Strike Up the Bland

In 1986, Michael Kinsley, editor of The New Republic, spotted the headline “Worthwhile Canadian Initiative” in the New York Times and challenged his readers to come up with a more boring one. This was a tall order: The Times head, someone said, manages to be “not only boring as a whole, but boring word by word.” Submissions included:

  • “U.S. Leadership Needed” (New York Times)
  • “Trade, A Two-Way Street” (New York Times)
  • “Beyond the News, Larger Issues” (New York Times)
  • “Thoughts at Graduation Time” (New York Times)
  • “Continue Manned Flight in Space” (New York Times)
  • “Chill Falls on Warming Relations Between Australia and Indonesia” (New York Times)
  • “University of Rochester Decides to Keep Name” (New York Times)
  • “Dramatic Changes Fail to Materialize on Hill” (Washington Post)
  • “Surprises Unlikely in Indiana” (Chicago Tribune)
  • “CIA Analysis Sees Soviet Economy in Need of Changes” (San Diego Union)
  • “Prevent Burglary by Locking House, Detectives Urge” (Boston Globe)
  • “Methodists Oppose Use of Nuclear Arms” (New York Times)
  • “Economist Dies” (Wisconsin State Journal)
  • “Turbulent Days for Donald D. Engen” (New York Times)

The winner was found in the New York Times science section: “Debate Goes on Over the Nature of Reality.”

| Language · Literature · Society

Alphabetical Disorder

In the 19th century, the index to the London Times was compiled by Samuel Palmer. Palmer had an unusual way of working, which apparently wasn’t noticed until 1890, when a mystified reader, Corrie Thompson, wrote to Notes and Queries with some examples:

  • An article about a boy sentenced for stealing a twopenny pie was indexed under “Atrocious Criminal.”
  • An article about a floating chapel loosed from its moorings was indexed under “Disgraceful Act.”
  • An article about a storm at Saône-et-Loire was indexed under “Fatal Storm.”
  • An article about a spell of dry weather was indexed under “Present Dry Season.”
  • An article about two women imprisoned for stealing a mare and for shooting at a man were indexed under “Rather uncommon for Females.”

Apparently Palmer had simply been compiling headlines without reading the articles. This accounts for entries such as “Extraordinary Escape of Boy at Erith Station, From a Bull Being on the Line” and “Extraordinary Marriage Adventure.” Thompson wrote, “One would expect to find this system adopted in a ‘table of contents,’ but surely it is out of place in an ‘index.'”

One wonderful exception, which Palmer apparently wrote himself:

“Death of Jane Thomas in her Mother’s Arms in Holborn at Joy in Seeing her parent at the Stage Door to Receive her.”

| Literature

Throughput

https://books.google.com/books?id=px5dAAAAcAAJ&pg=PA23#v=onepage&q&f=false

Take a piece of string about six feet in length, and tie the ends together. Pass it through a button-hole of your coat; hitch one thumb at each end, hook the little fingers into the upper strings of the opposite hand. Then draw the hands well outward, and the string will look very complicated, as in the engraving.

To get out the string, loose the hold of the right thumb and left finger, and separate the hands smartly, when the string will appear to have been pulled out through the substance of your coat.

— The Boy’s Own Conjuring Book, 1860

| Entertainment

Lineage

If the last 50,000 years of man’s existence were divided into lifetimes of approximately sixty-two years each, there have been about 800 such lifetimes. Of these 800, at least 650 were spent in caves. Only during the last seventy lifetimes has it been possible to communicate effectively from one lifetime to another — as writing made it possible to do. Only during the last six lifetimes did masses of men ever see a printed word. Only during the last four has it been possible to measure time with any precision. Only in the last two has anyone anywhere used an electric motor. And the overwhelming majority of all the material goods we use in daily life today have been developed within the present, the 800th, lifetime.

— Alvin Toffler, Future Shock, 1970

| History

Singing Lessons

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:TICO-TICO_(Zonotrichia_capensis_)_(2195772708).jpg
Image: Wikimedia Commons

When the local population of rufous-collared sparrows dwindled in Buenos Aires, scientists found an innovative way to teach mating calls to younger birds: They consulted hand-drawn annotations of sparrow songs that had been made in the 1960s and used a computer to broadcast simulated versions in local habitats. Within three months a local bird was heard copying parts of the song. Similar efforts have succeeded in England and Australia, and scientists are beginning to stockpile databases of birdsong to aid future generations. “One day we’ll be grateful to have all those records,” physicist Gabriel Mindlin told the Guardian.

Birds mimicking human technology: Technical Fowl, Pitching In, Ghosts of Scotland. (Thanks, Sharon.)

| Science & Math · Technology

In a Word

https://books.google.com/books?id=iq4vAAAAMAAJ&pg=PA794#v=onepage&q&f=false

janiform
adj. having two faces, sides, or contrasting aspects

esemplastic
adj. having the function of moulding into unity; unifying

theriomorphic
adj. having the form of a wild beast

anabiosis
n. a coming to life again; revival, resuscitation

From the Strand, December 1903:

The only violin in the world made from the claw of a giant lobster has just been completed by John H. Dadmun, of 429, Berkley Street, Camden, N.J. This unique instrument, strange to say, can be made to produce as sweet musical tones as any high-class violin. Its owner gives the following as the story of its life.

The lobster from which the claw was taken was caught off Gloucester, Mass., in March 1862. In time it came to Concord, N.H., where Mr. Dadmun saw it. At that time the lobster weighed seventeen pounds and a half. A single claw weighed five pounds and a quarter. The claw that Mr. Dadmun preserved, after the lobster had gone the way of such things, was thirteen and a quarter inches long, seven inches broad, and three and a quarter inches thick.

Preserved among other curiosities of the Dadmun household the giant claw remained a claw for many years. One day it occurred to its owner that it was shaped something like a violin, and he tried the experiment of fashioning it to look more like that popular musical instrument. After much patient effort Mr. Dadmun managed to transform the claw into a violin that could be played. The tone was very sweet, but not loud enough for an orchestra. Experiment proved that by changing the fittings and settings the tone could be made much louder. As it is now the violin when played properly sounds exactly like any other violin. It is doubtless the most curious musical instrument ever made.

| Language · Oddities

The Karidis Keyboard

When IBM released the ThinkPad 701 subnotebook in 1995, users got a surprise. The unit was only 24.6 centimeters wide, but opening the lid presented a keyboard more than 4 centimeters wider. The secret was a dissection: The keyboard was stored in two pieces, each roughly a right triangle, and as the lid was opened these slid to either side, with one moving downward until they merged into a full-sized keyboard. (Mathematician Greg Frederickson wrote, “You find yourself opening and closing the lid repeatedly just to watch this movement!”)

The effect was so pleasing that the “butterfly keyboard” entered the permanent collection of Manhattan’s Museum of Modern Art, but IBM discontinued the feature when it retired the 701. Designer John Karidis said, “The butterfly keyboard was no longer necessary, because people moved to larger displays. Where the butterfly approach makes sense is where you want the largest keyboard possible in combination with an 8-inch or 10-inch display.”

| Technology

“We and They”

Father, Mother, and Me,
Sister and Auntie say
All the people like us are We,
And every one else is They.
And They live over the sea,
While We live over the way,
But — would you believe it? — They look upon We
As only a sort of They!

We eat pork and beef
With cow-horn-handled knives.
They who gobble Their rice off a leaf,
Are horrified out of Their lives;
And They who live up a tree,
And feast on grubs and clay,
(Isn’t it scandalous?) look upon We
As a simply disgusting They!

We shoot birds with a gun.
They stick lions with spears.
Their full-dress is un-.
We dress up to Our ears.
They like Their friends for tea.
We like Our friends to stay;
And, after all that, They look upon We
As an utterly ignorant They!

We eat kitcheny food.
We have doors that latch.
They drink milk or blood,
Under an open thatch.
We have Doctors to fee.
They have Wizards to pay.
And (impudent heathen!) They look upon We
As a quite impossible They!

All good people agree,
And all good people say,
All nice people, like Us, are We
And every one else is They:
But if you cross over the sea,
Instead of over the way,
You may end by (think of it!) looking on We
As only a sort of They!

— Kipling

| Poems · Society