Onk!

Psst, Alex: look it up in a dictionary. Conch with a ch like church is a perfectly standard variation.

You sounded really snobby, interjecting "conk!" after saying "Yes, that's right!" to her answer.

But props for laughing at your "Frederick March" mash-up of Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels!

Happy Birthday, John

John Keats was born today in 1795, and died 25 years later of tuberculosis.

"Here lies one whose name was writ in water," he asked for his tombstone, but as time passed that became less and less true... Look here for his life and poetry in context of his times.

To Autumn

SEASON of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.

II.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,
Drows’d with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

III.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.


more Keats here

Happy Halloween!

The Week in Entertainment

TV: The Mentalist which was pretty good. The Middle - I loved Brick saying his sheet-over-the-head costume was the "ghost of Ernest Hemingway" but "with a different belt it could pass for F Scott Fitzgerald". Case Histories on Masterpiece: okay, but I could have done without the intrusive flashbacks - we get it, someone drowned - and the story was too coincidence-filled. Also, I couldn't understand half of what the cop's son said. Seriously. Psych - I miss the '90s lead-ins, but I'm glad to see they're backing off on quite how insane Lassie is. A nice little ep.

Read: The Stone Raft by José Saramago, one of his delightful novels, just surreal enough in a very realistic way, with a wonderful authorial voice. Some more short stories by Rusch. [Citation Needed], a very funny annotated compilation of Wikipedia writing. Another pair of old Gideon Olivers (Make No Bones and Dead Men's Hearts) and the latest Sharon McCone (City of Whispers), both entertaining.

A shadow in the sky

Wow. Just ... wow.



Mt Ranier definitely dominates the landscape when it's out. But in the fall and early winter, as the sun moves towards the south, Ranier can also dominate the dawn sky - especially with clouds to help. At more than 14,000 feet, when the top of the mountain blocks the sun's first rays, the shadow goes on ... forever, it looks like. Just wow. This particular shot was taken by Nick Lippert in Tumwater, Washington. There are more at the link below.

(source and more photos KOMO News.com)

Dawn, with hawk

Wednesday as I was walking in and staring at the dawn, a dark and silent shape flew just over my head into the large tree (I still don't know what kind it is) along the path. A Cooper's hawk, sitting on a low branch in the early dawn and watching the sun rise. A single crow alit in the high top branches and began calling "hawwwwk hawwwwwk hawwwwk" but the Cooper's paid him no mind and the crow didn't come lower, and eventually flew off to join some couple of dozen of his kin as they tumbled through the sky heading somewhere off west of here. The hawk remained for a few minutes longer, and then he too went about his business, swiftly and silently. As did I, not nearly so swiftly...

Happy Birthday, John

The Atlas of Independence, the Sage of Braintree, John Adams, born this day in 1735 (if you don't count the 11 days 'lost' to the Gregorian calendar in 1752; his birthday was October 19, 1735 by the Old Style, Julian calendar. I don't know what Adams thought of that, but Washington is on record as feeling as though those days had been stolen from him). (On the other hand, these were people who could handle New Year on 25 March.)

Adams defended British troops charged in the Boston Massacre in 1770 (and got most of them off and two convicted of manslaughter only) - an action he later called "one of the most gallant, generous, manly and disinterested actions of my whole life, and one of the best pieces of service I ever rendered my country." Contrary to the 'obnoxious and disliked' image fostered in the play 1776, Adams was one of the most respected advocates for Independence in the colonies; Washington's nomination as general and Jefferson's as writer of the Declaration were both his ideas, and it was Adams who stood up on July 1, 1776 and spoke in favor of independence, extemporaneously, for two hours . Unfortunately, because he spoke without notes and no one took any, we don't have a record of this speech, but Jefferson later said that Adams spoke "with a power of thought and expression that moved us from our seats."

But a Constitution of Government once changed from Freedom, can never be restored. Liberty, once lost, is lost forever.

Facts are stubborn things; and whatever may be our wishes, our inclinations, or the dictates of our passion, they cannot alter the state of facts and evidence.
—'Argument in Defense of the Soldiers in the Boston Massacre Trials,' December 1770

There is danger from all men. The only maxim of a free government ought to be to trust no man living with power to endanger the public liberty.

(And Writer's Almanac last year featured a pessimistic quote we must prove wrong:) Democracy never lasts long. It soon wastes, exhausts, and murders itself. There was never a democracy that did not commit suicide.

I highly recommend Passionate Sage by John Ellis, and then John Adams by David McCullough, for those who want to know more about this least known of the great Founders - or Ellis's Founding Brothers for an overview of that remarkable group of men.

Four Moons

It's been quite a while, hasn't it? But here's another gorgeous photo from Cassini: four moons and the edge of the rings. Ids are below the photo - see if you can spot all four. (Select the photo for a bigger version; you might need it!)



The most obvious one is Dione, of course, bright and in the center of the shot. Behind Dione is giant Titan. Off to the right, at the tip of the rings, is little Pandora, an F-ring shepherd. Did you find the fourth one?

Look at the rings. See the dark gap? That's the Encke gap. Look closely. See the bright speck? That's Pan - tiny, tiny Pan, only 35 km (21.7 miles) across. Pan is a ring shepherd, and helps maintain the Encke Gap, keeping it clear of ring particles.

As always, see the Cassini home page for more.

Amazing sky

Here is the dawn sky back on Tuesday last week (the 18th). It was amazing ...

Little things

In the short story "Strange Creatures" Kristine Kathryn Rusch writes:

Retsler reached inside, and pulled out a Big Mac and fries...He pulled the wrapper back and took a bite, tasting mustard, catsup, pickles and mayonnaise long before he got to the meat.

I'm guessing it's been a long time since she had a Big Mac. If she ever has. Remember the jingle?

Two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame-seed bun.

No mustard. No catsup. And especially no mayonnaise, which doesn't come on any McDonald's burger. Jolted me right out of the story for a moment...

Yes, I know the special sauce may well have catsup and mayo in it, but I really doubt anybody, especially a dog-tired cop who thinks Big Macs and fries smell like "sugar and grease", has a refined-enough to palate to actually taste them. And there's still no mustard. (And the onions! What about the onions? not to mention the cheese...) In other words, a Big Mac is not just a regular hamburger. Would it have killed her to taste one before writing about it in such detail?

Happy Birthday, Boswell

Today in Edinburgh was born, in 1740, the man who invented modern biography and became a noun - Boswell, author of "Boswell's Life of Johnson" (The Life of Samuel Johnson). "I will not make my tiger a cat to please anybody," wrote Boswell, and made Dr. Johnson better known to us than any man before and most since. It's not the only thing he wrote (his Account of Corsica was deservedly famous), but it's the one he'll be forever remembered for.

Happy Birthday, Valerie

Today in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, in 1933, Valerie Worth was born. I love her Small Poems.

Stars

While we
Know they are
Enormous suns,
Gold lashing
Fire-oceans,
Seas of heavy silver flame,

They look as
Though they could
Be swept
Down, and heaped,
Cold crystal
Sparks, in one
Cupped palm.

WikiLeaks and the End of the Iraqi War

CNN reports:

U.S. Defense Secretary Leon Panetta and other top brass have repeatedly said any deal to keep U.S. troops in Iraq beyond the withdrawal deadline would require a guarantee of legal protection for American soldiers.

But the Iraqis refused to agree to that, opening up the prospect of Americans being tried in Iraqi courts and subjected to Iraqi punishment.

The negotiations were strained following WikiLeaks’ release of a diplomatic cable that alleged Iraqi civilians, including children, were killed in a 2006 raid by American troops rather than in an airstrike as the U.S. military initially reported.

Glenn Greenwald goes a little deeper:

That cable was released by WikiLeaks in May, 2011, and, as McClatchy put it at the time, “provides evidence that U.S. troops executed at least 10 Iraqi civilians, including a woman in her 70s and a 5-month-old infant, then called in an airstrike to destroy the evidence, during a controversial 2006 incident in the central Iraqi town of Ishaqi.” The U.S. then lied and claimed the civilians were killed by the airstrike. Although this incident had been previously documented by the U.N. special rapporteur on extrajudicial, summary or arbitrary executions, the high-profile release of the cable by WikiLeaks generated substantial attention (and disgust) in Iraq, which made it politically unpalatable for the Iraqi government to grant the legal immunity the Obama adminstration was seeking. Indeed, it was widely reported at the time the cable was released that it made it much more difficult for Iraq to allow U.S. troops to remain beyond the deadline under any conditions.

He then goes on to point out

Assuming the truth of those chat logs, [the leaker] was motivated precisely by seeing cables of the sort that detailed this civilian slaughter and subsequent cover-up in Iraq, and the extreme levels of theft and oppression by Arab dictators, and the desire to have the world know about it. Meanwhile, those responsible for the Iraq War, and who suppressed freedom and democracy in the Middle East by propping up those tyrants, and who committed a slew of other illegal and deeply corrupt acts, continue to prosper and wield substantial power.

Read it all, why don't you? And contemplate just how we're running this war... and the rest of them.

.

Sky Watch: Halloween

Okay, granted this moon is from six weeks ago, but it fits Halloween beautifully...





more Sky Watchers here

What part of "Scot" didn't she get?

Okay. I didn't know McIntosh's first name was Charles, and I only guessed him because "macintosh" is a name for "raincoat" (as in "plastic mac"). But there was certainly enough in the clue to point me at him:

In 1823 this Scot obtained a patent for a process that made silk, paper and "other substances impervious to water and air"

Still, only one of them got it. One said "Carnegie" which is sort of reasonable, though Andrew of that name was actually born in 1835 and lived well into the 20th century and wasn't an inventor...

But ... the champion (though she wagered such a small amount she still won) said ...

Tesla? Tesla?

.

Things no actual human would say, part ... one million?

So, Mark Trail is hot on the trail of someone who is banding Canada geese with gold bands engraved with Bible verses. (Yeah, it's been a strange ride...)

His old pal, Sgt McQueen (who is "very popular in the community" according to the humorously ethnic French-Canadian Johnny Malotte and who always wears his full-dress uniform), is clearly deeply involved with this ... nefarious activity? I'm not sure what to call it, or why the bander is so afraid of being found out. But things are coming to a head, and in prime Mark Trail fashion, those things are accompanied by people speaking like no actual person has ever spoken.

First, there's this hilarious moment when the good sergeant catches up to our intrepid trio of heroes. Seriously, has any cop ever prefaced an arrest with "Surprise!"?


But even better is today's strip, in which Mark says "You are for some reason trying to keep us from learning who made the goose band!" Yes, I know adverbials can follow auxiliary verbs, but "you are for some reason trying"? Really?

And then the crowning glory, the quintessential Mark Trail question, complete with inappropriate emphasis: "What's this all about?"

Happy Birthday, John

John Hollander was born today in New York City in 1929. He is currently the Sterling Professor emeritus of English at Yale, and still writing (his most recent collection, A Draft of Light, was published last year).


Sent on a Sheet of Paper with a Heart Shape Cut Out of the Middle of It

Empty, or broken-hearted? Where
A full heart spoke once, now a strong
Outline is the most I dare:
A window opening onto fair
Meadows of hopefulness, or long
Silence where there once was song,
Waves of remembrance in the darkening air.

Find more here

One, Three, Four

Birds in the early morning...

Mockingbird

Starlings

House finches

House Finch

And here's a house finch on a bunch of seeds.

Sky Watch: Rays

Or perhaps I'll celebrate my new router with a new Sky Watch! This was taken on the last morning in September.




more Sky Watchers here

Paul on Paul: the truth hurts

So, I bought a new router today - which is really wonderful, taking full advantage of that cable modem. I'll celebrate by giving you Paul Krugman on Paul Ryan et al: Ryan expresses outrage over what President Obama is saying:

Just last week, the President told a crowd in North Carolina that Republicans are in favor of, quote, “dirtier air, dirtier water, and less people with health insurance.” Can you think of a pettier way to describe sincere disagreements between the two parties on regulation and health care?

Just for the record: why is this petty? Why is it anything but a literal description of GOP proposals to weaken environmental regulation and repeal the Affordable Care Act?

I mean, to the extent that the GOP has a coherent case on environmental regulation, it is that the economic payoff from weaker regulation would more than compensate for the dirtier air and water. Is anyone really claiming that less regulation won’t mean more pollution?...

Let me add that this illustrates a point that many commenters here don’t seem to get: criticism of policy proposals is not the same thing as ad hominem attacks. If I say that Paul Ryan’s mother was a hamster and his father smelt of elderberries, that’s ad hominem. If I say that his plan would hurt millions of people and that he’s not being honest about the numbers, that’s harsh, but not ad hominem.

And you really have to be somewhat awed when people who routinely accuse Obama of being a socialist get all weepy over him saying that eliminating protections against pollution would lead to more pollution.

Happy Birthday, Katherine

Today in Birmingham, England, in 1846, Katherine Harris Bradley was born. She wrote, along with her lover, Emma Ward Cooper, under the name of "Michael Field".

Ah, Eros doth not always smite

Ah, Eros doth not always smite
With cruel, shining dart,
Whose bitter point with sudden might
Rends the unhappy heart --
Not thus forever purple-stained,
And sore with steely touch,
Else were its living fountain drained
Too oft and overmuch.
O'er it sometimes the boy will deign
Sweep the shaft's feathered end;
And friendship rises without pain
Where the white plumes descend.

Happy Birthday, Dylan

Dylan Marlais Thomas was born in Swansea, Wales today in 1914. (Yes, the Dylan Thomas from "the man's so square, when you say "Dylan" he thinks you mean "Dylan Thomas" - whoever he was" ...) (Although by now that reference is probably almost as dated as the concept of the joke in the first place...) photo ©Jeff Towns/DBC Here's his Poem In October

It was my thirtieth year to heaven
Woke to my hearing from harbour and neighbour wood
And the mussel pooled and the heron
Priested shore
The morning beckon
With water praying and call of seagull and rook
And the knock of sailing boats on the net webbed wall
Myself to set foot
That second
In the still sleeping town and set forth.

My birthday began with the water-
Birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name
Above the farms and the white horses
And I rose
In rainy autumn
And walked abroad in a shower of all my days.
High tide and the heron dived when I took the road
Over the border
And the gates
Of the town closed as the town awoke.

A springful of larks in a rolling
Cloud and the roadside bushes brimming with whistling
Blackbirds and the sun of October
Summery
On the hill's shoulder,
Here were fond climates and sweet singers suddenly
Come in the morning where I wandered and listened
To the rain wringing
Wind blow cold
In the wood faraway under me.

Pale rain over the dwindling harbour
And over the sea wet church the size of a snail
With its horns through mist and the castle
Brown as owls
But all the gardens
Of spring and summer were blooming in the tall tales
Beyond the border and under the lark full cloud.
There could I marvel
My birthday
Away but the weather turned around.

It turned away from the blithe country
And down the other air and the blue altered sky
Streamed again a wonder of summer
With apples
Pears and red currants
And I saw in the turning so clearly a child's
Forgotten mornings when he walked with his mother
Through the parables
Of sun light
And the legends of the green chapels

And the twice told fields of infancy
That his tears burned my cheeks and his heart moved in mine.
These were the woods the river and sea
Where a boy
In the listening
Summertime of the dead whispered the truth of his joy
To the trees and the stones and the fish in the tide.
And the mystery
Sang alive
Still in the water and singing birds.

And there could I marvel my birthday
Away but the weather turned around. And the true
Joy of the long dead child sang burning
In the sun.
It was my thirtieth
Year to heaven stood there then in the summer noon
Though the town below lay leaved with October blood.
O may my heart's truth
Still be sung
On this high hill in a year's turning.

This is a deal?

The local car commercial (Antwerpen) just told us

you can get up to 140% off the Kelly Blue Book value for your trade-in!

Somehow that doesn't seem like such a good deal to me.

It's all in fun

Well, okay then.

Seriously, Rick Perry, after telling Parade Magazine that "I don't have any idea" whether Obama's birth certificate is real or not, tweets: “It’s a good issue to keep alive. It’s fun to poke at him."

After all, Donald Trump - who sort of is the perfect GOP supporter, isn't he? - is a confirmed birther, and he got to Perry over dinner. (Yeah, Perry has dinner with the Donald. All that hair in one room!)

The RNC chairman is trying to distance them from it - a bit wishywashily, to be sure, what with "it's a distraction" instead of "it's a lie", and "I believe he was born in the United States" instead "he was born here, dammit", but then again, they don't want to alienate a potential voting bloc, do they?

Fun.

That's one word for the next year ...

Happy Birthday, Anne

Born today in 1941, Anne Tyler - Pulitzer Prize-winning novelist who celebrates the minutae of ordinary lives lived by ordinary people who are splendidly not ordinary in the narrow sense. I love her books - she's one of the few authors whose new novel I pre-order, in hardback, and who never disappoints. A private person, she makes no tours or public appearances, and I honor that here by not showing her face - only her latest three novels. May she write many more.

The Week in Entertainment

still having connection problems on the weekends... very strange

Film: The Hedgehog - I really enjoyed this movie. It was stylized, but very engaging from the beginning. The characters were well-drawn, the acting excellent, and the story warm and interesting.

TV: The Mentalist was quite good; they have got me worried about Van Pelt. The Middle was amusing and Modern Family was quite funny, even if I find it hard to believe neither Clare nor her friends had ever seen "Gone With The Wind." Really? Phil and Haley at the wings place was priceless. Harry's Law was better this week. House was boring. I think I may stop watching it...

Read: Anne Cleeves' Shetland Quartet, fast-moving excellent police novels.

Happy Birthday, Antonie

Antonie Philips van Leeuwenhoek was born today in Delft, the Netherlands. Now known as the Father of Microbiology, he was a master of the microscope - which he perfected - and the first to observe and describe single celled organisms, which he referred to as animalcules. He was also the first to record microscopic observations of muscle fibers, bacteria, spermatozoa and blood flow in capillaries.

Happy Birthday, John

Today in 1805, John Russell Bartlett was born. He was a co-founder of the American Ethnological Society and author of that invaluable book, A Dictionary of American Regionalisms (on line here). Some entries:

HALVES. An exclamation entitling the person making it to the half of anything found by his companion. In the Craven Dialect, says Mr. Carr, on such occasions, if the finder be quick he exclaims, 'No halves--finder keeper, loser seeker,' to destroy the right of the claim.

HANDSOME. In familiar language this word is used among us with great latitude, and, like some other words mentioned in this Glossary, is difficult to define. "In general," says Dr. Webster, "when applied to things, it imports that the form is agreeable to the eye, or to the taste; and when applied to manner, it conveys the idea of suitableness or propriety with grace."

HANG. 'To get the hang of a thing,' is to get the knack, or habitual facility of doing it well. A low expression frequently heard among us. In the Craven Dialect of England is the word hank, a habit; from which this word hang may perhaps be derived.

TO HANG AROUND. To loiter about. To 'hang around' a person, is to hang about him, to seek to be intimate with him.

HARUM-SCARUM. A low but frequent expression applied to flighty persons; persons always in a hurry, as if they were hared or frightened themselves, or haring others by their precipitancy; as, he is a harum-scarum fellow.--Johnson.

TO HAVE A SAY. To express an opinion. A phrase in vulgar use.

Tragedy

Paul Krugman: What a tragedy. A rich, productive continent, which has produced arguably the most decent societies in human history, is tearing itself apart because its elite insisted on embarking on a dubious monetary project, and now can’t bring itself to take the steps necessary to give that project a chance of working.

It passed the 111th Congress unanimously

Remember I pointed out on Monday how Limbaugh was complaining about Obama sending troops "to wipe out Christians"? At the very end of that show he said, just before signing off,

Is that right? The Lord's Resistance Army is being accused of really bad stuff? Child kidnapping, torture, murder, that kind of stuff? Well, we just found out about this today. We're gonna do, of course, our due diligence research on it.

Okay. The LRA is not something brand new. Rush and his dittoheads may not have heard of it, but it's not low-profile or anything. And this from Kevin Drum at MoJo pretty much sums it up.

Due diligence? A quick scan of Wikipedia would have been plenty. The character of the LRA is not exactly a state secret. In fact, it's so not a state secret that the Bush administration declared them a terrorist organization in 2001 and the hyperpartisan 111th Congress passed the LRA Disarmament and Northern Uganda Recovery Act unanimously last year. That is, unanimously in both houses. Every single Democrat and every single Republican, moderates and tea partiers alike, supported it in both the House and the Senate. Every single one. Jesus.

Happy Birthday, Allen

Today is the birthday of American poet, too early dead, Allen Hoey. He was born in 1952 in Kingston, New York, and died last year.

Drinking Alone

after Li Po

Now, with my hair gone gray
and my beard so white and snowy,
I glance over the snow-crusted
slope down to the frozen pond and
wonder if the field itself will feel
the grasses turning green with
spring or whether the struggle
to rise again, battered by cold
and snow, then coaxed by sun-
lathered heat, brings only
grief. Old sweet-gum just beyond
my window, horse-chestnut
desolate in the February winds,
what have you learned? Can you
give me just a hint? Beyond this
glass of wine, only darkness,
darkness and cold longing for light.



Find his long poem Provençal Light here

Happy Birthday, Christopher

Today is the birthday (1632) of the great architect, astronomer, geometer, and mathematician-physicist, Sir Christopher Wren, also founder of the Royal Society and renowned in his life for his brilliant scientific drawings (particularly those of the brain). Today of course he's best remembered for the magnificent buildings he designed, especially St Paul's Cathedral.

His epitaph is famous, particularly the last line:

SUBTUS CONDITUR HUIUS ECCLESIÆ ET VRBIS CONDITOR CHRISTOPHORUS WREN, QUI VIXIT ANNOS ULTRA NONAGINTA, NON SIBI SED BONO PUBLICO. LECTOR SI MONUMENTUM REQUIRIS CIRCUMSPICE Obijt XXV Feb: An°: MDCCXXIII Æt: XCI.

Here in its foundations lies the architect of this church and city, Christopher Wren, who lived beyond ninety years, not for his own profit but for the public good. Reader, if you seek his monument - look around you. Died 25 Feb. 1723, age 91.

Check his Wikipedia page for a gallery of his architectural work.

Happy Birthday, Tor

Today in 1903, in Sweden, Tor Johnson was born.

Yes, Ed Woods' Tor Johnson, seen here in that astonishing movie The Beast of Yucca Flats, as the eponymous beast.

"Touch a button. Things happen. A scientist becomes a beast."

Fragile and sometimes tattered

Not many butterflies this year - they planted weirdly in the park. But I have seen a few, and here are some from the past few weeks.


a Peck's skipper

Check the 'jet-plane' stance on this Fiery skipper

Fiery skipper


Buckeye

Another Buckeye

and this Buckeye has had it rough...

Happy Birthday, Lotte

Lotte Lenya	Not Lotte Lenya!          (Blossom Dearie)

Today in 1898 Lotte Lenya was born in Vienna. Best known for singing the songs of Kurt Weill, her husband, including a Tony-award-winning performance as Jenny in the off-Broadway production of The Threepenny Opera (the only off-Broadway winner ever, by the way), she also earned an Oscar nomination for playing Contessa Magda Terribili-Gonzales in The Roman Spring of Mrs. Stone, and she's also well known for From Russia With Love, in which she played the switchblade-shoe-wearing Rosa Klebb.

Happy Birthday, Victor

Sen Yung, who later went by Victor Sen Yung, was born today in 1915 in San Francisco. He began by playing Number Two Son - Jimmy - with Sidney Toler in the Charlie Chan movies. After a break to serve in the USAF in WWII, he returned to Hollywood and Chan, playing Jimmy in the last Sidney Toler movies and then moving to the Roland Winters ones, where (confusingly) he played Tommy (who'd been played by Benson Fong in the Tolers...). After Chan, he continued to work in Hollywood and television, where he's probably best known as Hop Sing on Bonanza.

Living the joke

I got a new phone over the weekend. Ported all my apps and media and contacts etc over, no problem. All fine and dandy... until I went to order delivery for supper and discovered that I can't make a phone call. They couldn't hear me speak (though I could hear them).

I'm getting a new new phone, but it was funny. Internet, email, text - all fine. Voice? Like one of those tedious teen-ager jokes, "you can make a phone call????"

NZ Oil Spill

Here's some good coverage of the oil spill in New Zealand.

What oil spill, you ask? Yes, well....

As I said a while ago,

I have a friend who won't buy gas at a BP station. I understand this, but I question whether BP is really worse than the rest of them. Have we forgotten the Exxon Valdez? How about the Atlantic Empress, carrying Mobil oil? The Amoco Cadiz? The Odyssey? Or is "forgotten" the right word for those last three? It's certainly not for the ongoing Conoco-Phillips undersea-drilling-leak currently (yes, right now) taking place in the Yellow Sea. (And that's what you're seeing in the picture, not the Gulf of Mexico.) You can't forget what you've never been told.

And not talking about it unless they absolutely have to - like, the oil is in our front yard - seems to be the regular MO for the media in this country, who are hand-in-glove with the oil companies.

So check out the photos and the video; read what New Zealanders are saying; remember it's spring and breeding season down there ... and then check out the lingering Exxon Valdez problems, and Exxon's refusal to pay for them. Then decide if BP is any worse than the rest of them.
And whether we might need to actually do something about oil.

"Lord's Resistance Army are Christians."

Rush Limbaugh (my emphasis):

"Is that right? The Lord's Resistance Army is being accused of really bad stuff? Child kidnapping, torture, murder, that kind of stuff? Well, we just found out about this today. We're gonna do, of course, our due diligence research on it. But nevertheless we got a hundred troops being sent over there to fight these guys -- and they claim to be Christians."

Apparently, claiming to be Christians is all it takes to get certain influential people in this country to take your side.

It really is a tribal mindset - very Manichean, very Us vs Them. The saddest part is how "Us" gets defined. I seem to recall someone once being quoted as saying "Not everyone who says to Me 'Lord Lord ' shall enter the kingdom of heaven but he who does the will of My Father in heaven." (Not to mention that whole uncomfortable sheep/goats "Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me" thing.)

So for Limbaugh and his ilk, what's important is that "Lord's Resistance Army are Christians. They are fighting the Muslims in Sudan." Never mind whether that's true (it's only true sometimes, other times LRA is given sanctuary there). Never mind how they're fighting. It's Us (Christians) vs Them (Muslims) and that's all that counts.

Frankly, although it seems to me that we have quite enough on our plate at the moment, I welcome this. It might do a helluva lot of good - LRA is fairly small by this point and the problem has morphed out of a purely Ugandan one to a massive "Great Lakes of Africa" regional disaster, and it can't hurt that we're finally doing something about the slaughter in the region, something that actually is encompassed in our rhetoric about morals and helping civilians and trying to do good in the world.

But then, again, I'm emphatically not in either of the camps Limbaugh so fervently defines and defends.

The Week in Entertainment

TV: Psych - a strange episode, I thought: where was the 1990s opening? Aha - at the end - brilliant. Modern Family - "Exact. Same. Closet." made me laugh. The Middle - Axl will be all right, even if he is a slacker. Harry's Law - I simply don't understand the secondary plot. If the guy had cashed in his life insurance policy to pay Tommy, who'd care? So why is it so "beyond repugnant" that he made Tommy his beneficiary? Seriously? And I really hated the main plot. That girl will do it again. The Jenna leaving was sweet, though, even though I'll miss her character. The Mentalist - very nice episode. Cho's sexy dressed down. And I like the "neurotic as a border collie" and "that man has the conscience of a mollusc" scene. Also the "I wonder if our new boss is in over his head." "Really? I don't." exchange. And Cho's "Hey. How you doing? You're under arrest for the attempted murder of ... everybody"? Priceless delivery.

Read: Snuff, by Terry Pratchett - devoured in two sittings. Wonderful. Especially when Vimes muses about the role of policemen in society... Cain by José Saramago, an author I either love or can't finish. This one? Finished quickly - it's a lovely, lovely book. A couple of Gideon Olivers I found on Kindle and couldn't remember from the descriptions - Twenty Blue Devils and Icy Clutches - both of which I read so long ago that, though they were familiar-ish I couldn't remember the killer in either one, which was nice. The Hummingbird Falls mysteries by Joanne Clarey, nice cozies. Three period mysteries by Stefanie Pintoff - In the Shadow of Gotham, The Curtain Falls, The White Rose - a turn-of-the-century (er, the 20th century) NYC cop, very nice books. Started The Broken Teaglass on this recommendation by Arnold Zwicky - it's enjoyable so far.

Also, though I don't mention music much, I have to say that the money I spent on Bob Dylan: The Original Mono Recordings was well worth it - I'd forgotten the power in those early albums!

Happy Birthday, Oscar

Today in 1854, in Dublin, one of the world's most quotable men - Oscar Wilde - was born.

It is only an auctioneer who can equally and impartially admire all schools of art.

It is better to have a permanent income than to be fascinating.

There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are well written or badly written.

And, of course,

We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.

Happy Birthday, Noah

Today, 250 years ago, Noah Webster was born.

He had a profound influence on our spelling, but not nearly as profound as he would have liked:

1. The omission of all superfluous or silent letters; as a in bread. Thus bread, head, give, breast, built, meant, realm, friend, would be spelt, bred, hed, giv, brest, bilt, ment, relm, frend. Would this alteration produce any inconvenience, any embarrassment or expense? By no means. On the other hand, it would lessen the trouble of writing, and much more, of learning the language; it would reduce the true pronunciation to a certainty; and while it would assist foreigners and our own children in acquiring the language, it would render the pronunciation uniform, in different parts of the country, and almost prevent the possibility of changes.

2. A substitution of a character that has a certain definite sound, for one that is more vague and indeterminate. Thus by putting ee instead of ea or ie, the words mean, near, speak grieve, zeal, would become meen, neer, speek, greev, zeel. This alteration could not occasion a moments trouble; at the same time it would prevent a doubt respecting the pronunciation; whereas the ea and ie having different sounds, may give a learner much difficulty. Thus greef should be substituted for grief; kee for key; beleev for believe; laf for laugh; dawter for daughter; plow for plough; tuf for tough; proov for prove; blud for blood; and draft for draught. In this manner ch in Greek derivatives, should be changed into k; for the English ch has a soft sound, as in cherish; but k always a hard sound. Therefore character, chorus, cholic, architecture, should be written karacter, korus, kolic, arkitecture; and were they thus written, no person could mistake their true pronunciation.

3. Thus ch in French derivatives should be changed into sh; machine, chaise, chevalier, should be written masheen, shaze, shevaleer; and pique, tour, oblique, should be written peek, toor, obleek.

He won with draft and plow, but not with much he wanted. And here's his motivation:

1. The simplicity of the orthography would facilitate the learning of the language. It is now the work of years for children to learn to spell; and after all, the business is rarely accomplished. A few men, who are bred to some business that requires constant exercise in writing, finally learn to spell most words without hesitation; but most people remain, all their lives, imperfect masters of spelling, and liable to make mistakes, whenever they take up a pen to write a short note. Nay, many people, even of education and fashion, never attempt to write a letter, without frequently consulting a dictionary.

But with the proposed orthography, a child would learn to spell, without trouble, in a very short time, and the orthography being very regular, he would ever afterwards find it difficult to make a mistake. It would, in that case, be as difficult to spell wrong as it is now to spell right.

Besides this advantage, foreigners would be able to acquire the pronunciation of English, which is now so difficult and embarrassing, that they are either wholly discouraged on the first attempt, or obliged, after many years labor, to rest contented with an imperfect knowledge of the subject.

2. A correct orthography would render the pronunciation of the language, as uniform as the spelling in books. A general uniformity thro the United States, would be the event of such a reformation as I am here recommending. All persons, of every rank, would speak with some degree of precision and uniformity. Such a uniformity in these states is very desireable; it would remove prejudice, and conciliate mutual affection and respect.

3. Such a reform would diminish the number of letters about one sixteenth or eighteenth. This would save a page in eighteen; and a saving of an eighteenth in the expense of books, is an advantage that should not be overlooked.

4. But a capital advantage of this reform in these states would be, that it would make a difference between the English orthography and the American. This will startle those who have not attended to the subject; but I am confident that such an event is an object of vast political consequence. For,

The alteration, however small, would encourage the publication of books in our own country. It would render it, in some measure, necessary that all books should be printed in America. The English would never copy our orthography for their own use; and consequently the same impressions of books would not answer for both countries. The inhabitants of the present generation would read the English impressions; but posterity, being taught a different spelling, would prefer the American orthography.

Think about the publishing business. Think about the Internet!

Civilians? Or Soldiers?

Terry Pratchett's latest, Snuff, is a Vimes novel. That means there's a lot of action, but also a lot of thinking - about what makes us human (for lack of a better word; even Angua thinks about that), and also what makes civilization work. Here's one of my favorite bits:

It always embarrassed Samuel Vimes when civilians tried to speak to him in what they thought was "policeman". If it came to that, he hated thinking of them as civilians. What was a policeman, if not a civilian with a uniform and a badge? But they tended to use the term these days as a way of describing people who were not policemen. It was a dangerous habit: once policemen stopped being civilians the only other thing they could be was soldiers.

Happy Birthday, Virgil

Today in 70 BC, Virgil (Publius Vergilius Maro) was born. Author of The Georgics (written to recruit Romans back to the rural life), Virgil won a lifetime stipend from Augustus and settled down to write the Aeniad. However, he contracted a fever and died before his masterpiece was finished. He asked for it to be burned, since it wasn't completed, but his heirs (fortunately) ignored that instruction and listened to the emperor, instead.

arma virumque cano, Troiae qui primus ab oris
Italiam fato profugus Laviniaque venit
litora, multum ille et terris iactatus et alto
vi superum, saevae memorem Iunonis ob iram,
multa quoque et bello passus, dum conderet urbem
inferretque deos Latio; genus unde
Albanique patres atque altae moenia Romae.
Musa, mihi causas memora, quo numine laeso
quidve dolens regina deum tot volvere
insignem pietate virum, tot adire labores
impulerit. tantaene animis caelestibus irae?

Arms, and the man I sing, who, forc'd by fate,
And haughty Juno's unrelenting hate,
Expell'd and exil'd, left the Trojan shore.
Long labors, both by sea and land, he bore,
And in the doubtful war, before he won
The Latian realm, and built the destin'd town;
His banish'd gods restor'd to rites divine,
And settled sure succession in his line,
From whence the race of Alban fathers come,
And the long glories of majestic Rome.
O Muse! the causes and the crimes relate;
What goddess was provok'd, and whence her hate;
For what offense the Queen of Heav'n began
To persecute so brave, so just a man;
Involv'd his anxious life in endless cares,
Expos'd to wants, and hurried into wars!
Can heav'nly minds such high resentment show,
Or exercise their spite in human woe?
-- John Dryden

My epic theme is war, and a man who, through fate, came as a refugee from Troy's coasts to Italy, and the shores of Lavinium. This man was battered helplessly both on land and at sea by the viciousness of the higher powers, thanks to the obdurate wrath of Juno the savage. Much, too, did he suffer through war, until he could establish a city, and bring his gods home to Latium. This is how the Latin peoples came to be, whence the forefathers in Alba, and the walls of mighty Rome.

Muse, remind me of the reasons: through what damage to her power, what wound, did the queen of the gods drive a man famous for his respect to live through so many agonies? Can so potent a fury blaze in a god's heart?
-- Andrew Wilson

Happy Birthday, Plum

Today in Guildford, England, in 1881, P. G. (Pelham Grenville) Wodehouse was born. He moved to the United States in 1909 and began to write for the Saturday Evening Post. His most famous creations are, of course, Bertie Wooster and Jeeves, but Psmith, Blandings Castle, and the Oldest Member are justifiably well-known and loved, too. Wodehouse also wrote a huge number of song lyrics for musical comedies, and worked with Jerome Kern and Cole Porter, among others. Although his books are light comedies, they are extraordinarily tightly plotted - and he achieves heights of genius with Wooster: it's not easy to write from the point of view of someone so dim while keeping the character and the book amusing and coherent.

"...Have you ever had a what-do-you-call-it? What's the word I want? One of those things fellows get sometimes."
"Headaches?" hazarded George.
"No, no. I don't mean anything you get -- I mean something you get if you know what I mean."
"Measles?"
"Anonymous letter. That's what I was trying to say."

Highest mountain in solar system

Ummmmm.

Jupiter is a gas giant. It doesn't have any mountains on it!

Mons Olympus is on Mars.

Heathcliff is the hard one?

Okaaaaay. David Foster Wallace's The Pale King's narrator's employment was $600. But Heathcliff's novel was $1000?

Sometimes I really wonder about the sorting of Jeopardy!'s clues.

Laughing all the way

Another from the prolific Paul Krugman:

A wonderful juxtaposition:

Options Group’s Karp said he met last month over tea at the Gramercy Park Hotel in New York with a trader who made $500,000 last year at one of the six largest U.S. banks.

The trader, a 27-year-old Ivy League graduate, complained that he has worked harder this year and will be paid less. The headhunter told him to stay put and collect his bonus.

“This is very demoralizing to people,” Karp said. “Especially young guys who have gone to college and wanted to come onto the Street, having dreams of becoming millionaires.”

Meanwhile, Catherine Rampell reports on Bankers’ Salaries vs. Everyone Else’s, telling us that

the average salary in the industry in 2010 was $361,330 — five and a half times the average salary in the rest of the private sector in the city ($66,120). By contrast, 30 years ago such salaries were only twice as high as in the rest of the private sector.

It would all be hilariously funny if these people weren’t destroying the world.

I'm laughing, all right.

I'm out of the loop...

Yesterday I got no email on my Blackberry.

Like everybody else, as it turns out.

But I had to read about it in the Post this morning before I knew... Sheesh.

Though, to be fair, my Blackberry lives in a locker at work, so I didn't spend all day wondering what was wrong with my phone. Just the evening.