Up a creed without a paddle
I thought about applying for this position... until I read more about the institution.
Among their Faculty Membership Requirements, one finds such gems as the following:
1. [X] College faculty members are required to subscribe to three historic Reformed “forms of unity”—the Beligic Confession, the Heidelberg Catechism, and the Canons of Dordtrecht—and pledge to teach, speak, and write in harmony with the confessions....
2. [X] College faculty members are required to be active members in good standing of a congregation in the Christian Reformed Church or a denomination in “ecclesiastical fellowship” with the CRC as defined by the CRC Synod....
3. [X] College faculty members are expected to support and promote Christian education at all levels and are normally required to provide their children with Christian schooling for grades K-12. Schools affiliated with the Christian Schools International (an association of parent-run schools with traditional ties to the CRC community) are expected to be the primary schools of choice, though exceptions are usually granted for home schooling or enrollment in non-CSI Christian schools....
A search of old issues of the Chronicle of Higher Education brought forth even more entertaining bits. To wit:
Howard J. Van Till, a now-retired physics professor at [X] College, had an even more grueling experience when he published The Fourth Day: What the Bible and the Heavens Are Telling Us About Creation (Eerdmans, 1986). The administration had no problem with his writings, but angry members of the denomination objected to his support of evolutionary theory and his suggestion that biblical texts had been strongly influenced by the cultures in which they were written.
Under pressure, the college's Board of Trustees formed an investigative committee. The situation soon turned Kafkaesque. For three and a half years, Mr. Van Till met with the group monthly to explain his theological views. "As the years of questioning and interrogating continued, the arena of concern just got larger and larger," he recalls, "until it became a test of the entirety of my theological position."
This, Pablo, is why I'm wary of "creedal" churches and other institutions that demand unthinking obedience to sets of bylaws concocted by earthly religious authorities. They never content themselves with merely reiterating basic religious principles; oh no, they must dictate everything, up to and including dictating what schools people are "allowed" to send their children to and what results a researcher is allowed to find. ("What Would Galileo Do?")
I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't fit in there for the same reason that I'd make a lousy Catholic, Mormon, or fundamentalist of any stripe. I'm just not very good at that whole mindless-obedience, marching-in-lockstep thing. It's rather sad that these people are so determined to raise their children as intellectual cripples who have never seriously confronted a single foreign idea.
Wednesday, February 04, 2004
Tuesday, February 03, 2004
Google amongst the academics
This article from the Seattle Times (Google for a Grade : UW class to study popular search engine) has excited a certain amount of discussion on a library listserv to which I subscribe. From the article:
Using their interest in research and technology as a backdrop, the 50 students who finish [Professor Joseph] Janes' class in March will have to determine whether Google is in fact good or whether researchers' reliance on such a simple and one-sided search tool is degrading the quality of research.
I wonder: will he require them to document the use of non-Googled sources for their research?
This article from the Seattle Times (Google for a Grade : UW class to study popular search engine) has excited a certain amount of discussion on a library listserv to which I subscribe. From the article:
Using their interest in research and technology as a backdrop, the 50 students who finish [Professor Joseph] Janes' class in March will have to determine whether Google is in fact good or whether researchers' reliance on such a simple and one-sided search tool is degrading the quality of research.
I wonder: will he require them to document the use of non-Googled sources for their research?
Doubt : a history, by Jennifer Michael Hecht
Here's yet another book I may have to read. From the Washington Post's review:
For instance, Xenophanes, another of the pre-Socratics, argued that the gods of mythology must be human inventions. The Ethiopians posited black gods, while the gods of the red-haired Thracians were, unsurprisingly, red-haired. If horses and oxen had hands and could draw, he dryly remarked, they would draw their gods as great horses and oxen. Xenophanes suggested what Montaigne insisted on 2,000 years later: The exclusive authority claimed by competing religions cannot be taken seriously; their myths derive from obviously local sources, and their truth claims cancel each other out....
Montaigne, as it happens, thought that disagreements among scientists showed that science was as much a cultural construction as religion, and ought therefore to be treated with skepticism.
Here's yet another book I may have to read. From the Washington Post's review:
For instance, Xenophanes, another of the pre-Socratics, argued that the gods of mythology must be human inventions. The Ethiopians posited black gods, while the gods of the red-haired Thracians were, unsurprisingly, red-haired. If horses and oxen had hands and could draw, he dryly remarked, they would draw their gods as great horses and oxen. Xenophanes suggested what Montaigne insisted on 2,000 years later: The exclusive authority claimed by competing religions cannot be taken seriously; their myths derive from obviously local sources, and their truth claims cancel each other out....
Montaigne, as it happens, thought that disagreements among scientists showed that science was as much a cultural construction as religion, and ought therefore to be treated with skepticism.
Monday, February 02, 2004
Censorship and consolidation
Last year, the FCC dismissed concerns about the effects of media consolidation on the diversity of viewpoints available to Americans. They were overwhelmingly vindicated this year, when CBS even-handedly accepted ads from all political viewpoints during the Super Bowl.
Oh, wait a minute. They didn't.
The network refused to let political activist group MoveOn buy airtime for an ad that criticizes the Bush administration's runaway deficit spending. That's political issue advocacy, said CBS, and, gosh, we can't allow that kind of stuff on the air. (Meanwhile, an ad from the Bush White House was run in its place.)
Another ad, from PETA, was also banned:
"We just want to be able to present our jiggly women," said Lisa Lange, spokeswoman for People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, asking to join advertisers like beer brewers who has boosted sales with images of scantily-clad women . -- from Planet Ark
CBS claimed that PETA's ad "raises significant taste concerns and has strong potential to offend significant numbers of viewers." I guess that's a privilege that CBS reserves for itself.
This story has actually received a fair amount of press over the last few days, and CBS has been on the receiving end of well-deserved jeers. What's less well reported is the fact that such bias is widespread and routine in the broadcast world, and is significantly restricting, even warping, the view of the world that is available to people who receive most of their information from broadcast media.
Adbusters, an activist group that criticizes and mocks consumerist "culture", has routinely been banned from purchasing airtime by all major broadcast networks (other then CNN, which acquiesced after some initial resistance.) The litany of reasons given for banning their ads ("Big Mac Attack", "Buy Nothing Day", etc.) is as damning as it is, occasionally, funny:
"We can't advertise something that's too controversial.... [w]e're a network and we're loyal to our advertisers." -- MTV
"[F]or a broadcast TV network things like boycotting television and anti-consumerism might not go over very well with our other advertisers." -- Fox Broadcast Corporation
"The character is seen burping." -- Channel 5, France
-- from Jan/Feb issue of Adbusters magazine
Now I recognize that a private business has the right to make decisions about what viewpoints it wishes to express, and isn't obligated to provide a soapbox to everyone who has an idea to shout out. But what about a marketplace where the availability of soapboxes is limited by artificial scarcity imposed by a government agency, as when broadcasting licences are controlled by the FCC? And is consolidation and centralized control of those scarce soapboxes, under any aegis, a good thing? (Discuss amongst yourselves, please.)
Last year, the FCC dismissed concerns about the effects of media consolidation on the diversity of viewpoints available to Americans. They were overwhelmingly vindicated this year, when CBS even-handedly accepted ads from all political viewpoints during the Super Bowl.
Oh, wait a minute. They didn't.
The network refused to let political activist group MoveOn buy airtime for an ad that criticizes the Bush administration's runaway deficit spending. That's political issue advocacy, said CBS, and, gosh, we can't allow that kind of stuff on the air. (Meanwhile, an ad from the Bush White House was run in its place.)
Another ad, from PETA, was also banned:
"We just want to be able to present our jiggly women," said Lisa Lange, spokeswoman for People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, asking to join advertisers like beer brewers who has boosted sales with images of scantily-clad women . -- from Planet Ark
CBS claimed that PETA's ad "raises significant taste concerns and has strong potential to offend significant numbers of viewers." I guess that's a privilege that CBS reserves for itself.
This story has actually received a fair amount of press over the last few days, and CBS has been on the receiving end of well-deserved jeers. What's less well reported is the fact that such bias is widespread and routine in the broadcast world, and is significantly restricting, even warping, the view of the world that is available to people who receive most of their information from broadcast media.
Adbusters, an activist group that criticizes and mocks consumerist "culture", has routinely been banned from purchasing airtime by all major broadcast networks (other then CNN, which acquiesced after some initial resistance.) The litany of reasons given for banning their ads ("Big Mac Attack", "Buy Nothing Day", etc.) is as damning as it is, occasionally, funny:
"We can't advertise something that's too controversial.... [w]e're a network and we're loyal to our advertisers." -- MTV
"[F]or a broadcast TV network things like boycotting television and anti-consumerism might not go over very well with our other advertisers." -- Fox Broadcast Corporation
"The character is seen burping." -- Channel 5, France
-- from Jan/Feb issue of Adbusters magazine
Now I recognize that a private business has the right to make decisions about what viewpoints it wishes to express, and isn't obligated to provide a soapbox to everyone who has an idea to shout out. But what about a marketplace where the availability of soapboxes is limited by artificial scarcity imposed by a government agency, as when broadcasting licences are controlled by the FCC? And is consolidation and centralized control of those scarce soapboxes, under any aegis, a good thing? (Discuss amongst yourselves, please.)
Progress down under
While the U.S. persists in abandoning and scrapping railroad lines even as traffic increases and railroads experience "traffic meltdowns" with distressing frequency, the Aussies are laying new rails and adding new trains to the schedule. Maybe the folks Down Under know something the American bigwigs have forgotten.
While the U.S. persists in abandoning and scrapping railroad lines even as traffic increases and railroads experience "traffic meltdowns" with distressing frequency, the Aussies are laying new rails and adding new trains to the schedule. Maybe the folks Down Under know something the American bigwigs have forgotten.
Choice the screen as right....
One of the gifts I received at Christmas is an external hard drive for my computer. Sadly, the instruction manual seems to have been written by one of those legendary typing monkeys:
Step 1: Click on [start], choice the [control panel] in [setting],double click [system] and open [hard disk]. A screen appears as right.
"Step 2: You can see the USB2.0 hard Disk you just add. High light the USB Hard Disk and choice the [property], select [setting]. setting the USB2.0 Hard Disk to [removable].
"Step 3: After restart the system, a removable HDD is added to [My Computer] . Choice the removable HDD and click right bottom of mouse. Select the [format] to format your USB2.0 Hard Disk Drive.....
Unfortunately, none of the above results in the computer acknowledging the drive, either "after restart the system" or before, no matter what I "choice", no matter whether I "click right bottom of mouse" or somewhere else. I expect that I and their telephone technical-support staff will be spending much productive time together.
One of the gifts I received at Christmas is an external hard drive for my computer. Sadly, the instruction manual seems to have been written by one of those legendary typing monkeys:
Step 1: Click on [start], choice the [control panel] in [setting],double click [system] and open [hard disk]. A screen appears as right.
"Step 2: You can see the USB2.0 hard Disk you just add. High light the USB Hard Disk and choice the [property], select [setting]. setting the USB2.0 Hard Disk to [removable].
"Step 3: After restart the system, a removable HDD is added to [My Computer] . Choice the removable HDD and click right bottom of mouse. Select the [format] to format your USB2.0 Hard Disk Drive.....
Unfortunately, none of the above results in the computer acknowledging the drive, either "after restart the system" or before, no matter what I "choice", no matter whether I "click right bottom of mouse" or somewhere else. I expect that I and their telephone technical-support staff will be spending much productive time together.
Political preconceptions
It's interesting to watch people making assumptions right before your eyes.
Last week, while I was chatting with one of my colleagues at the reference desk, he casually asked me: "So, who are you voting for in the Democratic primary?"
It's apparently inconceivable that anyone working at a university could be anything other than a dyed-in-the-wool Democrat.
Little does he know that I am a secret servant... er, campaign worker... of Cthulhu For President! ("Why vote for a lesser evil?") I particularly like the Great Old One's statement of political positions ("Eat Them Up, Yum!"), and his associates' "Look-and-Feel" lawsuit against the Thing That Came From Redmond.
Ia! Ia! Cthulhu fthagn!
It's interesting to watch people making assumptions right before your eyes.
Last week, while I was chatting with one of my colleagues at the reference desk, he casually asked me: "So, who are you voting for in the Democratic primary?"
It's apparently inconceivable that anyone working at a university could be anything other than a dyed-in-the-wool Democrat.
Little does he know that I am a secret servant... er, campaign worker... of Cthulhu For President! ("Why vote for a lesser evil?") I particularly like the Great Old One's statement of political positions ("Eat Them Up, Yum!"), and his associates' "Look-and-Feel" lawsuit against the Thing That Came From Redmond.
Ia! Ia! Cthulhu fthagn!
Back from the Sunny Shore
Again, I've been delinquent about posting, but due to overwhelming public demand (thanks, Carlos), I'm back to harass, harangue, and generally blather away from my little virtual soapbox-in-the-ether.
I enjoyed the trip to California, although I quickly realized that the comfort level on crowded, long-distance late-night "cattle car" flights between major cities was going to be very different from what I was accustomed to on shorter and less crowded flights. I also realized that I much prefer flying out of small airports like those at this or thisrather than overcrowded, Dante-esque multi-terminal places like LA International. The Detroit Metro Airport is somewhere in between the two extremes, being fairly new, spacious, and more-or-less logically laid out.
Being trapped in LAX for eternity, with no boarding pass or means of leaving the airport, would be a fair approximation of Hell.
"Saint Barbie" is a very pretty town, but as usual, there's a catch. The median house price is about $550K, and the oh-so-chic residents have passed all kinds of entertaining laws to govern themselves. Among them is a requirement that all construction -- even a Burger King -- must be Spanish Colonial. Now I have nothing particularly against courtyards, or stucco walls, or tile roofs, but an entire city built in a uniformly "cute" architectural style is uncomfortably reminiscent of The Village. And, of course, there are precious few library jobs that will permit one to shell out a mil or two for a house. Most of the people who work in the library seem to commute for an hour or two each morning, and back again in the evening.
Talking with the folks at the library early on the morning of the interview quickly revealed that they were particularly interested in presentations involving electronic show-and-tell, so I scrapped the presentation I had planned to do (for which I was going to rely heavily on verbal interaction, handouts, etc.) and improvised a talk about a subject for which I had prepared an electronic research guide which was accessible on the Internet. I easily managed to fill the allotted time, since it was on a subject in which I have a particular personal interest, but not in a terribly organized fashion. Time will tell what the search committee thought about it.
Saturday was devoted to seeing the sights of Saint Barbie. The South Coast Railroad Museum, in a relocated depot building about a mile from the university, has a model railroad display depicting S.B. when it was a division point yard on the Southern Pacific's Coast Line, as well as a somewhat larger "model railroad" and other exhibits. Unfortunately, although the model railroad looks like it could be operated so as to duplicate the actual operations of the SP, I was informed that it's rarely used for anything but round-and-round display operation nowadays. The Mission and Presidio in were interesting, if a bit crowded in their built-up urban setting, and the State Street shopping district yielded a few interesting restaurants and bars, although the high rents have apparently driven out all the secondhand bookstores, leaving only the Two Big B's. (Those who think that I stood on principle and refused to buy anything from the B's don't know me very well.) A little Thai restaurant supplied a lamb curry with a fieriness balanced exquisitely on the line between pleasure and pain, and a glass of a locally-brewed pale ale provided a nice cool-and-sharp counterpoint. A few dubious business concepts made me shake my head, as when something called Bogart's Bar advertised "genuine Irish style".
Guess I didn't know His Coolness was Irish. (Shakes head, walks on down the street....)
Sunday was devoted to driving around aimlessly to see if I could find any place less grossly overpriced. The crooked, challenging highways through the startlingly jagged coastal mountain range were fun to drive, especially since the rental outfit at the airport had supplied me with a sexy black Mustang instead of the dowdy four-door midsize car I'd reserved. This sleek, sable FelixMobile surely struck fear into the hearts of other drivers on the road, especially when its driver suddenly realized that he needed to be three lanes over on the highway, or decided on the spur of the moment to veer into one of the sightseers' roadside parking spots overlooking a precipitous coastal cliff. It was almost cool enough that I could hold my head up amongst the ubiquitous Porsches and Beemers and Hummers.
"Saint Inez", located about twenty miles inland, proved to be almost as overpriced as Saint Barbie. A kindly and condescending real estate agent advised me to try about twenty or thirty miles further west, near the air force base. While eating a chicken-and-brie sandwich at a local winery/restaurant, I listened to the local horsey set chat about their concerns. The waiter was Hispanic and very obsequious. The historical society across the street was exquisitely decorated, hushed, and watched over by a very dignified lady who made it quite clear that she had better things to do than chat with the hoi polloi. While I was there, a nervous-looking blonde, in high heels and dressed to the nines, arrived for her appointment to discuss volunteering. Meanwhile, I looked over their well-preserved and/or professionally-restored collection of 19th-century carriages and stagecoaches and peered in the windows of what must be the world's smallest public library (a frame building, about 10 feet square, open only on Saturdays from 2 to 5).
The nearby "Saint Inez" mission was well-preserved, but between the Mass in progress and the sign (like the one in Saint Barbie) demanding a $4.00 ticket for a "self-guided tour", I decided I'd pass on anything more than a cursory walk around its exterior.
It's just as well. "Purity" Mission, out in a less crowded area, was a knockout by comparison. Less successful as a mission, it's more successful as a historical site. After being abandoned in the 1800's, it fell into ruins and was reconstructed as a historical site in the 1930's by the CCC, complete with rebuilt irrigation channels, animal corrals, workrooms, gardens, etc. I could easily have spent all day wandering around the place, and I couldn't help but think that it would be the ultimate site for a live-action Old West roleplaying game. Turns out that, according to one of the park rangers, it is in fact used as a set for television and film scenes from time to time.
(Feel free to make comments about me preferring churches as historical artifacts over churches as living institutions....)
This nearby town looked like a place I might be able to afford to live in, although by this time it was too late in the day to find any apartment leasing offices open. So I drove out to the local beach -- much more attractive, and cleaner, than the ones near Saint Barbie, with an Amtrak depot and railroad junction to boot! Unfortunately, although it was open on the day I visited, it seems one cannot count on that always being true.
Closed the day by following the Lompoc Branch of the railroad back to town, noting several modelable features (short length, attractive scenery including fields of commercially-grown flowers in addition to the aforementioned beachfront junction with the mainline, and a small-town terminal with a steeply-climbing switchback spur up San Miguelito Canyon to a plant producing diatomacious earth), then driving back to Santa Barbie via the incredibly constricted Gaviota Pass, which still looks much like this picture, except that the highway has been expanded by blasting a tunnel through one of the rock walls of this geographical chokepoint. I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to commute along such a highway for an hour in and an hour back every weekday, especially if several hundred other people are having to make the same commute.
Gaviota Beach, where a towering iron trestle carries the Coast Line over the beach and a long fishing pier reaches out into the Pacific, seemed like a good place to watch the sun set and have a beer, after which it was back to the SB airport for an 8:00 departure. Or so I thought. When I got there, the folks at the United ticket counter, due to some unspecified problem with their scheduled flight, were frantically shunting all their ticketholders over to the American counter for transfer to an earlier flight. Okay. Despite being tagged for "special treatment" by the baggage-searchers, I managed to make the flight, but without a boarding pass for the connecting flight out of LAX.
Fortunately the "Northwest Club" staff at LAX were able to print me one with a minimum of delay, but they quietly made it clear that non-First Class riffraff were not quite welcome there, so I waited among the crowds of people waiting for an Air New Zealand flight.
My plan to sleep on the overnight flight back to Michigan worked about as well as you might expect, and arriving at 5:30 a.m. local time left me about as dazed as you might expect at work the next day... and the next.
And so back to normal. Or what passes for it.
Again, I've been delinquent about posting, but due to overwhelming public demand (thanks, Carlos), I'm back to harass, harangue, and generally blather away from my little virtual soapbox-in-the-ether.
I enjoyed the trip to California, although I quickly realized that the comfort level on crowded, long-distance late-night "cattle car" flights between major cities was going to be very different from what I was accustomed to on shorter and less crowded flights. I also realized that I much prefer flying out of small airports like those at this or thisrather than overcrowded, Dante-esque multi-terminal places like LA International. The Detroit Metro Airport is somewhere in between the two extremes, being fairly new, spacious, and more-or-less logically laid out.
Being trapped in LAX for eternity, with no boarding pass or means of leaving the airport, would be a fair approximation of Hell.
"Saint Barbie" is a very pretty town, but as usual, there's a catch. The median house price is about $550K, and the oh-so-chic residents have passed all kinds of entertaining laws to govern themselves. Among them is a requirement that all construction -- even a Burger King -- must be Spanish Colonial. Now I have nothing particularly against courtyards, or stucco walls, or tile roofs, but an entire city built in a uniformly "cute" architectural style is uncomfortably reminiscent of The Village. And, of course, there are precious few library jobs that will permit one to shell out a mil or two for a house. Most of the people who work in the library seem to commute for an hour or two each morning, and back again in the evening.
Talking with the folks at the library early on the morning of the interview quickly revealed that they were particularly interested in presentations involving electronic show-and-tell, so I scrapped the presentation I had planned to do (for which I was going to rely heavily on verbal interaction, handouts, etc.) and improvised a talk about a subject for which I had prepared an electronic research guide which was accessible on the Internet. I easily managed to fill the allotted time, since it was on a subject in which I have a particular personal interest, but not in a terribly organized fashion. Time will tell what the search committee thought about it.
Saturday was devoted to seeing the sights of Saint Barbie. The South Coast Railroad Museum, in a relocated depot building about a mile from the university, has a model railroad display depicting S.B. when it was a division point yard on the Southern Pacific's Coast Line, as well as a somewhat larger "model railroad" and other exhibits. Unfortunately, although the model railroad looks like it could be operated so as to duplicate the actual operations of the SP, I was informed that it's rarely used for anything but round-and-round display operation nowadays. The Mission and Presidio in were interesting, if a bit crowded in their built-up urban setting, and the State Street shopping district yielded a few interesting restaurants and bars, although the high rents have apparently driven out all the secondhand bookstores, leaving only the Two Big B's. (Those who think that I stood on principle and refused to buy anything from the B's don't know me very well.) A little Thai restaurant supplied a lamb curry with a fieriness balanced exquisitely on the line between pleasure and pain, and a glass of a locally-brewed pale ale provided a nice cool-and-sharp counterpoint. A few dubious business concepts made me shake my head, as when something called Bogart's Bar advertised "genuine Irish style".
Guess I didn't know His Coolness was Irish. (Shakes head, walks on down the street....)
Sunday was devoted to driving around aimlessly to see if I could find any place less grossly overpriced. The crooked, challenging highways through the startlingly jagged coastal mountain range were fun to drive, especially since the rental outfit at the airport had supplied me with a sexy black Mustang instead of the dowdy four-door midsize car I'd reserved. This sleek, sable FelixMobile surely struck fear into the hearts of other drivers on the road, especially when its driver suddenly realized that he needed to be three lanes over on the highway, or decided on the spur of the moment to veer into one of the sightseers' roadside parking spots overlooking a precipitous coastal cliff. It was almost cool enough that I could hold my head up amongst the ubiquitous Porsches and Beemers and Hummers.
"Saint Inez", located about twenty miles inland, proved to be almost as overpriced as Saint Barbie. A kindly and condescending real estate agent advised me to try about twenty or thirty miles further west, near the air force base. While eating a chicken-and-brie sandwich at a local winery/restaurant, I listened to the local horsey set chat about their concerns. The waiter was Hispanic and very obsequious. The historical society across the street was exquisitely decorated, hushed, and watched over by a very dignified lady who made it quite clear that she had better things to do than chat with the hoi polloi. While I was there, a nervous-looking blonde, in high heels and dressed to the nines, arrived for her appointment to discuss volunteering. Meanwhile, I looked over their well-preserved and/or professionally-restored collection of 19th-century carriages and stagecoaches and peered in the windows of what must be the world's smallest public library (a frame building, about 10 feet square, open only on Saturdays from 2 to 5).
The nearby "Saint Inez" mission was well-preserved, but between the Mass in progress and the sign (like the one in Saint Barbie) demanding a $4.00 ticket for a "self-guided tour", I decided I'd pass on anything more than a cursory walk around its exterior.
It's just as well. "Purity" Mission, out in a less crowded area, was a knockout by comparison. Less successful as a mission, it's more successful as a historical site. After being abandoned in the 1800's, it fell into ruins and was reconstructed as a historical site in the 1930's by the CCC, complete with rebuilt irrigation channels, animal corrals, workrooms, gardens, etc. I could easily have spent all day wandering around the place, and I couldn't help but think that it would be the ultimate site for a live-action Old West roleplaying game. Turns out that, according to one of the park rangers, it is in fact used as a set for television and film scenes from time to time.
(Feel free to make comments about me preferring churches as historical artifacts over churches as living institutions....)
This nearby town looked like a place I might be able to afford to live in, although by this time it was too late in the day to find any apartment leasing offices open. So I drove out to the local beach -- much more attractive, and cleaner, than the ones near Saint Barbie, with an Amtrak depot and railroad junction to boot! Unfortunately, although it was open on the day I visited, it seems one cannot count on that always being true.
Closed the day by following the Lompoc Branch of the railroad back to town, noting several modelable features (short length, attractive scenery including fields of commercially-grown flowers in addition to the aforementioned beachfront junction with the mainline, and a small-town terminal with a steeply-climbing switchback spur up San Miguelito Canyon to a plant producing diatomacious earth), then driving back to Santa Barbie via the incredibly constricted Gaviota Pass, which still looks much like this picture, except that the highway has been expanded by blasting a tunnel through one of the rock walls of this geographical chokepoint. I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to commute along such a highway for an hour in and an hour back every weekday, especially if several hundred other people are having to make the same commute.
Gaviota Beach, where a towering iron trestle carries the Coast Line over the beach and a long fishing pier reaches out into the Pacific, seemed like a good place to watch the sun set and have a beer, after which it was back to the SB airport for an 8:00 departure. Or so I thought. When I got there, the folks at the United ticket counter, due to some unspecified problem with their scheduled flight, were frantically shunting all their ticketholders over to the American counter for transfer to an earlier flight. Okay. Despite being tagged for "special treatment" by the baggage-searchers, I managed to make the flight, but without a boarding pass for the connecting flight out of LAX.
Fortunately the "Northwest Club" staff at LAX were able to print me one with a minimum of delay, but they quietly made it clear that non-First Class riffraff were not quite welcome there, so I waited among the crowds of people waiting for an Air New Zealand flight.
My plan to sleep on the overnight flight back to Michigan worked about as well as you might expect, and arriving at 5:30 a.m. local time left me about as dazed as you might expect at work the next day... and the next.
And so back to normal. Or what passes for it.
Wednesday, January 21, 2004
Goin' back to Cali
Tomorrow I'm off on another trip, this time to the sunny California shore. Rather ironic, considering how often I've characterized California as the Cereal Bowl of the Nation (i.e., fruits, nuts, and flakes!). Perhaps I've finally become eccentric enough to fit in there, lounging in decadent lassitude on the Pacific shore, waiting for the Big One.
In any case, January is a good time to spend an expense-paid weekend outside of Michigan.
Tomorrow I'm off on another trip, this time to the sunny California shore. Rather ironic, considering how often I've characterized California as the Cereal Bowl of the Nation (i.e., fruits, nuts, and flakes!). Perhaps I've finally become eccentric enough to fit in there, lounging in decadent lassitude on the Pacific shore, waiting for the Big One.
In any case, January is a good time to spend an expense-paid weekend outside of Michigan.
Guide to Pr*blematical Listserv Posters
If I ever compile a "Top Ten List of Signs You Spend Too Much Time Reading Library Weblogs And Listservs", one of them is going to be the following:
#: Seeing the name "Don S*kl*d", or the phrase "Guide to Pr*blematical Library Use", or any reference whatsoever to the B*st*n Public Library, makes you scream in fury and lunge for the delete key. Over... and over... and over... and over.... and over....
See why here. But only if you're very, very brave. Or bored. I've been known to be a cranky and obsessive library user from time to time, but this guy takes the cake. He has a couple of weblogs of his own which the interested can easily find by searching Google, but I ain't postin' no links to 'em. It's enough of a nuisance that his name shows up a dozen times a day in my e'mail inbox whenever he decides to harangue one of the listservs I'm on. (And, no, the e'mail service I'm using doesn't allow for mail blocking unless you pony up cash for the "Platinum" option. Grrr.)
If I ever compile a "Top Ten List of Signs You Spend Too Much Time Reading Library Weblogs And Listservs", one of them is going to be the following:
#: Seeing the name "Don S*kl*d", or the phrase "Guide to Pr*blematical Library Use", or any reference whatsoever to the B*st*n Public Library, makes you scream in fury and lunge for the delete key. Over... and over... and over... and over.... and over....
See why here. But only if you're very, very brave. Or bored. I've been known to be a cranky and obsessive library user from time to time, but this guy takes the cake. He has a couple of weblogs of his own which the interested can easily find by searching Google, but I ain't postin' no links to 'em. It's enough of a nuisance that his name shows up a dozen times a day in my e'mail inbox whenever he decides to harangue one of the listservs I'm on. (And, no, the e'mail service I'm using doesn't allow for mail blocking unless you pony up cash for the "Platinum" option. Grrr.)
This isn't a weblog, it's a bicycle club!
So says the occasionally-sensible Walt Crawford. Whee! Let's all ride our bikes and have fun!
So says the occasionally-sensible Walt Crawford. Whee! Let's all ride our bikes and have fun!
Monday, January 19, 2004
More dangerous reading
We've all probably heard about the FBI's recent warnings about terrorists using almanacs as Tools of Terror. But that's not all they're looking for....
Robert Mueller III, director of the FBI, explains in the current issue of American Libraries that "I am personally committed to fighting the war on terrorism without violating the principles of civil liberty and privacy that make this country great...." He says also that "We must recognize, however, that libraries and their services occasionally attract individuals involved in criminal conduct, including terrorism and espionage." Ted Kaczynski, the good ol' Unabomber, is trotted out as an example:
"Included within the [Unabomber's] manifesto were references to an obscure book, The Ancient Engineers, by L. Sprague De Camp. A librarian in Montana near Kaczynski's home told FBI agents that Kaczynski had ordered 'tons of stuff' on L. Sprague de Camp. Kaczynski was subsequently arrested and convicted for his role in a string of bombings."
Huh? Am I missing something, or are there a few gaps in his logic here?
It's a little odd to characterize de Camp's The Ancient Engineers as "obscure". De Camp was an extremely prolific writer of science fiction, fantasy, and nonfiction, and the winner of several science fiction and fantasy award, most notably the Hugo Award in 1997. At one time or another, I've seen copies of that particular book on the bargain-books rack of just about every Barnes & Noble store I've been to, as well as in numerous used-bookstores. OCLC WorldCat reports that 1028 libraries own the 1963 original edition, with hundreds more owning copies of subsequent editions that came out in 1966, 1970, 1974, 1976, 1977, 1986, and 1990. Does the FBI really think that reading, owning, or requesting a copy of this book, or 'tons of stuff' about its author, is a "terrorist" characteristic? If so, we've got an awful lot of terrorists out there. Enough to make de Camp a bestselling author in his heyday, and enough to vote a Hugo Award to him in 1997. If this is the case, considering that I like to read about old technology, read science fiction, and lived in the same city as de Camp, I have no idea how I managed to avoid becoming a Terrorist.
I note that Mr. Mueller is rather vague about just what connection there is between Kaczynski's reading of de Camp, FBI's snooping into his library records, and his "subsequent" arrest. Does he mean to say that the references to de Camp's book in the Unabomber's manuscript, and some kind of mass trawling through library records for "people who read L. Sprague de Camp", were the critical evidence that allowed the FBI to identify and arrest Kaczynski?
My recollection of the events is that the FBI and other police agencies actually identified and arrested Kaczynski only after his brother recognized his writing style in the published manifesto and turned him in. (See Wikipedia's entry on Kaczynski.) If the FBI inquired into Kaczynski's library records after that point, it was (1) after the case had effectively been broken, and (2) with critical evidence identifying a suspect already in hand -- evidence that evidently met the existing requirements for library disclosure, pre-"PATRIOT" ACT.
Does Mr. Mueller intend to say that if the FBI had had "PATRIOT"-style powers of inquisition at that time, they would have conducted a massive, nationwide fishing expedition through library and bookstore records for the names of everybody who had read best-selling authors like de Camp, Joseph Conrad, Eric Hoffer and other authors cited by the Unabomber? And then somehow magically identified the "right" one from that massive list? What of all those who read de Camp, Hoffer, et al in pure, unblemished innocence? 'Fraid yours truly is "guilty" of reading all three. Although I may be more bookish than most of the population, it seems likely that there are thousands of others who fit the same definition.
In any event, this example is, if anything, an example of why the so-called "Patriot" Act was unneeded. Evidently the FBI got the necessary information about Kaczynski under the pre-existing system. The claim that this supports the "need" for at-will and unsupervised surveillance of all American citizens' reading and researching habits is unjustified.
We've all probably heard about the FBI's recent warnings about terrorists using almanacs as Tools of Terror. But that's not all they're looking for....
Robert Mueller III, director of the FBI, explains in the current issue of American Libraries that "I am personally committed to fighting the war on terrorism without violating the principles of civil liberty and privacy that make this country great...." He says also that "We must recognize, however, that libraries and their services occasionally attract individuals involved in criminal conduct, including terrorism and espionage." Ted Kaczynski, the good ol' Unabomber, is trotted out as an example:
"Included within the [Unabomber's] manifesto were references to an obscure book, The Ancient Engineers, by L. Sprague De Camp. A librarian in Montana near Kaczynski's home told FBI agents that Kaczynski had ordered 'tons of stuff' on L. Sprague de Camp. Kaczynski was subsequently arrested and convicted for his role in a string of bombings."
Huh? Am I missing something, or are there a few gaps in his logic here?
It's a little odd to characterize de Camp's The Ancient Engineers as "obscure". De Camp was an extremely prolific writer of science fiction, fantasy, and nonfiction, and the winner of several science fiction and fantasy award, most notably the Hugo Award in 1997. At one time or another, I've seen copies of that particular book on the bargain-books rack of just about every Barnes & Noble store I've been to, as well as in numerous used-bookstores. OCLC WorldCat reports that 1028 libraries own the 1963 original edition, with hundreds more owning copies of subsequent editions that came out in 1966, 1970, 1974, 1976, 1977, 1986, and 1990. Does the FBI really think that reading, owning, or requesting a copy of this book, or 'tons of stuff' about its author, is a "terrorist" characteristic? If so, we've got an awful lot of terrorists out there. Enough to make de Camp a bestselling author in his heyday, and enough to vote a Hugo Award to him in 1997. If this is the case, considering that I like to read about old technology, read science fiction, and lived in the same city as de Camp, I have no idea how I managed to avoid becoming a Terrorist.
I note that Mr. Mueller is rather vague about just what connection there is between Kaczynski's reading of de Camp, FBI's snooping into his library records, and his "subsequent" arrest. Does he mean to say that the references to de Camp's book in the Unabomber's manuscript, and some kind of mass trawling through library records for "people who read L. Sprague de Camp", were the critical evidence that allowed the FBI to identify and arrest Kaczynski?
My recollection of the events is that the FBI and other police agencies actually identified and arrested Kaczynski only after his brother recognized his writing style in the published manifesto and turned him in. (See Wikipedia's entry on Kaczynski.) If the FBI inquired into Kaczynski's library records after that point, it was (1) after the case had effectively been broken, and (2) with critical evidence identifying a suspect already in hand -- evidence that evidently met the existing requirements for library disclosure, pre-"PATRIOT" ACT.
Does Mr. Mueller intend to say that if the FBI had had "PATRIOT"-style powers of inquisition at that time, they would have conducted a massive, nationwide fishing expedition through library and bookstore records for the names of everybody who had read best-selling authors like de Camp, Joseph Conrad, Eric Hoffer and other authors cited by the Unabomber? And then somehow magically identified the "right" one from that massive list? What of all those who read de Camp, Hoffer, et al in pure, unblemished innocence? 'Fraid yours truly is "guilty" of reading all three. Although I may be more bookish than most of the population, it seems likely that there are thousands of others who fit the same definition.
In any event, this example is, if anything, an example of why the so-called "Patriot" Act was unneeded. Evidently the FBI got the necessary information about Kaczynski under the pre-existing system. The claim that this supports the "need" for at-will and unsupervised surveillance of all American citizens' reading and researching habits is unjustified.
Recent Reads:
Meals by Fred Harvey : a phenomenon of the American West, by James David Henderson
Since I have a few relatives with the same surname, who lived in the same general area at the same general time that Mr. Harvey was starting his chain of restaurants, I had idly wondered whether there might be a family connection to the man who history credits with bringing both edible food and marriagable single women (the famous Harvey Girl waitresses) to the Western frontier. Unfortunately, what biographical information there was in this short book pretty well nixed that idea. It was an interesting read anyway; if I ever decide to build a western-themed model railroad module, a Harvey House restaurant would be an interesting item to include. (If you look closely at this photo, the Slaton Harvey House appears to have received coal by railcar, and according to the book, Harvey frequently had refrigerator cars of produce and meat routed to his restaurants, adding some local freight switching operations to the mandatory passenger-train stops.)
Meals by Fred Harvey : a phenomenon of the American West, by James David Henderson
Since I have a few relatives with the same surname, who lived in the same general area at the same general time that Mr. Harvey was starting his chain of restaurants, I had idly wondered whether there might be a family connection to the man who history credits with bringing both edible food and marriagable single women (the famous Harvey Girl waitresses) to the Western frontier. Unfortunately, what biographical information there was in this short book pretty well nixed that idea. It was an interesting read anyway; if I ever decide to build a western-themed model railroad module, a Harvey House restaurant would be an interesting item to include. (If you look closely at this photo, the Slaton Harvey House appears to have received coal by railcar, and according to the book, Harvey frequently had refrigerator cars of produce and meat routed to his restaurants, adding some local freight switching operations to the mandatory passenger-train stops.)
Insert obligatory pun here
From the Jan. 2004 issue of Locus, p. 13:
Follow the Pulp Paper Road : Two and a half million return copies of old Mills and Boon romance novels, or 92,000 books per mile, were used to produce a new 16-mile stretch of the M6 toll road in Birmingham UK. "Unsold copies of the books were shredded into a paste and added to a mixture of asphalt and Tamac," which "helps to bind the asphalt and the Tarmac, preventing the surface from splitting apart after heavy use." Project manager Richard Beal said, "There is an old saying that the road to true love doesn't run smoothly but thanks to thousands of Mills and Boon romance novels we hope that the M6 toll will."
From the Jan. 2004 issue of Locus, p. 13:
Follow the Pulp Paper Road : Two and a half million return copies of old Mills and Boon romance novels, or 92,000 books per mile, were used to produce a new 16-mile stretch of the M6 toll road in Birmingham UK. "Unsold copies of the books were shredded into a paste and added to a mixture of asphalt and Tamac," which "helps to bind the asphalt and the Tarmac, preventing the surface from splitting apart after heavy use." Project manager Richard Beal said, "There is an old saying that the road to true love doesn't run smoothly but thanks to thousands of Mills and Boon romance novels we hope that the M6 toll will."
Thursday, January 15, 2004
Pulp fiction reference tools
Since I brought up pulp fiction in the previous post, I'll be a dutiful librarian and mention a few online reference sources that should gladden the heart of pulp readers everywhere.
According to a posting on the Stumpers-L listserv, Gordon Van Gelder, the editor of the Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction has recently announced a comprehensive online index covering stories and other items published in F&SF from 1949 to 1999. This includes the first appearances of quite a few stories by well-known authors like Robert Heinlein, Alfred Bester, et al. Now, if only more libraries had the indexed volumes on the shelves for easy access....
The FictionMags Index provides spotty but useful coverage of fiction published in many of the classic pulps such as Railroad Stories and The Shadow, as well as publications both more respectable (The Saturday Evening Post) and considerably less (Spicy Stories , Playboy, and the intriguingly titled Naughty Bits)
And of course there are always the Locus indexes.
Have fun. Drive your local interlibrary loan department crazy. Don't tell 'em I sent you.
Since I brought up pulp fiction in the previous post, I'll be a dutiful librarian and mention a few online reference sources that should gladden the heart of pulp readers everywhere.
According to a posting on the Stumpers-L listserv, Gordon Van Gelder, the editor of the Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction has recently announced a comprehensive online index covering stories and other items published in F&SF from 1949 to 1999. This includes the first appearances of quite a few stories by well-known authors like Robert Heinlein, Alfred Bester, et al. Now, if only more libraries had the indexed volumes on the shelves for easy access....
The FictionMags Index provides spotty but useful coverage of fiction published in many of the classic pulps such as Railroad Stories and The Shadow, as well as publications both more respectable (The Saturday Evening Post) and considerably less (Spicy Stories , Playboy, and the intriguingly titled Naughty Bits)
And of course there are always the Locus indexes.
Have fun. Drive your local interlibrary loan department crazy. Don't tell 'em I sent you.
Isn't it Romantic?
Jen Wolf has created a fun webpage honoring the sub-sub-subgenre of Library Career Romance novels, a subset of the Career Girl novel of the 1950's, itself a subset of Women's Novels, which is in turn a subset of Pulp Fiction in my own peculiar taxonomy. Who knew that working in libraries was such a whirl of glamour and romance?
Be sure to check out the cover images and excerpts supplied. For example:
"Sue sighed. She was still disappointed that she hadn’t gotten the job at the Main Branch of the Brooklyn Public Library. She had been so sure she would get it. Her pride still ached when she thought of the homeliest girl in the class enjoying that coveted position, even though Sue knew that grades, not looks, were the deciding factor. Sue wasn’t looking forward at all to hacking around in the frozen north. But at least it was a job, a temporary job. Sue bit her lip. Now that it was too late, she wished that she’d studied harder. She knew she could have been near the top of her class in library school if only she’d tried. Then she could have had her choice of jobs. [from Books and Beaux]
Or consider this moment of epiphany from Anne Fuller, Librarian:
The microfilm reader fascinated Anne. It had been so helpful in the libraries where she had worked the last two summers. But she had never before had the responsibility of a machine, as she did now. She arrived early on her second day and went to the metal cabinet beside the machine to study the films which the library had collected. It still seemed a miracle to her that the contents of a whole book, or a big issue of a newspaper, could be recorded on a small roll of film less than two inches wide. [p. 67]
Unfortunately, not a single one of these worthy tomes holds out a scintilla of hope for men in the library profession to Find True Love. Presumably truly Manly Men of the 1950's were expected to be off fighting the Cold War, building Chevys, and generally being Manly while demure Anne gawked at the miraculous microfilm machine. (Don't tell her about the Internet; she'll fall down in a dead faint!)
(Link ripped from Jessamyn West, the sine-qua-non of library bloggers.)
Jen Wolf has created a fun webpage honoring the sub-sub-subgenre of Library Career Romance novels, a subset of the Career Girl novel of the 1950's, itself a subset of Women's Novels, which is in turn a subset of Pulp Fiction in my own peculiar taxonomy. Who knew that working in libraries was such a whirl of glamour and romance?
Be sure to check out the cover images and excerpts supplied. For example:
"Sue sighed. She was still disappointed that she hadn’t gotten the job at the Main Branch of the Brooklyn Public Library. She had been so sure she would get it. Her pride still ached when she thought of the homeliest girl in the class enjoying that coveted position, even though Sue knew that grades, not looks, were the deciding factor. Sue wasn’t looking forward at all to hacking around in the frozen north. But at least it was a job, a temporary job. Sue bit her lip. Now that it was too late, she wished that she’d studied harder. She knew she could have been near the top of her class in library school if only she’d tried. Then she could have had her choice of jobs. [from Books and Beaux]
Or consider this moment of epiphany from Anne Fuller, Librarian:
The microfilm reader fascinated Anne. It had been so helpful in the libraries where she had worked the last two summers. But she had never before had the responsibility of a machine, as she did now. She arrived early on her second day and went to the metal cabinet beside the machine to study the films which the library had collected. It still seemed a miracle to her that the contents of a whole book, or a big issue of a newspaper, could be recorded on a small roll of film less than two inches wide. [p. 67]
Unfortunately, not a single one of these worthy tomes holds out a scintilla of hope for men in the library profession to Find True Love. Presumably truly Manly Men of the 1950's were expected to be off fighting the Cold War, building Chevys, and generally being Manly while demure Anne gawked at the miraculous microfilm machine. (Don't tell her about the Internet; she'll fall down in a dead faint!)
(Link ripped from Jessamyn West, the sine-qua-non of library bloggers.)
Now playing...
Del and the Boys (Del McCoury Band, 2000)
It don't get much more country than this. I have sometimes winced at the so-called "high lonesome" sound of bluegrass music, and at the cliched images of "hillbillies" that too often accompany it in places like "Dollywood" or "Silver Dollar City". But against all expectations, I enjoyed this album immensely, and it reminded me that bluegrass has a far greater and deeper heritage than the cornball cliches of "Hee-Haw", one that I need to explore.
True, McCoury's voice at full blast has some of the sonic qualities of a high-speed bandsaw cutting through sheet metal, but so help me, it works on these songs. Although there's one instrumental number on the album, and Del's band (including his two sons) plays blazing licks throughout, most of the songs, like the traditional folk ballads and gospel songs that gave birth to the bluegrass genre, depend on the lyrics as much as the music for their impact. They're songs that tell stories drawn from the weird and phantasmagorical world of backwoods American folklore, where angels or devils can lurk behind the faces of strangers on trains or the temptations of the whiskey bottle, and McCoury's their ideal storyteller. As sung by McCoury, a song like "1952 Vincent Black Lightning", a rather tawdry tale of an ill-fated biker and his red-haired girlfriend, becomes high drama despite itself. Even slightly-over-the-top bits like the protagonist's fashion comments ("Red hair and black leather, my favorite color scheme!") and the dying words of a man who sees "angels on aerials / in leather and chrome / comin' down from Heaven / to carry me home" work amazingly well when belted out in McCoury's urgent backcountry twang.
Elsewhere in the album, "All Aboard"manages to bring one of the oldest tropes in the gospel-songwriters' book to vivid, nerve-jangling life, and "Pharisee in Recovery" manages to be both humorously self-deprecating and Biblically sound. The latter song, if I had my way, would be required listening for all church officials of all denominations.
Del and the Boys (Del McCoury Band, 2000)
It don't get much more country than this. I have sometimes winced at the so-called "high lonesome" sound of bluegrass music, and at the cliched images of "hillbillies" that too often accompany it in places like "Dollywood" or "Silver Dollar City". But against all expectations, I enjoyed this album immensely, and it reminded me that bluegrass has a far greater and deeper heritage than the cornball cliches of "Hee-Haw", one that I need to explore.
True, McCoury's voice at full blast has some of the sonic qualities of a high-speed bandsaw cutting through sheet metal, but so help me, it works on these songs. Although there's one instrumental number on the album, and Del's band (including his two sons) plays blazing licks throughout, most of the songs, like the traditional folk ballads and gospel songs that gave birth to the bluegrass genre, depend on the lyrics as much as the music for their impact. They're songs that tell stories drawn from the weird and phantasmagorical world of backwoods American folklore, where angels or devils can lurk behind the faces of strangers on trains or the temptations of the whiskey bottle, and McCoury's their ideal storyteller. As sung by McCoury, a song like "1952 Vincent Black Lightning", a rather tawdry tale of an ill-fated biker and his red-haired girlfriend, becomes high drama despite itself. Even slightly-over-the-top bits like the protagonist's fashion comments ("Red hair and black leather, my favorite color scheme!") and the dying words of a man who sees "angels on aerials / in leather and chrome / comin' down from Heaven / to carry me home" work amazingly well when belted out in McCoury's urgent backcountry twang.
Elsewhere in the album, "All Aboard"manages to bring one of the oldest tropes in the gospel-songwriters' book to vivid, nerve-jangling life, and "Pharisee in Recovery" manages to be both humorously self-deprecating and Biblically sound. The latter song, if I had my way, would be required listening for all church officials of all denominations.
Total Information Hypocrisy
From US News & World Report, January 12, 2004, p 6.
Shushing Homeland
Security is one thing, but how about this from the Department of Homeland Security? The agency has instructed employees to ignore, in some cases, court orders to disclose information. The agency says that an employee who gets a court order should seek a delay. And if he or she is unsuccessful and the court persists, the employee "shall respectfully decline to comply with the demand."
"Rule of Law"? Yeah, right. Thanks to the LU List.
From US News & World Report, January 12, 2004, p 6.
Shushing Homeland
Security is one thing, but how about this from the Department of Homeland Security? The agency has instructed employees to ignore, in some cases, court orders to disclose information. The agency says that an employee who gets a court order should seek a delay. And if he or she is unsuccessful and the court persists, the employee "shall respectfully decline to comply with the demand."
"Rule of Law"? Yeah, right. Thanks to the LU List.
Wednesday, January 14, 2004
Thunder, Thunder over Bunny Road!
CNN reports that a pair of Belgian desperadoes were recently captured by police despite having a car tricked out with enough gadgetry to satisfy James Bond or Lucas Doolin.
[The car was] reinforced with metal plates to stop bullets. [It} was also equipped with an automated box ready to spring tire traps to slow pursuers. The poachers had fitted a halogen lamp on the outside to blind their prey and shielded the car's number plates with lead sheeting to avoid identification. There was also a device to eject two old bicycles fixed on the back of the car on to the road as an obstacle to any vehicle in hot pursuit....
And the valuable, illicit cargo these daring highwaymen were smuggling? Bootleg liquor? Cocaine? Stolen artwork? Pirated DVD's? Nope. Rabbits.
All together now....
(CHORUS)
And there was (hippity-hop, hippity-hop!) over Thunder Road
(Hippity-hop!) was their engine, and (Hippity-hop!) was their load....
(Real lyrics here.)
With that kind of imagination and mechanical ability, couldn't these guys find anything more, uh, interesting to smuggle?
CNN reports that a pair of Belgian desperadoes were recently captured by police despite having a car tricked out with enough gadgetry to satisfy James Bond or Lucas Doolin.
[The car was] reinforced with metal plates to stop bullets. [It} was also equipped with an automated box ready to spring tire traps to slow pursuers. The poachers had fitted a halogen lamp on the outside to blind their prey and shielded the car's number plates with lead sheeting to avoid identification. There was also a device to eject two old bicycles fixed on the back of the car on to the road as an obstacle to any vehicle in hot pursuit....
And the valuable, illicit cargo these daring highwaymen were smuggling? Bootleg liquor? Cocaine? Stolen artwork? Pirated DVD's? Nope. Rabbits.
All together now....
(CHORUS)
And there was (hippity-hop, hippity-hop!) over Thunder Road
(Hippity-hop!) was their engine, and (Hippity-hop!) was their load....
(Real lyrics here.)
With that kind of imagination and mechanical ability, couldn't these guys find anything more, uh, interesting to smuggle?
Tuesday, January 13, 2004
Guess I'm not the only one with a dirty mind
The city's most prominent and best-known landmark has been officially acknowledged as the World's Most Phallic Building.
Original contest and story from Cabinet magazine available here; text of historical marker plaque here.
The city's most prominent and best-known landmark has been officially acknowledged as the World's Most Phallic Building.
Original contest and story from Cabinet magazine available here; text of historical marker plaque here.
Well, I'm back... again
I have been ever-so-gently reminded by at least two different persons that (1) I have failed to "write up" that sumptuous event-of-the-season, the Wedding of the Great Yam, and (2) contrary to appearances, there actually are people who try to read this blog occasionally, and they're mightily aggravated when lazy ol' me fails to throw them fresh meat... er, write new posts.
Really. I'm touched. You shouldn't have. That's so sweet.
Perhaps you will be more understanding of my recent distraction if I supply a chronology of the past month in the Life O' Felix. Batten down the hatches; it involves over 8000 miles of travel and visits to four different states, including the homes of seven different sets of relatives, three old college freinds, and three job interviews... and even so, I missed contacting one person I particularly wanted to see and one entire set of former co-workers. It's got beauty and beasts, pleasure and pain, a wonderful new sister-in-law (Hi, S.) and a horrible troll of a great-aunt. Not to mention an exploding power-steering pump, failing brakes, and an ailing cat spurting bloody urine. Some fun, eh?
Dec. 13 was the happy date of the Wedding of the Great Yam to his lovely bride S. in Austin, Texas, an event at which I was privileged to serve as groomsman. The wedding was held at night in a rural location north of Austin, lit by lanterns and candles, giving it a sort of mysterious pagan ambience. The bride and her bridesmaids approached the groom's party along a path of lights that wound down a small hillside opposite the wedding location, crossing a wooden bridge.
Fortunately, the sky didn't pour down rain on this festive and solemn occasion. However, it was cold, as the temperature began in the 40s (Fahrenheit) and proceeded to drop into the thirties after the ceremony. The bonfire was well attended, although my brother's threats to have a bonfire weenie-roast instead of a traditional reception dinner seem to have been vetoed by a Higher Power. There were those who wondered if the bride were going to start turning blue in her strapless gown; however, she reports feeling no pain all evening. There are of course traditional reasons for brides to be oblivious to trivial things like weather on wedding days, but in this case a judicious application of heat-pads seems to have aided matters. Nonetheless she was heard to murmur something about warmth when the happy twosome embraced after the vows.
While staying in Austin, I visited with a former college roommate whose love of ghost and mystery stories, nautical adventure, secret passages, and good food and liquor makes every visit an adventure, even if his version of ferroequinology differs from my own.
It turned out also that his next-door neighbor, a very attractive young woman, is studying the art of Swedish massage, and as part of her course of study, needs to do a certain number of practice massages. I allowed myself to be persuaded to volunteer. It's a rough job but someone's gotta do it. It is no doubt due to the relaxing influence of her gentle ministrations that I managed to refrain from actually attempting to track down and kill the blithering sadistic idiots who designed Austin's streets and highways.
Dec. 15-19 After the wedding, it was back to Michigan to work in the library for the final week of the semester.
Dec. 20: Back to Texas, this time north Dallas, for Christmas with the immediate family. Frantic last-minute shopping for gifts for forgotten distant relatives who decided at the last minute to come to the Christmas doin's. Swear eternal vengeance against the blithering yuppie idiots in their bling-bling BMW's and blundering chrome-armored SUV's that make driving in North Dallas so very .... interesting. Over next few days, spend too much time and too much money at model train stores, bookstores, etc. Buy more for myself than for others. (At least I know what I want....)
Dec. 22. In between pre-Christmas foolishness, have telephone interview with public library in southwestern Michigan. They don't sound impressed.
Dec. 24. Attend Christmas Eve services at local First Baptist Church. Sadly, rumor has it that this was the last year for the church's signature holiday blowout, the Living Christmas Tree. Somehow I fail to be saddened at the discontinuance of something which always looked to me as if savage headhunters had decorated the tree with trophies of unfortunate missionaries. Nor will I miss the spinning disco-balls used to create "swirling snow" effects.
Thankfully, however, this year's iteration of the Living Christmas Tree has already joined the Ghosts of Christmas Past, and the Christmas Eve candlelight service of prayer and traditional carols is modest, tasteful, and restrained, especially by comparison with the spectacle put on by the archrival crosstown megachurch . I don't think I could have restrained myself from laughing at the twelve-foot-long organdy "angels" swooping over the congregation on wires and metal tracks. "Duck! Incoming!!!"
Dec. 25. Off to the races on Christmas Day for the mad highway dash through Oklahoma (stopping off to visit a newly-acquired set of relatives, the grandparents of my brother's wife) and Arkansas up to Missouri to spend the next few days visiting the aunties and uncles and cousins and granddad and other relatives beyond my meagre powers of genealogical description. (S.'s grandmother is an antiques dealer. Mother is a great fan of cutesy antiques. They should get along famously....)
Notable moment: While visiting Great-Aunt H., she delivers herself of the considered opinion that "You could get married too, if you'd just look like a decent person."
Fortunately, Walgreens takes gift returns, and the gift originally intended for Great-Aunt H. paid for some much-needed office supplies. This is not the first time she's chosen to insult someone at Christmas. Note to self: spiteful old bat can rot in nursing home in future.
Dec. 28. On the way back to Texas, stop off in Springfield to look over the offerings of the various model railroad shops. Springfield, of course, is the center of the Universe for all things Frisco....
Several hours and many dollars later, leave Springfield behind. Make very late arrival in north Dallas. Sleep most of next day.
Dec. 30. Make pilgrimage to that Mecca of southwestern railroad history, the DeGolyer Library. Revel in access to complete microfilmed collection of all Sanborn maps in Library of Congress! Photocopy madly until closing! Speak briefly with head of library who informs me that although they'd like to hire a curator for their railroad materials, well, with budgets being what they are... yadda, yadda, yadda....
Dec. 31. Trek over to Fort Worth to visit with the illustrious Pablo, resulting in random outsputterings of verbiage as seen in prior posts. Watch taped episodes of Firefly. Conclude that the television executives who cancelled the series before completing a single season are pinheads. What else is new.
Jan. 1. During return from Fort Worth, parents' borrowed truck begins making horrible grinding noise as brake pads wear out. Conclude there's nothing I can do about it at 2 a.m. on New Year's Day. Sleep. Make unsuccessful efforts to contact other acquaintances and former co-workers in north Dallas later in the day. Go to see Return of the King with parents. Spend a substantial amount of time explaining background of movie. Am slightly flattered when mother says that Viggo Mortensen looks like me, but recognize that she's biased.
Jan. 2. Truck is in shop, leaving me without transportation, until late afternoon. Make more unsuccessful efforts to contact local acquaintances. Raid local bookstores. Rummage through storage compartment containing books and other property I haven't had access to for two years. Realize that a substantial portion of it is junk. Realize also that there is no way in h*ll that I'm going to be able to find anything specific in that jumble of boxes. (Think of the final scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark; then compress all the contents of the scene into one 10x10 storage compartment.)
Jan. 3. Parents' other car needs repair work, too, leading to entertaining shuffle between various people and their transportation needs as I try to get various bulky gifts and purchases mailed to myself before the post offices close at noon. Pablo and Carlos pick me up in afternoon to go see fancy foreign flick at Inwood Theater. (Actually, the sign says I WO D nowadays, but who's counting letters?) Have pleasant lamb-kebob dinner at nearby Turkish restaurant. Chat about wine, women and song. Like Walker Percy's compatriots in his famous essay on Bourbon, wonder "Where Are The Women?" Conclude that we're all doomed.
Jan. 4. Fly back to Michigan to return to salt mines... er, library.
Jan. 5. Telephone interview with Catholic college in Houston, Texas in morning. Will they take me seriously? Don't count on it. At lunchtime, race to credit union to deposit paycheck. Truck power steering pump fails in middle of sharp turn, spraying steering fluid liberally around engine compartment. Steering 1/2-ton, 4wd truck suddenly becomes heavy manual labor. Briefly consider building up muscles by not fixing power steering. After running over a couple of curbs and veering into the wrong lane twice, decide that this is not a good idea.
Realize that paycheck has disappeared. Not metaphorically, but literally. Find out later in afternoon that University payroll won't replace paycheck for at least a week.
Jan. 7. Pick up truck from repair shop just in time to head to airport for interview trip to university in Georgia. Repair shop, to their credit, has actually fixed the problem at reasonable price and more-or-less on time. Arrive in Georgia at 10:30 p.m. and ride mass-transit train to downtown hotel. Risk of being mugged is minimized by short distance from subway terminal to designated hotel, which turns out to be reasonably attractive and comfortable, but lacking internet service. This is inconvenient since I still need to finalize presentation for job interview. Night clerk is ignorant and flippant about lack of knowledge of internet. Go to sleep.
Jan. 8. Up early to finish preparing presentation. Interview all day. Will spare you the details. Finish day by looking over Underground Atlanta, especially the impressive O-scale display layout representing various historically significant Atlanta buildings. No Tara plantation or Burning of Atlanta special effects, though. Return to Michigan on redeye flight.
Jan. 9. Returning to work at the library, find out that colleague who was supposed to cover my virtual-reference shift on the 8th failed to do so. Work most of the day at the reference desk, making up for missed hours of coverage.
Jan. 10 Do nothing all day. Nothing, blessed nothing. Note mysterious reddish spatter in closet. Did I drop something?
Jan. 11. Wake up to sight of cat peeing bloody urine in closet. Cat proceeds to do this repeatedly, every fifteen minutes, in every room of the apartment, with anxious look on face. Locate "emergency" weekend animal clinic. Several hours and many dollars later, begin dosing cat with antibiotics in hope that this is mere bladder infection. Vet also recommends eye ointment for watery right eye. (Cat's previous problem with left eye was surgically corrected this summer, so obviously he had to develop another problem or two.)
Jan. 12. Cat seems to be better; at least he's not spurting bloody pee every fifteen minutes. Begin morning by entering into negotiations with Cat over whether or not he will sit still for eye ointment. Negotiations take a hostile turn very quickly. Fortunately he's less hostile about taking his oral medicine. That may have something to do with the fact that I'm mixing it with canned catfood. (Silly cat!)
And so back to work again.
I have been ever-so-gently reminded by at least two different persons that (1) I have failed to "write up" that sumptuous event-of-the-season, the Wedding of the Great Yam, and (2) contrary to appearances, there actually are people who try to read this blog occasionally, and they're mightily aggravated when lazy ol' me fails to throw them fresh meat... er, write new posts.
Really. I'm touched. You shouldn't have. That's so sweet.
Perhaps you will be more understanding of my recent distraction if I supply a chronology of the past month in the Life O' Felix. Batten down the hatches; it involves over 8000 miles of travel and visits to four different states, including the homes of seven different sets of relatives, three old college freinds, and three job interviews... and even so, I missed contacting one person I particularly wanted to see and one entire set of former co-workers. It's got beauty and beasts, pleasure and pain, a wonderful new sister-in-law (Hi, S.) and a horrible troll of a great-aunt. Not to mention an exploding power-steering pump, failing brakes, and an ailing cat spurting bloody urine. Some fun, eh?
Dec. 13 was the happy date of the Wedding of the Great Yam to his lovely bride S. in Austin, Texas, an event at which I was privileged to serve as groomsman. The wedding was held at night in a rural location north of Austin, lit by lanterns and candles, giving it a sort of mysterious pagan ambience. The bride and her bridesmaids approached the groom's party along a path of lights that wound down a small hillside opposite the wedding location, crossing a wooden bridge.
Fortunately, the sky didn't pour down rain on this festive and solemn occasion. However, it was cold, as the temperature began in the 40s (Fahrenheit) and proceeded to drop into the thirties after the ceremony. The bonfire was well attended, although my brother's threats to have a bonfire weenie-roast instead of a traditional reception dinner seem to have been vetoed by a Higher Power. There were those who wondered if the bride were going to start turning blue in her strapless gown; however, she reports feeling no pain all evening. There are of course traditional reasons for brides to be oblivious to trivial things like weather on wedding days, but in this case a judicious application of heat-pads seems to have aided matters. Nonetheless she was heard to murmur something about warmth when the happy twosome embraced after the vows.
While staying in Austin, I visited with a former college roommate whose love of ghost and mystery stories, nautical adventure, secret passages, and good food and liquor makes every visit an adventure, even if his version of ferroequinology differs from my own.
It turned out also that his next-door neighbor, a very attractive young woman, is studying the art of Swedish massage, and as part of her course of study, needs to do a certain number of practice massages. I allowed myself to be persuaded to volunteer. It's a rough job but someone's gotta do it. It is no doubt due to the relaxing influence of her gentle ministrations that I managed to refrain from actually attempting to track down and kill the blithering sadistic idiots who designed Austin's streets and highways.
Dec. 15-19 After the wedding, it was back to Michigan to work in the library for the final week of the semester.
Dec. 20: Back to Texas, this time north Dallas, for Christmas with the immediate family. Frantic last-minute shopping for gifts for forgotten distant relatives who decided at the last minute to come to the Christmas doin's. Swear eternal vengeance against the blithering yuppie idiots in their bling-bling BMW's and blundering chrome-armored SUV's that make driving in North Dallas so very .... interesting. Over next few days, spend too much time and too much money at model train stores, bookstores, etc. Buy more for myself than for others. (At least I know what I want....)
Dec. 22. In between pre-Christmas foolishness, have telephone interview with public library in southwestern Michigan. They don't sound impressed.
Dec. 24. Attend Christmas Eve services at local First Baptist Church. Sadly, rumor has it that this was the last year for the church's signature holiday blowout, the Living Christmas Tree. Somehow I fail to be saddened at the discontinuance of something which always looked to me as if savage headhunters had decorated the tree with trophies of unfortunate missionaries. Nor will I miss the spinning disco-balls used to create "swirling snow" effects.
Thankfully, however, this year's iteration of the Living Christmas Tree has already joined the Ghosts of Christmas Past, and the Christmas Eve candlelight service of prayer and traditional carols is modest, tasteful, and restrained, especially by comparison with the spectacle put on by the archrival crosstown megachurch . I don't think I could have restrained myself from laughing at the twelve-foot-long organdy "angels" swooping over the congregation on wires and metal tracks. "Duck! Incoming!!!"
Dec. 25. Off to the races on Christmas Day for the mad highway dash through Oklahoma (stopping off to visit a newly-acquired set of relatives, the grandparents of my brother's wife) and Arkansas up to Missouri to spend the next few days visiting the aunties and uncles and cousins and granddad and other relatives beyond my meagre powers of genealogical description. (S.'s grandmother is an antiques dealer. Mother is a great fan of cutesy antiques. They should get along famously....)
Notable moment: While visiting Great-Aunt H., she delivers herself of the considered opinion that "You could get married too, if you'd just look like a decent person."
Fortunately, Walgreens takes gift returns, and the gift originally intended for Great-Aunt H. paid for some much-needed office supplies. This is not the first time she's chosen to insult someone at Christmas. Note to self: spiteful old bat can rot in nursing home in future.
Dec. 28. On the way back to Texas, stop off in Springfield to look over the offerings of the various model railroad shops. Springfield, of course, is the center of the Universe for all things Frisco....
Several hours and many dollars later, leave Springfield behind. Make very late arrival in north Dallas. Sleep most of next day.
Dec. 30. Make pilgrimage to that Mecca of southwestern railroad history, the DeGolyer Library. Revel in access to complete microfilmed collection of all Sanborn maps in Library of Congress! Photocopy madly until closing! Speak briefly with head of library who informs me that although they'd like to hire a curator for their railroad materials, well, with budgets being what they are... yadda, yadda, yadda....
Dec. 31. Trek over to Fort Worth to visit with the illustrious Pablo, resulting in random outsputterings of verbiage as seen in prior posts. Watch taped episodes of Firefly. Conclude that the television executives who cancelled the series before completing a single season are pinheads. What else is new.
Jan. 1. During return from Fort Worth, parents' borrowed truck begins making horrible grinding noise as brake pads wear out. Conclude there's nothing I can do about it at 2 a.m. on New Year's Day. Sleep. Make unsuccessful efforts to contact other acquaintances and former co-workers in north Dallas later in the day. Go to see Return of the King with parents. Spend a substantial amount of time explaining background of movie. Am slightly flattered when mother says that Viggo Mortensen looks like me, but recognize that she's biased.
Jan. 2. Truck is in shop, leaving me without transportation, until late afternoon. Make more unsuccessful efforts to contact local acquaintances. Raid local bookstores. Rummage through storage compartment containing books and other property I haven't had access to for two years. Realize that a substantial portion of it is junk. Realize also that there is no way in h*ll that I'm going to be able to find anything specific in that jumble of boxes. (Think of the final scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark; then compress all the contents of the scene into one 10x10 storage compartment.)
Jan. 3. Parents' other car needs repair work, too, leading to entertaining shuffle between various people and their transportation needs as I try to get various bulky gifts and purchases mailed to myself before the post offices close at noon. Pablo and Carlos pick me up in afternoon to go see fancy foreign flick at Inwood Theater. (Actually, the sign says I WO D nowadays, but who's counting letters?) Have pleasant lamb-kebob dinner at nearby Turkish restaurant. Chat about wine, women and song. Like Walker Percy's compatriots in his famous essay on Bourbon, wonder "Where Are The Women?" Conclude that we're all doomed.
Jan. 4. Fly back to Michigan to return to salt mines... er, library.
Jan. 5. Telephone interview with Catholic college in Houston, Texas in morning. Will they take me seriously? Don't count on it. At lunchtime, race to credit union to deposit paycheck. Truck power steering pump fails in middle of sharp turn, spraying steering fluid liberally around engine compartment. Steering 1/2-ton, 4wd truck suddenly becomes heavy manual labor. Briefly consider building up muscles by not fixing power steering. After running over a couple of curbs and veering into the wrong lane twice, decide that this is not a good idea.
Realize that paycheck has disappeared. Not metaphorically, but literally. Find out later in afternoon that University payroll won't replace paycheck for at least a week.
Jan. 7. Pick up truck from repair shop just in time to head to airport for interview trip to university in Georgia. Repair shop, to their credit, has actually fixed the problem at reasonable price and more-or-less on time. Arrive in Georgia at 10:30 p.m. and ride mass-transit train to downtown hotel. Risk of being mugged is minimized by short distance from subway terminal to designated hotel, which turns out to be reasonably attractive and comfortable, but lacking internet service. This is inconvenient since I still need to finalize presentation for job interview. Night clerk is ignorant and flippant about lack of knowledge of internet. Go to sleep.
Jan. 8. Up early to finish preparing presentation. Interview all day. Will spare you the details. Finish day by looking over Underground Atlanta, especially the impressive O-scale display layout representing various historically significant Atlanta buildings. No Tara plantation or Burning of Atlanta special effects, though. Return to Michigan on redeye flight.
Jan. 9. Returning to work at the library, find out that colleague who was supposed to cover my virtual-reference shift on the 8th failed to do so. Work most of the day at the reference desk, making up for missed hours of coverage.
Jan. 10 Do nothing all day. Nothing, blessed nothing. Note mysterious reddish spatter in closet. Did I drop something?
Jan. 11. Wake up to sight of cat peeing bloody urine in closet. Cat proceeds to do this repeatedly, every fifteen minutes, in every room of the apartment, with anxious look on face. Locate "emergency" weekend animal clinic. Several hours and many dollars later, begin dosing cat with antibiotics in hope that this is mere bladder infection. Vet also recommends eye ointment for watery right eye. (Cat's previous problem with left eye was surgically corrected this summer, so obviously he had to develop another problem or two.)
Jan. 12. Cat seems to be better; at least he's not spurting bloody pee every fifteen minutes. Begin morning by entering into negotiations with Cat over whether or not he will sit still for eye ointment. Negotiations take a hostile turn very quickly. Fortunately he's less hostile about taking his oral medicine. That may have something to do with the fact that I'm mixing it with canned catfood. (Silly cat!)
And so back to work again.
Wednesday, December 31, 2003
O Happy Day!
Your Humble Scribe has been gifted! A Vacuum Wine Saver, from Pablo!
Fortunately, Pablo is familiar with my unpleasant personality and, after briefly snatching it back and trying to stuff it into a paper bag, has apparently forgiven my immediate response that "Huh. Wine savers are for wimps who can't finish the whole bottle." Because he's a generous and forgiving person, he'll still let me watch Firefly. Right?... Right?....
Your Humble Scribe has been gifted! A Vacuum Wine Saver, from Pablo!
Fortunately, Pablo is familiar with my unpleasant personality and, after briefly snatching it back and trying to stuff it into a paper bag, has apparently forgiven my immediate response that "Huh. Wine savers are for wimps who can't finish the whole bottle." Because he's a generous and forgiving person, he'll still let me watch Firefly. Right?... Right?....
A correction:
Pablo wishes to inform the world that he inadvertently misquoted Niezsche. It's "must" be overcome, not "should."
Gone to the kitchen for another beer. Note to self: remember to make CD burn of Pablo's CD of songs by Marvin the Paranoid Android. It's legal, since the CD jacket says "these files are intended for academic use only".
Pablo wishes to inform the world that he inadvertently misquoted Niezsche. It's "must" be overcome, not "should."
Gone to the kitchen for another beer. Note to self: remember to make CD burn of Pablo's CD of songs by Marvin the Paranoid Android. It's legal, since the CD jacket says "these files are intended for academic use only".
LIVE! From the House of Pablo!
Your Truly returned from Missouri late last night, and will be spending New Year's Eve with the illustrious Pablo. With any luck, Pablo will remember where he stashed the videotaped episodes of Firefly.
Pablo Speaks:
"Man, however, is something that should be overcome." No wait, that was Thus Spake Zarathustra.
Perhaps this is why Pablo remains The Blogless. He has nothing original to say, apparently. I think I need another beer. Fortunately, the return credit from Great-Aunt H.'s gift just about covers it.
Your Truly returned from Missouri late last night, and will be spending New Year's Eve with the illustrious Pablo. With any luck, Pablo will remember where he stashed the videotaped episodes of Firefly.
Pablo Speaks:
"Man, however, is something that should be overcome." No wait, that was Thus Spake Zarathustra.
Perhaps this is why Pablo remains The Blogless. He has nothing original to say, apparently. I think I need another beer. Fortunately, the return credit from Great-Aunt H.'s gift just about covers it.
Monday, December 22, 2003
The X(mas) Files
... in which our two favorite government investigators discover a disturbing pattern of ritualistic serial home invasions.
(Again, thanks to Louise.)
... in which our two favorite government investigators discover a disturbing pattern of ritualistic serial home invasions.
(Again, thanks to Louise.)
Roadblogging
I'm blogging this afternoon from a relative's (slow, balky, cranky, arrgghh!) computer in north Dallas, overlooking an (unfrozen!) swimming pool where (green! leafy!) trees blow gently back and forth in a 61-degree F breeze.
Since Enetation has decided not to accept comments from said slow/balky/cranky computer, I'm going to take care of a few comment responses here, lest people think that I'm ignoring them.
Trebor, I didn't receive your comment until I was already here in Texas with a bought-&-paid-for return ticket to Michigan. However, if you want to get together for a beer or two, let me know by cell phone. (Number will be forwarded in private e'mail.)
Carlos and Pablo, give me a call whenever convenient. I'll be in Dallas until the 25th, then back in Dallas again from about the 28th to the 3rd. Carlos mentioned wanting to see "Barbarian Invasions", which according to the Dallas Observer's webpage is playing at the Inwood Theater.
Fiend, as you probably know, the minor contretemps over the writing honor that King received recently is just the latest skirmish in the running battle between the academic exclusivists (who, I think, enjoy feeling a snarky sense of superiority over writing and allegedly reading books beyond the comprehension of the mere hoipolloi) and those who write books that actual people really do read. I've always felt that King sort of exists on a borderline between those two clans, perhaps slightly skewed toward the populist side but not wholly engulfed in it. His books, for all their popular appeal, do on occasion have a cultural, psychological, and emotional edge to them that pure shlock writers like Tom Clancy, Danielle Steel, et al, lack. (Even if his relatively infrequent sex scenes don't quite meet your exacting standards.)
As for Ken-&-Barbie Aragorn-&-Arwen, well, what do you expect in terms of related interests? I noticed that although Mattel made at least a token effort to make the Aragorn figure vaguely resemble Viggo M. from a distance, Barbie remains her usual cartoonish, smirking, decidedly un-elvish self, impossible to mistake for the ethereal Liv T.
I may post a few more Christmas-related links here over the next hour, before taking a telephone-interview call from a public library in far southwestern Michigan. Wish me luck.
I'm blogging this afternoon from a relative's (slow, balky, cranky, arrgghh!) computer in north Dallas, overlooking an (unfrozen!) swimming pool where (green! leafy!) trees blow gently back and forth in a 61-degree F breeze.
Since Enetation has decided not to accept comments from said slow/balky/cranky computer, I'm going to take care of a few comment responses here, lest people think that I'm ignoring them.
Trebor, I didn't receive your comment until I was already here in Texas with a bought-&-paid-for return ticket to Michigan. However, if you want to get together for a beer or two, let me know by cell phone. (Number will be forwarded in private e'mail.)
Carlos and Pablo, give me a call whenever convenient. I'll be in Dallas until the 25th, then back in Dallas again from about the 28th to the 3rd. Carlos mentioned wanting to see "Barbarian Invasions", which according to the Dallas Observer's webpage is playing at the Inwood Theater.
Fiend, as you probably know, the minor contretemps over the writing honor that King received recently is just the latest skirmish in the running battle between the academic exclusivists (who, I think, enjoy feeling a snarky sense of superiority over writing and allegedly reading books beyond the comprehension of the mere hoipolloi) and those who write books that actual people really do read. I've always felt that King sort of exists on a borderline between those two clans, perhaps slightly skewed toward the populist side but not wholly engulfed in it. His books, for all their popular appeal, do on occasion have a cultural, psychological, and emotional edge to them that pure shlock writers like Tom Clancy, Danielle Steel, et al, lack. (Even if his relatively infrequent sex scenes don't quite meet your exacting standards.
As for Ken-&-Barbie Aragorn-&-Arwen, well, what do you expect in terms of related interests? I noticed that although Mattel made at least a token effort to make the Aragorn figure vaguely resemble Viggo M. from a distance, Barbie remains her usual cartoonish, smirking, decidedly un-elvish self, impossible to mistake for the ethereal Liv T.
I may post a few more Christmas-related links here over the next hour, before taking a telephone-interview call from a public library in far southwestern Michigan. Wish me luck.
Sunday, December 07, 2003
Travel plans
It looks like Yours-Truly will spend most of the next month bouncing between Michigan and Texas like some kind of demented ping-pong ball. I'm off to Texas for the happy occasion of The Wedding Of The Great Yam next week. Then I'm back in Michigan for the final week of the semester. Then back to Texas for the family Christmas festivities, which will probably include a highway trip up to Missouri and back to visit various elderly relatives (who after all, will want to meet the Bride of Yam). Then back to Michigan. With any luck, I may be able to meet up with Pablo and Carlos and other friends of yore sometime in this frenzy.
Since I'm interested in railroads, and since for the first time in two years I live within reasonable local driving distance of an Amtrak depot, I thought I'd try Amtrak for this year's Christmas travel. Sadly, it was not to be. When I told the ticket agent that I was interested in travelling from Michigan to Texas, his first suggestion was that I go by air instead. After being assured that, yes, I really was interested in finding out about train travel between those two points, he checked for availability of coach seats. The result: a fare price higher than an airline ticket, with the only available fare under $400 being on a train that arrives back at my departure point at 11:38 p.m. the evening before I have to be back at work.
Oh, by the way, he mentioned, we probably won't have any place for you to park a vehicle at the depot, thanks to an ongoing construction project. Apparently I would have to hail a taxi or have a friend come and pick me up at midnight, or whenever the train managed to arrive.
The schedule presented also depended on making a key connection at Chicago between the Texas Eagle and the Michigan train, with a three-hour layover. The Eagle, Amtrak train #21/22, has been reported to frequently run several hours late, thanks largely to hostile or indifferent treatment by Union Pacific dispatchers and crews:
"AMTRAK TRAIN DELAYS ON THE UNION PACIFIC RIGHT OF WAY - September 16, 2002. Friends of Amtrak has learned of some rather alarming statistics regarding delays of Amtrak trains on Union Pacific tracks.
In August 2002, UP-attributable delay to Trains 21 and 22 totalled 20,381 minutes, or an approximate average of 339.7 minutes per train; that's an astounding 5.5 hours of UP-attributable delay for each and every Train 21 and 22."
From Friends of Amtrak, Archived News 2002
I figured that my chances of making that connection at Chicago were about as good as my chances of getting a taxi or a ride from the depot to my apartment at midnight. It would still be fun to try Amtrak one of these days, but only when I can afford a more relaxed schedule. Or they adopt a less relaxed one, and find some way to make Union Pacific honor it.
It looks like Yours-Truly will spend most of the next month bouncing between Michigan and Texas like some kind of demented ping-pong ball. I'm off to Texas for the happy occasion of The Wedding Of The Great Yam next week. Then I'm back in Michigan for the final week of the semester. Then back to Texas for the family Christmas festivities, which will probably include a highway trip up to Missouri and back to visit various elderly relatives (who after all, will want to meet the Bride of Yam). Then back to Michigan. With any luck, I may be able to meet up with Pablo and Carlos and other friends of yore sometime in this frenzy.
Since I'm interested in railroads, and since for the first time in two years I live within reasonable local driving distance of an Amtrak depot, I thought I'd try Amtrak for this year's Christmas travel. Sadly, it was not to be. When I told the ticket agent that I was interested in travelling from Michigan to Texas, his first suggestion was that I go by air instead. After being assured that, yes, I really was interested in finding out about train travel between those two points, he checked for availability of coach seats. The result: a fare price higher than an airline ticket, with the only available fare under $400 being on a train that arrives back at my departure point at 11:38 p.m. the evening before I have to be back at work.
Oh, by the way, he mentioned, we probably won't have any place for you to park a vehicle at the depot, thanks to an ongoing construction project. Apparently I would have to hail a taxi or have a friend come and pick me up at midnight, or whenever the train managed to arrive.
The schedule presented also depended on making a key connection at Chicago between the Texas Eagle and the Michigan train, with a three-hour layover. The Eagle, Amtrak train #21/22, has been reported to frequently run several hours late, thanks largely to hostile or indifferent treatment by Union Pacific dispatchers and crews:
"AMTRAK TRAIN DELAYS ON THE UNION PACIFIC RIGHT OF WAY - September 16, 2002. Friends of Amtrak has learned of some rather alarming statistics regarding delays of Amtrak trains on Union Pacific tracks.
In August 2002, UP-attributable delay to Trains 21 and 22 totalled 20,381 minutes, or an approximate average of 339.7 minutes per train; that's an astounding 5.5 hours of UP-attributable delay for each and every Train 21 and 22."
From Friends of Amtrak, Archived News 2002
I figured that my chances of making that connection at Chicago were about as good as my chances of getting a taxi or a ride from the depot to my apartment at midnight. It would still be fun to try Amtrak one of these days, but only when I can afford a more relaxed schedule. Or they adopt a less relaxed one, and find some way to make Union Pacific honor it.
Is my brain shrinking?
CNN reports that a group of medical researchers in Dallas, Texas, have found a link between "light" alcohol consumption and brain shrinkage.
Thats bul. Ime as smart as i ever wuz. im not geting eny dumer. So ther.
[Edit, 3/28/07, salvaging comments:]
Carlos Zamora @ 9:24PM | 2003-12-07| permalink
But heavy alcohol usage makes you smarter?
email | website
Carlos Zamora @ 9:18PM | 2003-12-07| permalink
Oops, shoulda read the article before posting a smart alec comment.
email | website
CNN reports that a group of medical researchers in Dallas, Texas, have found a link between "light" alcohol consumption and brain shrinkage.
Thats bul. Ime as smart as i ever wuz. im not geting eny dumer. So ther.
[Edit, 3/28/07, salvaging comments:]
Carlos Zamora @ 9:24PM | 2003-12-07| permalink
But heavy alcohol usage makes you smarter?
email | website
Carlos Zamora @ 9:18PM | 2003-12-07| permalink
Oops, shoulda read the article before posting a smart alec comment.
email | website
More on "action figures"
Has the Tolkien Estate exercised tasteful restraint in licensing Lord-of-the-Rings merchandise? You be the judge.
Has the Tolkien Estate exercised tasteful restraint in licensing Lord-of-the-Rings merchandise? You be the judge.
Poe, E. Near a Raven
I came across this clever puzzle-poem while looking up background information about the author's recording of Deems Taylor's long-lost musical interpretation of Jurgen. Kudos to anyone who can solve it before reading the solution.
I came across this clever puzzle-poem while looking up background information about the author's recording of Deems Taylor's long-lost musical interpretation of Jurgen. Kudos to anyone who can solve it before reading the solution.
Thursday, December 04, 2003
Take this cup...?
Since two or three of my presumed teeming hordes of devoted readers have expressed interest in The Passion of the Christ, Mel Gibson's cinematic depiction of the Crucifixion and related events, this story may be of some interest to them. Apparently Gibson recently withdrew the film from a planned showing to Vatican officials, saying that he had second thoughts about some scenes and wanted to re-edit it.
I hope he doesn't lose confidence or distributors. The movie industry produces too few films that display any personal conviction or intellectual courage on the part of the filmmaker, and good or bad, this film sounds like an exception to that rule. I wouldn't mind if he relaxed his self-imposed rules far enough to include a translation of the Aramaic and Latin dialogue, though.
P.S. I don't know what popup ads may be displayed on others' screens, but I found it moderately amusing that when I went to the official English-language home page for The Passion of the Christ and selected the link marked "story", the sponsor's popup that appeared was from "Clean Films", a purveyor of edited, "family-friendly" videorecordings, and featured an image of a DVD of Braveheart, one of Gibson's best-known films, apparently dropping through the air toward a trash can. I guess that's irony for ya.
Since two or three of my presumed teeming hordes of devoted readers have expressed interest in The Passion of the Christ, Mel Gibson's cinematic depiction of the Crucifixion and related events, this story may be of some interest to them. Apparently Gibson recently withdrew the film from a planned showing to Vatican officials, saying that he had second thoughts about some scenes and wanted to re-edit it.
I hope he doesn't lose confidence or distributors. The movie industry produces too few films that display any personal conviction or intellectual courage on the part of the filmmaker, and good or bad, this film sounds like an exception to that rule. I wouldn't mind if he relaxed his self-imposed rules far enough to include a translation of the Aramaic and Latin dialogue, though.
P.S. I don't know what popup ads may be displayed on others' screens, but I found it moderately amusing that when I went to the official English-language home page for The Passion of the Christ and selected the link marked "story", the sponsor's popup that appeared was from "Clean Films", a purveyor of edited, "family-friendly" videorecordings, and featured an image of a DVD of Braveheart, one of Gibson's best-known films, apparently dropping through the air toward a trash can. I guess that's irony for ya.
More Tales From The Reference Desk
A couple of days ago, a student asked for help in finding sources for a position paper she was writing. "I'm in favor of censorship," she announced. "But when I search the databases, everything I find is against it."
The librarian on duty proceeded to describe and demonstrate several online sources (Opposing Viewpoints, Issues and Controversies, CQ Researcher) that make a point of including both pro- and con- essays on various topics of public concern, which predictably include censorship. The student seemed appreciative, and left murmuring "God bless you."
Only afterward did the librarian in question realize that he was still wearing the Banned Books Week button, emblazoned with the Statue of Liberty and sporting the anti-censorship slogan "Free People Read Freely", which he'd worn earlier to a regional library meeting. Does this constitute displaying bias at the reference desk?
A couple of days ago, a student asked for help in finding sources for a position paper she was writing. "I'm in favor of censorship," she announced. "But when I search the databases, everything I find is against it."
The librarian on duty proceeded to describe and demonstrate several online sources (Opposing Viewpoints, Issues and Controversies, CQ Researcher) that make a point of including both pro- and con- essays on various topics of public concern, which predictably include censorship. The student seemed appreciative, and left murmuring "God bless you."
Only afterward did the librarian in question realize that he was still wearing the Banned Books Week button, emblazoned with the Statue of Liberty and sporting the anti-censorship slogan "Free People Read Freely", which he'd worn earlier to a regional library meeting. Does this constitute displaying bias at the reference desk?
To laugh, or to cry?
Heard at the reference desk from a student, evidently looking to fulfill a late-semester reading requirement for an undergraduate philosophy survey course:
"Aristotle is too complex." (Glances at class handout.) "Do you have anything by Kant?"
Fortunately the librarian on duty managed to explain the workings of author searching on the library's catalog, while making the seemingly casual comment that, if her professor hadn't specifically suggested certain books, a reference source like the Encyclopedia of Philosophy (located over there, miss, in the reference shelves at call number XYZ.... ) might help identify which of the various philosophers' works were best-known and most widely read and discussed. He felt moderately proud of having handled the situation tactfully. It's not as if he recommended Cliff's Notes to a lit major... is it?
Heard at the reference desk from a student, evidently looking to fulfill a late-semester reading requirement for an undergraduate philosophy survey course:
"Aristotle is too complex." (Glances at class handout.) "Do you have anything by Kant?"
Fortunately the librarian on duty managed to explain the workings of author searching on the library's catalog, while making the seemingly casual comment that, if her professor hadn't specifically suggested certain books, a reference source like the Encyclopedia of Philosophy (located over there, miss, in the reference shelves at call number XYZ.... ) might help identify which of the various philosophers' works were best-known and most widely read and discussed. He felt moderately proud of having handled the situation tactfully. It's not as if he recommended Cliff's Notes to a lit major... is it?
Saturday, November 29, 2003
OCLC and Library Hotel settle suit
In case you're one of the few in Library(Blog)Land who hasn't heard, OCLC and the Library Hotel in New York have settled OCLC's lawsuit over the Hotel's use of the Dewey Decimal System name. Since Louise at the Librarian's Rant covered this story several days ago, I'll simply second her insightful comments.
In case you're one of the few in Library(Blog)Land who hasn't heard, OCLC and the Library Hotel in New York have settled OCLC's lawsuit over the Hotel's use of the Dewey Decimal System name. Since Louise at the Librarian's Rant covered this story several days ago, I'll simply second her insightful comments.
What's in a name?
While browsing through the online finding aids for recently acquired materials at the Bentley Historical Library at the University of Michigan, I came across the following description:
Citizens for Traditional Values.
Citizens for Traditional Values records, 1984-2000 (bulk 1986-1992)
6 linear ft.
Organization originally established in 1986 as the Michigan Committee for Freedom to encourage and support the candidacies of conservative Christians for public office. MCFF worked closely with the Freedom Council in support of the presidential candidacy of Pat Robertson in 1988. MCFF changed its name to Citizens for Traditional Values in 1991.
I can't help but wonder about the impetus for the name change. Did they overtly decide that "traditional values" were more important than "freedom"?
While browsing through the online finding aids for recently acquired materials at the Bentley Historical Library at the University of Michigan, I came across the following description:
Citizens for Traditional Values.
Citizens for Traditional Values records, 1984-2000 (bulk 1986-1992)
6 linear ft.
Organization originally established in 1986 as the Michigan Committee for Freedom to encourage and support the candidacies of conservative Christians for public office. MCFF worked closely with the Freedom Council in support of the presidential candidacy of Pat Robertson in 1988. MCFF changed its name to Citizens for Traditional Values in 1991.
I can't help but wonder about the impetus for the name change. Did they overtly decide that "traditional values" were more important than "freedom"?
Lift that bit! Tote that byte!
This story from CNN amused me. I admit that I gave a second glance to the words "master" and "slave" the first time I saw them applied to computer equipment a number of years ago, but that's all. As usual, Californians aren't content with that:
Los Angeles officials have asked that manufacturers, suppliers and contractors stop using the terms "master" and "slave" on computer equipment, saying such terms are unacceptable and offensive.... "Based on the cultural diversity and sensitivity of Los Angeles County, this is not an acceptable identification label," Joe Sandoval, division manager of purchasing and contract services, said in a memo sent to County vendors.
Perhaps they'll decide to call them "dominant" and "submissive". No way that could be misinterpreted, right?
This story from CNN amused me. I admit that I gave a second glance to the words "master" and "slave" the first time I saw them applied to computer equipment a number of years ago, but that's all. As usual, Californians aren't content with that:
Los Angeles officials have asked that manufacturers, suppliers and contractors stop using the terms "master" and "slave" on computer equipment, saying such terms are unacceptable and offensive.... "Based on the cultural diversity and sensitivity of Los Angeles County, this is not an acceptable identification label," Joe Sandoval, division manager of purchasing and contract services, said in a memo sent to County vendors.
Perhaps they'll decide to call them "dominant" and "submissive". No way that could be misinterpreted, right?
Sunday, November 23, 2003
More DMCA lies
A used-booksellers' listserv to which I subscribe carried a link to this discussion on Ed Foster's Gripelog yesterday. It seems that Warner Brothers is sending out the usual DMCA shakedown... er, "takedown" letters demanding that Ebay suppress auctions of secondhand Madonna/Missy Elliot promotional CD's which were originally distributed with Gap jeans. Ebay helpfully explains that "PROMO ONLY means just that: for PROMOTIONAL USE ONLY, NOT TO BE SOLD. We have to respect the requests of the artists, if they want us to remove those items."
Hmm. That's not what the U.S. copyright law says:
Title 17, Chapter 1, § 109. Limitations on exclusive rights: Effect of transfer of particular copy or phonorecord. (a) Notwithstanding the provisions of section 106(3), the owner of a particular copy or phonorecord lawfully made under this title, or any person authorized by such owner, is entitled, without the authority of the copyright owner, to sell or otherwise dispose of the possession of that copy or phonorecord. (Emphasis added.)
It looks like Warner Brothers is using the DMCA's "takedown clause" (and the cowardice of Ebay management) to unilaterally abolish the established doctrine of "First Sale" as described and explicitly protected in US law. If their cease-and-desist letter to Ebay, like most such letters, states, "under penalty of perjury" that resale of these CDs violates copyright law, then they are deliberately and knowingly lying under penalty of perjury.
So. Which Attorney General or Federal Prosecutor is going to be the first to haul WB's executives and lawyers into court and charge them with perjury?
I'm waiting....
Any time, guys....
A used-booksellers' listserv to which I subscribe carried a link to this discussion on Ed Foster's Gripelog yesterday. It seems that Warner Brothers is sending out the usual DMCA shakedown... er, "takedown" letters demanding that Ebay suppress auctions of secondhand Madonna/Missy Elliot promotional CD's which were originally distributed with Gap jeans. Ebay helpfully explains that "PROMO ONLY means just that: for PROMOTIONAL USE ONLY, NOT TO BE SOLD. We have to respect the requests of the artists, if they want us to remove those items."
Hmm. That's not what the U.S. copyright law says:
Title 17, Chapter 1, § 109. Limitations on exclusive rights: Effect of transfer of particular copy or phonorecord. (a) Notwithstanding the provisions of section 106(3), the owner of a particular copy or phonorecord lawfully made under this title, or any person authorized by such owner, is entitled, without the authority of the copyright owner, to sell or otherwise dispose of the possession of that copy or phonorecord. (Emphasis added.)
It looks like Warner Brothers is using the DMCA's "takedown clause" (and the cowardice of Ebay management) to unilaterally abolish the established doctrine of "First Sale" as described and explicitly protected in US law. If their cease-and-desist letter to Ebay, like most such letters, states, "under penalty of perjury" that resale of these CDs violates copyright law, then they are deliberately and knowingly lying under penalty of perjury.
So. Which Attorney General or Federal Prosecutor is going to be the first to haul WB's executives and lawyers into court and charge them with perjury?
I'm waiting....
Any time, guys....
Saturday, November 22, 2003
The Truth About The Internet
Three Dead Trolls in a Baggie has some of the funniest short videos I've seen lately. Particularly enjoyable : "Every OS Sucks", "The Privacy Song", and "Keep Your Parents Off the Internet". (From the link, click on "video" on the left side of the page. Broadband connection recommended due to file size. )
I think the part about "Scanning Bank Account" is a joke.
Three Dead Trolls in a Baggie has some of the funniest short videos I've seen lately. Particularly enjoyable : "Every OS Sucks", "The Privacy Song", and "Keep Your Parents Off the Internet". (From the link, click on "video" on the left side of the page. Broadband connection recommended due to file size. )
I think the part about "Scanning Bank Account" is a joke.
... and your dissertation advisor dresses you funny!
This writer thinks academics dress funny. Is he right?
"Historically, academics have been the subject of both high and low humor. From the sixth century onward, how we look has prompted nearly automatic laughter from onlookers, even if the onlookers were dressed in twigs and had painted their faces blue....
"Look at us. Glance around a room at a professional meeting: we look like refugees. And not refugees from an interesting culture...."
Of course this article does not apply to anyone I know. The fact that I can't find a store that carries shirts in my preferred style is a reflection on the benighted, Philistine clothing industry, not on me. It has nothing to do with the fact that they were in style circa 1995.
Harumph.
This writer thinks academics dress funny. Is he right?
"Historically, academics have been the subject of both high and low humor. From the sixth century onward, how we look has prompted nearly automatic laughter from onlookers, even if the onlookers were dressed in twigs and had painted their faces blue....
"Look at us. Glance around a room at a professional meeting: we look like refugees. And not refugees from an interesting culture...."
Of course this article does not apply to anyone I know. The fact that I can't find a store that carries shirts in my preferred style is a reflection on the benighted, Philistine clothing industry, not on me. It has nothing to do with the fact that they were in style circa 1995.
Harumph.
Parental notification bill passes Wisconsin House
According to this story in American Libraries, Wisconsin may institute a law permitting parents to find out what titles their children have checked out from public libraries. Many library-confidentiality laws and policies currently prohibit this.
Personally, I'm of two minds on the issue. On the one hand I recognize that parents have the right to oversee their children, especially if they are going to be held financially responsible for damaged or unreturned materials. On the other hand, I've seen many examples of overbearing parents who want to enforce ridiculously strict control of their children's mental development ("We don't let Johnny read anything that isn't endorsed by The Church." "We don't let Sally watch movies that glorify violence/sex/whatever.") I recognize that for such children, the comparative freedom of reading the books and other materials in the public library can be a Godsent release from a repressive environment.
Fortunately, libraries don't keep records of what books or magazines people browse through in the stacks, so this law will have little effect on those kids who are wily enough to avoid officially checking out the books their parents don't want them to read. Can the same be said for E-books?
According to this story in American Libraries, Wisconsin may institute a law permitting parents to find out what titles their children have checked out from public libraries. Many library-confidentiality laws and policies currently prohibit this.
Personally, I'm of two minds on the issue. On the one hand I recognize that parents have the right to oversee their children, especially if they are going to be held financially responsible for damaged or unreturned materials. On the other hand, I've seen many examples of overbearing parents who want to enforce ridiculously strict control of their children's mental development ("We don't let Johnny read anything that isn't endorsed by The Church." "We don't let Sally watch movies that glorify violence/sex/whatever.") I recognize that for such children, the comparative freedom of reading the books and other materials in the public library can be a Godsent release from a repressive environment.
Fortunately, libraries don't keep records of what books or magazines people browse through in the stacks, so this law will have little effect on those kids who are wily enough to avoid officially checking out the books their parents don't want them to read. Can the same be said for E-books?
Banned Books Weak
Here's a link to an essay I meant to mention during "Banned Books Week" in September, but forgot about in the rush and confusion of job interviews. Enjoy.
Here's a link to an essay I meant to mention during "Banned Books Week" in September, but forgot about in the rush and confusion of job interviews. Enjoy.
Even a stopped clock....
In the past, I have dismissed Gore Vidal as a pedantic blowhard. But this interview with LA Weekly contains ample food for thought. Notable quote:
We are talking about despotism. I have read not only the first PATRIOT Act but also the second one, which has not yet been totally made public nor approved by Congress and to which there is already great resistance. An American citizen can be fingered as a terrorist, and with what proof? No proof. All you need is the word of the attorney general or maybe the president himself. You can then be locked up without access to a lawyer, and then tried by military tribunal and even executed. Or, in a brand-new wrinkle, you can be exiled, stripped of your citizenship and packed off to another place not even organized as a country — like Tierra del Fuego or some rock in the Pacific. All of this is in the USA PATRIOT Act. [See note below -- Felix] The Founding Fathers would have found this to be despotism in spades. And they would have hanged anybody who tried to get this through the Constitutional Convention in Philadelphia. Hanged.
Note: Vidal is apparently here referring partly to the so-called "PATRIOT II" Act, which was drafted by the Justice Department but not presented to Congress after being leaked to the media this spring. Nat Hentoff, in the Village Voice, referred to the anonymous staffer who leaked that draft for public comment before it could be railroaded through Congress as a true patriot whose action may have saved this country from being saddled with a government with even more intrusive powers.
"There are two ways to tell the truth : anonymously and posthumously."
-- Thomas Sowell, as quoted by "Trebor" in the prestigious academic journal SuPress (vol. 2, no. 1, p. 5).
In the past, I have dismissed Gore Vidal as a pedantic blowhard. But this interview with LA Weekly contains ample food for thought. Notable quote:
We are talking about despotism. I have read not only the first PATRIOT Act but also the second one, which has not yet been totally made public nor approved by Congress and to which there is already great resistance. An American citizen can be fingered as a terrorist, and with what proof? No proof. All you need is the word of the attorney general or maybe the president himself. You can then be locked up without access to a lawyer, and then tried by military tribunal and even executed. Or, in a brand-new wrinkle, you can be exiled, stripped of your citizenship and packed off to another place not even organized as a country — like Tierra del Fuego or some rock in the Pacific. All of this is in the USA PATRIOT Act. [See note below -- Felix] The Founding Fathers would have found this to be despotism in spades. And they would have hanged anybody who tried to get this through the Constitutional Convention in Philadelphia. Hanged.
Note: Vidal is apparently here referring partly to the so-called "PATRIOT II" Act, which was drafted by the Justice Department but not presented to Congress after being leaked to the media this spring. Nat Hentoff, in the Village Voice, referred to the anonymous staffer who leaked that draft for public comment before it could be railroaded through Congress as a true patriot whose action may have saved this country from being saddled with a government with even more intrusive powers.
"There are two ways to tell the truth : anonymously and posthumously."
-- Thomas Sowell, as quoted by "Trebor" in the prestigious academic journal SuPress (vol. 2, no. 1, p. 5).
At least the concept hasn't died
It appears that Utne magazine has borrowed an idea from the late lamented Oxford American, and will include a music CD with its upcoming issue on "Indie Culture".
The OA's annual music issue and its accompanying CD of music from and about the South was one of the things I most enjoyed about that magazine. It introduced me to a number of musicians I never would have noticed otherwise, and who would never, ever be heard on a Clear Channel radio station (or even on NPR). Where else can you hear gravel-voiced Billy Bob Thornton and legendary bluegrass banjo-picker Earl Scruggs collaborating on a surreally hip-hop-flavored version of Johnny Cash's Ring of Fire, sentimental Civil War ballads sung by Billy Bragg and Wilco (and then omitted from their Woody Guthrie album Mermaid Avenue after they found out that Guthrie didn't write the song after all), and R&B crooners like "King Pleasure" imitating the sounds of lonesome train whistles on songs like Swan Blues, mixed together with bits of rare aural gold from nearly-forgotten doo-wop groups like the Delta Rythym Boys, bluesmen like Fred McDowell, and regional Southern bands like the Yo-Yo's?
Utne has a high standard to meet, if it plans to replace the OA's musical collections in my esteem. I wish them well.
It appears that Utne magazine has borrowed an idea from the late lamented Oxford American, and will include a music CD with its upcoming issue on "Indie Culture".
The OA's annual music issue and its accompanying CD of music from and about the South was one of the things I most enjoyed about that magazine. It introduced me to a number of musicians I never would have noticed otherwise, and who would never, ever be heard on a Clear Channel radio station (or even on NPR). Where else can you hear gravel-voiced Billy Bob Thornton and legendary bluegrass banjo-picker Earl Scruggs collaborating on a surreally hip-hop-flavored version of Johnny Cash's Ring of Fire, sentimental Civil War ballads sung by Billy Bragg and Wilco (and then omitted from their Woody Guthrie album Mermaid Avenue after they found out that Guthrie didn't write the song after all), and R&B crooners like "King Pleasure" imitating the sounds of lonesome train whistles on songs like Swan Blues, mixed together with bits of rare aural gold from nearly-forgotten doo-wop groups like the Delta Rythym Boys, bluesmen like Fred McDowell, and regional Southern bands like the Yo-Yo's?
Utne has a high standard to meet, if it plans to replace the OA's musical collections in my esteem. I wish them well.
The God of the Gaps shrinks (again)
Ever since the Victorian era, when scientific discoveries such as Darwin's theory of evolution first started to seriously threaten established religious beliefs, a certain subset of people who are not comfortable with either outright atheism or dogmatic Creationism have adopted the fallback position of asserting that belief in God is necessary because, after all, human science can't explain everything. This is sometimes called the "God-of-the-gaps" position. The problem is, of course, that such a God is destined to shrink ever smaller as the gaps in human knowledge which He serves to fill in like so much metaphysical Bondo continue to shrink.
Consider, for example, this story from USA Today, which describes how a research group has managed to create a virus that reproduces itself, thus infringing on territory -- creating life -- which has heretofore been cited as an exclusive province of the God-of-the-Gaps. Creating a virus that reproduces itself is admittedly less spectacular than producing men from clay or women from spare ribs, but it does appear that the Gap just shrunk by a noticable amount.
Ever since the Victorian era, when scientific discoveries such as Darwin's theory of evolution first started to seriously threaten established religious beliefs, a certain subset of people who are not comfortable with either outright atheism or dogmatic Creationism have adopted the fallback position of asserting that belief in God is necessary because, after all, human science can't explain everything. This is sometimes called the "God-of-the-gaps" position. The problem is, of course, that such a God is destined to shrink ever smaller as the gaps in human knowledge which He serves to fill in like so much metaphysical Bondo continue to shrink.
Consider, for example, this story from USA Today, which describes how a research group has managed to create a virus that reproduces itself, thus infringing on territory -- creating life -- which has heretofore been cited as an exclusive province of the God-of-the-Gaps. Creating a virus that reproduces itself is admittedly less spectacular than producing men from clay or women from spare ribs, but it does appear that the Gap just shrunk by a noticable amount.
Happy Pills for everyone! (Or, It's Something In The Water)
It appears that before long we'll all be on Prozac, whether we want to or not.
According to the article, a researcher at Thee U. made these disturbing discoveries in a reservoir near Denton, Texas. I've lived in both places. No wonder I'm weird.
It appears that before long we'll all be on Prozac, whether we want to or not.
According to the article, a researcher at Thee U. made these disturbing discoveries in a reservoir near Denton, Texas. I've lived in both places. No wonder I'm weird.
Linkstorm!
The fact that I haven't been blogging much does not indicate that I've failed to notice any interesting news stories. It just means I haven't taken the time to post anything about them. So the next five or six postings here are going to be various news stories that have caught my eye over the past week. Feel free to comment. Or not.
The fact that I haven't been blogging much does not indicate that I've failed to notice any interesting news stories. It just means I haven't taken the time to post anything about them. So the next five or six postings here are going to be various news stories that have caught my eye over the past week. Feel free to comment. Or not.
Returning from orbit
It hasn't been my intention to let the Hill devolve into desuetude, or to once-a-week posting. Unfortunately, working until 9 or 9:30 p.m. two or three times a week, and then having to get up and moving by 8:00 a.m., has severely diminished my supply of that most basic raw material of blogging, idle time. Perhaps matters will change as I get re-accustomed to life as a wageslave.
It certainly appears that social life will not interfere with blogging. Other than work acquaintances, with whom any personal interaction must be limited due to the ephemeral nature of the job and the common-sense admonition "don't sh*t where you eat", I know only one person in the entire southeastern portion of the state, and she lives about an hour's drive away. There's a group of people from the library who meet weekly for dinner at various local restaurants, which is a pleasant way to sample the many nearby culinary offerings, and there is a modular model railroad club which I will probably join. Other than that, so far, zilch. (Although there are plenty of young and attractive undergraduates of the opposite sex around, such are verboten fruit to faculty members, especially lowly untenured ones!)
In some ways, the town I've moved to resembles what Walker Percy called a "non-place". That is to say, like Covington, Louisiana, where Percy made his home, it has little dramatic local history, no flamboyant eccentricities, no unusually beautiful or hideous natural surroundings or any other characteristics that demand attention. Perhaps this will have the salubrious effect of encouraging me to concentrate my efforts on career advancement and/or personal development. Perhaps.
It hasn't been my intention to let the Hill devolve into desuetude, or to once-a-week posting. Unfortunately, working until 9 or 9:30 p.m. two or three times a week, and then having to get up and moving by 8:00 a.m., has severely diminished my supply of that most basic raw material of blogging, idle time. Perhaps matters will change as I get re-accustomed to life as a wageslave.
It certainly appears that social life will not interfere with blogging. Other than work acquaintances, with whom any personal interaction must be limited due to the ephemeral nature of the job and the common-sense admonition "don't sh*t where you eat", I know only one person in the entire southeastern portion of the state, and she lives about an hour's drive away. There's a group of people from the library who meet weekly for dinner at various local restaurants, which is a pleasant way to sample the many nearby culinary offerings, and there is a modular model railroad club which I will probably join. Other than that, so far, zilch. (Although there are plenty of young and attractive undergraduates of the opposite sex around, such are verboten fruit to faculty members, especially lowly untenured ones!)
In some ways, the town I've moved to resembles what Walker Percy called a "non-place". That is to say, like Covington, Louisiana, where Percy made his home, it has little dramatic local history, no flamboyant eccentricities, no unusually beautiful or hideous natural surroundings or any other characteristics that demand attention. Perhaps this will have the salubrious effect of encouraging me to concentrate my efforts on career advancement and/or personal development. Perhaps.
Saturday, November 15, 2003
www.sacred-texts.com
A site which may be of some interest to Carlos, Pablo, and others. Perhaps Pablo won't have to drive back to Archer City for that multi-volume set of the Babylonian Talmud after all.
(Link ripped from current issue of Library Juice.)
A site which may be of some interest to Carlos, Pablo, and others. Perhaps Pablo won't have to drive back to Archer City for that multi-volume set of the Babylonian Talmud after all.
(Link ripped from current issue of Library Juice.)
Matchmaker, Matchmaker....
Thanks to Louise for this "plain-dealing" response to Dennis Kucinich's well-publicized quest for a prospective First Lady to go with his presidential aspirations.
"First of all: Never, ever, ever entrust your romantic life to Fox [television] ...."
Thanks to Louise for this "plain-dealing" response to Dennis Kucinich's well-publicized quest for a prospective First Lady to go with his presidential aspirations.
"First of all: Never, ever, ever entrust your romantic life to Fox [television] ...."
PhD's in libraries redux
The estimable John Berry III sounds off in Library Journal about the tendency for university libraries to favor PhD's over MLS's. An interesting counterpart to the Chronicle of Higher Education article that I mentioned on October 17. Yale University figures prominently in both articles.
The estimable John Berry III sounds off in Library Journal about the tendency for university libraries to favor PhD's over MLS's. An interesting counterpart to the Chronicle of Higher Education article that I mentioned on October 17. Yale University figures prominently in both articles.
Well, I'm back
After a period of what Carlos would call "desuetude", the "Hill" is once more active. It doesn't seem like a week since I last updated the blog, but I suppose that lack of time for weblogging and personal communications comes with being employed. I suppose I'll have to get used to it.
The job at "Huron State" is quite different from my previous gig. To begin with, there's no nice, enclosed office for me, only a Dilbertesque cubicle located between the departmental coffee machine and the copier. Fortunately, this means that I get to eavesdrop on incautious gossippers. Unfortunately, it means that blogging or checking personal e'mail from work is even more inadvisable than normal.
The office coffee machine, by the way, is an olive-green monstrosity, held together with rubber bands, which splutters and smokes like an ailing steam locomotive and has the interesting habit of dribbling coffee everywhere but into the pot. Worse, it's usually empty. Note to self: Buy el-cheapo coffee machine that works, install it in cubicle, set timer to make coffee automatically at 8:50 a.m., watch popularity soar! (Beware of time-wasting conversations, though...)
Reference duty here is quite different from at my previous employer. "Huron State" depends even more on electronic resources than they did, and makes it more difficult to access older printed materials. The fact that students do not have mandatory laptop computers is to some extent balanced out by the fact that the library does not (yet) charge money for printouts of electronic documents.
The "Information Desk" here is located in a three-story-tall central atrium, close to the circulation desk and an extensive bank of computers for student use. The printed reference collection and a few specialized non-circulating collections (law, business, maps, and university theses) are the only printed materials on the first floor, and they are all located far enough from the reference desk to make it awkward to use them during a typical reference query. The publicly-shelved periodicals, government documents, and books are all on different floors, which makes it difficult to refer users to them if the user is not already familiar with the layout of the building. At my previous job, where most of the printed periodicals, government documents, maps and reference books were within sight of the reference desk, I could simply walk with the patron over to the shelves that held the desired journal article or reference book, and in the process make sure that it really was what they needed. Not so here. As a result, I never feel quite sure that that patron I sent up to the third floor with the list of call numbers actually found what he/she wanted, or just got lost, wandered around for a while, and gave up. (I suspect that any day now, we'll find one of those poor students wandering around the second floor gov-docs shelves with glazed eyes and symptoms of severe dehydration, twitching and moaning and mumbling disjointed pieces of SuDocs call numbers.)
I mentioned before that this institution had made the controversial decision to place 50% of its printed collection in storage rather than on publicly browsable shelves. This does not turn out to be quite as horrible as it sounds, since such materials are findable through the online catalog and (at least nominally) retrievable in 15 minutes or less. This is accomplished through the use of a huge, two-story-deep vault in the basement of the building, where the books and old journals are stored in tubs according to size and automatically retrieved by robotic devices whenever requested through the online catalog. The electronic "request" procedure, which requires the use of a university ID number or a guest "courtesy" number, is somewhat confusing and probably deters a significant number of users. And as I mentioned before, it makes it extremely difficult to browse the library's holdings in an organized fashion.
This was demonstrated a couple of days ago by a fellow who came to the desk wanting biographies and other materials on Cervantes. After showing him a couple of entries in literature reference sources and checking the online catalog, which assured me that the library owned several biographies of Cervantes, I sent him upstairs to the appropriate Library of Congress call number. (LC, unlike the Dewey system, shelves biographies and criticism of authors with their works, rather than hiding them in a rarely-visited separate section of the library.) Unfortunately, it seems that the biographies of Cervantes were among the items exiled to the Robotic Dungeon, so the student was shortly back at the ref. desk informing me that he had found only copies of Don Quixote and some collections of criticism, but not a single biography of the author. A quick course in storage-retrieval requests followed, as well as a mental note to myself that I couldn't make the same kinds of assumptions about browsing the shelves here that I could in other libraries.
On the positive side, it's better than discarding them, and a 15 minute retrieval time is far, far preferable to the week-long waits that I've experienced elsewhere. But if you don't know what to ask for, or if the catalog record is skimpy or screwed up, you'll never know what you missed, since it's not on a publicly-viewable shelf where you could see it.
Another positive note: In looking up a number of books mentioned in the current newsletter of the state historical society, I found that Huron State has purchased most of them already, and has another one on order. Ironically, they're doing a better job of acquiring recently published materials on upper-peninsula and Great Lakes history than my previous employer, despite the latter's location. This may be a result of having a healthier acquisitions budget, or it may be a result of the fact that Huron State actually has permanent staff librarians who are interested in history, as opposed to my previous employer, where none of the permanent reference staff seemed to have any particular interest in that discipline, and acquisitions in that field lagged to such an extent that the history faculty eventually started discussing ways to establish their own departmental library so they could get the information they needed for their research and publishing.
After a period of what Carlos would call "desuetude", the "Hill" is once more active. It doesn't seem like a week since I last updated the blog, but I suppose that lack of time for weblogging and personal communications comes with being employed. I suppose I'll have to get used to it.
The job at "Huron State" is quite different from my previous gig. To begin with, there's no nice, enclosed office for me, only a Dilbertesque cubicle located between the departmental coffee machine and the copier. Fortunately, this means that I get to eavesdrop on incautious gossippers. Unfortunately, it means that blogging or checking personal e'mail from work is even more inadvisable than normal.
The office coffee machine, by the way, is an olive-green monstrosity, held together with rubber bands, which splutters and smokes like an ailing steam locomotive and has the interesting habit of dribbling coffee everywhere but into the pot. Worse, it's usually empty. Note to self: Buy el-cheapo coffee machine that works, install it in cubicle, set timer to make coffee automatically at 8:50 a.m., watch popularity soar! (Beware of time-wasting conversations, though...)
Reference duty here is quite different from at my previous employer. "Huron State" depends even more on electronic resources than they did, and makes it more difficult to access older printed materials. The fact that students do not have mandatory laptop computers is to some extent balanced out by the fact that the library does not (yet) charge money for printouts of electronic documents.
The "Information Desk" here is located in a three-story-tall central atrium, close to the circulation desk and an extensive bank of computers for student use. The printed reference collection and a few specialized non-circulating collections (law, business, maps, and university theses) are the only printed materials on the first floor, and they are all located far enough from the reference desk to make it awkward to use them during a typical reference query. The publicly-shelved periodicals, government documents, and books are all on different floors, which makes it difficult to refer users to them if the user is not already familiar with the layout of the building. At my previous job, where most of the printed periodicals, government documents, maps and reference books were within sight of the reference desk, I could simply walk with the patron over to the shelves that held the desired journal article or reference book, and in the process make sure that it really was what they needed. Not so here. As a result, I never feel quite sure that that patron I sent up to the third floor with the list of call numbers actually found what he/she wanted, or just got lost, wandered around for a while, and gave up. (I suspect that any day now, we'll find one of those poor students wandering around the second floor gov-docs shelves with glazed eyes and symptoms of severe dehydration, twitching and moaning and mumbling disjointed pieces of SuDocs call numbers.)
I mentioned before that this institution had made the controversial decision to place 50% of its printed collection in storage rather than on publicly browsable shelves. This does not turn out to be quite as horrible as it sounds, since such materials are findable through the online catalog and (at least nominally) retrievable in 15 minutes or less. This is accomplished through the use of a huge, two-story-deep vault in the basement of the building, where the books and old journals are stored in tubs according to size and automatically retrieved by robotic devices whenever requested through the online catalog. The electronic "request" procedure, which requires the use of a university ID number or a guest "courtesy" number, is somewhat confusing and probably deters a significant number of users. And as I mentioned before, it makes it extremely difficult to browse the library's holdings in an organized fashion.
This was demonstrated a couple of days ago by a fellow who came to the desk wanting biographies and other materials on Cervantes. After showing him a couple of entries in literature reference sources and checking the online catalog, which assured me that the library owned several biographies of Cervantes, I sent him upstairs to the appropriate Library of Congress call number. (LC, unlike the Dewey system, shelves biographies and criticism of authors with their works, rather than hiding them in a rarely-visited separate section of the library.) Unfortunately, it seems that the biographies of Cervantes were among the items exiled to the Robotic Dungeon, so the student was shortly back at the ref. desk informing me that he had found only copies of Don Quixote and some collections of criticism, but not a single biography of the author. A quick course in storage-retrieval requests followed, as well as a mental note to myself that I couldn't make the same kinds of assumptions about browsing the shelves here that I could in other libraries.
On the positive side, it's better than discarding them, and a 15 minute retrieval time is far, far preferable to the week-long waits that I've experienced elsewhere. But if you don't know what to ask for, or if the catalog record is skimpy or screwed up, you'll never know what you missed, since it's not on a publicly-viewable shelf where you could see it.
Another positive note: In looking up a number of books mentioned in the current newsletter of the state historical society, I found that Huron State has purchased most of them already, and has another one on order. Ironically, they're doing a better job of acquiring recently published materials on upper-peninsula and Great Lakes history than my previous employer, despite the latter's location. This may be a result of having a healthier acquisitions budget, or it may be a result of the fact that Huron State actually has permanent staff librarians who are interested in history, as opposed to my previous employer, where none of the permanent reference staff seemed to have any particular interest in that discipline, and acquisitions in that field lagged to such an extent that the history faculty eventually started discussing ways to establish their own departmental library so they could get the information they needed for their research and publishing.
Saturday, November 08, 2003
Thoughts of a Rent-a-Librarian:
I'm blogging tonight from a cheap apartment near a place I'll call "Huron State University", where I've just begun a six-month temporary contract. I can't regard this as an end to the job search, but perhaps it will stop the financial bleeding for a while.
Now if I can only find a REAL job.
On the positive side, the surrounding city has several thousand college students and faculty and a correspondingly large number of theaters, bookstores, and other ways to spend money productively. Unfortunately, this university feels no particular need to pay a decent salary to term employees. That honor, in academia, is apparently reserved for stellar performers like the former president of my former employer. After running it into the ground financially and announcing that, as a result, the university would lay off hundreds of staff and abolish several departments and programs (including the only public radio and television stations within 150 miles), she made a tearful, public pledge to forgo all future salary increases from said employer. True to her word, within two months she jumped ship to a larger university, where she's currently receiving a cool quarter-million a year and free use of a university-supplied house and Lincoln Towncar. (See last paragraph in this story.)
Isn't it nice to see Virtue Rewarded?
That's all for now. I'm off to see whether the local repertory-theater company can do a creditable job with George Bernard Shaw's Candida. Of course, I won't get any staff or faculty discount, since the university's bureaucracy is still claiming that I don't exist because I'm not in the computer network, and therefore can't have a university ID.
I'm blogging tonight from a cheap apartment near a place I'll call "Huron State University", where I've just begun a six-month temporary contract. I can't regard this as an end to the job search, but perhaps it will stop the financial bleeding for a while.
Now if I can only find a REAL job.
On the positive side, the surrounding city has several thousand college students and faculty and a correspondingly large number of theaters, bookstores, and other ways to spend money productively. Unfortunately, this university feels no particular need to pay a decent salary to term employees. That honor, in academia, is apparently reserved for stellar performers like the former president of my former employer. After running it into the ground financially and announcing that, as a result, the university would lay off hundreds of staff and abolish several departments and programs (including the only public radio and television stations within 150 miles), she made a tearful, public pledge to forgo all future salary increases from said employer. True to her word, within two months she jumped ship to a larger university, where she's currently receiving a cool quarter-million a year and free use of a university-supplied house and Lincoln Towncar. (See last paragraph in this story.)
Isn't it nice to see Virtue Rewarded?
That's all for now. I'm off to see whether the local repertory-theater company can do a creditable job with George Bernard Shaw's Candida. Of course, I won't get any staff or faculty discount, since the university's bureaucracy is still claiming that I don't exist because I'm not in the computer network, and therefore can't have a university ID.
Saturday, November 01, 2003
A belated note
Since I mentioned the new look of The Librarian's Rant recently, I should also mention that Carlos's Biblioblog also has a new and spiffy look (now with added Weatherpixie!)
Since I mentioned the new look of The Librarian's Rant recently, I should also mention that Carlos's Biblioblog also has a new and spiffy look (now with added Weatherpixie!)
A trip down memory lane : M.U.L.E.
Yesterday, while pondering on things geekish, I found myself absentmindedly humming the theme from a computer game I haven't played for ten or fifteen years: M.U.L.E.
Ah, the memories: the blocky Commodore-64 graphics.... the skanky carpet and sofa of a friend's family's game room.... the salty snacks and gallons of whatever sugary, caffienated carbonated liquid happened to be on sale from Skaggs Alpha-Beta or Brookshires... the bleary-eyed buzz of stumbling outside and navigating home in the eerie quiet of 3 a.m. in suburbia, or the pale light of impending dawn....
Taking this as the sign from the gods that it clearly was, I did a bit of websearching and found that I am not the only one to fondly remember this long-unavailable game. Earlier this year, Salon published an article about the game's creator, Dan/Dani Burten, which is as much an indictment of the electronic gaming industry as it is the story of one person's tragedy. A planned re-release of the game in the 1990's was apparently dropped when Burten refused to accede to the boardroom boys' demands for "guns and bombs", an incredibly clueless demand in dealing with a game whose unique and defining characteristic was its simple but very nearly pure theoretical model of classical economic competition. It's not as if there's any shortage of guns and bombs in the putrid swamp of indistinguishable, interchangable first-person-shooter games that have flooded the market. (Considering that Burten was at that time undergoing a sex-change operation, the demand for "guns and bombs" was also a particularly unfortunate double-entendre.)
As a result, although the game is fondly, even reverently, remembered by gaming geeks, it is effectively lost in the multiple morasses of corporate indifference, superceded computer systems, and vague confusion about who owns the intellectual property rights. There is a website, World of M.U.L.E., with information about the game and various copycats and clones, and a Dani Bunten Berry memorial webpage with information about Burten and his/her best-known creation, but apparently no readily available version of the game which is compatible with contemporary computers. The closest copycat seems to be something called "Space Ho.R.S.E.", which supposedly is downloadable in a free demo version, but the download didn't go so well over my dialup connection.
Oh well, at least I can still enjoy the cheesy but still oddly catchy theme music.
Yesterday, while pondering on things geekish, I found myself absentmindedly humming the theme from a computer game I haven't played for ten or fifteen years: M.U.L.E.
Ah, the memories: the blocky Commodore-64 graphics.... the skanky carpet and sofa of a friend's family's game room.... the salty snacks and gallons of whatever sugary, caffienated carbonated liquid happened to be on sale from Skaggs Alpha-Beta or Brookshires... the bleary-eyed buzz of stumbling outside and navigating home in the eerie quiet of 3 a.m. in suburbia, or the pale light of impending dawn....
Taking this as the sign from the gods that it clearly was, I did a bit of websearching and found that I am not the only one to fondly remember this long-unavailable game. Earlier this year, Salon published an article about the game's creator, Dan/Dani Burten, which is as much an indictment of the electronic gaming industry as it is the story of one person's tragedy. A planned re-release of the game in the 1990's was apparently dropped when Burten refused to accede to the boardroom boys' demands for "guns and bombs", an incredibly clueless demand in dealing with a game whose unique and defining characteristic was its simple but very nearly pure theoretical model of classical economic competition. It's not as if there's any shortage of guns and bombs in the putrid swamp of indistinguishable, interchangable first-person-shooter games that have flooded the market. (Considering that Burten was at that time undergoing a sex-change operation, the demand for "guns and bombs" was also a particularly unfortunate double-entendre.)
As a result, although the game is fondly, even reverently, remembered by gaming geeks, it is effectively lost in the multiple morasses of corporate indifference, superceded computer systems, and vague confusion about who owns the intellectual property rights. There is a website, World of M.U.L.E., with information about the game and various copycats and clones, and a Dani Bunten Berry memorial webpage with information about Burten and his/her best-known creation, but apparently no readily available version of the game which is compatible with contemporary computers. The closest copycat seems to be something called "Space Ho.R.S.E.", which supposedly is downloadable in a free demo version, but the download didn't go so well over my dialup connection.
Oh well, at least I can still enjoy the cheesy but still oddly catchy theme music.
Friday, October 31, 2003
Scary thought for Halloween
Earlier today I referred to Google not being as Evil(TM) as Some Other Companies. Maybe I spoke too soon.
Say it ain't so, Sergey!
Earlier today I referred to Google not being as Evil(TM) as Some Other Companies. Maybe I spoke too soon.
Say it ain't so, Sergey!
More sound and fury about scholarly periodicals
According to the most recent issue of Library Juice, a group of researchers in the University of California system are calling for a boycott of Cell Press, a subsidiary of academic uber-publisher Elsevier which produces an array of astonishingly overpriced scientific journals. ( $90,000 ?!? )
Will boycotts like this, aided by constructive acts of rebellion like Public Library of Science, which recently inaugurated a free, peer-reviewed online biology journal, alleviate the crisis? Stay tuned.
(Thanks to Carlos for letting me know about PLOS: Biology.)
According to the most recent issue of Library Juice, a group of researchers in the University of California system are calling for a boycott of Cell Press, a subsidiary of academic uber-publisher Elsevier which produces an array of astonishingly overpriced scientific journals. ( $90,000 ?!? )
Will boycotts like this, aided by constructive acts of rebellion like Public Library of Science, which recently inaugurated a free, peer-reviewed online biology journal, alleviate the crisis? Stay tuned.
(Thanks to Carlos for letting me know about PLOS: Biology.)
Here today, gone next budget year
From time to time people accuse me of being a Luddite because I express skepticism about the permanance of "electronically-archived" documents. Those people should note that, according to ALAWON, the newsletter of the American Library Association's Washington office, a bill currently before the Congress, HR 2989 as approved by the Senate, would remove funding for the National Archives' Electronic Records Archive, which was intended to "capture, make available, and preserve crucial electronic government information", especially the digital-only documents which make up an increasing percentage of government records and which cannot be collected or preserved in the traditional fashion by the government-depository library program.
Of course, that's not the politicians' and bureaucrats' problem. They'd just as soon the records of their activities disappeared before the next election anyway, and any number of industry lobbyists would be very happy indeed if information embarrassing to their employers disappeared from the public record.
The House version of the bill has apparently retained this funding, meaning that the conflict will have to be worked out in a conference committee.
From time to time people accuse me of being a Luddite because I express skepticism about the permanance of "electronically-archived" documents. Those people should note that, according to ALAWON, the newsletter of the American Library Association's Washington office, a bill currently before the Congress, HR 2989 as approved by the Senate, would remove funding for the National Archives' Electronic Records Archive, which was intended to "capture, make available, and preserve crucial electronic government information", especially the digital-only documents which make up an increasing percentage of government records and which cannot be collected or preserved in the traditional fashion by the government-depository library program.
Of course, that's not the politicians' and bureaucrats' problem. They'd just as soon the records of their activities disappeared before the next election anyway, and any number of industry lobbyists would be very happy indeed if information embarrassing to their employers disappeared from the public record.
The House version of the bill has apparently retained this funding, meaning that the conflict will have to be worked out in a conference committee.
Google, Amazon, what's the difference?
Publisher's Weekly reports that Google apparently is pursuing plans to supply fulltext searching of books. Amazon is not alone, although Google is not (yet) a major competitor in the book/media retail business.
It's fortunate that the folks at Google seem to be less Evil (TM) than certain other computer-'n'-internet-related companies. Otherwise I'd be scared that they were about to Take Over The World (TM).
Publisher's Weekly reports that Google apparently is pursuing plans to supply fulltext searching of books. Amazon is not alone, although Google is not (yet) a major competitor in the book/media retail business.
It's fortunate that the folks at Google seem to be less Evil (TM) than certain other computer-'n'-internet-related companies. Otherwise I'd be scared that they were about to Take Over The World (TM).
Wednesday, October 29, 2003
Another solar flare
Another alert from the gse-aa mailing list, for those who might be interested:
A major solar event occurred at 1102 GMT on Oct 28th, facing the
Earth. It was three hours long and left the sun at 1200 to 2000 km
per second. The shock should arrive at Earth as early as the
afternoon of the 29th in Europe (4 PM GMT)and as late as 2 AM GMT on
the 30th.
Europeans will be able to see the aurora probably as far south as
Southern France, since it should be over Paris by midnight.
It will be night in Australia and New Zealand if it arrives at 1100
GMT. This flare is probably large enough to approach mainland
Australia and be visible from the North Island in New Zealand, so it
may be worth staying up to see.
Russia, north of 50 deg latitude will be well placed on the night of
the 29/30 to see the aurora from this flare.
Observers in the USA should not be discouraged that it will arrive
during the day of the 29th. This flare is of a magnitude that should
lead to aurora visible over the entire continental US on the evening
of the 29th. It may be on the northern horizon for those in Florida,
Texas, and Southern California, but it should be visible.
The best viewing is from a dark area, even your back yard, with a
view to the northern horizon. Look out at the sky every half hour.
Typically, an intensification occurs every two hours, lasting about
1/2 hour. The maximum activity is usually around 11pm to midnight.
Prediction by [Chuck Deehr]
Another alert from the gse-aa mailing list, for those who might be interested:
A major solar event occurred at 1102 GMT on Oct 28th, facing the
Earth. It was three hours long and left the sun at 1200 to 2000 km
per second. The shock should arrive at Earth as early as the
afternoon of the 29th in Europe (4 PM GMT)and as late as 2 AM GMT on
the 30th.
Europeans will be able to see the aurora probably as far south as
Southern France, since it should be over Paris by midnight.
It will be night in Australia and New Zealand if it arrives at 1100
GMT. This flare is probably large enough to approach mainland
Australia and be visible from the North Island in New Zealand, so it
may be worth staying up to see.
Russia, north of 50 deg latitude will be well placed on the night of
the 29/30 to see the aurora from this flare.
Observers in the USA should not be discouraged that it will arrive
during the day of the 29th. This flare is of a magnitude that should
lead to aurora visible over the entire continental US on the evening
of the 29th. It may be on the northern horizon for those in Florida,
Texas, and Southern California, but it should be visible.
The best viewing is from a dark area, even your back yard, with a
view to the northern horizon. Look out at the sky every half hour.
Typically, an intensification occurs every two hours, lasting about
1/2 hour. The maximum activity is usually around 11pm to midnight.
Prediction by [Chuck Deehr]
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