whether square-cut or pear-shaped

Geochemists at the University of Bristol, concerned with the mounting problem of what to do with spent radioactive material, have found a novel way of sequestering small bits of it safely to create gemstone batteries that could last for potentially thousands of years, corresponding to the half-life of the nuclear waste used to generate the modest but enduring charge. The waste is vapourised and inserted into the stone, which as the hardest substance in nature, are not prone to degradation or leeching out any radioactivity. There are hurdles to overcome, to be sure—not the least being the casing to house a gram of the nuclear cell is prohibitively expensive (but maybe cubic zirconia would be just as sturdy a substitute) and the output isn’t nearly as robust as most modern applications demand, but one day perhaps our cybernetics (pace-makers, auxiliary memory enhancers, bionic livers) or our robotic domestics might be powered by a little spark of radiation trapped inside a diamond.

the ghost of christmas pluperfect

Collectors’ Weekly has a nice reflection on the diaphanous and sparkly things that have fuelled how we frame Christmas time, hitting on how strange it is to think that our shared nostalgia—even having lived in Germany for all these years, a place stepped in its own tradition and exporter (in the Victorian Era—and much later, their glassmaking expertise) of many of the standard customs—for the most part don’t reach back to time immemorial but rather to post-war America and Mid-Century Modern style.
Despite all the fossilised lyrics of carols, in fact, almost all that’s not the reserve of the space-race and the burgeoning atomic age seems to be sourced back to the nineteenth century, and with Christmas’ revival (which quickly became something terrible and consumer-oriented), Victorians sought to keep it something pure and authentic—turning away from machines and mass-production and launching the Arts and Crafts movement. The spectre of materialism was always there but was particularly difficult to stave off after the austere years of all manufacturing going to the war effort and then industry finding itself surfeit with raw materials and excess capacity and beat swords into plow-shares—and tinsel and coffee-makers and vacuum-cleaners. Santa Claus was even accredited as an astronaut (and as a cosmonaut) to be tracked by NORAD. Reaching back even further, the holiday, supplanting Saturnalia, has always had its share of ulterior motives and customs that have the most curious and conflated origins but it’s no reason to humbug Christmas—nor to despair over its meaning and its keeping
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manual communication

Thanks to the marvellous Madam Jujujive, we appreciate that of course hearing impaired communities would also be interested in nominating and selecting words—or signs of the year. For its inaugural honour, the Swiss Deaf Association chose to bypass other novel gestures (Gebärden, signes, segnes, segni) such as the way of expressing vegan, Netflix or deportee and went with the sign inventedfor Donald Trump. Referencing the hair of course is brilliant but I could think of cruder but deserved ways of getting the message across just as quickly.

minced oath

While I cannot vouch for the veracity of any of these substitutions, I did rather enjoy this lesson on euphemisms for swears in other languages. True or not—I can say that I’ve never heard someone self-censoring calling someone an ass-hole (Arschloch) by calling them a candelabra (Armleuchter), they’re certainly fun to say and saying crumbs or consarnit or any number of muted expletives, especially in the heat of the moment and not just out of disbelief. Possibly the best to adopt from this batch is the Romanian nuanced way of exclaiming, “What my feather?”