correspondent has been shuttling back and forth between Wellfleet and sweltering Gotham, getting in in the wee hours, sleeping little, coping with a variety of unrestful obligations, and generally ignoring his bloggardly duties. I apologize to all, and do hope that by Tuesday or so life will once more be unruffled and serene, as there are a number of meaty posts in the queue.
Meanwhile, do browse our extensive archives, and rest assured that we’ll be back in harness shortly.
It’s summertime, and the weather here is not conducive to ponderous thoughts, so this evening we shall amuse ourselves with a look at how our doughty pals the Finns make merry while the sun glances briefly upon their Boreal realm. I’m talking, of course, about the World Championship of Wife-carrying.
I don’t spend a lot of time in the recording studio these days; one of the reasons that I took up software development after twenty-odd years of making records for a living was that the long and irregular hours were beginning to get to me. It was not a big deal, really, to do multiple consecutive sixteen-hour sessions when I was in my twenties; I’d just collapse for a day after the project ended, and I’d be fine. But as I got older it got harder to bounce back, and I’d spend days in a fog after those marathons. Now I’m 50 (50!), and I have to say that after putting in 32 hours in two days on Tuesday and Wednesday over at Right Track I feel about as focused and articulate as Ozzy Osborne on a fistful of ‘ludes. So instead of the usual piercing analysis and trenchant commentary on the passing scene, I’ll just have to leave you today with something else to worry about: Giant Hogweed. It’s big, it’s phototoxic, it looks like a cow parsnip on steroids, and it’s coming your way. Learn more here, and here.
From time to time I mention amusing or imaginative Web sites in these pages. I’ve just stumbled across a good one; it’s an artificial-intelligence engine that plays (and usually wins) the game of Twenty Questions. It has just managed to correctly guess that I was thinking of a snail, a pair of sunglasses, a pencil, and a grapefruit.
Click here to give it a try.
Sorry, I’m just too tired tonight to write anything worth reading. But I don’t want anyone who has taken the trouble to pay us a visit to go away empty-handed, so here’s an interesting link: a website where author Robert Wright (whose insightful book Nonzero I have just begun reading) has posted video clips of his interviews with an impressive assortment of prominent thinkers.
It’s almost eleven PM, and we’ve just got back to Brooklyn from our dacha in the remotest East, only to find that our Internet access is down. I am currently connected using the only available telephone connection, which is a short wire in an inconvenient corner of the room, and I do not propose to linger. Yes, I could draft a post offline, and connect briefly to upload it, but the fact is that I’m rather weary anyway, and so will just offer a bit of shameless filler tonight to keep up appearances.
My friend Jon Mandell has sent along a link to an amusing, if slightly stressful, little game. You can try it here.
Tonight, it being quite late (and I must rise far too early in the morning tomorrow), rather than attempting to whip up anything worthwhile of my own I will poach an interesting piece from the editorial page of the Wall Street Journal. It points out that, contrary to the impression most people have of the strictures of Islam, there is in fact in Islamic doctrine no absolute prohibition of depictions of Mohammed. Apparently this was simply a custom that was adopted as a result of Jewish and Christian influences in Islam’s earlier days. To buttress his point the author, the well-known writer and editor Amir Taheri cites many examples of paintings of the Prophet, including this:
Here’s an image I ran across this morning. All that’s missing are Dorothy and her little dog.
It being Chinese New Year this weekend, it is a bit of a busy time for kung fu schools, and mine is no exception. Tonight we had a lion dance to do in Manhattan; I’ve only just got home to my Park Slope château, and it’s after 11.
I’m just too worn out to write much tonight, but I certainly don’t want you all to go away empty-handed. So, as we ring in the Year of the Dog, I offer some exceptionally beautiful – I mean really outstanding – photographs of Cathay’s exotic landscape.
Well, after last night’s gloomy post, redolent with the odor of the crypt, I think it is time for comic relief. This comes by way of comedian Kip Addotta, who sends me little tidbits from time to time.