Friday Links!
Leading off this week, from Eric Lundquist, and it's one of the saddest stories you'll ever read:
Todd Marinovich is learning to be human again. Next, and this is so, so clever:
Alt-1977: We Are Not Time Travelers.
Irony, and also remarkable:
For the NFL and all of football, a new threat: an evaporating insurance market.
From Steven Davis, and this is fascinating:
The Italian Art Supply Shop That Keeps Renaissance Painting Techniques Alive. I had no idea this was a thing:
The Quirky, Endearing Tradition of “Duck” Architecture.
From Meg McReynolds, and there are brilliant:
2018 McGingerbread Hell Competition Winners.
From Wally, and this is an interesting look:
French Air Force 1940 – Analysis. This is a terrific read:
The Metal Detectorists Who Find Lost Wedding Rings. This will blow your mind:
Food Industry Machines That Are At Another Level. Still crazy after all these years:
The Weekend Warriors of the Crown Province of Ostgardr (Otherwise Known as New York City).
From C. Lee, and this is puzzling:
Earth’s magnetic field is acting up and geologists don’t know why. This is fascinating:
Why new things make us sad. Concerning:
How salmonella-tainted food gets in your fridge. This is good news:
The molecule that helps exercise protect the brain from Alzheimer’s.
From Brian Witte, and this is provocative (Oumuamua):
If True, This Could Be One of the Greatest Discoveries in Human History.
Nightmare Fuel
We were watching a bowl game last month (yes, this was on a list to write about, and the list disappeared for a while).
"Oh my god, what is that sound?" Gloria asked.
"It's a chainsaw," I said. "Oregon St.'s mascot is a beaver, so I guess they're cutting down the forest to deny him habitat? Very confusing message."
"It's annoying," she said.
"This would be me in hell," I said. "A fan of Oregon St., having to listen to a chainsaw even more often than I do already."
"Good thing you're not a fan," she said.
"I wonder if any college has a leaf blower for a mascot?" I asked.
The Elephant in the Room
In Friday Links last week, I mentioned this story:
The Weight I Carry: What it’s like to be too big in America. It's a beautifully written, poignant piece.
What was particularly moving about the article, for me, is that it made obesity into a very personal thing. As someone who has always been on the thin side (6'1", 140 in high school, 160-165 for the last 25 years), even though that's required substantial adjustments in how I eat over the years, it's always been very difficult for me to identify or empathize with someone who's obese.
This article, for the first time, connected with me very deeply.
As it turns out, what I read was an excerpt from a book that came out yesterday:
The Elephant in the Room: One Fat Man's Quest to Get Smaller in a Growing America. It came out yesterday, and I read it yesterday.
The book is just as well-written as the article, and penetrates even more deeply.
Even more surprising: I recognized myself at times. Some of the behaviors and habits I've struggled with for years. I used to think I didn't have anything in common with people who were obese, but that's not true. There are universal behaviors that we all struggle with, no matter what we weigh.
Here's an Amazon link:
The Elephant in the Room: One Fat Man's Quest to Get Smaller in a Growing America.
Lacrosse Player or Professional Bull Rider? (Update)
They are, in fact, ALL professional bull riders.
The perfect way to close the circle here would be to come up with a list of bulls who could also be lacrosse players, but I was unable to do so.
Also, in local news, Grand Rapids is a solid sheet of ice today. No family injuries have occurred.
A Change of Fortune
Your life is a dashing and bold adventure.
"Looks like I got your fortune," I said to Eli 16.5. "If your fortune says 'You are old and decrepit', there was definitely a mix-up."
He laughed.
He opened his fortune five minutes later. "Read it," I said.
"Your luck is entirely spent," he said.
I burst out laughing. "That's definitely mine."
A few minutes later. "Wait, did you change that fortune?" He burst out laughing.
"Just one word," he said. "It was actually 'Your luck is entirely changed'."
"That's a quality revision," I said. "Good work."
Lacrosse Player or Professional Bull Rider?
We were watching golf, and there was a commercial break, so naturally, we turned to professional bull riding.
We both saw it at the same.
"WHAT?" I shouted.
"That did NOT just happen!" Eli 17.5 shouted. "That bull JUKED!"
That bull--"American Pride," I believe--did indeed juke. We watched it over and over again, and it was just as stunning the fifth time as the first.
It was stunning to the rider, too, because he fell right off.
A few minutes, a name flashed across the screen.
"Wait, that guy should be a lacrosse player," I said.
Eli laughed. "That is actually true."
This merited further investigation, so I researched both professional bull riders and lacrosse players, and have a compiled a list of ten. Who is a bull rider, and who is a lacrosse player?
1. River Stephenson
2. Colten Jesse
3. Coleton Greninger
4. Hunter Salter
5. Tanner Bothwell
6. Dakota Buttar
7. Thor Hoefer II
8. Gannon Ivy
9. Chandler Blownds
10. Daylen Swearingen
Answers tomorrow.
Friday Links!
Leading off this week, and boy, it's stunning:
How At the Gates took 7 years of my life – and nearly the rest.
This is a gripping, genuine piece of writing:
The Weight I Carry: What it’s like to be too big in America.
Both incredible and idiotic:
How Cartographers for the U.S. Military Inadvertently Created a House of Horrors in South Africa. This is amazing:
Blue Pigment in 1,000-Year-Old Teeth Links Women to the Production of Medieval Manuscripts.
From Tim Jones, and it's wonderful:
London Medieval Murder Map (pay special attention to the altercations).
From Eric Higgins-Freese, and it's terrific:
Buddhist Monks Are Flexing on Twitter to Protest a Japanese Traffic Law.
From C. Lee, and this could be huge:
Scientists Have 'Hacked Photosynthesis' In Search Of More Productive Crops. This is terrifying:
Study Shows Precisely How Nazi Infrastructure Enabled the Worst of the Holocaust. I'm game:
The Norwegian Art of the Packed Lunch. George Orwell was an optimist:
Learning China’s Forbidden History, So They Can Censor It.
From Wally, and this is very clever:
Out-of-this-world spaceship designs based on everyday objects. I may never eat again:
Buttered Popcorn Oreos Are in the Works, and TBH, I Don't Know What to Feel. The title doesn't sound like it, but this is quite poignant:
‘Can We Honor Your Service with a Steak, a Malibu Chicken, or the Jumbo Crispy Shrimp?’
Sure, If You Say So
"I'd like for it to be 9:45, but it's actually 11:30," I said. "I think we have a clock problem."
Gloria looked up from her computer. "It just needs a new battery," she said.
"Does it?" I asked. "Is it really that simple? Or are you covering up for an under performer?"
"It's a battery," she said.
"I've had my eye on that clock for a while," I said. "A veteran, played at a steady level for years, but now struggling at the end of its career. Should we keep it for one more year in the face of declining performance? Or should we cut the clock, trade for a high draft pick, and draft a new clock with a brighter future? Telling time is a results-based business."
"I'm putting in a new battery," she said.
"It happens so fast," I said. "Just last week, it was still accurate."
Gamer
Eli 17.5 came home for lunch.
"I've decided that I caught the plague," I said, and he raised an eyebrow. "I'll be dead in a few days, so I need to give you some instructions."
"I'm listening," he said.
"First: stay out of the bathroom," I said. "Use the one downstairs. We don't need multiple victims."
"I'll do that," he said.
"Second," I said. "I'd like an Evan-type memorial put up whenever you watch Major League Fishing or women's volleyball."
"Not a problem," he said.
"Third," I said. "Bury me, but only for two months. When you've decided which college you're going to, buy a hoodie, dig me up and put the hoodie on me, then steal the casket and take me somewhere for a Viking funeral."
"Yup," he said.
"I think that's it," I said. "Oh, and play in my honor for the rest of the season. 'Local goalie dedicates season to dead father'. With that kind of backstory, you'll be in D-1 in no time."
"Are you kidding me?" he asked. "I'll get drafted into the League with that backstory."
"I can just hear your first interview," I said. "My dad wasn't even that sick, but he died just so I could pursue my dream of NHL glory."
"Gamer," he said.
The Wizard Next Door
Here's how a good wizard moves in next door.
"I'm Tom. I'm your new neighbor! Oh, and I'm a wizard. I know, I know, but don't worry. I don't do any research at night, and I don't need a tower over fifty feet high, so no zoning issues. Plus, on Halloween, all the kids can come for a tour and have all the candy they can carry. Oh, and if you have a college-aged son or daughter, I'm looking for a summer intern. Great experience, looks fabulous on a resume. Well, the tower will be going up tomorrow, so please don't be alarmed. Really, it only takes about five minutes--just a summoning from a prefab tower dimension, so you'll hear a "POP" and it will be done."
You don't know a bad wizard is moving in next door until you hear an explosion, and when you walk outside you see a flaming cow carcass dropping from three hundred feet onto your lawn. With cheering.
[these are the kinds of things I think about, apparently, when I'm too sick to get out of bed.]
From a News Article
"Holt was a free spirit -- self-employed selling bait, exotic animals, more than 100 snakes and his own inventions and had years’ worth of food stored up."
Ugh
On Thursday, I woke up with slight congestion and a tickle in the back of my throat.
Then the murders began.
On Saturday night, after going to bed, I started shivering. I added a second blanket. Still shivering. I put on a Patagonia base layer. Still shivering. Put on pajama pants. Still shivering. Put on a heavy jacket. STILL shivering.
Finally, at some point, I fell asleep, then woke up two hours later in what felt like a sauna, which is a normal response for a body that has multiple layers of clothing on and is under two blankets.
Now I've advanced to the "every time I cough it sounds like a car wreck" phase, so hopefully this will end soon.
I also managed to acquire a really, really nasty case of tennis elbow AND golfer's elbow at Thanksgiving, and six weeks of home exercises and heating pads (per the orthopedist's instructions) haven't helped in the slightest. This has actually been more pain than when I broke my ankle, much to my astonishment.
So today, I went to a physical therapy place (again, per doctor's instructions) and they did something to my arm called "dry needling." Which sounds like pseudo-scientific crap, after I researched it later, but I'm so desperate I was willing to try it anyway. Basically, they put two needles in my arm and ran electric current through it, making my hand "thump" for a while.
I'll let you know if it has any effect. Supposed to take a couple of days, at a minimum. I need to be able to hit golf balls, and quite a few of them, in another eight weeks or so, so this is Priority 1 right now. Otherwise, Eli 17.5 will be destroying me on the golf course, and I'm not going down without a fight.
