Post Holes

According to the International Mail Manual, it’s prohibited to send:

clocks to Algeria
fur to Australia
flypaper to Botswana
playing cards to Brazil
bicycles to China
leeches to Cyprus
absinthe to Germany
gardenias to Guatemala
bees to Iceland
fashion newspapers to Iran
fireworks to Ireland
sand to Israel
nutmeg to Italy
hoverboards to Japan
deer antlers to Kazakhstan
tea to Libya
cinnamon to Nepal
keys to New Zealand
pastries to Panama
vitamins to Peru
aspirin to Tunisia
eggs to Turkmenistan
honey to Zimbabwe

It’s illegal to send “daggers, sword-canes, brass knuckles, blackjacks, and other secret weapons” to Cote d’Ivoire.

Essentials

Albert Einstein and Kurt Gödel used to walk home together from the Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton. In Incompleteness (2005), Rebecca Goldstein gives a sample of their conversation, broached by Gödel:

All of his thinking is governed by an ‘interesting axiom,’ as Ernst Gabor Straus, Einstein’s assistant from 1944 to 1947, once characterized it. For every fact, there exists an explanation as to why that fact is a fact; why it has to be a fact. This conviction amounts to the assertion that there is no brute contingency in the world, no givens that need not have been given. In other words, the world will never, not even once, speak to us in the way that an exasperated parent will speak to her fractious adolescent: ‘Why? I’ll tell you why. Because I said so!’ The world always has an explanation for itself, or as Einstein’s walking partner puts it, Die Welt is vernunftig, the world is intelligible. The conclusions that emanate from the rigorously consistent application of this ‘interesting axiom’ to every subject that crosses the logician’s mind — from the relationship between the body and the soul to global politics to the very local politics of the Institute for Avanced Study itself — often and radically diverge from the opinions of common sense. Such divergence, however, counts as nothing for him. It is as if one of the unwritten laws of his thought processes is: If reasoning and common sense should diverge, then… so much the worse for common sense! What, in the long run, is common sense, other than common?

Somewhat related: Richard Feynman’s sense of “social irresponsibility.”

Summing Up

J. Horace Round’s 1895 book Feudal England contains a bitter invective against Oxford historian Edward Augustus Freeman — it’s hidden in the index:

Freeman, Professor: unacquainted with the Inc. Com. Cant., 4; ignores the Northamptonshire geld-roll 149; confuses the Inquisitio geldi 148; his contemptuous criticism 150, 337, 385, 434, 454; when himself in error 151; his charge against the Conqueror 152, 573; on Hugh d’Envermeu 159; on Hereward 160-4; his ‘certain’ history 323, 433; his ‘undoubted history’ 162, 476; his ‘facts’ 436; on Heming’s cartulary 169; on Mr. Waters 190; on the introduction of feudal tenures 227-31, 260, 267-72, 301, 306; on the knight’s fee 234; on Ranulf Flambard 288; on the evidence of Domesday 299-31; underrates feudal influence 247, 536-8; on scutage 268; overlooks the Worcester relief 308; influenced by words and names 317, 338; on Normans under Edward 318 sqq.; his bias 319, 394-7; on Richard’s castle 320 sqq.; confuses individuals 323-4, 386, 473; his assumptions 323; on the name Alfred 327; on the Sheriff Thorold 328-9; on the battle of Hastings 332 sqq.; his pedantry 334-9; his ‘palisade’ 340 sqq., 354, 370, 372, 387, 391, 403; misconstrues his Latin 343, 436; his use of Wace 344-7, 348, 352, 355, 375; on William of Malmesbury 346, 410-14, 440; his words suppressed 347, 393; on the Bayeux Tapestry 348-51; imagines facts 352, 370, 387, 432; his supposed accuracy 353, 354, 384, 436-7, 440, 446, 448; right as to the shield-wall 354-8; his guesses 359, 362, 366, 375, 378-9, 380, 387, 389, 433-5, 456, 462; his theory of Harold’s defeat 360, 380-1; his confused views 364-5, 403, 439, 446, 448; his dramatic tendency 365-6; evades difficulties 373, 454; his treatment of authorities 376-7, 449-51; on the relief of Argues 384; misunderstands tactics 381-3, 387; on Walter Giffard 385-6; his failure 388; his special weakness 388, 391; his splended narrative 389, 393; his Homeric power 391; on Harold and his Standard 402-3; on Wace 404-6, 409; on Regenbald 425; on Earl Ralf 428; on William Malet 430; on the Conqueror’s earldoms 429; his Domesday errors and confusion 151, 425, 428, 436-7, 445-8, 463; on the ‘Civic League’ 433-5; his wild dream 438; his special interest in Exeter 431; on legends 441; on Thierry 451, 458; his method 454-5; on Lisois 460; on Stigand 461; on Walter Tirel 476-7; on St. Hugh’s action [1197] 528; on the Winchester Assembly 535-8; distorts feudalism 537; on the king’s court 538; on Richard’s change of seal 540; necessity of criticising his work, xi., 353.

While we’re at it: Here’s a detail from the index to the Rectory Magazine, handwritten by Lewis Carroll for his family in 1848:

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Lewis_Carroll%27s_own_handwrtten_index.png

He would have been about 16.

(Thanks, Jim.)

The Rilke Cryptogram

https://scienceblogs.de/klausis-krypto-kolumne/files/2015/07/Rilke_000_001.jpg

In one copy of a 1942 edition of German historian Gert Buchheit’s biography of Rainer Maria Rilke, someone has glued a typewritten and hectographed alphanumeric text. The text fills 33 pages with 18,760 characters in groups of four. Analysis shows that it’s less ordered than English or German but more ordered than random text. To date, no one has been able to make sense of it.

Here’s the cryptogram itself, and here’s an analysis.

From Klaus Schmeh’s Encrypted Book List.

06/21/2026 UPDATE: Reader Logan Swiecki-Taylor writes:

I have a note on the aforementioned post.

The cryptography community (including the author of that very blog, Klaus Schmeh, security expert Tobias Schrödel, and statistician Floe Foxon) essentially ‘solved’ the mystery by figuring out exactly what it is: It is literally ‘Keyboard Mashing.’

The text was generated by someone mindlessly sliding their fingers across a German QWERTZ typewriter.

  • Groups like qwer, tzui, and cvbn are just straight lines across the keys.
  • Groups like cxsw and mju7 are diagonal swipes.
  • Statistical analysis published in the journal Cryptologia in 2022 mathematically proved that the physical distances between the keys pressed are too short to be random or to be any known substitution cipher. It is intentional ‘lazy typing.’

The pages in the book were printed using a ‘hectograph’ (an early duplication method used for making a few dozen copies of a document). The prevailing consensus among historians is that this was practice material for radio operators learning Morse Code.

Military radio operators needed to practice transmitting and receiving meaningless letter sequences because actual encrypted military communications (like Enigma messages) look like random 4-letter or 5-letter blocks. Instead of going through the tedious mathematical effort of properly encrypting a real message just for a training exercise, an instructor simply rolled their fingers across a typewriter to generate pages of fake ‘ciphertext’ and printed copies for the class to practice their Morse transmissions.

Timeline of crypto community decipher

January 2018: The Initial Clue (Crowdsourcing)

The mystery was first brought to public attention in early 2018 when the book’s owner, Dr. Karsten Hansky, shared the pages with German crypto-historian Klaus Schmeh. Schmeh posted it on his popular cryptography blog on January 10, 2018, listing it as an ‘unsolved World War II cryptogram.’

On that exact same day, an astute blog commenter going by the name ‘Gerd’ pointed out that military Morse code training typically used random gibberish so that students couldn’t simply ‘guess’ words if they missed a letter. He suggested that it was just a practice text.

2020: The ‘Keyboard Mashing’ Realization

Over the next couple of years, Schmeh, alongside German IT security expert Tobias Schrödel and other blog readers, looked closer at the letter groupings. They noticed the high frequency of spatial sequences (like qwer and aswq) and realized the text wasn’t randomly generated with dice or cryptography, but by someone simply rolling their fingers around a German QWERTZ typewriter. Schmeh eventually published an update officially re-classifying the mystery as ‘probably solved’ and removing it from his list of unsolved ciphers.

August 2022: The Mathematical Proof

The final nail in the coffin came from academia. In August 2022, a data scientist and statistician named Floe Foxon published a peer-reviewed paper titled ‘A treatise on the Rilke cryptogram’ in the journal Cryptologia.

Foxon mapped the letters of the cryptogram to a standard 1940s German typewriter layout. Using statistical analysis, Foxon mathematically proved that the physical distances between the consecutive keystrokes were drastically shorter than what would occur in natural language, a known substitution cipher, or true randomness.

Thanks, Logan. The solution is even more interesting than the puzzle!

Misc

  • Ajoritsedabi Oreghoyeyere Memaridieyin Okorodudu played basketball for Bucknell in 1980.
  • Spike Milligan said his father’s last word was “Aaargh!”
  • It’s illegal to take a lion to the movies in Baltimore.
  • In 2007 the UK Association of Chief Police Officers’ spokesman on knife crime was named Alfred Hitchcock.
  • “I banged the door with such a slam, / It sounded like a wooden d–n.” — Frederick Locker-Lampson

Descent

Bycocket is an obsolete word for a kind of cap or headdress. Its entry in the Second Edition of the Oxford English Dictionary contains this woeful note:

Through a remarkable series of blunders and ignorant reproductions of error, this word appears in modern dictionaries as ABACOT. In Hall’s Chron. a bicocket appears to have been misprinted abococket, which was copied by Grafton, altered by Holinshed to abococke, and finally ‘improved’ by Abraham Fleming to abacot (perhaps through an intermediate abacoc); hence it was again copied by Baker, inserted in his Glossarium by Spelman, and thence copied by Phillips, and so handed down through Bailey, Ash, Todd, etc., to 19th century dictionaries (some of which provide a picture of the ‘abacot’), and even inserted in dictionaries of English and foreign languages.

The OED defines abacot as a “variant of bycocket”.

A Curious Letter

In 1768, Benjamin Franklin proposed a new alphabet, warning that without a phonetic scheme to stabilize spelling and pronunciation, “our writing will become the same with the Chinese as to the difficulty of learning and using it.” He composed this letter as a sample of his idea:

https://www.google.com/books/edition/The_Wrigtings_of_Benjamin_franklin/JGjvMBJDBN8C?hl=en&gbpv=1&pg=PA169&printsec=frontcover

He explains everything (and answers the imagined objections above) in this essay.

06/03/2026 UPDATE: Reader Jason Taff notes:

The word ‘I’ is pronounced as a diphthong in English, and it’s transcribed as such in that text. But the first vowel of the diphthong in the text matches the ‘schwa’ vowel in the last syllable of ‘Kensington’, whereas modern English pronounces that first sound to match the sound in the word ‘not’ (which appears later in the text).

This is precisely a remnant of what’s called the Great English Vowel Shift that separates Chaucerian English from Shakespearean English. It had started in Shakespeare’s time (1600’s), but hadn’t fully progressed to its modern version in Franklin’s time (1700’s). This text is a snapshot record of that change in progress!

(Thanks, Jason.)

One World

https://picryl.com/media/paris-postcard-aleconte-15-7fa0f2

Al-longs, ong-fong der lar Part-ree-e-yer,
Ler joor der glwore ait arr-ee-vay.

— Lyrics to La Marseillaise rendered in phonetic French for British soldiers in World War I, from Frank Scudamore’s “Parley Voo”!!, 1915 (via Tony Augarde’s Wordplay, 2011)

Mouthful

In 1641, a syndicate of Puritan clergymen published a pamphlet upholding the Presbyterian theory of the ministry.

They published it under the memorable pseudonym Smectymnuus, an acronym derived from the initials of the five authors: Stephen Marshall, Edmund Calamy, Thomas Young, Matthew Newcomen, and William Spurstowe.

The Oxford English Dictionary still recognizes the wonderful word Smectymnuan, meaning any of these authors or one who accepted their views.

Dark Matter

Merriam-Webster points out something I’d never noticed: In many languages, the word for night consists of the word for eight preceded by the letter N:

English: N + eight = Night
German: N + acht = Nacht
French: N + huit = Nuit
Spanish: N + ocho = Noche
Italian: N + otto = Notte
Portuguese: N + oito = Noite

It’s a coincidence. Romance languages derive their words for eight and night from the Latin octo and noctem, and the Germanic languages get them from the Old High German ahto and the Germanic naht. In each case the similarity of the sounds is just happenstance.

(Thanks, Sharon.)