This is just pleasing somehow: The Japanese railway station with the shortest name is Tsu Station in Mie Prefecture.
The name is written with a single stroke.
This is just pleasing somehow: The Japanese railway station with the shortest name is Tsu Station in Mie Prefecture.
The name is written with a single stroke.
By 1910, Valentine Tapley was claiming to have the longest beard in the world, at 12 feet. His congressman in Missouri would even boast about the achievement and defend Tapley against other claimants. (It’s sometimes said that Tapley was a Democrat and had vowed never to shave again if Abraham Lincoln won the election.)
But it appears that the real record was held by a contemporary, North Dakota farmer Hans Langseth, who’d begun growing his beard in 1865 as part of a contest. By the time of his death in 1927, it measured 17.5 feet, and it’s now held by the Smithsonian Institution.
I can’t find any record that these two even knew of one another.
Suppose we divide a group of 100 women randomly into two groups, one of 95 and the other of 5 women. Then by flipping a fair coin we randomly assign the name “the Heads group” to one group and “the Tails group” to the other. Now philosopher John Leslie suggests that “[e]stimated probabilities can be observer-relative in a somewhat disconcerting way”:
All these persons — the women in the Heads group, those in the Tails group, and the external observer — are fully aware that there are two groups, and that each woman has a ninety-five per cent chance of having entered the larger. Yet the conclusions they ought to derive differ radically. The external observer ought to conclude that the probability is fifty per cent that the Heads group is the larger of the two. Any woman actually in [either the Heads or the Tails group], however, ought to judge the odds ninety-five to five that her group, identified as ‘the group I am in’, is the larger, regardless of whether she has been informed of its name.
Even without knowing her group’s name, a woman could still appreciate that the external observer estimated its chance of being the larger one as only fifty per cent — this being what his evidence led him to estimate in the cases of both groups. The paradox is that she herself would then have to say: ‘In view of my evidence of being in one of the groups, ninety-five per cent is what I estimate.’
Whether this is really a paradox is disputed — Oxford philosopher Nick Bostrom, in his 2002 book Anthropic Bias, points out that these are different judgments: The woman is considering the probability that she finds herself in the larger group, and the external observer is considering the assignment of labels to the groups. Bostrom describes a variant “where chances are observer relative in an interesting, but not paradoxical way” (page 129).
(John Leslie, “Observer-Relative Chances and the Doomsday Argument,” Inquiry 40:4 [1997], 427-436.)
Good Fortune Burger of Toronto has named its menu items after office supplies so that customers can include them on expense reports:
Fortune Burger: Basic Steel Stapler
Diamond Chicken Burger: Mini Dry Erase Whiteboard
Double Your Fortune Burger: Ergonomic Aluminum Laptop Stand
Emerald Veggie Burger: Wired Earphones With Mic
Parmesan Fries: CPU Wireless Mouse
Ginger Beer: Yellow Lined Sticky Notes
San Pellegrino: Ball Point Black Ink Gel Pens
Build Your Fortune Burger: Silicone Keyboard Cover
“There’s no malice intended in it,” Director of Operations Jon Purdy told blogTO. “It’s all just fun and games.”
South of Brusio, in the Swiss Canton of Graubünden, the Bernina railway must change elevation without exceeding its specified maximum gradient of 7 percent. So engineers adopted the appealing expedient of a spiral viaduct, an arch bridge of nine spans that carries a train through 360 degrees with a grade gentle enough to ensure safety.
Opened in 1908, it was recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2008.
A simple but pretty “lightweight” problem by R. Steinweg. White to mate in three moves.
The Blackbird is a full-size playable stone violin crafted by Swedish sculptor Lars Widenfalk. The instrument incorporates diabase from his grandfather’s tombstone, with a backplate of porphyritic diabase, both materials more than a billion years old. The design is based on drawings by Stradivarius, but Widenfalk made some modifications to allow it to be played.
The fingerboard, pegs, tailpiece, and chinrest are of black ebony, and the bridge is of mammoth ivory. “What drove me on was the desire to discover the limits to which this stone can be pushed as an artistic material,” Widenfalk said. “At two kilos it is heavier than wooden violins, but it gives you the feel that you are carrying Mother Earth.”
Rabbit Hash, Ky., has been governed by dogs since 1998. The hamlet’s first elected mayor was a dog “of unknown parentage” named Goofy Borneman-Calhoun, who was inaugurated in 1998 and died in office in July 2001. He was succeeded by Junior Cochran, a black Labrador elected in 2004. When Junior also died in office, a special election installed Lucy Lou, a border collie and the town’s first female mayor, who was named Best Elected Official in 2013 by Cincinnati CityBeat magazine and reportedly considered a presidential run in 2015.
The 2016 election went to a pit bull named Brynneth “Brynn” Pawltro, and the town’s historical society also recognized the runners-up, an Australian shepherd and a border collie, as ambassadors who might step in if Brynn were unable to make an appearance.
The current mayor, a French bulldog named Wilbur Beast, took office last year, with a beagle and a golden retriever joining the border collie as ambassadors.
Wilbur’s human, Amy Noland, told NBC News that she ran his campaign because of “all of the negative media that’s out there surrounding America, and the election, and COVID-19, so I guess I wanted Wilbur to be something positive in the news. … He’s done a lot of interviews locally, he’s had a lot of pets, a lot of belly scratches and a lot of ear rubs.”
“The plague of man is boasting of his knowledge.” — Montaigne
Eugene Bullard ran away from home in 1907 to seek his fortune in a more racially accepting Europe. There he led a life of staggering accomplishment, becoming by turns a prizefighter, a combat pilot, a nightclub impresario, and a spy. In this week’s episode of the Futility Closet podcast we’ll tell Bullard’s impressive story, which won him resounding praise in his adopted France.
We’ll also accidentally go to Canada and puzzle over a deadly omission.