?
Probably not, but it’s an interesting premise, worth studying. Might make a good sci-fi story, too. If there’s ever a communications breakthrough, I expect the whales will say, “Hey dummies, quit dumping plastic into the ocean.”
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The creation of Pirate Bay — the original torrent-sharing site — will be turned into a TV series, by a director who says he’s “an old punk.” It sounds like the story will be more sympathetic to little guys than the likes of Warner Bros and MCI, but to see the show in America, you’ll probably have to pirate it. It’s being made in Sweden, and the dialogue will be in Svenska.
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I’m intrigued by this four-wheeled surrey style electric bicycle that seats four adults and two children. It’s only $2,000, and the battery packs a 50-mile range. Sadly, it comes with some obvious safety problems. Also, it looks so cool I’m sure it would soon be stolen from almost any bike rack anywhere.
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Let’s spend $150K to remove seaweed and plastic from our lovely beachfront, and then dump it back into the sea.
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A cantina that probably serves droids.
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An experiment, with exactly one participant who’s paralyzed but still mentally intact, shows that effective communication can be restored, by means of a brain implant, a computer, and special software. It’s gotta be fantastic news for the paralyzed and their loved ones, but I need to throw some pessimism at this.
Here in the real world, and especially here in America, you can’t even see a damned doctor for a sore throat unless you have expensive insurance, or unless you’re a charity case in an emergency room. The number of paralyzed patients who’ll qualify for this kind of brain surgery won’t be much more than the one person who’s already had it.
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How to make a CPU, from scratch.
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For 17 years, Lisa Davis thought someone was stealing her identity, but nope. The bureaucracy in New York City had commingled two Lisa Davises — one black, one white, but with the same birthday — into the same file.
Quote: I asked her, “Have you had this happen to you, that you’ve been mixed up with other Lisa Davises?”
“Oh, yes,” she said. “There’s another Lisa S Davis with the same birthday.”
I looked at her more closely then, placed her face against my memory of her Facebook page. It was her. It was the Lisa Davis, the one I’d been looking for all these years. “That’s me!” I said.
Almost immediately, Lisa S Davis reached out and hugged me. She’d heard about me, too, every time she had to renew her license, and they’d tell her she was me. Then she said, “How was your birthday?” and we both laughed.
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Mystery links — Like life itself, there’s no knowing where you’re going:
Autobahn, by Kraftwerk
Sincere tip ‘o the hat:
BoingBoing
Captain Hampockets
Follow Me Here
Hyperallergic
Messy Nessy Chick
National Zero
Ran Prieur
Vintage Everyday
Voenix Rising
EXTRA SPECIAL THANKS:
Becky Jo
Substantia Jones
Name Withheld
Dave S.
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