The always interesting Pasa Bon! piques our curiosity regarding the punctuation mark known by the titular name or rather the index or the printer’s fist—scribes employing this symbol (☞, see also) to highlight and annotate corrections or notes.
Incorporated into standard typography, the sign’s modern sense is to direct readers to a cross-reference, point the way in advertising and was shorthand (reference the above stenography) of essayist H L Mencken to express the aphorism “When you point a finger at someone, realise that there are three pointing back at you,” bookending his telegrams with this reminder. Of course, the index also has a walk on role, a cameo according to what we’re mousing over. Much more to explore at the links above.
Tuesday, 28 January 2020
manicule
catagories: ๐ฃ
font specimen
express limited
crate-digging
Monday, 27 January 2020
๐
As Boing Boing informs, the New England state of Vermont (see previously) may possibly join Queensland, Australia in allowing drivers to include a selection of emoji on their custom automobile registry plates (see also) after introducing a bill to that effect.
Counter to the trend of admitting pictograms into courtroom exhibits or the fact that a smiling face crying tears of joy might strike one as something more memorable than an alpha-numeric string in a traffic accident dispute, whatever emoji chosen would be an addition to the identifier and not considered one in isolation. What do you think? What vanity plates would you choose?
diacope and deposition
People—especially those who are disenfranchised—will glom onto any minutiae no matter how trivial or incredulous if they detect an advantage and can imagine how it might leverage their team, but what’s even more surpassingly unbelievable, as Geoff Manaugh ponders and invites us to come along, is the magical thinking with which we make totems and talismans out of blandishing characterisations that cling to the margins of justice and framing policy.
Sunday, 26 January 2020
nipkow disks
With an improved scan-rate of twelve-and-a-half frames per second (over that of the first transmission back in October of a ventriloquist’s dummy’s head at a rate of five), Scottish engineer John Logie Baird (see previously) made the first public demonstration of his mechanical television on this day in 1926 to members of Royal Institution and reporters from his Soho workshop and studio on Frith Street.
His pioneering live video recordings—though rudimentary at first advanced at a galloping rate—and were within a year being transmitted via telephone lines with signals being broadcast across the Atlantic shortly thereafter. Baird went on to invent the first colour television and picture tube, aside from producing some of the world’s first programming.
In the summer of 1930, the BBC—with Baird’s input—selected the one-act drama by Luigi Pirandello, The Man with the Flower in his Mouth (L’Uomo dal Fiore in Bocca) to be the adaptation of its first experimental telecast, the exchange between a man dying of a malignant growth in his throat (il fiore in bocca) and a relaxed business man who missed his train connection and is content to wile away his time until the next comes was chosen for its running-time of thirty minutes, small cast and lack of scene changes. As it was a live transmission, no record of the original exists.
catagories: ๐ด๓ ง๓ ข๓ ณ๓ ฃ๓ ด๓ ฟ, ๐ก, ๐บ