Using a cardboard template, a cloth, and a tripod, psychologist Richard Wiseman found a way to make ordinary people tiny.
The illusion is an improvement on a technique pioneered by Jean Beuchet in the 1960s. More at the link below.
(Richard Wiseman, “A New Version of the Beuchet Chair Illusion,” i-Perception 7:6 [November-December 2016], 2041669516679168.)
Something alarming washed up on a beach near Cherbourg in 1934 — a 25-foot carcass with a camel’s head, a three-foot neck, two shoulder fins, and a seal’s tail. Its bluish-gray skin was covered with what appeared to be fine white hairs, and its liver was 15 feet long.
Was it a sea serpent? A relative of the Loch Ness Monster? Probably not: A local biologist guessed that a whale had pursued herring into local waters and been killed by a liner.
Thirteen years later a 40-foot carcass washed up on the shore near Effingham on Vancouver Island, Canada. At first rumored to be the remains of Caddy, the sea serpent that supposedly haunts Cadboro Bay, it was later identified as a shark.
An optical illusion. All the edges in this image are straight, and each is either horizontal, vertical, or at a 45° angle.
Naturalists state that snakes, when in danger, have been known to swallow each other; the above three snakes have just commenced to perform this operation. The snakes are from the same ‘hatch,’ and are therefore equal in age, length, weight, &c. They all start at scratch — that is, commence swallowing simultaneously. They are twirling round at the express rate of 300 revolutions per minute, during which time the circumference is decreased by 1 inch.
We would like our readers to tell us what will be the final result? Heads or tails, and how many of each?
— John Scott, The Puzzle King, 1899
Suppose now that two philosophers, McX and I, differ over ontology. Suppose McX maintains there is something which I maintain there is not. McX can, quite consistently with his own point of view, describe our difference of opinion by saying that I refuse to recognize certain entities. …
When I try to formulate our difference of opinion, on the other hand, I seem to be in a predicament. I cannot admit that there are some things which McX countenances and I do not, for in admitting that there are such things I should be contradicting my own rejection of them.
It would appear, if this reasoning were sound, that in any ontological dispute the proponent of the negative side suffers the disadvantage of not being able to admit that his opponent disagrees with him.
This is the old Platonic riddle of nonbeing. Nonbeing must in some sense be, otherwise what is it that there is not?
— Willard Van Orman Quine, “On What There Is,” 1948
‘I send you a post card which was delivered safely the day after it was posted. I think the address reflects credit on both the ingenuity of the sender and the cleverness of the Post Office officials.’ — A Folkestone Correspondent
(From Strand, December 1903.) (Click to enlarge.)
UPDATE: A number of readers have asked for the solution. The Strand gives none, and perhaps had none, but a diligent postal worker who viewed the envelope edge-on would have discovered that the circle is composed of four overlapping sets of letters, offset from one another by 45 degrees and each so tall and narrow as to be otherwise unreadable. When they’re viewed at an angle, perspective condenses the letters into four phrases:
By my best reading, the address is C.H. BRUCE, ESQR, EARLS AVENUE, FOLKESTONE, ENGLAND.
Given names of the 11 children of Mr. and Mrs. Ernest Russell of Vinton, Ohio, 1972:
“Mother did it, but I don’t know why,” Laur told UPI. “She would take names from the Bible and other books and compare them until they came out that way.”
Bonus palindrome item: Volume 1, Issue 5 of Alan Moore’s graphic novel Watchmen, titled “Fearful Symmetry,” is a deliberately contrived visual palindrome, not just in structure but often within individual panels (designed by artist Dave Gibbons). Pedro Ribeiro shows the correspondences here.
For more than half a millennium, between the 12th century and the 19th, an enormous log jam clogged the Red River in the Southern United States. By the early 1830s, it stretched more than 160 miles, with new logs and vegetation accreting at its upper end while older material decayed and washed out at the lower.
By the start of the 19th century the mass was blocking settlement in the area west of Shreveport, so the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers hired steamboat entrepreneur Henry Miller Shreve, who spent nine years clearing a navigable path using specially designed “snag boats.”
A grateful public named the city of Shreveport after him, but a second raft soon began to form upstream, extending eventually as far as the Arkansas state line. That would have to be removed as well.
(Thanks, Kevin.)
‘The letters in this curious alphabet are all wood, chiefly twisted roots of the blue gum, and have not been altered in any way from their original growth; three girls collected them in their daily walks or rides for a period of six months, and the specimens were found in various places; frequently one was carried home on horseback for many miles. All are about two feet high. The “B” was the last found, and when the young ladies had almost despaired of ever getting one it was found in a heap of driftwood caught against a tree in the river.’ — Miss Cave, Vergemont, Clontreagh, Co. Dublin
— Strand, December 1902
On New Year’s Eve 1914, an enormous wave struck the lighthouse on Trinidad Head outside Trinidad, California:
At 4:40 p. m. I observed a sea of unusual height. When it struck the bluff the jar was very heavy. The lens immediately stopped revolving. The sea shot up the face of the bluff and over it, until the solid sea seemed to me to be on a level with where I stood in the lantern. The sea itself fell over onto the top of the bluff and struck the tower about on a level with the balcony. The whole point between the tower and the bluff was buried in water.
If keeper Fred L. Harrington’s report is accurate, this was the highest recorded ocean wave ever to have struck the west coast of the United States. The lighthouse stood on a bluff 175 feet high, and the wave had managed to extinguish the light at its top, 196 feet above the sea.