snowflakes

Via Nag on the Lake, we not only learn the etymology of the term scofflaw but also how a bar in Paris—a country that’s demonstrated its sensibility previously for not experimenting with government imposed prohibition on alcoholic beverages—took advantage of the ensuing hoopla and stumbled onto buzz-marketing.
A Boston banker and staunch Prohibitionist named Delcevare King, seeing that the experiment was a failing one with the otherwise law abiding flagrantly flouting the law (the constitutional amendment was in force from 1920 until 1933 when it was repealed by a second amendment) and criminal gangs forming to create a lucrative black market, sought to find the perfect derogatory term to shame the misguided into compliance. To that end, King sponsored a contest soliciting the best epithet and enticed over twenty-five thousand entrants with a prize in the form of two hundred dollars-worth of gold—an inconceivable ransom for a wordsmith in 1923 and it made the papers worldwide. King’s efforts to “stab awake the public conscience of law enforcement” choose—over boozeshevik, boozocrat and many others, the neologism scofflaw but was himself made a rather international laughing stock for publicly harbouring such puritanical condemnation. Seizing the opportunity, Harry’s New York bar (an American extract from 1911, shipped to the City of Light) patronised by the expatriate community named a cocktail after the new term. A recipe and review of the Scofflaw can be found at the link above, a clever project linking letters and liquor through history.

6x6

wrong side of the tracks: gentrification and inequality captured in aerial photography

fifty columns: there’s an installation in Johannesburg at the site where Nelson Mandela was arrested, which from a distance (like this structure in Melbourne) forms the visage of South Africa’s anti-Apartheid statesman and is a monument to those who fought for reform

dialogue agents: a pair of chat-bots (here are another two doing the talking) learning to communicate and negotiate (and keep the volley going) in the wilds of social media have developed their own language

this is spinal mäp: a customisable template that turns cartography metal, via things magazine

f—k you, i’m millwall: a fan of the South London football club who fended off assailants during June’s London Bridge attack and hailed as a hero is having his response turned into a beer by a Swedish beer company, via Nag on the Lake

thousand islands: homesteading on the archipelago on the Saint Lawrence seaway straddling the US and Canadian borders

spirit of the law

In response to new legislation that stipulates that bars and similar establishments in India must be separated from highways by no less than half a kilometre, one existing pub has successfully skirted the law by compacting that space and time into a series of barrier mazes—like those set up for queuing at airports and amusement parks. As the purpose of the law is not necessarily to limit access and egress but to prevent patrons from stumbling into to traffic—which seems like a long way to stumble, local authorities let the innovative solution stand.

7x7

teardrop trailer: veteran and prisoner-of-war designs for a camper-caravan realised after eight decades

what wizardry is this: BLDGBlog contemplates spells against autonomy

it’s dangerous to go alone – take this: Zelda fan automates his home controlled by playing the ocarina

no wine before its time: Moldova declares wine to be a food, a status that beer has enjoyed in Germany for centuries

don’t be jimmy: Colorado mass-transit just adopted an awful, crass mascot as an negative example for passengers, very unlike NYC’s good-mannered feline

ronald the grump: Sesame Street characters respond to news that they are being defunded

inter-city express: passenger train passes through residential apartment block in Chongqing 

5x5

crate & barrel: a glimpse inside the outfitteries that design and deliver prefabricated Irish Pubs around the world, via Boing Boing

la gioconda: researchers, including a relative of the Bishop of Bling, in Germany conclude Mona Lisa’s smile means she happy

inception: more recursive, panoramic landscapes from Aydın Büyüktaş, via Kottke 

pacific rim: demonstration of robots controlled by the hemispheres of two separate volunteers’ brains

ligature: a clever type face that reacts intuitively to the characters that precede and follow 

proost!

Taking advantage of the nice Spring weather, we had a chance to visit an outdoor Belgian café and got the chance to give a proper toast to our friends in the newly discovered solar system hosted by a red giant in the constellation Aquarius, some forty light years distant.

7x7

cabin-brew: brewery formulates a beer that’s optimised for enjoyment whilst flying

dynamo: the Earth core and magnetic field is powered by the crystallization of silicon dioxide

faster empire, strike, strike: a clever fan made a modern trailer for Star Wars Episode V

the night Chicago died: the story of how angry white men tried to destroy disco

lift every voice and sing: the lost, forgotten artwork of Augusta Savage

wiphala: the strikingly colourful mansions of La Paz

momofuku: a visit to the Cup Noodles museum in Japan

tømmermænd

Amsterdam can proudly boast the world’s first hangover recovery bar—that requires patrons fail a breathalyser test to get inside, as Dangerous Minds informs.
Once granted entry, to separate those nursing a bad night out from those who’d simply like a bit of quiet pampering—though I can’t imagine that they are that strict and one has to make an absolute wreck of themselves to go inside, patrons are triaged and put into comfy beds—the whole arrangement conceived by an enterprising mattress salesman, to rehydrate and sleep it off and later enjoy some traditional and proven remedies—including an oxygen bar. I am glad that we didn’t require such services during our recent visit—although it would have been nice to be brought a nice, late breakfast in bed.

5x5

hop’n gator: interesting trivia about Gatorade and beer and their short-lived unholy merger

enter the dragon: the philosophical notebooks of Bruce Lee

 lullaby: parent finches signal to the unhatched broods about global warming

unwaxed: maybe there are benefits to flossing after all, if our simian friends are so keen to do it

history, ink: an interesting look at the last surviving tattoo parlour in Jerusalem that original catered to medieval pilgrims to the Holy Land 

that glaswegian, tall chavvy fighting idiot of old

Via the always excellent Nag on the Lake, we learn about the recent surfacing of a list of personae non-grata from the legendary venue, the Half Moon pub of the Herne Hill district in London, which was closed due to flooding in 2013 but has yet to be reopened.
This guide of unwelcome, potentially troublesome patrons is perfectly British, pretty abusive and gangsterish too but pretty amusing all the same and I am glad someone bothered to share, reminding me of that burgeoning practise of asking customers names so they can inform you when your order is ready—one which I hope does not catch on since I rather like us being called the Englishmen or the doctors. There’s no Sodding McSodface on this list and most would require no further explanation, but Deaf Adam earned his lifelong ban for mistaking Coldplay for the Rolling Stones on the jukebox.

the drys or thank you for your interest in democracy

Thanks to a serendipitous intersection between two of my favourite blogs, Atlas Obscura and Nag on the Lake, I feel I have been roundly educated on the subject of prohibition. Though the temperance movement was not mandated on a nation-wide level and the thirteen year span in America where the manufacture, sale and distribution of alcohol was prohibited tends to outshine all others, Canada too had a robust anti-drink league and provinces voted individual whether to suffer or permit. Many other jurisdictions repeated this social-experiment, as well.
(It’s sort of like saying “the Civil War”—that time when Oliver Cromwell did battle with V for Vendetta, you mean?) The beacon that the US once was for tee-totalling is somewhat dimmed (depending on whom one asks, I suppose) but the Prohibition Party, whose rolls included the first elected female officer-holder in America, still exists and on a few ballots. Both entries made me think how although most would assume that the outsider party has a narrow scope and spent its clout decades ago (most supporters fled once Prohibition was repealed)—and the candidate prefaces his correspondence with “thanks for noticing the Prohibition Party,” their platform is in reality a broad and progressive one and not just for a pocket-constituency. Though health debate, decent, dialogue are hallmarks—and no one would deny them holding their position—I think that the majority can agree that “Make America Dry Again” is not a campaign slogan that most of us would rally behind.

tonic and toil

Archaeologists and ethnographers trying to reconstruct the inaccessible past (though there are plenty of cultural references to curse and toil—like in the expulsion of Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden) have questioned why humanity moved from a hunter-gatherer society to agriculture and division of labour and have puzzled over this apparently rash decision, as a sustenance way of life is far less taxing and obligates far less of an individual’s free-time to earn one’s daily bread, as it were.
Giving into such incursions—alienation from labour that’s unfolded down intractable paths as civilisation, does seem to be quite a harsh punishment and we’re given to wonder for what award. Such advance is certainly not something to be taken for granted in the march of progress—other models are possible and farming and herding can be as capricious as scrounging for nuts and berries and game. One does not see other primates rushing towards cultivation—and not just despoiled wheat and grapes, and deferring one’s harvest to some unknown date. Some think, however, that the compulsion and motivation, perhaps the toxic knowledge, lie in fermentation. Humans would have never entered into such a social-contract without the accidental discovery of beer and wine (succour, according to other traditions)—or however one might name the libation. This does seem like a rather thunderous, not to invoke later protestations after that support structure was already well-established, revelation that can’t be unseen like the knowledge of Good and Evil, Drunk and Sober, and demarcating that free time sacrificed. That’s a little bit of magic, with primacy over bread, manna and other crops, that could elevate one from dull cares for a little while at least, even if that comes at a very high cost with equally high returns.

5x5

camouflage: beautiful landscapes with human figures painted in

midnight oil: astronomers find a pair of super-massive black-holes fueling a very luminous quasar

vitrification: a demonstration of 3-dimensional printing with molten glass

elementary: twelve occasions where Star Trek and Sherlock Holmes crossed-over

not from concentrate: a fascinating look at the Prohibition era wine-brick that saved the vineyards, via Nag on the Lake

five-by-five

bio-pic: beautifully haunting animation style of pioneer Lotte Reiniger

phew-phew: supercut of the Foley artist sounds of Star Wars, including some effects that didn’t make the cut

zener cards: minimalist deck by Joe Doucet

tee-total: the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development wants Germany to curb its drinking-habit

tiger beat: social media giant promotes snap articles to journalism industry desparate to maintain young readership

five-by-five

paper-doll: McCalls Pattern Behavior adds dialogue to the models posing for sewing block patterns

i’ve been everywhere: map pins songs mentioned in popular music

siesta: researchers found that coffee-naps are more effective than either respite, stimulus alone

you see with your hands: being endangered and against the law to touch, selfies with the very gregarious quokkas of western Australia take off

on the wagon: a look at England’s last remaining temperance bar, herbal tonic emporium

mead hall or on tap

Via Colossal, comes a really brilliant bee-keeping set up, perfect for urban environments and for those maybe too skittish to be bee-wranglers, that harvests the honey by means of specially designed plumbing that allows it to flow, overcoming its great viscosity, from the comb under the force of gravity, like tapping maple sap for syrup production, and with minimal intrusion to the hive. I wonder if this trend of in situ condiments might spread, to something surpassingly fresh—or branch out in other directions, perhaps harnessing the natural preservative properties of nectar as a staple ingredient in for short-order items or make fresh mead (honey-wine) bars as popular as juice bars. Be sure to check out the link for more details and a demonstration of the system.

temperance league

Authorities in Wuppertal are charging a gang of eleven who style themselves the Sharia Police with impersonating an officer of the law—with uniforms that consist of orange warning-vests—and the potential for intimidation, which, as the commissioner curiously puts forward in an interview with The Local, is the exclusive domain of the state. The group operates to discourage young people from drinking and gambling and other behaviours against the tenants of Islam—and the local government pledges to stop their intrusion before it becomes a menace to society. What do you think of this? The cloak of religious purity is unsettling and the police, I think, are right to stop this encroachment before it spreads. No formal complaints have been levied against the gang though intimidation cannot be ruled out, but that the State enjoys a monopoly on social engineering and have backed much more vicious thugs for the sake of the public good has an equally unsettling ring.

checkout-lane

I stopped at an outdoor café under the shade of umbrellas and plane trees while walking through town the other day. I didn't mind sitting with a refreshing breeze wafting through the square while I waited for my order to be taken. After some few minutes, the waitress, who was very friendly but seemed a bit anxious and distracted—not exactly inattentive but rather occupied with sending text-messages on her Handy, it appeared, the waitress finally brought me a beer. Returning seconds later, like an after-thought that one usually experiences after hanging the phone, she asked if I didn't mind paying right away.

She apologized for being abrupt, but explained it was the end of her shift—crews changing at an awkward time, and she had to clear all of orders before leaving. I also noticed that she was not messenging her friends but rather trying to figure out how to work a point-of-sale application installed for managing orders for the cafe in her personal phone. That explained her behaviour. I was always a little suspicious of these traditional point-of-sales systems (also given here, there is not anyone who does not pay in cash), with strugglingly awkward interfaces, incompatibilities, expensive, and quite an investment to maintain, hardware exclusively serviced by company technicians, and regarded them as the surplus of the military-industrial complex, unnecessary gadgets that contractors, pawning off what they could not sell directly to the government, convinced small businesses were indispensable. I've never actually seen one in use at a bar, but a few years ago, the hospitality industry was trying to sell an electronic coaster that would alert wait-staff when a customer had downed their drink, ensuring prompt service. I can't exactly say that's necessary in most circumstances. In theory, I concede, such a network could speed up orders by altering the kitchen to the next dish as soon as the order was placed and be a big help when it came to monitoring inventory and studying sales trends, as well as the obvious cash-controls. Providing that all one's employees report to work with the latest cellular contraption anyway and consent to being temporarily corralled, being able to try this system out on the cheap seems a pretty clever idea and the platform, I think, would be flexible enough to fit the café's exact specifications—or be dropped altogether for a pad and pencil when gains do not materialise for the effort.

if these walls could talk or windows to the soul

In probably the boldest and most shameless assault against the consuming public since—the last, a German marketing firm has announced its ability and plans to deliver, for a willing sponsor, advertisements to a captive audience through cranial conduction.
The company proposes that clients' messages be distributed on public transport, shaken into the passenger's skull when inadvertently or purposefully leaning against the windows of a bus or a subway or any chosen surface. It's a lot worse than regular commercial breaks spammy pop-unders while navigating websites, and if anything people who take mass-transit ought to be rewarded for not contributing to congestion, not submitted to focus-groups involuntarily. I am sure these beamed messages could be tailored to particular passengers and it is scary hoone's head.
w quickly this might escalate.  Chatty, shuddering coffee mugs or singing beer and wine glasses?  Such skeletal transmissions are not new but relatively novel things, but perhaps the means to speak with disembodied voices should not be first surrendered to marketers and demographers, who would always like to get into

brototyp or bakers’ dozen

In Germany, there are over six-hundred distinct varieties of bread and some additional twelve-hundred permutations of baking besides. Not including beer-brews, which Germany might be more renowned for and enjoy actually a legal status that classifies and protects them as a liquid bread, these hundreds of different recipes and preparations are governed, unsurprisingly and meticulously, by a system of standards that codify traditional variations on a theme.

This process is illustrated in development of Brötchen—buns, rolls, which go by many regional names, including Weckeln, Weggla, Stollen, Kipfle, Bömmeln, Semmeln, and Schrippen with further distinctions for topping, what kind of seeds or grains they are encrusted with, and how the dough is rolled out and baked, -laibchen (round, like a little loaf), -stangl (like a staff that can also be twisted in a pretzel) or -hörnchen, with a shape like a croissant. Each type has specific percentages of what kind of grains comprise the dough, usually a given ratio of two or more different wheats and barleys. Small bakeries keep the lesser known and uncommon varieties on offer and local interpretation and nomenclature alive. I wonder if anyone has managed to catalogue ever type of Brötchen in circulation and unraveled the etymology. We don’t visit the baker’s like we ought to but I am resolving to do so more often and see what sort of heritage breads—and their unusual names (I am not sure if it’s just marketing or what, but one bakery offers what’s called “Sündlicher Weck”—sinful rolls, as near as I can guess), that I can discover.