Sunday, April 25. 2010
I stumbled onto Myron Magnet's fine 2003 essay of the above title. Magnet says that good writing is about higher and deeper truths than "knowledge," "information," or "data" can provide, and I agree of course.
One quote:
What’s wanted is wisdom: the ability to see into the heart of things. This is the kind of knowledge that Plato describes so poetically in that most literary of all philosophical passages, the allegory of the cave: the knowledge that sees through the world of appearances to the Truth, of which the appearances are but an emanation—a knowledge that requires a lifetime of reason and study to attain but that comes finally in a flash of intuition, because the Truth is in us, in an inner nature we can glimpse by introspection and intuition, as well as in the world. And this is the knowledge—a knowledge, one might say, that resides in our souls as well as in our minds—that great literature embodies.
He includes a smack-down of the one-dimensional pomo critics, but that's far from his main point.
And since Magnet mentions Cosi Fan Tutte so often in his piece, here's the truly ridiculous and lovely Act 1 Finale, in which the cheating suitors fake committing suicide to re-engage their girlfriends:
Our Editor recently described himself, and Maggie's Farm, as "resolutely middlebrow." I cannot disagree, but with the caveat that we repeatedy take adventurous forays into the lowbrow.
As confirmation of the above. I have been thinking about Positivism lately and found myself needing to refer to Wiki for a refresher on the late Enlightenment thinker Auguste Comte, known as "The Pope of Positivism," and the inventor of Sociology.
Comte, interestingly and paradoxically, wanted to use a science of society in order to create a new religion for humanity. His grandiose dream lives on.
I have always thought that Cape Dory made fine boats.This pretty 33' Cape Dory is for sale.
Saturday, April 24. 2010
I know The Barrister has fond memories of the old Bar Cars on The New York, New Haven, and Hartford Railroad (now Metro-North). I have some such memories, also.
People smoking and drinking Scotch, and the bow-tied, white-jacketed bartender who knew everybody's choice. A cozy cheerful place on the 6:14 from Grand Central. A smoke-filled decompression chamber between work and home.
The famously alcohol-fueled and adultery-fueled bar car on the branch line from Stamford up to New Canaan and Ridgefield, CT used to have their own web site, but I can't find it now.
Photo below from the NYT photo essay. I never saw a bar car like that one, though. In my time, usually more packed with people (including chic gals and MILFs on their way home from shopping and hair-dos at Kenneth's) and so full of fragrant and wholesome tobacco smoke that you couldn't see from one end to the other.
Addendum: A reader has kindly sent us a Bar Car site
Friday, April 23. 2010
Mr. Spock Set to Hang Up His Pointy Ears
I was there when Spock uttered his first iconic Live long and prosper.
We'd heard about some cool new space series coming up and eagerly tuned in for the first episode. It certainly did not disappoint. The show looks pretty corny now, but everything about it was state-of-the-art for 1966, from the concept to the design of the ship to the aliens.
And over the ensuing half century, while starlets and action heroes rose and fell, one of the true constants in the Hollywood universe was the logical mind of Spock. Whole continents could roil in upheaval, but Spock would know what to do.
He was an anchor. A hope. A symbol that one day mankind would cast aside its petty grievances and jealousies and grow up.
Yes, I was there when Spock uttered his first iconic Live long and prosper.
And his last.
Thursday, April 22. 2010
 Here. A few comments:
1. Watch that Speed Dating video
2. Don't get the wrong idea from the comments - Merc and I do not watch this show together - it just turns out we both watch it. Merc and I never watch TV together.
3. House's character is Sherlock Holmes (get it? House - Holmes). Holmes, you will recall, was an addict too, who did not tolerate fools gladly and who had his own sidekick, Dr. Watson (Dr. Wilson-Dr. Watson).
4. Hugh Laurie does a pretty good American accent, doesn't he?
5. There are plenty of Docs with brains and arrogant, prickly personalities like House (minus the addiction). Rarely in private practice, though. House's bedside manner, or lack thereof, would not work. He is not Dr. Marcus Welby.
Wednesday, April 21. 2010
Our Urbanist friend shares another good Urbanism site: Discovering Urbanism.
He has a good post on the American lawn. Who knew that turf grass is America's #1 crop? Photo below is from a Pennsylvania turf farm:
Any 'House MD' fans out there?
Dip below the fold for a couple of goodies.
Continue reading "'House MD': A couple o' treats"
Monday, April 19. 2010
It would unquestionably be terrifying.
Suddenly, flying 30,000 feet above the ground, a massive depressurization takes place and the airliner starts to break apart. It tumbles toward the ground, bucking and spinning, as the last seconds of your life turn into a living nightmare.
The only good news is, in the chaos around you, your mind would be so overwhelmed that you'd be in shellshock, with no time to contemplate what could have been, no time to regret what never will be, and no time to say goodbye to life, itself.
But, as ugly as that is, there is one scenario that might even be worse.
You're flying along at 30,000 feet when suddenly...
Click.
All four engines stop.
You don't like the depressurization scenario? Well, lucky you, you now have minutes upon minutes to contemplate what might have been, to regret what never will be, and plenty of time to say goodbye to life, itself, before you cartwheel into the sea and disintegrate.
Lucky you.
A few weekends ago I decided to wig out and watch every single 'airline disaster' show on YouTube. There were about twenty of them.
And, as terrifying as many of them were, there was one that stood out above the rest.
The one where the engines suddenly went click.
I heard "Call your doctor or dial 911 for any erection lasting longer than four hours."
Why? Isn't that normal?
Lots of photos. Looks like Detroit.
 I asked Sipp what living in Maine was like. He did not reply to my email, but offers us a Maine Update, as of yesterday (with music, global warming snow, and deep-snark commentary about Life and Mozart).
I like the street. It's what I call "American." Hope my pal Sipp has a few fireplaces.
Down in more southern New England, I spent the weekend gardening while he spent hours producing that video, smoking Cuban ceegars and good Maine weed as the snowflakes fell, and sipping an ancient cognac by his cozy fireplace while the scent of osso bucco wafted from the kitchen where his sexy barefoot Goddess Mrs. Sipp was lovingly cookin' up a storm on the olde wood stove with nary a "Get off that damn computer and come help me, you lazy cyber-Yankee-would-be-Mozart-redneck."
It's on the Maggie's list of Best Maine Home-Made Videos of 2010.
Sunday, April 18. 2010
"Bathers"
A friend of Maggie's is interested in urbanism websites, and found a good one.
This fellow spent a few years driving through all of the neighborhoods of St. Louis with camera. Good for him. Some neighborhoods are as bad as Detroit: Built St. Louis.
In my view, government construction of endless highways destroyed the American city - and the railroads. Why? I never heard of a huge national pro-highway Movement. Unless it came from...Detroit.
Saturday, April 17. 2010
It's something new and different this year: a trip down the Danube. Vienna, Ravensberg, Linz, etc. with the entire Bird Dog family crew and my excellent and adventurous in-laws.
Linzer torte. Sacher torte.
I have always been amazed by how the crazy Norsemen (Roger de Hauteville's gang of Normans) circled around the Med, into the Black Sea and way up the Danube. Where else did Barbarossa get his red beard? I think they just liked getting away from their families and being on boats.
Friday, April 16. 2010
A patient recently told me that she had been invited to join a neighborhood wife-swapping club about six months after she and her husband moved into a middle-class Boston suburb. The invitation came quietly, at a lady's coffee.
She replied that she was flattered, but thought it probably wasn't a good idea for her marriage. In fact, it made her so uncomfortable that she decided to move away.
I thought it sounded quite retro, 1970s, like Ice Storm. Key Parties and all that. I had not been aware that these things were still happening. I restrained myself from asking her whether the neighborhood husbands were hot, and from asking whether it might better be described as husband-swapping.
Or is it like "Take my wife... please." ?
Monday, April 12. 2010
Good, fun, basic, math. Here.
Sana'a, or Sana. Population 1.7 million, but certainly off the beaten path.
Yemen, known by the Romans as Arabia Felix, was once famous for their Frankincense trade.
More photos of the mud-brick city here.
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