pay-wall or fantastic voyage

Via Kottle comes a bitter pill to swallow with an clearinghouse company who hopes to ratchet up security and verifiability by persuading clients to ingest a tablet that serves as one’s user and password as more and more vulnerabilities are revealed with traditional methods and zealous use of biometrics have led to many compromises.
It seems unlikely that injectables and ingestables might become the new universal identifier in short order, but it is a slippery slope and there’s been incredible progress and voluntary adoption in the form of wearables, cashless cachets and passkeys, even absent any mandate. It seems convenience is a better driver than compulsion and laziness makes us myopic in the long term. What do you think? Would this be something you’d be willing to test?

peacemaker or colt forty-five

The intrepid explorers at Atlas Obscura present a really thorough and intriguing outline of a place called Coltsville, a utopian compound that really encapsulates the sort of nineteenth century industrialist sense of fatherly beneficence that’s in strong contrast to labour laws and the product, fire-arms, that funded the creation of this ideal factory town.

Nestled in Hartford, Connecticut, Coltsville included dormitories to house workers and their families, a church, company stores and even a masterfully recreated alpine village with an authentic beer hall to attract and retain German craftsmen. Perhaps like Alfred Nobel, whose fortunes were also made off of dynamite and armaments, the household of Samuel and Elizabeth Colt wanted to leave a legacy that did not only involve death and suffering and the estate and its amenities became charitable institutions. Much of the complex is in disrepair after decades of neglect, but the recent and long debated decision to designate Coltsville as a national landmark, controversial as some see it to celebrate gun culture, may help save this historic spot and cause visitors to reflect on our anachronisms—through what seems to be out of place. Be sure to tag along for more adventures with the crew from Atlas Obscura.

the irreconcilables or action-at-a-distance

Having recently finished Philip K. Dick’s engrossing The Man in the High Castle and the air of remembrance, marred to an extent by current tensions seven decades on, I found this artefact shared by the respected antiquarian John Ptak of Georgetown to be pretty intriguing. This monograph captures the isolationist sentiment that was predominant in American in 1939 and 1940 regarding its being drawn into a European war. The “irreconcilables” refers to that cabal of US senators who crafted the country’s policy of neutrality and no foreign entanglement from the 1930s until the attack on Pearl Harbor. I knew the US public had little will for this engagement going into it but the imbalance was far greater than I imagined, even when polled against specific scenarios and hypothetical outcomes. Be sure to check out more interesting articles and peruse the emporium at the website.

a penny saved is twopence dear

I learnt of a gem of non-canonical, being that it’s not part of his main body of writing—like Poor Richard’s Almanack of proverbs and other achievements, both genuine and attributed, wisdom discovered in the correspondence of statesman Benjamin Franklin, writing to a friend from his diplomatic post in Paris. In his golden years, Franklin recalled a fundamental episode from his early youth. The story Franklin tells and the aphorism it lends itself to—paying too much for one’s whistle (in reference to an impulse-buy that ended up bringing more post-shopping regret than pleasure)—is as memorable and astute as any. One can read the letter in its entirety here with Franklin’s inventory of poor souls whose vanities have cost them dearly. I do suppose, too, it is easier to recognise such folly of others rather than to confront it in ourselves.

five-by-five

autochrome: beautiful gallery of some of the earliest colour photography

fungus among us: newly discovered poisonous humanoid mushrooms

g-money: roots of the Masonic/Illuminati conspiracy theories

may the fourth be with you: fun miniature parade on the streets of New Orleans for Star Wars Day

lol: Time magazine once featured as its cover-story how cats were the next big thing

barnevernet

Though the comparison is surely disparaging, like the taint that clings to the Autobahnen, Volkswagen and Hugo Boss by dint of association, but the dispositioning of the Norwegian child welfare agency makes me think of the Nazi-era policy and programme called Lebensborn, the fount of life.

Authorities promoted rampant breeding among the racial elite though coercion, assault, violence and sometimes kidnapping to ensure that the future generation would be afforded all the best of both nature and nurture, sometimes removed from parents deemed incapable of indoctrinating their children with Nazi ideology. The Norwegian practise does not have any openly xenophobic overtones, of course, and the way its characterised in the media may not be accurate, but the intent is essentially the same. Government agencies monitor immigrant families and if the children’s cultural, assimilated development is found to be lagging, the children are placed in foster-care. Even if everything is going swimmingly, the children are treated to a mandatory retreat monthly with a native Norwegian family to instruct them on proper and becoming Norwegian mannerisms. Maybe it is obtuse to take this contrast any further but it does strike me as ironic that outside of Germany, most Lebensborn children grew up in Norway and have become (to a degree) a generation of stigmatised war-babies (Krigsbarn med norsk mor og tysk far). This method of integration and screening is probably a very civic-minded and ultimately helpful—if assessed without the confounding historicity that bespeaks maybe a little arrogance. Other places have a longer history of immigration but also generational isolation and ghettoization. What do you think? Is Norway’s model a good one for furthering harmony?

elegant variation and the stratemeyer syndicate

Back when most children’s literature was either solely educational or moralising, one publisher and producer saw them for the potential entertainment market they’ve become. In the early 1900s, Edward Stratemeyer got the notion to package or bundle books into serials and employed a winning formula to create many classic mystery and adventure books, appealing to different demographics: The Rover Boys, Nancy Drew, The Hardy Boys, Tom Swift, The Dana Girls, The Bobbsey Twins, etc.
The syndicate, as it became known as Stratemeyer after establishing the characters and the tone only wrote outlines for the continuing perils and a pool of secretaries and editors limned in the plot and the authors with the by-lines were ghost-writers and surrogates of Stratemeyer’s many nom de plume or house-names, produced over thirteen hundred books and sold over the years more than half a billion copies. Despite the consistency and quality-control Statemeyer exercised over his publications, sometimes individual personalities and quirks did shine through for these anonymous copy-writers. One such affectation was the purple-prose of one of the authors of the Tom Swift series. Seemingly unable to allow direct speech to just pass with a “said” and bracketed with quotation marks—he or she developed a penchant to insert colourful adverbs to punctuate and re-enforce the dialogue, often resulting in a pun. “Quick—let’s get out of here!” Tom exclaimed swiftly was probably where these off the garden path sentences originated. Concocting Tom Swifties became a past-time and some turned out quite elaborate—funny or painfully so. “Hurry up and get back to the boat,” Tom ordered sternly. “I forgot to bring flowers,” Tom mourned lackadaisically. “Be careful with that chain-saw,” warned Tom off-handedly. I think we don’t need further examples but would love to hear yours.