Valtron3030

A 1977 essay by George Plimpton explored how men of letters imagined the end of life:

Allen Ginsberg, who wrote that he was spending an increasing amount of time in the “company of Buddhists,” allowed that for him there was very little difference between death and the deeper levels of meditation; he made it sound like a form of relaxation. “Dying,” he told me, “I do that every time I sit down on my Zafree [which turned out to be a meditation pillow, thank Heavens], abandon my mind, observe thought-form fading, and the gaps between thought-forms, and breathe out my preoccupations. At the moment, one ideal death would be sitting on a pillow with empty mind.”

John Updike also rather liked the idea of suspension. “Thoughts on dying? I can’t decide if I’d rather go after the thirteenth or the fourteenth line of a sonnet; the thirteenth would give you something to do in the afterlife. By the same reasoning, while the ball is in the air, off the face of a perfectly swung five-iron, and yet has not hit the green where it is certain to fall.”

A charming stop-motion animation created entirely with pieces of vintage cameras:

Nirvana’s In Utero just turned 20. Reflecting on his angsty obsession with the band as a teenager, David Zahl grapples with how Christians should think about their media consumption:

The real issue … is not that we make a questionable movie or band that much more attractive with our restrictions, it’s that we miss out on an opportunity to ask a deeper and ultimately more biblical question–what is it inside of us that makes us want to consume what we actually want to consume?

After all, the Bible is fairly unclear on the subject of appropriate television. We may be able to cobble together an answer, it may even make good sense, but it will inevitably differ from that of our neighbor. Fortunately, Jesus more or less directly addresses the High Fidelity quandary. He is recorded in Mark as saying that, “Nothing outside a person can defile them by going into them. Rather, it is what comes out of a person that defiles them.” (Mark 14b-15). Sin flows inside-out rather than outside-in. It is inherited, not achieved, as the St. Paul writes in Romans 5.

In other words, for a piece of culture to gain emotional or spiritual traction in the viewer or consumer, it has to find an internal foothold first. Which is another way of saying that we listen to pop music because we are miserable, not the other way around. The enemy is not out there. Indeed, when we blame or scapegoat media for our problems with anger, or lust, or anxiety, we are inevitably ignoring the logs in our own eyes.

Louis C.K.’s existential rant against smartphones went crazy viral this week:

Derek Beres applauds:

Louis C.K.’s observations caused laughter, but a specific kind: the acknowledgement that yes, he’s right, that is how it begins and ends for all of us. Avoiding the fact harms us more than it does us good. … Today there is no more potent contrivance than the mass distraction of cell phones. This is no anti-technological rant—all of our tools have purpose and can be used for good reason. The reasons we justify, however, need to be questioned. As an avoidance of silence, we’re never going to be able to reckon with loneliness. That’s a shame. So much is learned in the quiet space.

Daniel Engber pushes back:

Are these old-fashioned modes of entertainment and distraction any less pernicious than the ones we have today? C.K.’s own example mixes the old technology with new. He had the urge to text his friends, he says, while listening to music in his car; his smartphone distracted him from the radio. But what if C.K. had been sitting there in blessed silence, staring out across the open road and contemplating his own mortality? Why did he have to clog the gaping quiet with classic rock? What made his phone distracting, and his radio a source of sadness and joy?

We like to think that antique distractions—Isaac Asimov, Carl Kasell, Bruce Springsteen—are superior to the modern sort. Books and songs enrich us; smartphones make us dumber. “Jungleland” is art; Facebook is a waste of time. But is that really true? I’ll grant the excellence of “Jungleland”—I’m not a monster—but most pop tunes won’t make you cry “like a bitch.” Most are ways to pass the time and nothing more.

Peter Lawler sees C.K. as channeling Aristotle when he describes crying over the Springsteen song:

The song reminded him of his homelessness, of a kind of nostalgia that can’t be reduced to some kind of social or economic or neuroscientific explanation. Louis was “grateful to feel sad,” because it was a “beautiful” and “poetic” prelude to “profound happiness.” The philosophers say that anxiety is the prelude to wonder about the mystery of being and human being, and so it’s who we are to experience that interdependence of misery and joy. Crying even leads to laughing; tragedy and comedy are interdependent. They both help put us in our place as somewhat displaced beings.

For more of C.K.’s musings on mortality, check out the third season of Louie, which just went up on Netflix.

In a review of The Inconvenient Indian, Michael Bourne notes that “at both the political and personal level Native people are far more visible [in Canada] than in the States”:

[Historian] Patricia Limerick offers a fascinating historical insight into why this might be so. As she notes, the fur trade was integral to the original exploration of both Canada and the US, but thanks to differences in climate and animal habitat, the American fur trade was pushed to the margins by the enormous inrush of farming settlers, whereas in Canada fur trading with Indians remained central to the national enterprise for much longer. By its nature, trade in fur tends to be less destructive of indigenous culture than farming. To settle a farming community, one has to rid the land of its previous occupants, either by killing them or driving them far away where they can’t steal one’s crops or livestock. Fur trading, no matter how corrupt or one-sided, remains a trade, a partnership between two groups, each of which needs the other.

(Image via Wikimedia Commons)

Two reasonable sides of the debate:

Kenan Malik weighs in:

The veil has been rightly described as ‘ghetto walls that a person wears’. It often inhibits normal social interaction – that, after all, is its very purpose – and may preclude those who wear it from integrating into society. But the numbers wearing the burqa are tiny. The French government estimates that fewer than 2000 women wear a niqab or burqa. In Holland some 500 women in a Muslim population of one million do so, in Denmark the estimate is fewer than 200 out of 170,000 Muslims. There has not been, as far as I am aware, a comparable survey in Britain, but there is no reason to imagine that the figures are much different. Given these numbers, the burqa or niqab can hardly be held responsible for creating a sense of social separation.

There is, in other words, no argument for a blanket state-enforced ban on wearing the burqa or niqab in public, such as that imposed in France. The state should no more determine that a woman cannot wear the burqa than it should insist that she must.  The fact that a blanket state ban is wrong does not mean, however, that bans are wrong in all circumstances. Issues of security in banks or airports, or of practicality in hospitals, schools or shops may all, as I have already suggested, require specific regulations about facial coverings. So does the issue of justice in a courtroom.

Vice interviews a few British Muslim women on what it’s like to wear the veil in the UK:

So people not being able to see your face hasn’t changed anything?

It changes the way some people respond to me, as they’re initially disconcerted by my face covering. But I just work extra hard on those ones and grin like mad so that they can see my eyes smiling. But it’s more one’s demeanour that puts people at ease, isn’t it? After all, there are people who are “normally” dressed whose body language or attitudes are intimidating. A person wearing a niqab doesn’t have the same advantage as someone whose face is visible, I admit that, but you could say that someone with tattoos or piercings or an unconventional haircut is similarly disadvantaged, couldn’t you?

I guess so. What do you think of the idea that it’s inappropriate to wear the niqab in some situations, like in court or if you’re teaching children?

As a teacher and as a Muslim, I would like to know that I am not disadvantaging my students in any way. If my covering my face is clearly doing that, I will do one of two things: reconsider my decision to cover, or reconsider my position. That being said, I have conducted workshops in schools with my face covered, but I made sure to let my personality shine through so that I could engage the kids. And I would find a way to “flash” the girls, if possible. But seriously, the question is this: who gets to decide when wearing the niqab is appropriate or not?

Collender wonders whether “a government shutdown could be the point that historians one day point to as the beginning of the end for the tea partiers in Congress”:

[G]iven that Gingrich and congressional Republicans were far more popular in the mid-1990s than the tea party is today, and in light of the fact that the tea party and not House Speaker John Boehner (R-OH) or Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-KY) is most likely to bear the blame if a shutdown occurs, there’s a good reason to think that at least some of the [Tea Party's] supporters will find themselves cursing the tea party’s name very soon, especially when the shutdown begins to affect them negatively.

This group will still agree with the tea party’s goals, just not with its tactics. But the tea party will alienate its more intense supporters if it moderates those tactics. Either way, at least some of its base will be lost.

John Bellinger wants the Tea Party to “remember that the United States remains a country at war, not only in Afghanistan, but with al-Qaida and its affiliates around the world”:

Republicans should take no solace in the likelihood that much of DHS, DoD, the FBI, and the intelligence community will remain in place as “essential personnel” during a shutdown.  The rank-and-file who work long and stressful hours protecting the country may technically remain on the job, but they and their leaders (including agency heads) already are having to spend much of their time dealing with the distractions of the coming shutdown.  Do Tea Party Republicans want the leaders of our intelligence and security agencies focused on protecting the nation, or managing the shutdown of their agencies?

In short, if there were another attack against the United States or its facilities around the world (such as an Embassy), Tea Party Republicans and the American people would not be able to blame the Executive branch — and call for Benghazi-like investigations — for failing to keep the country safe.  Members of Congress who had forced a government shutdown would themselves be blamed.

A charming and concise illustration of Hawking’s theories on black holes:

Popova praises the video but worries that “the visual equivalent of the art of the soundbite” may diminish deeper learning:

Though undeniably delightful, I can’t help but wonder whether such quick visual syntheses of the life’s work of boundless genius might be our era’s version of the aphorisms that Susan Sontag worried commodify wisdom. But let’s go with optimism and hope that, rather than exercises in reductionism, formats like this are, as Neil deGrasse Tyson said of the soundbite, triggers for interest which “set a learning path into motion that becomes self-driven.” In other words, let’s hope this gets more people to read A Brief History of Time…

Yes and no, according to your perspective.

City Limits, a NYC blog reports that earlier this summer, the Department of Education requested a variance from the state, asking official permission to offer fewer librarians in schools. While the DOE says it recognizes librarians' value, in the face of fiscal challenges and technological changes the department is looking for alternative ways to provide students with library services. In place of hiring certified librarians, schools could train teachers to offer the same services, bring in parent volunteers or have librarians circulate between schools.

Meanwhile, elementary schools are exempt from the regulation altogether. Some elementary school libraries are staffed by teachers or librarians without certification. Some even go without.

And from the librarians' POV: "The idea that a shelf full of a books somehow replaces a librarian is wrong," says Christian Zabriskie, Executive Director of Urban Librarians Unite, a professional group that supports librarianship in urban settings. "If I'm exploring things about, say, my sexuality, drug issues, health issues, I can't grab those books in front of my peers," he adds. Zabriskie's own middle school librarian had a significant impact on his life by supporting him when he was being bullied and teaching him how to stand up for others.

In 1961, immediately after overhearing her parents discuss the possibility of Soviet nuclear tests at the North Pole, 8-year-old Michelle Rochon grabbed a pencil and wrote a letter to U.S. President John F. Kennedy, in which she asked him to prevent the tests for one particular reason. Her letter, and the reply she soon received from Kennedy, can be read below.

(Source: The Letters of John F. Kennedy, published by Bloomsbury Press on October 29, 2013; Photo above: 8-year-old Michelle holding Kennedy's letter.)

Dear Mr. Kennedy,

Please stop the Russians from bombing the North Pole because they will kill Santa Claus. I am 8 years old. I am in the third grade at Holy Cross School.

Yours truly,

Michelle Rochon

--------------------------

THE WHITE HOUSE

October 28, 1961

Dear Michelle:

I was glad to get your letter about trying to stop the Russians from bombing the North Pole and risking the life of Santa Claus.

I share your concern about the atmospheric testing of the Soviet Union, not only for the North Pole but for countries throughout the world; not only for Santa Claus but for people throughout the world.

However, you must not worry about Santa Claus. I talked with him yesterday and he is fine. He will be making his rounds again this Christmas.

Sincerely,

(Signed, 'John Kennedy')

Miss Michelle Rochon
Marine City, Michigan

On this day in 1936, Jim Henson was born—a creative genius whose wide-reaching and positive influence on the population is rivalled by few in the world of entertainment, due to an incredible career that began in the 1950s when he created the now-adored Muppets. Henson passed away far too early, in 1990, aged just 53. Some time before, he wrote two letters to be opened in the event of his death: the first to his five children; the second to his "Friends & Family."

(Sources: Jim Henson Productions & Graham Sharpe; Image via Unlikely Words.)

To His Children

First of all, don't feel bad that I'm gone. While I will miss spending time with each of you, I'm sure it will be an interesting time for me and I look forward to seeing all of you when you come over. To each of you I send my love. If on this side of life I'm able to watch over and help you out, know that I will. If I can't, I'm sure I can at least be waiting for you when you come over. This all may sound silly to you guys, but what the hell, I'm gone—and who can argue with me?

Life is meant to be fun, and joyous, and fulfilling. May each of yours be that—having each of you as a child of mine has certainly been one of the good things in my life. Know that I've always loved each of you with an eternal, bottomless love. A love that has nothing to do with each other, for I feel my love for each of you is total and all-encompassing. Please watch out for each other and love and forgive everybody. It's a good life, enjoy it.

-------------------------------

To Friends & Family

I'm not at all afraid of the thought of death and in many ways look forward to it with much curiosity and interest. I'm looking forward to meeting up with some of my friends who have gone on ahead of me and I will be waiting there to say hi to those of you who are still back there. I suggest you first have a nice, friendly little service of some kind. It would be lovely if some of the people who sing would do a song or two, some of which should be quite happy and joyful. It would be nice if some of my close friends would say a few nice, happy words about how much we enjoyed doing this stuff together. Incidentally, I'd love to have a Dixieland band play at this function and end with a rousing version of "When the Saints Go Marching In."

Have a wonderful time in life, everybody; it feels strange writing this kind of thing while I'm still alive, but it wouldn't be easy to do after I go.

Just over 20 years ago, Nirvana's final album, In Utero was released, recorded by Steve Albini, outspoken engineer extraordinaire. In 1992, shortly before they formally agreed on his involvement, Albini wrote to the band and laid bare his philosophy in a pitch letter that is fascinating from start to end and worth every minute of your time.

(Submitted by Jerry Maggio; Image above: Steve Albini (left) with Nirvana in 1993, via.)

Kurt, Dave and Chris:

First let me apologize for taking a couple of days to put this outline together. When I spoke to Kurt I was in the middle of making a Fugazi album, but I thought I would have a day or so between records to sort everything out. My schedule changed unexpectedly, and this is the first moment I've had to go through it all. Apology apology.

I think the very best thing you could do at this point is exactly what you are talking about doing: bang a record out in a couple of days, with high quality but minimal "production" and no interference from the front office bulletheads. If that is indeed what you want to do, I would love to be involved.

If, instead, you might find yourselves in the position of being temporarily indulged by the record company, only to have them yank the chain at some point (hassling you to rework songs/sequences/production, calling-in hired guns to "sweeten" your record, turning the whole thing over to some remix jockey, whatever...) then you're in for a bummer and I want no part of it.

I'm only interested in working on records that legitimately reflect the band's own perception of their music and existance. If you will commit yourselves to that as a tenet of the recording methodology, then I will bust my ass for you. I'll work circles around you. I'll rap your head with a ratchet...

I have worked on hundreds of records (some great, some good, some horrible, a lot in the courtyard), and I have seen a direct correlation between the quality of the end result and the mood of the band throughout the process. If the record takes a long time, and everyone gets bummed and scrutinizes every step, then the recordings bear little resemblance to the live band, and the end result is seldom flattering. Making punk records is definitely a case where more "work" does not imply a better end result. Clearly you have learned this yourselves and appreciate the logic.

About my methodology and philosophy:

#1: Most contemporary engineers and producers see a record as a "project," and the band as only one element of the project. Further, they consider the recordings to be a controlled layering of specific sounds, each of which is under complete control from the moment the note is conceived through the final six. If the band gets pushed around in the process of making a record, so be it; as long as the "project" meets with the approval of the fellow in control.

My approach is exactly the opposite.

I consider the band the most important thing, as the creative entity that spawned both the band's personality and style and as the social entity that exists 24 hours out of each day. I do not consider it my place to tell you what to do or how to play. I'm quite willing to let my opinions be heard (if I think the band is making beautiful progress or a heaving mistake, I consider it part of my job to tell them) but if the band decides to pursue something, I'll see that it gets done.

I like to leave room for accidents or chaos. Making a seamless record, where every note and syllable is in place and every bass drum is identical, is no trick. Any idiot with the patience and the budget to allow such foolishness can do it. I prefer to work on records that aspire to greater things, like originality, personality and enthusiasm. If every element of the music and dynamics of a band is controlled by click tracks, computers, automated mixes, gates, samplers and sequencers, then the record may not be incompetent, but it certainly won't be exceptional. It will also bear very little relationship to the live band, which is what all this hooey is supposed to be about.

#2: I do not consider recording and mixing to be unrelated tasks which can be performed by specialists with no continuous involvement. 99 percent of the sound of a record should be established while the basic take is recorded. Your experiences are specific to your records; but in my experience, remixing has never solved any problems that actually existed, only imaginary ones. I do not like remixing other engineer's recordings, and I do not like recording things for somebody else to remix. I have never been satisfied with either version of that methodology. Remixing is for talentless pussies who don't know how to tune a drum or point a microphone.

#3: I do not have a fixed gospel of stock sounds and recording techniques that I apply blindly to every band in every situation. You are a different band from any other band and deserve at least the respect of having your own tastes and concerns addressed. For example, I love the sound of a boomy drum kit (say a Gretach or Camco) wide open in a big room, especially with a Bonhammy double-headed bass drum and a really painful snare drum. I also love the puke-inducing low end that comes off an old Fender Bassman or Ampeg guitar amp and the totally blown sound of an SVT with broken-in tubes. I also know that those sounds are inappropriate for some songs, and trying to force them is a waste of time. Predicating the recordings on my tastes is as stupid as designing a car around the upholstery. You guys need to decide and then articulate to me what you want to sound like so we don't come at the record from different directions.

#4: Where we record the record is not as important as how it is recorded. If you have a studio you'd like to use, no hag. Otherwise, I can make suggestions. I have a nice 24-track studio in my house (Fugazi were just there, you can ask them how they rate it), and I'm familiar with most of the studios in the Midwest, the East coast and a dozen or so in the UK.

I would be a little concerned about having you at my house for the duration of the whole recording and mixing process if only because you're celebrities, and I wouldn't want word getting out in the neighborhood and you guys having to put up with a lot of fan-style bullshit; it would be a fine place to mix the record though, and you can't beat the vitties.

If you want to leave the details of studio selection, lodgings, etc. up to me, I'm quite happy to sort all that stuff out. If you guys want to sort it out, just lay down the law.

My first choice for an outside recording studio would be a place called Pachyderm in Cannon Falls, Minnesota. It's a great facility with outstanding acoustics and a totally comfy architect's wet dream mansion where the band lives during the recordings. This makes everything more efficient. Since everybody is there, things get done and decisions get made a lot faster than if people are out and about in a city someplace. There's also all the posh shit like a sauna and swimming pool and fireplaces and trout stream and 50 acres and like that. I've made a bunch of records there and I've always enjoyed the place. It's also quite inexpensive, considering how great a facility it is.

The only bummer about Pachyderm is that the owners and manager are not technicians, and they don't have a tech on call. I've worked there enough that I can fix just about anything that can go wrong, short of a serious electronic collapse, but I've got a guy that I work with a lot (Bob Weston) who's real good with electronics (circuit design, trouble shooting and building shit on the spot), so if we choose to do it there, he'll probably come along in my payroll, since he'd be cheap insurance if a power supply blows up or a serious failure occurs in the dead of winter 50 miles from the closest tech. He's a recording engineer also, so he can be doing some of the more mundane stuff (cataloging tapes, packing stuff up, fetching supplies) while we're chopping away at the record proper.

Some day I'm going to talk the Jesus Lizard into going up there and we'll have us a real time. Oh yeah, and it's the same Neve console the AC/DC album Back in Black was recorded and mixed on, so you know its just got to have the rock.

#5: Dough. I explained this to Kurt but I thought I'd better reiterate it here. I do not want and will not take a royalty on any record I record. No points. Period. I think paying a royalty to a producer or engineer is ethically indefensible. The band write the songs. The band play the music. It's the band's fans who buy the records. The band is responsible for whether it's a great record or a horrible record. Royalties belong to the band.

I would like to be paid like a plumber: I do the job and you pay me what it's worth. The record company will expect me to ask for a point or a point and a half. If we assume three million sales, that works out to 400,000 dollars or so. There's no fucking way I would ever take that much money. I wouldn't be able to sleep.

I have to be comfortable with the amount of money you pay me, but it's your money, and I insist that you be comfortable with it as well. Kurt suggested paying me a chunk which I would consider full payment, and then if you really thought I deserved more, paying me another chunk after you'd had a chance to live with the album for a while. That would be fine, but probably more organizational trouble than it's worth.

Whatever. I trust you guys to be fair to me and I know you must be familiar with what a regular industry goon would want. I will let you make the final decision about what I'm going to be paid. How much you choose to pay me will not affect my enthusiasm for the record.

Some people in my position would expect an increase in business after being associated with your band. I, however, already have more work than I can handle, and frankly, the kind of people such superficialities will attract are not people I want to work with. Please don't consider that an issue.

That's it.

Please call me to go over any of this if it's unclear.

(Signed)

If a record takes more than a week to make, somebody's fucking up. Oi!

After being invaded by Germany in the west and later by Soviet Russia in the east, the Polish government fled Warsaw but continued to fight from abroad. After Germany attacked Russia, the Russians decided to release their Polish prisoners of war, who then began re-forming into an army.

In April 1942, several of these Polish units landed in Persia and began a trek through a mountainous area heading toward Egypt and Palestine to re-group under the direction of the British Army.

While in the mountains, the story goes that a group of soldiers happened on an Iranian shepherd boy who had found an orphaned Syrian brown bear cub. (Supposedly the mother had been shot and killed.) Food was scarce, so the boy agreed to trade the cub to the soldiers for some canned meat.

Whether that’s actually how it happened or not, the soldiers did acquire a bear cub during their journey. They named him Wojtek, pronounced “Voytek”, meaning “he who enjoys war” or “smiling warrior.”

The bear quickly became something of a mascot for the soldiers, and then much more. As the author of Voytek the Soldier Bear, Garry Paulin, stated:

The Polish soldiers had come from nothing, had lost everything during the war. The bear became so much more than just a mascot to them. He was a real boost to their moral.

At this point, Wojtek became an unofficial member of the 22nd Transport Company, Artillery Division, Polish II Corp. When the company relocated to Iraq, then Syria, Palestine and Egypt, Wojtek moved with it.

While Wojtek was young, the soldiers nursed him with condensed milk placed in empty vodka bottles, then fed him fruit, honey and syrup until he was able to eat more solid foods. Knowing little about the care and feeding of bears, they eventually treated him as if he were just another solider, including giving him beer rations, which quickly became his favorite beverage. He also developed other vices over the years like smoking and eating cigarettes.

Despite his smoking habit and seemingly a lack of proper nutrition for a bear, Wojtek grew to be a nice sized brown bear standing in at about 6 feet tall and weighing around 485 pounds. His favorite pastime was wrestling his comrades, though he also enjoyed a good game of tug of war.

Besides these activities, Wojtek enjoyed playing with other animals. He was best friends with a Dalmatian belonging to a British liaison officer. The two animals would play and wrestle together. Not all animals were open to befriending the bear though. Wojtek at one point approached a horse in a field and was kicked in the head and neck several times. He reportedly stayed away from horses and mules after that.

In Palestine, Wojtek inadvertently helped capture a thief who broke into an ammunition compound. To the thief’s surprise, besides ammunition, he found Wojtek, who often slept in there. Upon seeing the bear, the would-be thief made quite a commotion, which alerted the soldiers who then arrested the man.  Wojtek was rewarded with a bottle of beer.

As the Polish Army came closer to entering the war zone in Italy in 1943, the soldiers pondered the problem of Wojtek’s status, in that if he was to continue to accompany them, they’d be bringing him to the front line. This problem came to a head in 1944 in Egypt when the soldiers were headed to Naples.  The port authorities refused to let the bear board the ship.

They solved the problem by giving Wojtek his own paybook, rank and serial number.  They even taught him how to salute like a proper soldier.  After the paperwork was filed, he was officially a member of the Polish Army in the 22nd Artillery Supply Company of the Polish II Corps, and he was now allowed on the ship.

In Naples, it was British Courier Archibald Brown’s job to help process Polish soldiers that had just arrived from Egypt to advance with British soldiers against German and Italian forces. But when he called Wojtek’s name, no one answered.

“We looked at the roster, and there was only one person, Corporal Wojtek, who had not appeared,” Brown said in an interview years later. So he asked the other soldiers why Wojtek didn’t come forward. An amused soldier replied: “Well, he only understands Polish and Persian.” To his great surprise, Brown was led to a cage holding a full-grown bear.

Wojtek soon proved he was more than just a mascot when, during the series of assaults known as the  Battle of Monte Cassino, he put his strength to good use after being trained to carry heavy crates filled with mortar shells from the supply trucks, delivering them to the men operating the large guns on the front line.

After the battle, a likeness of Wojtek holding a shell became the official badge of the 22nd Transport Company. The image was put on vehicles, flags and uniforms.

At the end of the war, about 3,000 Polish soldiers and their bear ended up being stationed in Berwickshire, Scotland for nearly two years. As the soldiers were demobilized in 1947 and sent home, they said some heart wrenching goodbyes to Wojtek.

For his part, Wojtek found a home in the Edinburgh Zoo where he became a popular attraction. Many of his Polish servicemen friends visited him at the zoo over the years. As one of the zookeepers there said,

…his old friends would come and visit and occasionally they would jump the fence and give him a cuddle or a bottle of beer. If he heard the Polish language spoken, he would often perk up.

In the wild, Syrian brown bears typically live to about 20-30 years old.  However, in captivity they can potentially live as long as 48 years, but it was not to be for Wojtek.  He died in December of 1963 at the age of just 22.

If you liked this article, you might also enjoy:

• When the CIA Tried to Use Cats as Spies and the Hilarious Result
• The Actor Who Played “Scotty” and Star Trek was Shot Six Times on D-Day
• A Japanese Soldier Who Continued Fighting WWII 29 Years After the Japanese Surrendered, Because He Didn’t Know
• The Elephant Condemned to Death by Hanging
• Are Koalas a Type of Bear?

Bonus Facts:

• Over the years, Wojtek became a symbol of solidarity between Poland and Scotland. In 2009, Scottish Parliament held a reception in Wojtek’s honor and in 2011, a parade through Edinburgh included a eulogy, in Polish, to the bear-soldier. Donations from people all over the world paid for a large bronze statue of Wojtek in Edinburgh which was officially approved by the Kraków council on April 25, 2013.
• As you might expect, once he was full grown, fewer and fewer of the soldiers would challenge Wojtek to wrestling matches as he was, well, a bear. However, he learned that if he was too rough with them, they wouldn’t wrestle anymore and so was generally very gentle and even would let an occasional soldier win a match.

Expand for References

The post The Bear Who was Officially a Member of the Polish Army During WWII appeared first on Today I Found Out.

Zoo is a short documentary film by Bert Haanstra filmed at a zoo in Amsterdam. It is lovely.

Haanstra cleverly makes the human animal more a part of the film than the rest of the animals. Haanstra also made the Oscar-winning Glas. (via the kid should see this)

Tags: Bert Haanstra   video

The Other F Word is a 2011 documentary about how punk rockers and other countercultural figures made the transition from anti-authoritarianism to parenthood. Features members from Devo, NOFX, Black Flag, Rancid, and also pro skater Tony Hawk. Here's the trailer:

To be sure, watching foul-mouthed, colorfully inked musicians attempt to fit themselves into Ward Cleaver's smoking jacket provides for some consistently hilarious situational comedy, but the film's deeper delving into a whole generation of artists clumsily making amends for their own absentee parents could strike a resonant note with anyone (punk or not) who's stumbled headfirst into family life.

Available to rent/buy on iTunes and on Amazon.

(via @claytoncubitt)

Tags: movies   music   parenting   The Other F Word   trailers

Today I found out about the amazing life of Roy Chapman Andrews.

From the picture there on the right, you might mistake Andrews for Indiana Jones. In fact, Roy Chapman Andrews’ life is like something out of an Indiana Jones movie, but without the Nazis. Not surprising, since it has been widely speculated that he was the man who Indiana Jones was based on. (Although, no one associated with the movies has officially confirmed this, and it’s thought by many that the link is indirect, with Andrews providing the model for many portrayals of adventurers in 1940s and 1950s films, which in turn influenced Lucas in his creation of the character of Indiana Jones).

Born on January 26, 1884 in Beloit, Wisconsin, Andrews’ fascination with the natural world started at a young age. In This Business of Exploring, Andrews later wrote: “I was born to be an explorer…There was never any decision to make. I couldn’t do anything else and be happy.”

He spent his childhood roaming the wilds of Wisconsin, exploring everything from the woods to the waterways. He developed skills as a marksman and as a taxidermist, and used the money he earned from the latter hobby to fund his education at Beloit College.

He started off his career at the American Museum of Natural History in New York City… as a janitor. Not exactly glamorous, right? But while he was sweeping the floors of the taxidermy department, he also brought in specimens to display. Over the next few years, he worked his way up in the museum while working toward a Master of Arts degree in mammalogy (the study of mammals).

His big break came in 1908 when he was invited by the museum to travel the world studying whales. Andrews jumped at the opportunity. For the next eight years, he could be seen on board various whaling ships. He circled the globe twice while on this particular adventure, particularly being interested in finding beaked whales, but they eluded him in the wild. Funny enough, he found a beaked whale skeleton in the Natural History museum’s collections later, and was able to name it Mesoplodon bowdoini after the man who funded the whale trip.

While he was out and about in the ocean, and in his following years of fieldwork, he ran into a few life-threatening situations as you might expect of an explorer/adventurer in that era, and a man often compared to the character of Indiana Jones. Writing in On the Trail of Ancient Man, Andrews shrugged off his brushes with death:

In [my first] fifteen years [of field work] I can remember just ten times when I had really narrow escapes from death. Two were from drowning in typhoons, one was when our boat was charged by a wounded whale, once my wife and I were nearly eaten by wild dogs, once we were in great danger from fanatical lama priests, two were close calls when I fell over cliffs, once was nearly caught by a huge python, and twice I might have been killed by bandits.

But it wasn’t whales that made Andrews famous world-wide. It was a trip to the Gobi desert that did that.

In 1922, Andrews carried out his first expedition into the harsh Gobi Desert. The main goals were to chart the area and bring back fossils and live creatures, and perhaps prove the museum director’s theory that all life stems from Central Asia.

On the expedition, Andrews employed the use of camels and automobiles to trek across the desert—an odd combination, and the use of automobiles in the desert got him called a “fool”, but in the end it worked.  Between 1922 and 1930, Andrews and his team went out on five different expeditions into the region.

In the Gobi desert, “while his paleontologist used a camel hair brush, Andrews hacked away with a pickaxe.” But his “scientific cowboy” methods worked in this instance; his team found a treasure trove of large and small dinosaur fossils, the skull of an early mammal, and, most significantly, a nest of dinosaur eggs- the first ever found.

Previous to the dinosaur egg find, scientists had correctly theorized that dinosaurs hatched from eggs because they were reptiles. However, this was the first time that they had solid proof that this was the case. Because of this, the find was hugely significant in providing knowledge about how the dinosaurs’ life cycles began.

In all, the expedition recovered 25 dinosaur eggs and brought them safely back to the museum. Chapman ended up selling one in an auction in order to help fund additional trips. The egg sold for $5000 (about $64.7K today) to one Mr. Colgate, but the auction also helped to accumulate over $50,000 in donations. People wanted to see what other natural history had been hiding in the Gobi desert for centuries.

But discovering new species of dinosaurs and dinosaur nests weren’t the only adventures that Andrews and his team had. In one notable instance, Andrews was carefully making his way down a steep, winding road when he saw a group of bandits waiting for him at the bottom of the hill. The bandits were on horseback and wielding rifles.

Andrews couldn’t go back up the slope—there was no room to turn around—but letting the bandits take what they wanted was unacceptable, as he’d just come back from a supply run. So what did Andrews do? In true Indiana Jones form, he decided the best course of action was to plough straight through the rifle carrying men at great speed.

The bandits’ horses panicked. Three of them bolted off with their riders barely hanging on, unable to reach for their guns; a fourth remained, and Andrews sidled up next to it, pulled out his gun, and shot at the rider’s hat as he scurried after his fellows. Apparently, he could have easily killed the man—but the hat was “too great a temptation to be resisted.”

Not only that, but there was also a scary night when the entire campsite became infested with deadly snakes! It was a family of venomous pit vipers—not exactly the kind of thing you want to see slithering past your tent flap. After someone raised the alarm, the team set to work ridding their campsite of the creatures. They killed 47 in all.

As for Andrews, at the end of the evening, he accidentally trod on a long, soft something near his bed, and screamed. It turned out to be a coil of rope rather than a snake. Luckily for the expedition, everyone emerged in the morning unscathed—other than perhaps Andrews’ hurt pride—because the cool temperatures meant the snakes weren’t at the top of their game.

Unfortunately, in 1930, the Gobi Desert was closed off to Andrews. The Great Depression made it difficult to raise the funds necessary for such a trip, and the area had recently been overrun by communism, meaning Western visitors were generally unwelcome.

That wasn’t the end for Andrews, though. In 1934, he became the Director of the American Museum of Natural History—quite the step up from the janitor he was back in 1906. He also served as the president of the Explorer’s Club in New York from 1931-1934, originally joining in 1908. He retired in 1942, and lived in California until his death in 1960.

If you liked this article, you might also enjoy:

• The Famous “Wilhelm Scream” Heard in Over 200 Films is Thought to Have Come from the Vocal Talents of the Guy Who Wrote and Sang the Song “Purple People Eater”
• The Guy Who Played Luke Skywalker Has Played the Character of the Joker Longer Than Any Other Actor
• A Real Life White Whale that Destroyed Over 20 Whaling Ships and Survived Encounters with Another 80
• The First Woman to Circumnavigate the Globe was Disguised as a Man for Most of the Journey
• How “The Birdman of Alcatraz” Got His Name

Expand for References

The post The Real Life Indiana Jones: Roy Chapman Andrews appeared first on Today I Found Out.

I had no idea that's how rubber bands worked. Once again, Feynman takes something that seems pretty simple and makes it both simpler and vividly complex.

(via @stevenstrogatz)

Tags: physics   Richard Feynman   science   video

In what was the largest terrorist attack in Kenya since the 1998 bombing of the American embassy, an estimated 10 to 15 militants stormed an upscale Nairobi mall on Saturday, killing at least 60 and injuring more than 175. The dead include an eminent Ghanian poet, a pregnant radio host, a 29-year-old diplomat, and citizens of at least 10 countries. The Kenyan government claimed control over the mall earlier today, but ongoing gunfire has been reported. Ishaan Tharoor provides background on the group that claimed responsibility for the attack via Twitter:

[Al-Shabaab], whose name means the Youth in Arabic, was once the militant youth wing of a coalition of Islamist forces that held sway in parts of Somalia more than half a decade ago. The country has had no real functional central government for over two decades, and the Islamists, for a time, provided a veneer of security and stability despite the harshness of the Shari’a they sought to impose. That control slipped following a series of offensives spearheaded by the African Union, beginning with an Ethiopian-led invasion in 2006. In early 2012, a video emerged of a top leader of al-Shabaab pledging obedience to Ayman al-Zawahiri, al Qaeda’s head. …

Al-Shabaab fighters had launched a number of minor forays across Somalia’s porous southern border with Kenya, kidnapping tourists and aid workers. By 2011, after al-Shabaab impeded humanitarian aid into southern Somalia during a ghastly drought, the Kenyan government had had enough. It launched a sustained military campaign across the border, eventually dislodging al-Shabaab from its stronghold in the Somali port city of Kismayo in 2012, a defeat from which the group has yet to recover.

Shane Harris sees an emboldened al-Shabaab:

The Westgate mall attack marks an audacious return for al-Shabaab, an al-Qaeda linked group that, as recently as last year, U.S. officials claimed was on the run in the face of an American-backed offensive in Africa. More recently, the Obama administration has expanded a secret war against al-Shabaab in Somalia, ramping up assistance to Somali intelligence agencies. The United States also runs training camps for Ugandan peacekeepers who fight al-Shabaab forces, and at a base in Djibouti houses Predator drones, fighter jets, and nearly 2,000 U.S. troops and military civilians.

But Ken Menkhaus believes the opposite:

Many [security experts] warned that Shabaab’s [previous] reluctance to attack soft targets in Kenya (or elsewhere, including in the US) was contingent on the group’s continued success in Somalia. Were the group to weaken and fragment, it would be more likely to consider high-risk terrorism abroad. Paradoxically, a weakened Shabaab is a greater threat outside Somalia than a stronger Shabaab. … The Westgate attack is the latest sign of the group’s weakness. It was a desperate, high-risk gamble by Shabaab to reverse its prospects.

Joshua Keating also points out how gains against the terrorist group in Somalia seems to have made it more dangerous to other countries:

Shabaab has attacked countries that have participated in military operations in Somalia before, most infamously the attack on World Cup spectators that left 74 dead in Kampala, Uganda in 2010. The group has also been blamed for several attacks in Kenya including the bombing of a Nairobi bus station last year and several grenade attacks on churches. Now that the group’s ability to actually control territory is waning, it seems possible that more of its efforts may be devoted to operations like these. Shabaab may start acting more like a transnational terror group than a rebel army fighting to control land.

Simon Tisdale elaborates on the group’s internal divisions:

Westgate … looks like a chilling statement of intent by Ahmed Abdi Godane, the al-Shabaab leader, who consolidated his power in June in an internal coup. … The apparent decision by Godane and fellow hardliners to again take the fight beyond Somalia’s borders looks like a bid to regain the initiative in the face of these setbacks and disagreements. In addition, the group’s occasional bomb attacks in Mogadishu keep the government on the back foot. The recent decision by the charity Médecins Sans Frontières to pull out of Somalia, due to worsening security, is a perverse vindication of such tactics. And Godane doubtless welcomes the negative impact of Barclays Bank’s decision to close accounts used to send remittances to Somalia.

Ken Melhaus notes tension between al-Shabaab and al-Qaeda:

Those who argue that this was a bid by Shabaab to demonstrate its continued relevance to Al Qaeda are mistaken. Shabaab’s gratuitous violence against civilians has long been a source of friction with Al Qaeda, whose leaders have been appalled at Shabaab’s counter-productive tactics. An attack on a shopping center filled with civilians of all religions and nationalities only damages further Al Qaeda’s “brand name” and is likely to widen further the gap between Al Qaeda and al-Shabaab leadership. The fact that Shabaab is too violent for Al Qaeda says a lot about how extreme this group has become.

Meanwhile, Patrick Gathara says the attack brought Kenyans together at a time of political and tribal acrimony:

Kenyans have come together in an impressive show of solidarity. The citizenry has literally responded with blood and treasure. When a call went out for blood donors, local hospitals were inundated and some had to turn people away. This morning, long lines of blood donors snaked across the city. Hospitals at one point were running out of blood bags, but not donors, so high was the turn out. An MPESA account set up for the victims has already raised millions of shillings. All over social media, on the streets and on air, the political bitterness of the last seven months seems to have, at least temporarily, abated.

But Paula Kahumbu cautions that the long-term impact remains to be seen:

The president of Kenya, members of his leadership team and the opposition have jointly called on Kenyans for support, and asked the international community not to issue travel advisories – revealing that tourism is the soft spot of greatest concern. Assessing the impact of the attack on tourism and foreign investments will depend very much on the success of the response by security forces. With things still unfolding as I write, it is far too early to analyze the implications, yet amazingly, Kenya feels stronger.

(Photo: An injured man is treated outside the Westgate shopping mall where hostages have been kept for three days on 23 September, 2013 in Nairobi, Kenya. By Ahmet Erkan Yigitsozlu/Anadolu Agency/Getty Images)

That’s the conclusion that Mallory Ortberg draws from reading Neil McKenna’s The Secret Life of Oscar Wilde:

Oscar was suitably humble in the presence of Whitman, greeting him with the words, ‘I have come to you as one with whom I have been acquainted almost from the cradle.’ The contrast between the two poets could not have been more marked. Oscar was young, tall, slender and clean shaven. Whitman was in his early sixties, but looked much older. He was shorter than Oscar and wore a long, bushy white beard. Oscar was highly educated, cultivated and still in his languid Aesthetic phase. Whitman was self-taught, and robustly masculine in manner.

Could his meaning be more clear? “Hello, Daddy,” says the young dandy as he lightly crosses the threshold.

[Publisher John Marshall] Stoddart tactfully left the two poets alone. ‘If you are willing – will excuse me – I will go off for an hour or so – come back again – leaving you together,’ he said. ‘We would be glad to have you stay,’ Whitman replied. ‘But do not feel to come back in an hour. Don’t come for two or three.’ Whitman opened a bottle of elderberry wine and he and Oscar drank it all before Whitman suggested they go upstairs to his ‘den’ on the third floor where, he told Oscar, ‘We could be on ‘thee and thou’ terms.’ …

The next day, Whitman told the Philadelphia Press that the two of them had a “jolly good time” together. Did he get more specific? He did, reader. He did:

One of the first things I said was that I should call him ‘Oscar.’ ‘I like that so much,’ he answered, laying his hand on my knee. He seemed to me like a great big, splendid boy. He is so frank, and outspoken, and manly. I don’t see why such mocking things are written of him.

This is a gift. You do realize that, don’t you? History has reached out to you specifically and given you a gift. The gift is the knowledge that Oscar Wilde once put his hand on Walt Whitman’s knee and then they drank elderberry wine together; the gift is that the next day a reporter turned up and Whitman expounded at length on his big, splendid boy. Let this sink in a moment. This is like finding out Emily Dickinson once secretly stowed away on a ship bound for England and spent a weekend with Jane Austen at a bed and breakfast, doing it. This is like finding out Ernest Hemingway finally let his guard down one night in Spain and let F. Scott Fitzgerald lean across the table and kiss him. This is like finding out Gwendolyn Brooks lost her virginity to Willa Cather.

But Ortberg’s “smoking gun” on the Wilde encounter with Whitman is still to come – here.

“When I turned 40, I realized I no longer had to give a shit. About ANYTHING.”
–Sandra Shamas

Well, it’s September 2013. I’ve clung with my fingernails to this sticky ball we call Earth for 40 vertigo-inducing trips around the sun.

Now, I shall pass my wisdom on to you.

1. Like what you like. Fuck the haters.
2. Don’t like what you don’t like. Fuck the shoulds.
3. But stay open to liking what you thought you didn’t like. Hey, maybe you need to cook it better. Or put a hat on it. Or try it 5 times. Or experience it with someone who can talk you through it. Or maybe — it’s what you really need. Cough cough posterior chain work shoulder mobility.
4. Say no when you mean no.
5. Say yes when you mean yes.
6. In general, cut the bullshit. Think of bullshit as the smog of social interaction: omnipresent, neither wanted nor needed, and ultimately polluting.
7. Learn to Say Difficult Things. Better to feel guilty yet relieved than resentful and blocked.
8. 95% of your stress is about other people. Shoulds, expectations, “rules”, worries about what So-and-so might think, trying to live up to imaginary standards… Write down all the stuff you are stressed about, and for each one, ask yourself: Does this represent a genuine threat to my life, actual safety, and/or health? Or is this a threat to my ego, my sense of perceived security and “rightness”, and/or social order? If the latter, congratulations! You’ve found something NOT to be stressed about! When I turned 40, I vowed to no longer give a shit about most things. Guess what — nothing happened, except I felt about a million times more awesome.
9. Think less, feel more. Put down the spreadsheet and rulebook, and sense in.
10. Be IN your body rather than a floating head. What are your feet doing right now? What about deep in your belly? What is stuck in your throat? How are you breathing? What’s going on with your entire physical situation? Don’t let your mind answer this one. Wait for your body to tell you.
11. Attention, empathy, focus, good listening skills, and truly being present with people and situations are very scarce commodities. Develop these and you will always be in demand. And put your goddamned iPhone down. I’m talking here.
12. Being addicted to “a solution” is just as fucked up as being addicted to a substance. This is characterized by rigid all-or-nothing thinking (“If I eat one cookie, I’ve failed”); shame and guilt (“I hope nobody finds out I’m a bad ___ and a fraud”); cult-like devotion and fanaticism; self-righteousness and intolerance (“Diet X is good, and if you don’t believe that, you’re an idiot”); along with reductionism and over-simplification (“Everyone should do Workout Y”; “Food Z is the answer”). If you find yourself obsessively seeking, information-gathering, surfing blogs and websites, arguing your point of view on the interwebs, analyzing or ruminating over your “issues”, and generally in continual “self-helping mode”… your problem-solving behaviour is part of the problem.
13. Don’t decide what to do with the rest of your day based on how you feel when you first get up in the morning. As the years progress, you’ll need a little more “engine idling” before you’re ready to rev. No biggie, that’s what a morning mobility sequence — or as I think of it, the patented MorningShamble ‘N’ Flail^TM is for.
14. Get moving every morning. Out of the entire day, most of us have the most control over our mornings. Years ago, I committed to morning movement and I rarely miss a day. Sure, some mornings I feel like the bar is moving through peanut butter, or the best I can do is the Thorazine Shuffle to the coffee shop, but I still try to move. Even 10 minutes — if you do it every morning — will pay off.
15. “Training” and “working out” are good. “Movement” and “living actively” are better. If you focus too much on a single sport, or on a structured “plan”, then it’s easy to get overtrained and bitter, out of balance, and/or bent out of shape when stuff doesn’t go your way. Waah, I missed a scheduled PR on a bench press!! Waah, my foot hurts and now I can’t go on your scheduled run! Waah, doing the same exercise the same way for 6 months has given me tendonitis! Who gives a shit!? Fuck the plan and the percentages. You have a million other things you can do if your mantra is “live actively”. Plus then you don’t sit on your ass feeling smug for 23 hours of the day because, well, you “worked out” today. Magical things happen at a biochemical and spiritual level when you move your body. Mix it up, get out there into the big ol’ world, and just fucking move as much as possible.
16. Any decision made out of fear is usually the wrong one. If it turns out to be the right decision, that was probably purely accidental. (Exceptions can be made, of course, for things like running away from a guy with an axe.)
17. Don’t call yourself a warrior. Do not refer to anything you do in a gym — or not in an actual war — as war-related. In the gym, a “landmine” is just a piece of equipment. Real war involves real landmines. An MMA fight is not a “war”. You are not a “warrior” if you grit through a tough deadlift set. When you talk about your epic struggles with a medicine ball using military metaphors, you will just sound like an asshat, and any real military vet or war refugee should rightfully slap some sense into you. (However, “Beast Mode” is still amusing. Especially if you howl it after a tough yoga pose or Pilates set.)
18. No matter how old you are, farts are funny. And boy does exercise know how to find ‘em. As my gramma says, “A good walk really clears you out!” Bless her.
    

    Also, no matter how old you are, girl drinks at a cheesy themed venue are still the best way to get tipsy.

19. Eat your colourful fruits and veggies. People tell me I don’t look 40. I say “Yeah, good nutrition works.”
20. You’re probably going to live longer than you expect. Plan ahead.
21. There’s a fine line between being a foodie and having disordered eating. There’s a fine line between “watching your diet” and having disordered eating. There’s a really fucking fine line between “I want to capture this magical food moment with Instagram” and turning into a complete nutcase about what you put in your mouth (or don’t).
22. Toxic people are a health hazard. Eliminate them from your life. That includes nutrition and fitness gurus.
23. There is no magic nutrient or food or diet, or combination thereof. Trust me, I’ve looked for it.
24. There is no magic workout or exercise. Same deal. Squats come close, though. And as Dan John says, “If you can’t fix it with squats or fish oil, you’re probably going to die.”
25. Good health is more important than just about anything else in the world. If you aren’t healthy and thriving (on all levels — physical, mental, and spiritual), then everything else in your life will be much harder to enjoy. (Which isn’t to say you can’t do it. It’s just a lot harder when you’re distracted by pain, dysfunction, and other limitations.) Good health is irreplaceable and should be your #1 priority.
26. Sometimes you will be uncomfortable, and that’s OK. There is no fat loss program where you will never be hungry. There is no workout program that will never make you sore. There is no personal growth that doesn’t stimulate a bit of ickiness and resistance. Learn to tolerate a little discomfort sometimes. (But also see my next point and “Be sane”, below.)
27. No lift is so awesome that you should do it if it causes you pain. Learn the difference between “discomfort in the service of growth” and pain.
28. Don’t try to “prove anything”. Don’t try to be a hero. Tap out early and live to fight another day. You only get one body. Don’t fuck it up too soon. Save the heroism for the burning buildings, when you really need it.
29. Most of the time, be “pretty good”. A B-grade effort is a lot better in the long run than A++ for a few months, followed by an injury, total hormonal collapse, or a nervous breakdown.
30. “Consistent” is way better than “impressive” or “awesome”. Even though “consistent” is much less sexy.
31. “Perfect” is just pointless. Let it go.
32. Approval-seeking is a prison of your own creation. If someone doesn’t approve of you, you’ll never be good enough for them, ever. If someone does approve of you, it’ll never feel satisfying anyway. You will never win if you play the “please validate me” game.
33. Talking about your workouts, your body fat, your weight, and/or your food intake is very, very boring. Put the fucking iPhone away and have an actual unmediated experience with a meal. Nobody gives a shit if you’ve gained 3 lbs, what your Fran time is, whether you knocked a few minutes off your 5K, or whether you’re currently off grains. Mention it only if it’s crucial — like, if you have a peanut you’ll die, or explaining to your physiotherapist how you busted up your knee — and shut the fuck up about it otherwise. I apologize to all my friends for 2007-2010, during which I was deep in crazy exercise-compulsive/food-obsessive town and considered my diet/body fat/general neuroses an acceptable conversation topic for about 3 years straight. (See “good listening skills”, above.)
34. If you have to write an article about how you are “totally over” your body issues, you are not over them. Especially if you get into details about the size, specifics, location, and comparative analysis. Process that shit with your therapist. It’ll be way more productive that putting a monologue out to the interwebs and then thinking that talking makes a difference. It doesn’t. “Getting over” your body issues presumes that there is something inherently shameful and misshapen about your body. There isn’t.
35. The only way to “get over” your body issues is to live as if you are already over them… which means not ruminating over them, or posting apologetic approval-seeking selfies with the caption “I know it’s not perfect, but I’m OK with that.” Go have fierce and fantastic sex with the lights on. Go have an adventure. Go sit and listen to your wondrous immune or circulatory system humming and marvel at its orchestrated splendour. Go do anything other than navel gazing. Please. You are already perfectly fine and a testament to Nature’s brilliance.
36. Also, the world does not need more articles by bourgeois educated white women whining about they’ve “come to terms with” their thighs. Jesus Christ people, there are bigger fucking problems in the world. Pull your head out of your privileged arse, toss your skinny jeans, and go help someone who actually has problems. Part of your social privilege blinders is thinking that everyone needs your public display of self-loathing narcissism. (And yeah, I can take this just as much as I dish it out. As Part of The Problem and the One Percent, I vow to never produce such an article. Every time I even think of writing that article, I will go and volunteer at a soup kitchen.)
37. Show some fucking gratitude and compassion to yourself. Your body takes a lot of shit from you. Give back. Appreciate it.
38. Be a grown-ass woman. Load your own bar. Have an adult relationship with food. Embrace life’s inconvenient truths instead of avoiding them. Stop waiting for the white knight, and kill your own dragons.
39. Progress slowly. There is no substitute for time. No matter what “6-Week Beach Body Blast” or “12-Week Transformations” say, there are no shortcuts. Body change takes time. Skill development takes time. Recovery takes time. Learning takes time. Enjoy that time. There is no rush.
40. Aim for “sustainable” rather than “fast”. Want to lose weight fast? Great, stop eating. Come back in a month. Want to lose weight… and keep it off… forever? Without going crazy? Totally different story. When considering a way of eating or training, always ask yourself: Could I do this for the rest of my life?
41. Think you’re hot shit? Come back in a year and we’ll see how things are going. I’m not impressed by “overnight successes”. First of all, there’s no such thing. There’s only the tip of the iceberg and the frozen tons of backbreaking labour underneath it. Second, grandiose claims are what we call in the education biz “high verbal, low performance”. This means you talk a big line, and probably even believe it, but long-term results are lacking. Got an amazing new workout program? Great, come back in a year and show me that you are fitter, healthier, and uninjured because of it. Got an amazing new eating regime? Great, come back in a year and show me how you’ve maintained a healthy weight loss despite life’s ups and downs. Believe that fasting alternated with eating only the entrails of mountain goats is the secret to longevity? Cool, you know when to come back and see me for a follow-up.
42. If you argue with reality, you will always lose.
43. Get outside more. Sunshine and fresh air cure a lot of things.
44. Orgasms release anti-anxiety and anti-depressant neurotransmitters. Just saying. Cheaper than Prozac. And if you’re a girlperson, you can have lots of ‘em. Viva la evolutionary mystery! (See “Show some fucking gratitude.”)
45. Don’t listen to young men, unless you’re absolutely sure they have a clue. If you’re female and of a certain age, 21-year-old male trainers who learn about women’s bodies from books and rat studies don’t know shit and can’t help you. (However, the few younger guys who take the time to learn and observe actual women’s health and experiences do great work — see, for example, Alwyn Cosgrove.)
46. However, crusty older men are often your best gym buddies. Once dudes start to see the Grim Reaper in their rearview mirror, they get a little more pragmatic (but often no less foulmouthed, which is generally entertaining and usually contains deep life wisdom somewhere in the undergrowth of “fuck”s).
47. In general, physique competition is a lousy goal. If you don’t already have the skeletal structure, metabolism, muscle development, and plastic surgery/drug fund for it, don’t bother. You’ll just make yourself insane. The notion that an average person can transform themselves into a top-level physique competitor simply through hard work is like saying you can play in the WNBA if you believe you can fly.
48. Try to run fast, jump high, hit hard, move heavy shit, and become a supple leopard. This is a much better set of objectives and it’ll be way more useful to you in life and sport.
49. Flat bench barbell bench pressing is usually a bad idea for most people. Try an alternating dumbbell press instead. Your serratus will thank you.
50. Intermittent fasting is usually a bad idea for most people. However, it’s good to learn what true physical hunger feels like — and to learn that it’s not an emergency. So if you’re afraid of being hungry, fasting for a day might be just what the doctor ordered for your psyche.
51. Heavy leg extensions are usually a bad idea for most people. Laws of biomechanics, I don’t make ‘em up.
52. Do not let an injury linger longer than a few days. If you have pain, and it lasts longer than 48-72 hours with no real sign of improvement, deal with it immediately. I’ve seen dozens of clients who had to have surgery, or who were off their favourite activities for months, because they ignored pain. Like, really ignored it. You can’t get to the phase of a biceps tendon tear without ignoring several weeks of serious shoulder pain. Stop screwing around and get yourself to a physio.
53. You will recover. It’ll just take longer than you expect.
54. Motion is the lotion. Just keep moving.
55. Be creative. There’s a big world of delicious, nourishing food and exciting, interesting movement out there. Go find and enjoy every last morsel of it.
56. Ask, don’t tell. Your body is full of potential, if you are kind to it, and respect its boundaries.
57. You are already whole. You already have what you need. You are already amazing. If your pile of randomly assembled DNA pairs has gotten you this far, that’s a miracle. Celebrate it. Somehow a bunch of proteins made YOU, and gave you the ability to tap dance, juggle, or heck, just coordinate breathing. Like, wow.
58. You’ll start to need more warmup time as you age. Eh, just go with it.
59. Respect your body’s dignity and intrinsic worth. You probably think violations of people’s inherent humanity, emotional abuse, and/or nonconsensual intrusions are bad things. Well, every time you shit on yourself or force your body to do something it can’t or doesn’t want to do, you edge into that zone — even just a tiny bit — of being an abuser and violator yourself. Write down the self-critical voice in your head. You’ll be shocked at what a mean, vicious asshole that voice is. Log all the times you’ve forced your body to push through serious pain, put damaging crap into it, or told it to shut up and do its job. Yeah, not so far off from a real human abuser, eh? Think about it. Would you speak to or treat your own daughter the way you’ve spoken to or treated yourself? Stop reading for a moment and promise never to do that again.
60. Periodize with your menstrual cycle, if you have one. Keep track of how you feel throughout your cycle. You will likely notice trends. Put your heavy workouts when you’re feeling strong, and take it easy on yourself when you feel shitty.
61. If you don’t have your period, and you should, your shit is fucked up hormonally and you should deal with it. I lost my period for 4 years. It was a sign of something seriously wrong but I ignored it. Don’t be a dumbass like me.
62. Your body probably doesn’t like all that abuse and you trying to be 11% body fat or some bullshit. Women’s bodies protect and defend bodyfat. That’s 2 million years of evolution. If you’re not naturally 11% bodyfat, don’t waste all your energy and kill your hormones trying to get there. Stop trying to swim upstream so hard. And stop trying to be Superwoman / Supermommy / Superperson. Your hypothalamus will thank you.
63. Your body is a mean motherfucker when you piss it off. Abuse your body and it will take its revenge. (And rightly so. See “Be your own best friend.”)
64. Your body is smarter than you. Again, it’s had 2 million years of evolution to get its shit sorted out. Your body knows every trick in the book. I’ve only had 40 years of learning the ropes, and the first 13 of those were spent living in a totally different body anyway.
65. On the other hand, your body is an amazing guide and caregiver when you trust its wisdom and give it love. Love your body and you’ll get that love back many times over.
66. One of the best times to meditate is immediately after a workout. Sit down, set a timer for 5-10 minutes, shut your eyes, and focus on breathing out sloooooowly. If you suffer from monkey mind, immediately postworkout will often find you with a calmer brain, so you get a head start on chilling out. Perfect.
67. Activate your parasympathetic “rest and digest” system as often as possible. Most of us are totally jacked up on stress hormones and spend our days in sympathetic fight-or-flight mode. You need to balance that with “calm down” time and activities — laughing, relaxing, deep breathing, chilling the fuck out.
68. Recovery doesn’t happen accidentally. You have to go out and get it. Chase that motherfucker, follow it down a dark alley, turn it upside down, and shake the spare change out of its pockets. Recover like your life depends on it, because it does.
69. Salt and dark chocolate are meant to go together. Your adrenals and neurotransmitters will thank you and do a happy dance. Warm up with some pastured meat and potatoes, and you’ve pretty much covered your feel-good bases.
70. Fads come and go. I should know; I’ve tried just about every dumb fitness and nutrition thing starting in the late 1980s. No matter how great something seems — it probably ain’t. At best, it’s probably just a decent idea. Don’t get all crazy about it.
71. Everything works for 6 weeks. This is a Dan John-ism but it definitely applies. Whether it’s your awesome new diet or revolutionary!!!! new workout plan, it’ll work. For a while. And then it won’t.
72. No matter how good something is, it’ll eventually jump the shark. Low-fat cookies? Reebok Crossfit’s “Cheat on your girlfriend, not your workout” ads? Paleo Pop Tarts? C’mon now people.
73. It’s a total cliché, but true: Happiness is inside you. No external thing will create it for you. Although having a roof over your head, enough money to eat decently, a relatively healthy and functional body, and good people around you makes a shitload of difference. But if you’re hoping those skinny jeans or personal best will make you happy, you’re gonna be seriously disappointed.
74. Be sane. Once a day, step back and ask yourself, “By any objective standard, is what I am doing sane? Am I truly taking good care of myself here?” If you feel a twinge of anxiety in your soul when you ask this question, you are not being sane.
75. Be caring and compassionate to yourself. It’s the only way. Trust me, I’ve tried ‘em all.
76. Be your own best friend. Love and protect yourself and your body with the ferocity of a momma bear for her cubs.
77. Change and growth never comes from criticism, blame, or shame. So toss that shit out.
78. Get over yourself. Nobody cares about your dreams. Except maybe 1 to 3 people. Love those people hard and try to see yourself through their eyes, instead of the tunnel vision of a harsh, impervious mass culture that has nothing to do with reality. As my esteemed colleague Craig Weller once told me, “The minute I start worrying about whether my eggs are cooked just right, I’ll put myself back on a plane to Somalia.”
79. Remember to play. And it’s almost all play. When I competed in my first kettlebell comp, I was grinning like a fool. Yay! Everyone else looked like they were sucking on a battery-acid soaked lozenge. Guys. We’re throwing iron spheres in the air. That’s goofy shit, right? Am I the only one not acting like we’re at a final exam combined with a funeral?
80. Have fun. For godsake. Lighten the fuck up. As I protested while getting booted out of a BJJ school for “choosing the wrong allegiance” (WTF?!), “It’s adult recreational sport!!“

 

And now… onward, giant weird goat randomly placed at the top of a mountain!

 

 

After chatting with personal finance expert Helaine Olen, Harold Pollack wrote down all the personal finance advice you'll ever need on a 4x6 index card:

Unless you're an insider or get particularly lucky, you're just not going to beat this. (via ezra klein)

Tags: finance   Harold Pollack   Helaine Olen

Ernest Hemingway liked a good burger and had a specific recipe he wanted his staff to use when preparing meals. Using his instructions, Cheryl Lu-Lien Tan recently recreated the Hemingway burger.

Fingers deep, I kneaded. Fighting the urge to be careless and quick, I kept the pace rhythmic, slow. Each squeeze, I hoped, would gently ease the flavors -- knobby bits of garlic, finely chopped capers, smatterings of dry spices -- into the marbled mound before me.

I had made burgers before, countless times on countless evenings. This one was different; I wasn't making just any burger -- I was attempting to recreate Hemingway's hamburger. And it had to be just right.

Surprisingly, with 11 different ingredients, Hemingway's burger is not as stripped down as his prose. For a more minimalist burger, you have to turn to Dean Martin:

Frank Sinatra's is perhaps even easier:

One thing is for sure: none of these gentlemen would cotton to the idea of the ramen burger, homemade or no. (via open culture)

Tags: Cheryl Lu-Lien Tan   Dean Martin   Ernest Hemingway   food   Frank Sinatra   hamburgers

Dear Mrs. Hall,

I saw your blog post about blocking your sons' young female friend's Facebook account because she posted some selfies trying to "look sexy" or whatever.  You write,"If you want to stay friendly with the Hall men, you’ll have to keep your clothes on, and your posts decent."

Great, good for you. They're your kids and you are free to raise them as you see fit. Other than when parents don't vaccinate their kids (Please don't get me started on that), I have a pretty live-and-let-live attitude towards other parents. Parenting is hard.

But here's the thing. This part? The part where you write, "Did you know that once a male sees you in a state of undress, he can’t ever un-see it?" That part is not cool. If you were really trying to "raise men with a strong moral compass," because "men of integrity don’t linger over pictures of scantily clad high-school girls," (emphasis yours), you don't need to go through all of the trouble of blocking your young friend. You could just, you know, teach your sons that men of integrity don't linger over pictures of scantily clad girls.

Because what you're teaching them is not to respect women's bodies. You're not teaching them to "Love what's on the inside." You're teaching that women who are exploring their sexuality, who take pictures of themselves without bras, are sluts. That they're temptresses who are tempting your otherwise-men-of-integrity to get raging boners and stop seeing the woman as a person. It's no different than Richard Cohen ridiculously blaming the Steubenville Rape debacle on Miley Cyrus's dirty dancing. 

There's a term for this, for what your letter is part of. That term is Rape Culture. It says that if a woman is raped, it's her fault. Because she wore a short skirt. Because she drank too much. Because she took a selfie in her towel.

How ironic is it that your post features a picture of your sons, on the beach. I dare say they were scantily clad. How would YOU feel if some busy-body wrote them a letter telling them they we "Blocked" because they "didn't respect themselves" enough to wear a shirt. I know, it sounds ridiculous, because they're boys. 

That's the point. Lingering over a picture of a scantily-clad picture of a girl will NOT turn them into a rapist.

Unless they're told that it will turn them into one by their parents.

Samuel Johnson's A Dictionary of the English Language, published in April 1755, is one of history's most important dictionaries, written practically single-handedly by Johnson over the course of eight years having being commissioned for the fixed sum of £1,575. After writing the initial proposal, Johnson attempted to raise additional funds for the project by securing a patron, and he soon found one in Lord Chesterfield who, despite pledging £10, offered very little else in terms of support—until, that is, the book was completed seven years later, at which point Chesterfield anonymously wrote two positive reviews in which he was glowingly named as patron. Furious at what he saw as an opportunistic move after years of toil, Johnson wrote an angry but admirably restrained letter to his patron that was almost instantly, and still is, considered a classic.

Note: "Le vainqueur du vainqueur de la terre" translates as "The conqueror of the conqueror of the earth."

(Source: The beauties of Samuel Johnson; Image via.)

To The Right Hon. the Earl Of Chesterfield.

February, 1755.

My Lord,

I have been lately informed, by the proprietor of the World, that two papers, in which my Dictionary is recommended to the public, were written by your Lordship. To be so distinguished, is an honour, which being very little accustomed to favours from the great, I know not well how to receive, or in what terms to acknowledge.

When, upon some slight encouragement, I first visited your Lordship, I was overpowered, like the rest of mankind, by the enchantment of your address; and could not forbear to wish that I might boast myself Le vainqueur du vainqueur de la terre;—that I might obtain that regard for which I saw the world contending; but I found my attendance so little encouraged, that neither pride nor modesty would suffer me to continue it. When I had once addressed your Lordship in public, I had exhausted all the art of pleasing which a retired and uncourtly scholar can possess. I had done all that I could; and no man is well pleased to have his all neglected, be it ever so little.

Seven years, my Lord, have now passed, since I waited in your outward rooms, or was repulsed from your door; during which time I have been pushing on my work through difficulties, of which it is useless to complain, and have brought it, at last, to the verge of publication, without one act of assistance, one word of encouragement, or one smile of favour. Such treatment I did not expect, for I never had a Patron before.

The shepherd in Virgil grew at last acquainted with Love, and found him a native of the rocks.

Is not a Patron, my Lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man struggling for life in the water, and when he has reached ground, encumbers him with help? The notice which you have been pleased to take of my labours, had it been early, had been kind; but it has been delayed till I am indifferent, and cannot enjoy it; till I am solitary, and cannot impart it; till I am known, and do not want it. I hope it is no very cynical asperity not to confess obligations where no benefit has been received, or to be unwilling that the public should consider me as owing that to a Patron, which Providence has enabled me to do for myself.

Having carried on my work thus far, with so little obligations to any favourer of learning, I shall not be disappointed though I shall conclude it, if less be possible, with less; for I have been long wakened from that dream of hope, in which I once boasted myself with so much exultation,

My Lord,
Your lordship's most humble,
most obedient servant,
SAMUEL JOHNSON.

Today I found out about the one-legged woman who was “the most dangerous of allied spies.”

Her name was Virginia Hall, an American spy born in Baltimore in 1906. She attended both Barnard College and Radcliffe College—two prestigious all-women’s higher education facilities—and continued her studies at schools in France, Germany, and Austria. She had dreams of a career in foreign service. At just twenty-five years old, she was appointed to the position of Consular Service clerk at the American Embassy in Warsaw, Poland and seemed to be well on her way to accomplishing her goals.

Unfortunately, shortly after her appointment, she sustained an injury in a hunting accident—she accidentally shot herself in her left leg. Repairing the leg was beyond the medical technology of the time, and in 1933 it was amputated from the knee down. Hall was given a prosthetic wooden “peg leg” to use instead, and seemed to take it all in stride. She later nicknamed the prosthetic leg, which she would wear the rest of her life, “Cuthbert.”

Unfortunately, the disability made her ineligible to pursue her career further. For the next several years, she worked as a clerical assistant for the State Department in Turkey, Italy, and Estonia, before “hitting the glass ceiling” in her field of work despite a few stunning bullet points on her resume, such as that she was fluent in Italian, German, and French. She resigned in 1939 just as war started to inch across Europe. Being the powerful, ambitious young woman that she was, Hall didn’t flee the continent for the safer shores of her homeland. Rather, she volunteered as an ambulance driver in France until the French surrendered in 1940. From there, she evacuated to England where she took up another clerical position at the American Embassy in London.

Hall soon caught the attention of the British Special Operations Executive which was looking for agents to work with the French resistance. Thus, in 1941, Hall posed as a correspondent for the New York Post when she arrived in Lyon, France. Her code name was Marie Monin, and she was the SOE’s very first female agent in France. She spent the next fourteen months providing courier services, helping downed fliers and runaway POWs escape, and obtaining materials for clandestine presses. The sale of press materials, such as paper and ink, was prohibited, making it difficult for resistance newspapers to create and spread their ideas. Thanks to help from Hall and others like her, by 1942 resistance papers had reached over two million readers in France. All the while, Hall continued to send documents to the New York Post to maintain her cover.

It was during this time that the Germans first became aware of Virginia Hall. French double agents had informed them of the “limping lady” who located drop zones for money and weapons and had established and strengthened resistance networks across France. Needless to say, her laundry list of successful missions, helping to  boost the French resistance, were starting to make the Germans rather upset. A “wanted” poster appeared bearing her likeness, and the Gestapo had clear orders: “She is the most dangerous of all Allied spies. We must find and destroy her.”

Germany seized France in 1942. The SOE said it was too dangerous for Hall to remain in the country, especially since the United States had since joined the war effort, and in her current disguise she could be tortured or killed as the enemy, whether they discovered she was “the limping lady” or not. She escaped to Spain by walking across the snowy Pyrenees Mountains on her one good leg that November. In a communique to headquarters on her journey, Hall said simply, “Cuthbert is giving me trouble, but I can cope.” She needed to use a codename for her wooden leg because the Germans were so intent on finding her that she worried saying “wooden leg” would give away her position if the message was intercepted. Headquarters misunderstood her meaning and replied, “If Cuthbert is giving you trouble, have him eliminated.”

When she arrived in Spain after a grueling journey, she was thrown into prison because she didn’t have any entry papers. Six weeks later, she finally managed to smuggle out a letter to the embassy in Barcelona alerting them to her predicament. Hall continued with her work for the SOE in Spain after she was released, but after four months, she requested to be transferred elsewhere. She wrote:

“I thought I could help in Spain, but I’m not doing a job. I am living pleasantly and wasting time. It isn’t worthwhile and after all, my neck is my own. If I’m willing to get a crick in it, I think that’s my prerogative.”

Hall made a convincing argument, and after another brief stint in London—becoming proficient in Morse code—she was sent again to France via a British torpedo boat. This time, she was working for the United States Office of Strategic Services. The mission was incredibly dangerous; the Germans were still looking for her and if she was found she would likely lose her life. Taking precautions, she disguised herself as an elderly French milkmaid by dying her hair grey, wearing full skirts to hide her small frame, and walking with a slow, shuffling gait to disguise her limp. She made goat cheese and went into town to sell it—all the while listening to the oblivious German soldiers chatter about their work.

Forced to stay on the move by German forces attempting to track her radio signals, Hall proved a slippery spy and eluded capture. When she wasn’t listening in on German soldier’s banter, she trained three battalions of French resistance fighters to wage guerrilla warfare against the Germans. Before Allied forces overtook her team, Hall reported that they had destroyed rail lines, phone lines, bridges, and freight trains, sabotaging infrastructure necessary to German occupation. The team was credited with killing over 150 German soldiers and capturing 500 more.

For all her efforts during WWII, she was made an honorary member of the Order of the British Empire. She was also awarded the Distinguished Service Cross, one of the United States’ highest military honours—the only civilian woman to be awarded the medal during World War II. President Truman wanted a public party to celebrate the award, but Hall opted for a private ceremony with just her mother and General William Joseph Donovan in attendance. She said she was “still operational and most anxious to get busy.” She didn’t want a public ceremony to make her face known.

In 1951, Hall joined the CIA, working as a French parliamentary intelligence analyst. It was quite a feat for a woman who thought she had reached the glass ceiling a decade before. By the time she retired in 1966, Hall had shattered the glass ceiling and expectations for women in her line of work—and all on just one leg.

If you’re interested in reading in much more detail about this remarkable women, check out: The Wolves at the Door: The True Story of America’s Greatest Female Spy, by Judith L Pearson

If you liked this article, you might also enjoy:

• When the CIA Attempted to Use Cats as Spies and the Hilarious Results
• The Female Prostitute That Rose to Become One of the Most Powerful Pirates in History and Whose Armada Took on the Chinese, British, and Portuguese Navies… and Won
• WWII Files: Audrey Hepburn and the Dutch Resistance
• Former Major Leaguer Moe Berg was Once a Secret Agent for the U.S.
• Julia Child was a Top Secret Research Assistant to the Predecessor to the CIA

Expand for References

Spike Jonze's new movie features Joaquin Phoenix falling in love with his computer. The trailer:

That looks really good. I didn't care for Where the Wild Things Are but Being John Malkovich is one of my favorite movies.

Tags: Her   Joaquin Phoenix   movies   Spike Jonze   trailers

To Anyone New Just Joining Us Here: Hello! Welcome! Glad you’re here! The Free-Range Movement is dedicated to the idea that our kids are safer and smarter than our society tells us they are, so we don’t have to worry quite as much as we do. That’s why I’m often asked:

Haven’t parents always worried about their kids?

Of course they have! I’m one of the worriers! Parents have always worried, because our job is to try to get our children all the way to adulthood, safe, reasonably happy, and ready for the real world. There are giant potholes brimming with worry on that road.

But what has really changed over the past generation or so is the new idea that our kids are in CONSTANT danger, from almost everything and everyone. Nowadays, many of us believe we can never take our eyes off our kids, because supposedly they can’t do anything safely or successfully on their own. And the reason we’ve come to believe this is because we have been “trained” to think about all childhood activities in terms of what terrible thing COULD happen.

No matter how unlikely.

Worst-First 

This is what I call “worst-first thinking” – thinking up the WORST case scenario FIRST and proceeding as if it is likely to happen. It’s the reason why upstate New York pre-schools no long allow liquid soap in the bathrooms. Kids MIGHT drink it.

Sure, it’s unlikely. It’s even a WEIRD thing to worry about. But thinking about the WORST case you can dream up is now considered prudent. (It’s the same reason another pre-k got rid of pencils. Kids COULD stab each other. And the same reason an advice columnist recently told parents to hire a babysitter for their 14-year-old: Just in CASE there was an emergency, the sitter could drive her to the hospital. Really, you can dream up a disaster for almost any occasion.)

But, on a more serious note, that’s what parents are now expected to do. So if you say, for instance, “I’m going to start letting Ava wait at the bus stop by herself,” it’s likely that someone else (perhaps even a spouse) will respond, “But what about Jaycee Dugard? Wasn’t SHE on her way to the bus stop when she was abducted?”

Regaining Perspective 

That she was. Horrible story. But in the 20 or so years since that fateful day, millions upon millions of kids have gotten to and from school without any incident whatsoever. Maybe they even got some exercise. Made friends. Brought home a stray dog. Those are all stories you will never hear. Jaycee’s story was so outrageously rare WE ALL KNOW HER NAME. So to use it as a parenting  benchmark is to seriously distort the odds.

A commenter to this blog came up with a great way to get some perspective on the fact we are living in very safe times. Safer, even, than when we were kids. (Here are the stats on that. And here’s a piece about how it’s not because  kids are cooped up that they’re safer. Adults are safer now, too, and they’re not cooped up. Crime is just down.) Anyway:

To live with the fear of your child being abducted – a fear that a majority of Americans share – deal with it “the same way you deal with the fear of him falling in the bathtub, or being struck by lightning: You admit that it’s something that could possibly happen. But it’s not likely and you’re not going to have much of a life if you spend all your time trying to prevent any situation where anything like that could occur.”

Do try to make your children safe. Do not aim for a 100% risk-free life, lest you somehow actually give it to them.

And take away everything else.  - L

 

Kids can entertain themselves some of the time.

PicaPic is a digitized collection of vintage handheld games made by Hipopotam studio. They're all free and playable in your browser. It's a really slick implementation. It even has the plasticy clacking sound of the buttons.

(via @kump)