It’s a bit of work to make a model railroad into a turing machine. It’s no work at all to imagine RPO operations as a packet switched network.
Before we get to the main event, the London, Midland and Scottish Railway’s magnificent crest:
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Night Mail – a 1936 documentary featuring music by Benjamin Britten and a poem by W. H. Auden.
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via @atlasobscura
This one popped up because I rewatched Casino Royale (the first, messy one) recently – I was sure that Ronald Searle had done the titles until I re-ran the credits. Abject apologies, Mr. Williams. Mike Myers – the Austin Powers titles should have looked like this.
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A new/old bit via @larryclow and @terabyte240:
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And an old/old bit featuring Mr. Calloway singing a song I may be using in a project next Halloweentime:
Via @bibliodyssey, Semën Ul’ianovich Remezov’s Khorograficheskaya Kniga.
By the mid-17th century, Russian development in Siberia extended all the way to the Pacific, but from the seat of Russian power in Moscow, there was still little known about the area. By all reports there were at that time no maps of Siberia in Russia and so, seeking to collect knowledge and understanding of their extended interests in the area, late in the 1600s, the Siberian Court Office of Moscow ordered the production of a number standardized settlement maps. Cities and towns were to be represented and notes made on surrounding features of the land, particularly their situation on rivers and the native settlements within certain proximities.
Throughout Siberia, land-surveyors and draftsmen were recruited to do work on this massive project, but one notable man in Tobol’sk, Semën Ul’ianovich (alternately, Semyon Ul’yanovich) Remezov, would emerge as the primary cartographer of the region, creating, by the estimate of historian James R. Akerman, some 80 percent of the surviving Siberian maps of his century. Akerman’s biographical sketch of Remezov tells a compelling story: a low-level government administrator who brought creative energy to his census registry work, compiling ethnographic data in the depths of Siberia, a “restless” intellect who contributed much to his city of Tobol’sk, and an artist who would capture a dynamic sense of Siberia on page after page of beautifully rendered maps. *
Siberia, especially in it’s less than accurate usage meaning ‘all that stuff east of the Urals’, is HUGE, my knowledge of the geography of the are is limited and my ability to read Cyrillic script and/or Russian is nonexistent. As a result, this atlas is for me like a dispatch from another planet – Borges and Tolkien do some mapping.
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I’m wondering if this could be the maritime province – Primorsky Krai? Great Wall at the bottom, Korea to the east, and the Amur and Ussuri watershed center. If so, that’d be an Amur Leopard gamboling about in the upper left.
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Via the consistently great Five Books, Robert Chandler on Tales of Soviet Russia.
The Soviet writer he [Vasily Grossman] was closest to was Andrey Platonov and the stories do have quite a Platonov-like quality to them. There is one about a dog, just called ‘The Dog’, and it’s quite close to reality. There were several mongrel dogs that were sent up into space on the early sputniks and this is a story about the first dog to be sent up into space and to come back alive to earth.
Laika? No. She died, didn’t she?
Laika died. That was the very first dog. This is the fictionalised successor to Laika and it’s very unexpected. I showed it to a poet friend called Elizabeth Cook and her immediate comment was that it was really shamanistic! It would never have occurred to me but actually it’s a valid comment. The heroes of the story are the female dog and the scientist in charge of the laboratory, a really hard-headed, unsentimental scientist who, to everyone’s amazement, gets quite besotted by this animal, and he has visions of her going out into space and for the first time the cosmos will penetrate the eyes of a living being. And somehow he will look into her eyes when she’s back on earth and will see the cosmos. It’s very warm and tender and funny, and there’s a certain irony to these mystical ideas, but some seriousness to them as well. Quite a lot of them are about animals.
A warm-up – Wishery by Pogo.
via everywhere.
I love JW. If this doesn’t give you a different perspective on your day, I’m not sure what will (other than the real thing).
via Onstad.
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Saturday AM Cartoon post idea ganked from Ectoplasmosis.
If I do a three-fer on bikes, does that make it a tricycle post?
A nice old Mercian spotted at the Portsmouth Farmers Market:
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Campy downtube shifters – the retro-grouch in me is well pleased.
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A blast from the past logo (good memories):
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The Mercian badge:
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And a better version from elsewhere on Flickr:
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My guess is that the pilots of these babies were next door at the coffee shop – getting their fill of hot drinks before the cool and breezy Halloween Parade.
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Via Ride the Machine, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec and the Simpson chain.
A draft:
The Guvnor Owner’s Club tells us the cyclist depicted is Jimmy Michael. Wikipedia’s entry on Michael includes this interesting bit:
His biggest engagement in Britain was the so-called Chain Race at Catford track in 1896. William Spears Simpson had invented the Simpson Lever Chain, which he was so insistent was an improvement over conventional chains that he staked part of his fortune on it.Pryor Dodge wrote:
“In the fall of 1895, Simpson offered ten-to-one odds that riders with his chain would beat bicyclists with regular chains. Later known as the Chain Matches, these races at the Catford track in London attracted huge crowds estimated between twelve and twenty thousand in June of 1896. Simpson’s team not only included the top racers – Tom Linton, Jimmy Michael, and Constant Huret – but also the Gladiator pacing team brought over from Paris. Pacers enabled a racer to ride faster by shielding him from air resistance. Although Simpson won the Chain Matches, they only proved that the Gladiator pacers were superior to their English rivals.[5]”
Michael was pitched against Charley Barden in the five-mile race. What happened next – indeed whether it happened in London or at another Chain Race in Germany – is now lost. But stories start with Michael taking a drink offered to him by Warburton[6] and end with his riding poorly to his falling off his bike, remounting and setting off in the wrong direction.[7] The one thing accounts agree on is that the crowd shouted “Dope!”[8]
Michael’s strange behaviour at this meeting, and his withdrawal, led him to accuse Warburton of doping him. Many rumours surrounded Warburton but none had been proven and he sued for libel.
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And the approved ad – note the quints in the background and -I assume- pacing le Boulanger. Quads and quints were used for pacing before being supplanted by dernys.
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The Simpson Lever Chain is a bit of oddness – equal parts unnecessary complication and perpetual motion machine. The chainwheel interface operates more or less conventionally, but the cog engages the top of the triangular link – thus the ‘leverage’?
The Simpson Chain, of which so much was heard at the last Stanley show and so little since, has entered the cycle field in a practical way through the medium of a company by whom it is to be promoted. Whatever may be its ultimate fate and merits it has friends and opponents whose views are as fervid as they are diverse. The Cyclist condemns it, denies the genuineness of the victories it undoubtedly has recently gained in contests and roundly contests its value. On the other band, so important and disinterested an organ as The Sporting and Dramatic News is one of the ardent supporters of its claims, says of it, that “There is nothing simpler than the Simpson chain, which can be applied to any safety cycle now in use at a very moderate cost.”*
Photos, with commentary.
Clematis seed heads (I’m thinking Clematis virginiana).
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Witch Hazel (Hamamaelis virginiana)
aka
Pistachier Noir
With a nod to NH Franco-American culture, tan seed capsules each carry one or two small shiny black seeds reputed to be edible with an oily pistachio flavor. *
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Near a landing – I’m thinking abandoned logger’s office/shelter.
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Beaver pond (handheld) panorama. Click on the image below to embiggen moderately; click here for the full boat.
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In the mid 1800’s, the majority of New England was deforested. You find evidence (stone walls, cellar holes) everywhere – even deep in what is now regrown forest. I found what looks to be the remains of a sawmill foundation and millrace yesterday, miles from the nearest 2 lane road (and a half mile from the nearest tote road).
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A short video of the site – as much for the sound effects as anything. Cameo by the lovely Dinah.
My little narrative of how John Vaillant ended up at RiverRun centered on my experience – a less Ptolemaic version might have emphasized the key roles play by Steve Bodio and his review of the Tiger and by Michele at RiverRun. It’s easy to be the pivot when there are folks like these jamming on the lever arms. Noted in passing – Michele is on NH Magazine’s 2010 ‘It List’ in recognition of the central role she plays in making Portsmouth the hoppin’ place it is. And another shout-out to @westchesterdead and @apatheticalto – many fulcrums make for a smooth Rube Goldberg of connections.
Support your local independent bookstore. Really. Browse. Hang out. Buy. Tell the booksellers, “You have the best job – you can just sit around and read all day.” – they’ll love it. You don’t know what you got till it’s gone and unless you support your local, it may disappear. I’m making some changes to the way I link out to books from D0aMNH to be a touch more indie-friendly.
Support big cat conservation. Apex predators are critical – when they’re removed, the ecosystem changes, often radically and never for the better if one values diversity. The easiest way to pitch in is by contributing to organizations that are fighting poachers:
There are so many things to work on in our own lives – reducing the amount of fossil fuels we use, figuring out what’s going on with the food we eat, staying involved with local community issues – but once a big predator is gone, that’s it. A thread of, for lack of a better phrase, predator knowledge is broken. Tiger cubs stay with their mother for a couple years, learning the ins and outs of the particular landscape they’re in. That understanding goes back tens of thousands of years, passed from mother to cubs; there ain’t no magicing it back if it disappears. A few bucks now buys some time and a few bucks – a tank of gas, a new set of batteries, tires for the truck – make a big difference in anti-poaching efforts.
Via Adelle’s FB Gallery (thanks, G).
What brought the simmering Convair/seaplane/nuke-yu-ler thing to a boil?
One – discovering the San Diego Air & Space Museum Archives on Flickr. There’s a huge set devoted to Convair.
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Two – finding a link to the work of the great and hilarious Stan Mott (hadn’t thought about him in too long) that included this image of a seaplane aircraft carrier. I don’t know whether it relies on a reactor or the combined power output of the lashed-together Cyclopii that form the hull (I suspect the latter). Thank you, Agent Malki.
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Impossibly wealthy Oil Sheik: Signor Martini, I am blue.
Martini: Hah, I have idea for you! (See how quick he is?)
Sheik: What?
Martini: Something expensive.
Sheik: To buy? Where?
Martini: The personal aircraft carrier! Fantastico!
Sheik: But cars…
Martini: Exactemente! I make aircraft carrier out of cars, Cyclops Us. They float. So by lashing hundreds of thousands of them together they form magnifico aircraft carrier. Just what you need. No one else has.
Sheik: But I get seasick.
Martini: Ah hah … that is why it is land-based carrier. It rolls on ground, desert, your desert.
Sheik: But how could it be a real aircraft carrier with no water?
Martini: We bring our own water.
Sheik: Where?
Martini: On deck.
Sheik: But how can the planes land on water?
Martini: Sea planes.
Sheik: Well, I don’t…
Martini: Don’t worry. Will be absolutely safe from Russian scoobie divers. I put sharks in water.
Sheik: You are a shrewd man, Signor Martini.
Martini: Ah, my friend, for you … anything!
Sheik: What will my aircraft carrier look like?
Martini: It is up above this text.
Sheik: Ohhh, praise Allah! How much?
Martini: I thought you would never ask. *
Author John Vaillant was in town last night on a book tour in support of his latest: The Tiger: A True Story of Vengeance and Survival. It was a good evening out (understatement). John, Sy Montgomery, Liz Thomas and I met before the event and had some dinner – much tiger conservation strategizing (in the ‘what can writers do’ sense) was done, contacts were exchanged, etc. Fascinating stuff – I was mostly a fly on the wall, but not completely.
John, Sy, yr humble corr., Liz
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Then it was off to RiverRun for the main event. I’d already read The Tiger – regardless, I found John’s reading to be riveting and, in the case of the first passage, where Markov meets the tiger for the last time, hair raising. I wasn’t alone – you could have heard a pin drop whenever John had the floor.
The book itself… Before I quote some reviews, my short version -> read it. Soonest.
Steve Bodio:
It is better than good– my favorite book of the year so far, and a likely classic in my rare favorite genre, that which documents (to use a book title) “the edge of the wild”, that interface where humans and “nature” are not artificially separated but in conflict or cooperation, acting on each other. *
Liberty Hardy:
…no other non-fiction book has gotten me so wound up in the last five years as John Vaillant’s The Tiger. It is a phenomenal book! I read it back in March and then had to wait *five* whole months before I could start selling it. But that didn’t stop me from talking about it to everyone in a ten-mile radius. I talked about it so much that it was driving my coworkers crazy. *
Sy Montgomery:
…those who truly know the tiger realize that it also possesses an invisible but equally lethal weapon: a brilliant and calculating mind. One hunter tells the author: “The tiger is strong, powerful and fair. You have to respect him. You think he doesn’t understand the language, but he understands everything. He can read a person’s mind.”
Of course, there are those who say a tiger doesn’t have a mind, much less one that can read ours. But Vaillant’s book teaches a lesson that humankind desperately needs to remember: When you murder a tiger, you not only kill a strong and beautiful beast, you extinguish a passionate soul. *
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After the signing (and chop marking – v. cool) finished up and a phone call from New Mexico was taken (see below) John and I headed out for more conversation, food and drink. Steller’s Sea Eagles were mentioned, the scale of the landscape in British Columbia was discussed and a good time was had (by all? I sure had fun).
A note on how all this came to be:
RiverRun often livestreams author events – last night was no exception. I asked Tom (the owner) for a favor yesterday – he emailed the stream’s address to Steve. When the event started, John thanked the folks that had made the night happen, including Steve, and as he did he gestured at the webcam. I had no idea whether Steve had gotten the email or if he’d tuned in but I thought, “If he’s watching, that had to have been a bit of a mind-blower.” When the signing was almost over, the shop’s phone rang – call for John Vaillant. Yep – it was Steve, checking in after watching from a ways away. I spoke with Steve as well. Tigers, tragopans and Pheasant Jungles!
I should no longer be surprised by the power of the internet to connect folks, but I continue to be gobsmacked on a regular basis.
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So you think YOU can do the robot?
Via @grandin
Sorry, sweetheart – this is how it’s done.
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I award myself extra points for not making a ‘domo arigato’ joke.
I can credit Charlie Stross and Pluvialis for my interest in the Aircraft Nuclear Propulsion program. My interest in seaplanes has been with me as long as I can remember – it may have started with seeing floatplanes at my grandparent’s cottage on Trout Lake (outside of North Bay, Ontario).
The two things came together in 1950’s San Diego at the offices of Convair.
Track one – a tornado damaged B-36 (six turning, four burning)
is rebuilt as the NB-36H Crusader.
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The cockpit was well shielded (I hope).
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Track two started with some design work on Betta 1 and Betta 2 (1950)
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which led to the F2-Y Sea Dart.
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Put them together and you get the Model 23B Atomic Seaplane:
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Scan from Convair Advanced Designs: Secret Projects from San Diego, 1923-1962
As they say – what could go wrong?
Another great post over at BibliOdyssey sends me off on a surf-fest. This time it’s a series of Chinese bird portraits – among the ducks and birds of paradise and finches and pheasants I spied a tragopan. Tragopans live in an area that’s been front and center in my reading list lately; off I clicked to see if I could figure out which species was being represented.
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I’m basing my ID on the lappet – obviously, I’m guessing Tragopan temminckii. A bit of etymological fun:
These birds are commonly called “horned pheasants” because of two brightly-colored, fleshy horns on their heads that they can erect during courtship displays. The scientific name refers to this, being a composite of tragus (billy goat) and the ribald half-goat deity Pan (and in the case of the Satyr Tragopan, adding Pan’s companions for even more emphasis). *
Under the entry for Pan’s pals, the always helpful Wikipedia cautions us that satyr is “not to be confused with Satire or Seder”.
Here’s a picture of a half-extended lappet (to reassure you that I’m not just making stuff up):
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And a great bit of Youtube showing a Temminck’s displaying:
