Curio Cabinet / Daily Curio
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FREEUS History Daily CurioFree1 CQ
It's Flashback Friday! Enjoy this favorite from the Curio Cabinet archives.
Happy Fourth of July! It might interest you to know that Independence Day actually falls on several dates, according to history. In fact, Founding Father and second President John Adams believed that July 2, 1776, would be the date to mark on our calendars. This is because the Second Continental Congress declared colonial independence from Britain on July 2, 1776. Congress passed the Declaration of Independence two days later on the Fourth of July, though it still needed to be signed. Instead, a hasty printing was released and disseminated that night, publicizing the Fourth as the day we claimed our independence. In reality, the Declaration was floating in limbo because the Founding Fathers were spread thin: the British were swarming New York City and the Liberty Bell was ringing in Philadelphia. The night of July 9, 1776, George Washington read one of the copies of the declaration to a rabble of American soldiers and sailors on Bowling Green in Lower Manhattan. In a patriotic frenzy, the militiamen proceeded to tear down a nearby statue of King George III and melt it into 42,000 musket balls. (They called him their "melted majesty".) Still, nobody had signed the bill yet. It wasn't until August 2, 1776, a month later, that the first signature was scrawled on it. The last didn't come until 1781, five years later, when Thomas McKean contributed his signature. By then, the first informal celebration of the Fourth had already happened in 1778, when Washington hooked his troops up with double rations and rum. Congress eventually made it an unpaid holiday in 1830, and then a paid federal holiday in 1938. As for John Adams, who adamantly believed that the second of July was our special day? He died on July 4, 1826, likely hearing fireworks and patriotic calls outside his window. I can't imagine he minded being wrong!
Image credit & copyright: The Library of Congress
It's Flashback Friday! Enjoy this favorite from the Curio Cabinet archives.
Happy Fourth of July! It might interest you to know that Independence Day actually falls on several dates, according to history. In fact, Founding Father and second President John Adams believed that July 2, 1776, would be the date to mark on our calendars. This is because the Second Continental Congress declared colonial independence from Britain on July 2, 1776. Congress passed the Declaration of Independence two days later on the Fourth of July, though it still needed to be signed. Instead, a hasty printing was released and disseminated that night, publicizing the Fourth as the day we claimed our independence. In reality, the Declaration was floating in limbo because the Founding Fathers were spread thin: the British were swarming New York City and the Liberty Bell was ringing in Philadelphia. The night of July 9, 1776, George Washington read one of the copies of the declaration to a rabble of American soldiers and sailors on Bowling Green in Lower Manhattan. In a patriotic frenzy, the militiamen proceeded to tear down a nearby statue of King George III and melt it into 42,000 musket balls. (They called him their "melted majesty".) Still, nobody had signed the bill yet. It wasn't until August 2, 1776, a month later, that the first signature was scrawled on it. The last didn't come until 1781, five years later, when Thomas McKean contributed his signature. By then, the first informal celebration of the Fourth had already happened in 1778, when Washington hooked his troops up with double rations and rum. Congress eventually made it an unpaid holiday in 1830, and then a paid federal holiday in 1938. As for John Adams, who adamantly believed that the second of July was our special day? He died on July 4, 1826, likely hearing fireworks and patriotic calls outside his window. I can't imagine he minded being wrong!
Image credit & copyright: The Library of Congress
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FREELiterature Daily Curio #2065Free1 CQ
On today's date in 1961, famed author Ernest Hemingway ended his own life. It had been a complicated but epic one—one marked by the publications of the novels The Sun Also Rises and For Whom the Bell Tolls, as well as war exploits and globetrotting adventures. But today, we're talking about Hemingway's non-literary legacy: his six-toed cats. The story begins in the 1930s when the writer purchased his home in Key West, Florida, that is known today as the Ernest Hemingway House & Museum. According to legend, Hemingway was drinking himself silly at the local Sloppy Joe's Bar, as he was one to do, when he met an equally inebriated sea captain. The two immediately hit it off and drank into the wee hours of the night, at which point the captain gifted Hemingway a cat named Snow White from his ship. Curiously, Snow White was polydactyl, meaning she had an abnormal amount of toes on her paws (six). The story continues that Snow White became the progenitor of the 40-50 some cats with polydactyly genes currently residing at Hemingway House. That last detail carries some credibility. Hemingway fawned over his cats and named them after celebrities, in spite of his manly persona. Names have included "Hairy" Truman, Marilyn Monroe, and Truman Capote. Today, the caretakers of Hemingway House continue to watch over the residing six-toed cats. In fact, a vet checks up on the cats weekly. The felines are very friendly with the caretakers, and are also given special burials and tombstones in the garden behind the home. During Hurricane Irma in 2017, the caretakers called the cats inside and none were harmed. It's a heartwarming story all around—a fitting counterpoint to Heminway's characteristically tragic endings, both real and imagined.
Image credit & copyright: Wochit News
On today's date in 1961, famed author Ernest Hemingway ended his own life. It had been a complicated but epic one—one marked by the publications of the novels The Sun Also Rises and For Whom the Bell Tolls, as well as war exploits and globetrotting adventures. But today, we're talking about Hemingway's non-literary legacy: his six-toed cats. The story begins in the 1930s when the writer purchased his home in Key West, Florida, that is known today as the Ernest Hemingway House & Museum. According to legend, Hemingway was drinking himself silly at the local Sloppy Joe's Bar, as he was one to do, when he met an equally inebriated sea captain. The two immediately hit it off and drank into the wee hours of the night, at which point the captain gifted Hemingway a cat named Snow White from his ship. Curiously, Snow White was polydactyl, meaning she had an abnormal amount of toes on her paws (six). The story continues that Snow White became the progenitor of the 40-50 some cats with polydactyly genes currently residing at Hemingway House. That last detail carries some credibility. Hemingway fawned over his cats and named them after celebrities, in spite of his manly persona. Names have included "Hairy" Truman, Marilyn Monroe, and Truman Capote. Today, the caretakers of Hemingway House continue to watch over the residing six-toed cats. In fact, a vet checks up on the cats weekly. The felines are very friendly with the caretakers, and are also given special burials and tombstones in the garden behind the home. During Hurricane Irma in 2017, the caretakers called the cats inside and none were harmed. It's a heartwarming story all around—a fitting counterpoint to Heminway's characteristically tragic endings, both real and imagined.
Image credit & copyright: Wochit News
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FREESports Daily Curio #2064Free1 CQ
You would think giant octopi would be better wrestlers, what with the eight suckered arms and all. Regardless, the July 1963 edition of Skin Diving magazine proved that assumption wrong with its story on that year's World Octopus Wrestling Championships. Believe it or not, octopus wrestling was a craze that originated in the 1940s, and thrived in the '50s and '60s. Even real-deal professional wrestlers would travel to the shores of Tacoma to wrassle mollusks before audiences of at least 5,000. How this "sport" reached such a level of acceptance can be summed up by ignorance. At the time, the octopus—particularly the giant Pacific octopus—was still regarded as a suspicious, murderous villain of the deep: a misconception apparent in how octopus wrestlers regarded themselves. These strongmen would dive 30 to 50 feet into the murky depths, in pursuit of an octopus minding its own business. An axiom of theirs was that either "You're careful, or you're dead." Those "intrepid" wrestlers who dove without a snorkel or breathing tank regarded themselves as purists—heroes of sorts dragging a monster out of its aquatic cave to the beach, to be ogled at by audiences then released or eaten. Another way to earn props from fellow wrestlers was hauling a particularly hefty octopus ashore. But this was all a farce. The giant Pacific octopus is, well, a Pacific pacifist when it comes to wrestling humans. Across the board, the animal is pretty timid. And smart—too smart for it to be ethically put in a full nelson, to say the least. Ultimately, it was this lack of fight that led to a drop in viewership of octopus wrestling in the early '60s. All of the sport's action, if you could call it action, took place underwater. Flash forward to today. The wrestling of octopi is now officially illegal across most of the country, mostly due to our bolstered understanding of the animals' intelligence. Now we just use octopi to predict soccer game outcomes!
Image credit & copyright: Old Book Illustrations
You would think giant octopi would be better wrestlers, what with the eight suckered arms and all. Regardless, the July 1963 edition of Skin Diving magazine proved that assumption wrong with its story on that year's World Octopus Wrestling Championships. Believe it or not, octopus wrestling was a craze that originated in the 1940s, and thrived in the '50s and '60s. Even real-deal professional wrestlers would travel to the shores of Tacoma to wrassle mollusks before audiences of at least 5,000. How this "sport" reached such a level of acceptance can be summed up by ignorance. At the time, the octopus—particularly the giant Pacific octopus—was still regarded as a suspicious, murderous villain of the deep: a misconception apparent in how octopus wrestlers regarded themselves. These strongmen would dive 30 to 50 feet into the murky depths, in pursuit of an octopus minding its own business. An axiom of theirs was that either "You're careful, or you're dead." Those "intrepid" wrestlers who dove without a snorkel or breathing tank regarded themselves as purists—heroes of sorts dragging a monster out of its aquatic cave to the beach, to be ogled at by audiences then released or eaten. Another way to earn props from fellow wrestlers was hauling a particularly hefty octopus ashore. But this was all a farce. The giant Pacific octopus is, well, a Pacific pacifist when it comes to wrestling humans. Across the board, the animal is pretty timid. And smart—too smart for it to be ethically put in a full nelson, to say the least. Ultimately, it was this lack of fight that led to a drop in viewership of octopus wrestling in the early '60s. All of the sport's action, if you could call it action, took place underwater. Flash forward to today. The wrestling of octopi is now officially illegal across most of the country, mostly due to our bolstered understanding of the animals' intelligence. Now we just use octopi to predict soccer game outcomes!
Image credit & copyright: Old Book Illustrations
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FREEMind + Body Daily Curio #2063Free1 CQ
I heard Sophie use a phrase the other day that I thought was indicative of the quarantine struggle: "Zoom Gloom." The best way I've found to keep my eyes and psyche healthy while endlessly staring at screens is wearing blue light blocking glasses. Now, researchers in the U.K. think they've found a beautifully simple panacea to our blue-lit bleariness—red light. Yup, the classic matchup of red vs blue. The team of researchers first thought of trying red light out for human vision therapy after noticing how it improved the sight of mice, bees, and even flies in a previous experiment. The researchers theorized that this phenomenon happened because mitochondria absorb visible light with long wavelengths (like red light). As a brief refresher, mitochondria are organelles that generate power in cells. Mitochondria are found in large numbers in the retina, the clear barrier of our eyes that traps and processes light. Simply put, mitochondria generate activity in a crucial part of our eye, and they are stimulated by red light. Thinking along these lines, the scientists recruited 40 people with sight issues and had them peer into a small red light for three minutes every day. After two weeks it was shown that red-light therapy significantly improved vision in mature subjects. Chalk it up as another win for red. Red light has already been shown to help heal wounds, inflammation, pain, and even regrow hair. The best part is that red light is relatively cheap. Even costlier lamps are at least a one-and-done purchase. What can I say? Red is totally superior to blue. I'm not at all saying that because I'm a lifelong Stanford Cardinal and, um, our rivals are blue-clad Cal...
Image credit & copyright: lscatal70/Depositphotos
I heard Sophie use a phrase the other day that I thought was indicative of the quarantine struggle: "Zoom Gloom." The best way I've found to keep my eyes and psyche healthy while endlessly staring at screens is wearing blue light blocking glasses. Now, researchers in the U.K. think they've found a beautifully simple panacea to our blue-lit bleariness—red light. Yup, the classic matchup of red vs blue. The team of researchers first thought of trying red light out for human vision therapy after noticing how it improved the sight of mice, bees, and even flies in a previous experiment. The researchers theorized that this phenomenon happened because mitochondria absorb visible light with long wavelengths (like red light). As a brief refresher, mitochondria are organelles that generate power in cells. Mitochondria are found in large numbers in the retina, the clear barrier of our eyes that traps and processes light. Simply put, mitochondria generate activity in a crucial part of our eye, and they are stimulated by red light. Thinking along these lines, the scientists recruited 40 people with sight issues and had them peer into a small red light for three minutes every day. After two weeks it was shown that red-light therapy significantly improved vision in mature subjects. Chalk it up as another win for red. Red light has already been shown to help heal wounds, inflammation, pain, and even regrow hair. The best part is that red light is relatively cheap. Even costlier lamps are at least a one-and-done purchase. What can I say? Red is totally superior to blue. I'm not at all saying that because I'm a lifelong Stanford Cardinal and, um, our rivals are blue-clad Cal...
Image credit & copyright: lscatal70/Depositphotos
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FREEEngineering Daily Curio #2062Free1 CQ
Road trips got a whole lot easier on today's date in 1956. That's when President Dwight D. Eisenhower signed the Federal-Aid Highway Act into law—saving millions of Americans from routinely taking wrong turns. In fact, roads were so aimless and ill-constructed in the early 20th century that automobiling was seen as "the last call of the wild." As in, trying to drive from one city to another would result in you getting utterly lost in byways. Most roads were unsafe, unorganized, prone to jamming, and completely out of sync with one another. This state of affairs lasted in varying degrees up into the '50s. Before then, Eisenhower, as Supreme Commander of the Allied forces that occupied Germany after World War II, encountered Germany's sturdy Autobahn highway. You might recognize the Autobahn, which still exists, as that zany European highway mostly lacking speed limits. In reality, the Autobahn was immaculately constructed and safe despite its breezy approach. It also served emergency and military purposes, allowing caravans of civilians or soldiers to efficiently flee or engage disasters.
Later, as the 34th POTUS, Eisenhower attempted to emulate the Autobahn stateside. He pushed for the Federal-Aid Highway Act as a way to create a highway system capable of easing, securing, and standardizing American transit. He also wanted it to be capable of operating as a network for tanks and aeronautic landing strips for jets, as well as evacuation routes from civilians in the event of nuclear war. Congress acquiesced and the $26 billion bill was paid for with a new gasoline tax. Many Americans weren't happy with their new highway system, though. That's because the highways cut through their homes. Many cities, like San Francisco, prevented roadbuilders. As a consequence, plenty of U.S. highways, nicknamed "roads to nowhere," terminate in abrupt deadends.
Fast forward to today. It's been a long time since Eisenhower's effort. To say our infrastructure has decayed since then would be an understatement. American infrastructure has routinely scored a D+ grade by the American Society of Civil Engineers. And this isn't a case where we do poorly in one area and great in another—we're mediocre across the board. Wastewater? D+ Schools? D+ Hazardous waste? D+ As for roads, we do slightly better with a D. Around a third of our urban roads are in poor condition. I'll leave out other details from these reports… it's not pretty. At any rate, we're way overdue for an infrastructure overhaul like the Federal-Aid Highway Act. Only, it will probably need to be even more comprehensive—something I can't imagine our current lackluster leadership will manage to materialize. I see bumps in the road ahead. I guess it's a good thing I pay for comprehensive car insurance!
Image credit & copyright: Shutterstock
Road trips got a whole lot easier on today's date in 1956. That's when President Dwight D. Eisenhower signed the Federal-Aid Highway Act into law—saving millions of Americans from routinely taking wrong turns. In fact, roads were so aimless and ill-constructed in the early 20th century that automobiling was seen as "the last call of the wild." As in, trying to drive from one city to another would result in you getting utterly lost in byways. Most roads were unsafe, unorganized, prone to jamming, and completely out of sync with one another. This state of affairs lasted in varying degrees up into the '50s. Before then, Eisenhower, as Supreme Commander of the Allied forces that occupied Germany after World War II, encountered Germany's sturdy Autobahn highway. You might recognize the Autobahn, which still exists, as that zany European highway mostly lacking speed limits. In reality, the Autobahn was immaculately constructed and safe despite its breezy approach. It also served emergency and military purposes, allowing caravans of civilians or soldiers to efficiently flee or engage disasters.
Later, as the 34th POTUS, Eisenhower attempted to emulate the Autobahn stateside. He pushed for the Federal-Aid Highway Act as a way to create a highway system capable of easing, securing, and standardizing American transit. He also wanted it to be capable of operating as a network for tanks and aeronautic landing strips for jets, as well as evacuation routes from civilians in the event of nuclear war. Congress acquiesced and the $26 billion bill was paid for with a new gasoline tax. Many Americans weren't happy with their new highway system, though. That's because the highways cut through their homes. Many cities, like San Francisco, prevented roadbuilders. As a consequence, plenty of U.S. highways, nicknamed "roads to nowhere," terminate in abrupt deadends.
Fast forward to today. It's been a long time since Eisenhower's effort. To say our infrastructure has decayed since then would be an understatement. American infrastructure has routinely scored a D+ grade by the American Society of Civil Engineers. And this isn't a case where we do poorly in one area and great in another—we're mediocre across the board. Wastewater? D+ Schools? D+ Hazardous waste? D+ As for roads, we do slightly better with a D. Around a third of our urban roads are in poor condition. I'll leave out other details from these reports… it's not pretty. At any rate, we're way overdue for an infrastructure overhaul like the Federal-Aid Highway Act. Only, it will probably need to be even more comprehensive—something I can't imagine our current lackluster leadership will manage to materialize. I see bumps in the road ahead. I guess it's a good thing I pay for comprehensive car insurance!
Image credit & copyright: Shutterstock
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FREEBeauty Daily CurioFree1 CQ
It's Flashback Friday! Enjoy this favorite from the Curio Cabinet archives.
Would you wear a perfume line if it was endorsed by Cleopatra VII Philopator, the fabled Queen of Ptolemaic Egypt? Earlier this year, two anthropologists teamed up to replicate a 2,000-year-old perfume formula used when Cleopatra's family ruled Egypt. Researchers Robert Littman and Jay Silverstein launched their endeavor after discovering an ancient fragrance factory dating to 300 B.C.E., located in the ruins of Thmuis, near Cairo, Egypt. There, they excavated two decayed residues that had once been perfumes. Thmuis had been a manufacturing ground for Mendesian and Metopian—two of the finest perfumes of antiquity—so Littman and Silverstein contacted experts to recreate each residue's recipe. Egyptologists did just that with help from ancient Greek texts. Their two finished perfumes contain a mixture of myrrh, cardamom, olive oil, and cinnamon. These resurrected "Mendesians" and "Metopians" are far mustier and viscous than contemporary colognes, with a longer-lasting effect. But in spite of Littman and Silverstein's success, nobody can say for sure that Cleopatra ever used them. Legend has it Cleopatra brewed her own personal cologne and that when she met Marc Antony at Tarsus, the sails of her boat were so perfumed that he smelled her before he saw her—reminds me of a few girls from my high school days! Littman refers to Mendesian as "the Chanel No. 5 of ancient Egypt." If you want to take a whiff yourself, both ancient perfumes will be on display in the "Queens of Egypt" exhibition running at the National Geographic Museum until September 15. Personally, I'd be wary of any scent that spellbound the likes of Caesar and Marc Antony!
Image credit & copyright: Lawrence Alma-Tadema
It's Flashback Friday! Enjoy this favorite from the Curio Cabinet archives.
Would you wear a perfume line if it was endorsed by Cleopatra VII Philopator, the fabled Queen of Ptolemaic Egypt? Earlier this year, two anthropologists teamed up to replicate a 2,000-year-old perfume formula used when Cleopatra's family ruled Egypt. Researchers Robert Littman and Jay Silverstein launched their endeavor after discovering an ancient fragrance factory dating to 300 B.C.E., located in the ruins of Thmuis, near Cairo, Egypt. There, they excavated two decayed residues that had once been perfumes. Thmuis had been a manufacturing ground for Mendesian and Metopian—two of the finest perfumes of antiquity—so Littman and Silverstein contacted experts to recreate each residue's recipe. Egyptologists did just that with help from ancient Greek texts. Their two finished perfumes contain a mixture of myrrh, cardamom, olive oil, and cinnamon. These resurrected "Mendesians" and "Metopians" are far mustier and viscous than contemporary colognes, with a longer-lasting effect. But in spite of Littman and Silverstein's success, nobody can say for sure that Cleopatra ever used them. Legend has it Cleopatra brewed her own personal cologne and that when she met Marc Antony at Tarsus, the sails of her boat were so perfumed that he smelled her before he saw her—reminds me of a few girls from my high school days! Littman refers to Mendesian as "the Chanel No. 5 of ancient Egypt." If you want to take a whiff yourself, both ancient perfumes will be on display in the "Queens of Egypt" exhibition running at the National Geographic Museum until September 15. Personally, I'd be wary of any scent that spellbound the likes of Caesar and Marc Antony!
Image credit & copyright: Lawrence Alma-Tadema
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FREEWriting Music Daily Curio #2061Free1 CQ
Take a stroll in nature this time of year, and you'll likely find that music is in the air—birds chirping, breezes blowing, and trees shifting. The same goes for space. Except it's stars making the music. For this year's Starmus Festival, an international astronomy fete happening this week, producer and musician Brian Eno teamed up with astrophysicist Garik Israelian, the founder of Starmus, to bring us "star music." You might recognize Eno for his solo work, or for his production of Coldplay, U2, and Talking Heads. He notably coined the term "ambient music." Israelian, meanwhile, has given us insights into how stellar-mass black holes form. To create the music, Israelian first provided pre-existing recordings of infrasound acoustic waves produced by stars. Infrasound refers to waves with frequencies too low for human ears to pick up. Star frequencies decrease over vast intergalactic distances. Eno arranged these acoustic waves by speeding them up to a frequency we can hear. Of course, Eno supplied a bit of an "ambient" touch to the audio. The final product, titled Starsounds, is certainly mesmerizing. These convection-driven sounds of gas bubbles erupting and hot gases driving to stars' surfaces equate to an eerie harmony from far away. Stars actually create music of varying types. Bigger stars tend to make lower sounds. Smaller stars are "high-pitched," in comparison to their bigger brethren. Regardless, each star constantly produces thousands of colliding sounds as it churns. Check out the video down below. Who knows, maybe one of you musicians out there will pick up on hidden chords from beyond.
Below: a snippet of Starsounds.
Image credit & copyright: NASA/JPL-Caltech/S. Stolovy (Spitzer Science Center/Caltech)
Take a stroll in nature this time of year, and you'll likely find that music is in the air—birds chirping, breezes blowing, and trees shifting. The same goes for space. Except it's stars making the music. For this year's Starmus Festival, an international astronomy fete happening this week, producer and musician Brian Eno teamed up with astrophysicist Garik Israelian, the founder of Starmus, to bring us "star music." You might recognize Eno for his solo work, or for his production of Coldplay, U2, and Talking Heads. He notably coined the term "ambient music." Israelian, meanwhile, has given us insights into how stellar-mass black holes form. To create the music, Israelian first provided pre-existing recordings of infrasound acoustic waves produced by stars. Infrasound refers to waves with frequencies too low for human ears to pick up. Star frequencies decrease over vast intergalactic distances. Eno arranged these acoustic waves by speeding them up to a frequency we can hear. Of course, Eno supplied a bit of an "ambient" touch to the audio. The final product, titled Starsounds, is certainly mesmerizing. These convection-driven sounds of gas bubbles erupting and hot gases driving to stars' surfaces equate to an eerie harmony from far away. Stars actually create music of varying types. Bigger stars tend to make lower sounds. Smaller stars are "high-pitched," in comparison to their bigger brethren. Regardless, each star constantly produces thousands of colliding sounds as it churns. Check out the video down below. Who knows, maybe one of you musicians out there will pick up on hidden chords from beyond.
Below: a snippet of Starsounds.
Image credit & copyright: NASA/JPL-Caltech/S. Stolovy (Spitzer Science Center/Caltech)
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FREESports Daily Curio #2060Free1 CQ
On today's date in 2010, the longest tennis match in history came to a close. As epic as it was, it didn't take place in the finals. Or even mid-tournament. It was a showdown between the American John Isner and the Frenchman Nicolas Mahut… in the first round of Wimbledon's Men's Singles championship. As far as world rankings went, Isner was 19 and Mahut way down at 148. Nevertheless, both gave it their all. For those of us who don't keep up with tennis—myself included—important Grand Slam matches like those at Wimbledon are best of five sets. Everything was progressing smoothly when Isner and Mahut began their faceoff on June 22, 2010. The initial four sets were wrapped up the first day, with Isner and Mahut winning two each. Only, they played so long that it got dark. The match had to resume the following day. On the 23rd, Isner failed to seal four match points. A stalemate ensued, and after a grueling day of back and forths, it grew dark yet again and the match had to resume on a third day. The call was made in spite of the crowds chanting, "We want more, we want more!" The night before the 24th, Isner guzzled a recovery shake, immersed himself in an ice bath, and enjoyed McDonald's courtesy of American tennis player Andy Roddick. He said he could have eaten a dozen Big Macs. Mahut, meanwhile, also took a cold bath and had a massage. The third day began. Isner, the greater talent, struggled to seal the deal. His mental fortitude seemed to be cracking as his body was giving out. Mahut, the more relentless, was still diving for shots even as his legs were failing. Finally, Isner managed with a backhand to convert his only match point of the day, and the fifth and final of the showdown. The final score was 70–68, Isner. All in all, Isner and Mahut had vied against one another for 11 hours and five minutes of play, spread across three days. And even though they would never be legendary Federers or Djokovics, they cemented their place in the annals of tennis history. For us, it was a match made in heaven. For Isner and Mahut? Well, you get the picture...
Image credit & copyright: BT
On today's date in 2010, the longest tennis match in history came to a close. As epic as it was, it didn't take place in the finals. Or even mid-tournament. It was a showdown between the American John Isner and the Frenchman Nicolas Mahut… in the first round of Wimbledon's Men's Singles championship. As far as world rankings went, Isner was 19 and Mahut way down at 148. Nevertheless, both gave it their all. For those of us who don't keep up with tennis—myself included—important Grand Slam matches like those at Wimbledon are best of five sets. Everything was progressing smoothly when Isner and Mahut began their faceoff on June 22, 2010. The initial four sets were wrapped up the first day, with Isner and Mahut winning two each. Only, they played so long that it got dark. The match had to resume the following day. On the 23rd, Isner failed to seal four match points. A stalemate ensued, and after a grueling day of back and forths, it grew dark yet again and the match had to resume on a third day. The call was made in spite of the crowds chanting, "We want more, we want more!" The night before the 24th, Isner guzzled a recovery shake, immersed himself in an ice bath, and enjoyed McDonald's courtesy of American tennis player Andy Roddick. He said he could have eaten a dozen Big Macs. Mahut, meanwhile, also took a cold bath and had a massage. The third day began. Isner, the greater talent, struggled to seal the deal. His mental fortitude seemed to be cracking as his body was giving out. Mahut, the more relentless, was still diving for shots even as his legs were failing. Finally, Isner managed with a backhand to convert his only match point of the day, and the fifth and final of the showdown. The final score was 70–68, Isner. All in all, Isner and Mahut had vied against one another for 11 hours and five minutes of play, spread across three days. And even though they would never be legendary Federers or Djokovics, they cemented their place in the annals of tennis history. For us, it was a match made in heaven. For Isner and Mahut? Well, you get the picture...
Image credit & copyright: BT
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FREEHumanities Daily Curio #2059Free1 CQ
Prehistoric people were full of tricks, it seems. Yesterday, archaeologists announced the discovery of the Durrington Shafts—the largest-ever recorded prehistoric structure found in Britain. Located in Durrington, Wiltshire, the site consists of a 1.2-mile diameter circle arrayed with a series of at least 20 shafts. Each trenchlike shaft is over 16 feet deep and roughly 33 feet wide, pointing to a society with a strong grasp of math and measurement. This 4,500-year-old subterranean network also circumscribes the Durrington Walls, a henge enclosure similar to Stonehenge. Which really threw archaeologists for a loop. That's because Woodhenge, too, is within the radius of the shafts. Furthermore, Stonehenge—one of the most iconic and picked-over digs in the world—is located just 1.9 miles southwest of the newly-discovered Durrington Shafts. It's an understatement to say the shafts were under archaeologists' very noses this whole time. But thanks to state of the art geophysical surveys, like magnetometry, they were finally able to pin down a series of anomalies as the ring. That being said, the purposes of the shafts, Durrington Wall, or even Stonehenge, for that matter, largely remain a mystery to anthropologists. There are a few things we do know, though. Stonehenge was designed to map onto the solstices, and the Durrington Shafts and Wall seem to delineate a cosmological map of some kind. Burial mounds around Stonehenge point to that site honoring the dead. Accordingly, researchers believe the larger Durrington Shafts likely served as a barrier to the Durrington Wall, which likely served the living. The find has left more questions than it has answered. At any rate, Durrington Shafts goes to show that, sure, prehistoric humans had clumsy Stone-Age tech, but they were just as enterprising as you or I. Probably in much better shape, too!
Image credit & copyright: Heritage Images/Getty
Prehistoric people were full of tricks, it seems. Yesterday, archaeologists announced the discovery of the Durrington Shafts—the largest-ever recorded prehistoric structure found in Britain. Located in Durrington, Wiltshire, the site consists of a 1.2-mile diameter circle arrayed with a series of at least 20 shafts. Each trenchlike shaft is over 16 feet deep and roughly 33 feet wide, pointing to a society with a strong grasp of math and measurement. This 4,500-year-old subterranean network also circumscribes the Durrington Walls, a henge enclosure similar to Stonehenge. Which really threw archaeologists for a loop. That's because Woodhenge, too, is within the radius of the shafts. Furthermore, Stonehenge—one of the most iconic and picked-over digs in the world—is located just 1.9 miles southwest of the newly-discovered Durrington Shafts. It's an understatement to say the shafts were under archaeologists' very noses this whole time. But thanks to state of the art geophysical surveys, like magnetometry, they were finally able to pin down a series of anomalies as the ring. That being said, the purposes of the shafts, Durrington Wall, or even Stonehenge, for that matter, largely remain a mystery to anthropologists. There are a few things we do know, though. Stonehenge was designed to map onto the solstices, and the Durrington Shafts and Wall seem to delineate a cosmological map of some kind. Burial mounds around Stonehenge point to that site honoring the dead. Accordingly, researchers believe the larger Durrington Shafts likely served as a barrier to the Durrington Wall, which likely served the living. The find has left more questions than it has answered. At any rate, Durrington Shafts goes to show that, sure, prehistoric humans had clumsy Stone-Age tech, but they were just as enterprising as you or I. Probably in much better shape, too!
Image credit & copyright: Heritage Images/Getty
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FREEMind + Body Daily Curio #2058Free1 CQ
On today's date in 1847, the modern doughnut was allegedly invented by American sailor Hanson Gregory. It probably was. But don't go thinking that Hanson was a genius. First of all, doughnuts—or "donuts," as I usually spell them—have originated from myriad cultures in various forms. The modern American doughnut alone has roots in Dutch immigrants, Russian ex-pats, and Native Americans (who, prior to colonialism, had been eating their own iterations of the pastries since prehistoric times). There are other sources, but too many to count. This is only one reason I consider Hanson's invention unremarkable. The other is that his mother did all the work (and was pretty much uncredited). His mother, Elizabeth Gregory, would deep-fry dough with cinnamon, nutmeg, and lemon rinds. At the center of these ringed treats, where the dough cooked poorly, she always placed a nut, hence her nickname for them: "doughnuts." She baked these treats specifically for Hanson and his fellow crew, to stave off scurvy with the lemon rinds. Now we're arriving at Hanson's, um, contribution. According to Hanson, he realized that the raw centers of his mother's treats could just be excised. He used a round tin pepper box to bore a hole in one of the doughnuts, creating what he called "the first doughnut hole ever seen by mortal eyes!" I can't help but read that in a gravelly voice and imagine Captain Ahab chewing his pipe. From there, Hanson soaked up the limelight. Elizabeth, who did the lion's share of the work, was mostly overlooked. Some son Hanson was! It only seems natural to poke holes in his legacy… and maybe add a few sprinkles of judgment, for good measure.
Image credit & copyright: BrokenSphere
On today's date in 1847, the modern doughnut was allegedly invented by American sailor Hanson Gregory. It probably was. But don't go thinking that Hanson was a genius. First of all, doughnuts—or "donuts," as I usually spell them—have originated from myriad cultures in various forms. The modern American doughnut alone has roots in Dutch immigrants, Russian ex-pats, and Native Americans (who, prior to colonialism, had been eating their own iterations of the pastries since prehistoric times). There are other sources, but too many to count. This is only one reason I consider Hanson's invention unremarkable. The other is that his mother did all the work (and was pretty much uncredited). His mother, Elizabeth Gregory, would deep-fry dough with cinnamon, nutmeg, and lemon rinds. At the center of these ringed treats, where the dough cooked poorly, she always placed a nut, hence her nickname for them: "doughnuts." She baked these treats specifically for Hanson and his fellow crew, to stave off scurvy with the lemon rinds. Now we're arriving at Hanson's, um, contribution. According to Hanson, he realized that the raw centers of his mother's treats could just be excised. He used a round tin pepper box to bore a hole in one of the doughnuts, creating what he called "the first doughnut hole ever seen by mortal eyes!" I can't help but read that in a gravelly voice and imagine Captain Ahab chewing his pipe. From there, Hanson soaked up the limelight. Elizabeth, who did the lion's share of the work, was mostly overlooked. Some son Hanson was! It only seems natural to poke holes in his legacy… and maybe add a few sprinkles of judgment, for good measure.
Image credit & copyright: BrokenSphere
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FREEHumanities Daily CurioFree1 CQ
It's Flashback Friday! Enjoy this favorite from the Curio Cabinet archives.
"The people of Texas are informed that in accordance with a Proclamation from the Executive of the United States, all slaves are free. This involves an absolute equality of rights and rights of property between former masters and slaves, and the connection heretofore existing between them becomes that between employer and free laborer."
Talk about a news flash. On this day in 1865, Major General Gordon Granger read the above words from a balcony in Galveston, Texas. It was the first time most Texas citizens learned that slavery was outlawed in their state—even though Abraham Lincoln had issued the Emancipation Proclamation over two years earlier. Technically Lincoln's proclamation only applied to slaves in "rebellion states" and not "border states" where fighting didn't occur. (Slaves in Union states had been freed by Lincoln at the start of the war, including 3,185 in the nation's capital.) Slaves in other non-Union states understood emancipation would be enforced when and if the Union Army could establish control over their area. But slaves in Texas had no idea! One explanation is the messenger sent to tell Texans the news of freedom was murdered on the way. Another says that the news was deliberately withheld by Texas officials. Another says that federal troops actually withheld the information themselves, to allow slave owners a few more free cotton harvests.
Whatever the reason, it made Granger's eventual announcement all the more dramatic. Reactions ranged from stunned to jubilant. A raucous and spontaneous celebration broke out among Texas' estimated 250,000 slaves. Some were said to burn their rag clothing on the spot, and dress themselves in clothing made from the cotton they picked for their former masters. When the freed Texas slaves assembled on the first anniversary of Granger's announcement, the holiday of "Juneteenth" was born. In several Texas cities, the former slaves were not allowed to use public parks for their celebrations. So they pooled their resources to purchase land where they could celebrate Juneteenth. Some of these parks still exist today, including Emancipation Parks in Houston and Austin, and Booker T. Washington Park in Mexia, Texas. A significant milestone on the long road of civil rights… which the human race is still traversing.It's Flashback Friday! Enjoy this favorite from the Curio Cabinet archives.
"The people of Texas are informed that in accordance with a Proclamation from the Executive of the United States, all slaves are free. This involves an absolute equality of rights and rights of property between former masters and slaves, and the connection heretofore existing between them becomes that between employer and free laborer."
Talk about a news flash. On this day in 1865, Major General Gordon Granger read the above words from a balcony in Galveston, Texas. It was the first time most Texas citizens learned that slavery was outlawed in their state—even though Abraham Lincoln had issued the Emancipation Proclamation over two years earlier. Technically Lincoln's proclamation only applied to slaves in "rebellion states" and not "border states" where fighting didn't occur. (Slaves in Union states had been freed by Lincoln at the start of the war, including 3,185 in the nation's capital.) Slaves in other non-Union states understood emancipation would be enforced when and if the Union Army could establish control over their area. But slaves in Texas had no idea! One explanation is the messenger sent to tell Texans the news of freedom was murdered on the way. Another says that the news was deliberately withheld by Texas officials. Another says that federal troops actually withheld the information themselves, to allow slave owners a few more free cotton harvests.
Whatever the reason, it made Granger's eventual announcement all the more dramatic. Reactions ranged from stunned to jubilant. A raucous and spontaneous celebration broke out among Texas' estimated 250,000 slaves. Some were said to burn their rag clothing on the spot, and dress themselves in clothing made from the cotton they picked for their former masters. When the freed Texas slaves assembled on the first anniversary of Granger's announcement, the holiday of "Juneteenth" was born. In several Texas cities, the former slaves were not allowed to use public parks for their celebrations. So they pooled their resources to purchase land where they could celebrate Juneteenth. Some of these parks still exist today, including Emancipation Parks in Houston and Austin, and Booker T. Washington Park in Mexia, Texas. A significant milestone on the long road of civil rights… which the human race is still traversing. -
FREESTEM Daily Curio #2057Free1 CQ
Among all the troubling news of 2020, it's easy to forget that bees—nature's niftiest pollinators—are facing possible extinction. That fate would have a detrimental impact on societies and nature itself, but fortunately, a team of researchers in Japan seems to have come up with a solution: bubble pollination. A team led by Eijiro Miyako of the Japan Advanced Institute of Science and Technology recently pollinated an entire pear orchard using only bubbles. They accomplished this by immersing nutrients and pollen in a soap solution, which was then loaded into a bubble gun. As the gun broadly sprayed the orchard with sudsy spheres, two to 10 bubbles contacted each flower. The subsequent popping of the bubbles resulted in 95 percent of the flowers generating fruit. On a smaller scale, the scientists also leveled the gun at individual flowers—lilies, azaleas, and campanulas—and fired a single bubble at each of them. The pollination rate was 93, 83, and 73 percent for each respective species. Which is incredible news. Manual pollination by humans is tedious and tends to damage flowers. Bubbles, however, are harmless, more efficient, and garner the same results. Miyako sees a future in which drone-like machines rain these nutrient bubbles over orchards, farms, etc. The possibility of bees going extinct is still very disturbing to me. Nevertheless, I feel better knowing luminaries like Miyako are thinking ahead as our unsustainability bubble bursts. Also, I highly doubt anaphylactic persons will need to worry about bubble stings!
Image credit & copyright: Eijiro Miyako
Among all the troubling news of 2020, it's easy to forget that bees—nature's niftiest pollinators—are facing possible extinction. That fate would have a detrimental impact on societies and nature itself, but fortunately, a team of researchers in Japan seems to have come up with a solution: bubble pollination. A team led by Eijiro Miyako of the Japan Advanced Institute of Science and Technology recently pollinated an entire pear orchard using only bubbles. They accomplished this by immersing nutrients and pollen in a soap solution, which was then loaded into a bubble gun. As the gun broadly sprayed the orchard with sudsy spheres, two to 10 bubbles contacted each flower. The subsequent popping of the bubbles resulted in 95 percent of the flowers generating fruit. On a smaller scale, the scientists also leveled the gun at individual flowers—lilies, azaleas, and campanulas—and fired a single bubble at each of them. The pollination rate was 93, 83, and 73 percent for each respective species. Which is incredible news. Manual pollination by humans is tedious and tends to damage flowers. Bubbles, however, are harmless, more efficient, and garner the same results. Miyako sees a future in which drone-like machines rain these nutrient bubbles over orchards, farms, etc. The possibility of bees going extinct is still very disturbing to me. Nevertheless, I feel better knowing luminaries like Miyako are thinking ahead as our unsustainability bubble bursts. Also, I highly doubt anaphylactic persons will need to worry about bubble stings!
Image credit & copyright: Eijiro Miyako
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FREEAesthetic Daily Curio #2056Free1 CQ
I have remarkable news if you're terrible at drawing. I also have troubling news if you make a living as a police sketch artist. In a recent study conducted at the University of Hong Kong, scientists managed to create an A.I. algorithm that transforms vague doodles into crisp headshots. They did it by first amassing a catalog of 17,000 celebrity headshots. Then they edited those photos down—way down (as you can see above). Next, the researchers fed both the altered and unaltered celebrity photos to the algorithm. The algorithm was told which shoddy doodle corresponded to a respective photo. This way, the machine could learn how each doodle related to its original face. By studying the celebrity photos, the A.I. learned how to take poorly-rendered sketches of people and turn them into eerily accurate photographs without actually seeing their faces. There's a serious catch though: the A.I. is biased. In this case, it was only fed caucasian faces. Which is a form of bias that seems to plague all corners of the tech industry. Why Hongkonger researchers opted for only white faces is beyond me. Regardless, the team of scientists plans to incorporate people of color in the near future. They also hope to use this new A.I. to someday identify suspects in criminal investigations (possibly outmoding sketch artists) and help save time for animators and CGI artists. Personally, I'm a little wary of having an algorithm single out a person as a criminal by scanning a line drawing. At the very least, I'm skeptical about how its (literal) trial and error phase would go. At any rate, I'm sure this tech will eventually give parents a new way to entertain themselves. By that, I mean feeding their toddler's drawings to the algorithm, to see what comes out on the other side. If the algorithm can make sense of a child's wild imagination, then it truly is a feat of wonder!
Image credit & copyright: Chen et al.
I have remarkable news if you're terrible at drawing. I also have troubling news if you make a living as a police sketch artist. In a recent study conducted at the University of Hong Kong, scientists managed to create an A.I. algorithm that transforms vague doodles into crisp headshots. They did it by first amassing a catalog of 17,000 celebrity headshots. Then they edited those photos down—way down (as you can see above). Next, the researchers fed both the altered and unaltered celebrity photos to the algorithm. The algorithm was told which shoddy doodle corresponded to a respective photo. This way, the machine could learn how each doodle related to its original face. By studying the celebrity photos, the A.I. learned how to take poorly-rendered sketches of people and turn them into eerily accurate photographs without actually seeing their faces. There's a serious catch though: the A.I. is biased. In this case, it was only fed caucasian faces. Which is a form of bias that seems to plague all corners of the tech industry. Why Hongkonger researchers opted for only white faces is beyond me. Regardless, the team of scientists plans to incorporate people of color in the near future. They also hope to use this new A.I. to someday identify suspects in criminal investigations (possibly outmoding sketch artists) and help save time for animators and CGI artists. Personally, I'm a little wary of having an algorithm single out a person as a criminal by scanning a line drawing. At the very least, I'm skeptical about how its (literal) trial and error phase would go. At any rate, I'm sure this tech will eventually give parents a new way to entertain themselves. By that, I mean feeding their toddler's drawings to the algorithm, to see what comes out on the other side. If the algorithm can make sense of a child's wild imagination, then it truly is a feat of wonder!
Image credit & copyright: Chen et al.
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FREERelationships Daily Curio #2055Free1 CQ
Do you have trouble falling asleep? Do you get rocky "half-sleep"? Well hibernation might be just the cure for you. In two recent unrelated experiments, researchers isolated the neurons in the brain that "switch" on hibernation in mammals. One study, led by neurobiologist Sinisa Hrvatin of Harvard, intentionally reached its findings. Hrvatin and her team first hypothesized that they could trick mice into going into hibernation, mostly by limiting their diets and exposing them to cold temperatures. They were correct. Hrvatin and her team noticed that the combination of variables led some mice to enter a state of torpor in 10 hours, and others in up to 48 hours. As the mice lulled to sleep, the scientists observed and tagged neurons in their rodent hypothalami. The hypothalamus is an area of the brain largely concerned with primordial sensations like feeding, temperature, and eating. Once the scientists tagged and cataloged the neurons involved in the torpor, the scientists could stimulate those neurons on command. In other words, they could instantly thrust mice into a pleasant siesta. The second study, based in Japan, largely came to the same conclusion but unintentionally. Both teams posit that artificial hibernation could carry over to humans, allowing for the long-sought-after suspended sleep during space flights, metabolic control of body temperature during surgery, and a much safer form of sedation for unruly patients. And of course it may bring z's to all us purple-eyed, groggy insomniacs. Just remember to set a couple of alarms and set them beside your head before you drift off. Otherwise, you might oversleep until the spring of 2021!
Image credit & copyright: Bob Elsdale/Getty Images
Do you have trouble falling asleep? Do you get rocky "half-sleep"? Well hibernation might be just the cure for you. In two recent unrelated experiments, researchers isolated the neurons in the brain that "switch" on hibernation in mammals. One study, led by neurobiologist Sinisa Hrvatin of Harvard, intentionally reached its findings. Hrvatin and her team first hypothesized that they could trick mice into going into hibernation, mostly by limiting their diets and exposing them to cold temperatures. They were correct. Hrvatin and her team noticed that the combination of variables led some mice to enter a state of torpor in 10 hours, and others in up to 48 hours. As the mice lulled to sleep, the scientists observed and tagged neurons in their rodent hypothalami. The hypothalamus is an area of the brain largely concerned with primordial sensations like feeding, temperature, and eating. Once the scientists tagged and cataloged the neurons involved in the torpor, the scientists could stimulate those neurons on command. In other words, they could instantly thrust mice into a pleasant siesta. The second study, based in Japan, largely came to the same conclusion but unintentionally. Both teams posit that artificial hibernation could carry over to humans, allowing for the long-sought-after suspended sleep during space flights, metabolic control of body temperature during surgery, and a much safer form of sedation for unruly patients. And of course it may bring z's to all us purple-eyed, groggy insomniacs. Just remember to set a couple of alarms and set them beside your head before you drift off. Otherwise, you might oversleep until the spring of 2021!
Image credit & copyright: Bob Elsdale/Getty Images
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FREEFirst Aid Daily Curio #2054Free1 CQ
French physician Jean-Baptiste Denys is a testament that the third time isn't always a charm. On today's date in 1667, Denys successfully performed the first-ever recorded blood transfusion to a human. But let's not go congratulating him: his success was a fluke. In fact, Denys only transfused his patient, a 15-year-old boy, after bloodletting him to near-fatal levels. And to top it off, Denys gave the boy an infusion of lamb blood. His rationale was that fawns are "pure," and so their blood must also be pure and a panacea. He was wrong of course. Thanks to the discoveries of Austrian physician Karl Landsteiner in 1901, we now know that a healthy blood transfusion must use corresponding blood types. If the blood types are different, the body's antigens—the security scanners of the immune system—reject the transfusion. Needless to say, a lamb and a boy weren't going to have matching blood types. Fortunately for Denys, he only injected a negligible amount of lamb blood. The boy somehow survived the chimeric transfusion, as did the butcher Denys next experimented on. Denys was turning heads in medical circles. He grew confident. Just how far could he stretch the "benefits" of his new therapy? Denys' third patient was a Parisian man with mental illness. Ever imaginative, Denys thought he could cure the man's insanity with the pure and docile blood of a calf. Denys repeatedly injected the man with up to six ounces of calf blood. His patient grew feverish the first and second times. On the third round of Denys' third treatment, his patient died. Shortly after, Denys found himself in French court, which nationally banned transfusions (fearing man-animal hybrids). Curiously, the death was actually attributed to mysterious arsenic poisoning and Denys was released. Nevertheless, Denys had so thoroughly shocked the scientific community that blood transfusions weren't studied again until the 1800s. Denys would tell you it's better to quit while you're still ahead!
French physician Jean-Baptiste Denys is a testament that the third time isn't always a charm. On today's date in 1667, Denys successfully performed the first-ever recorded blood transfusion to a human. But let's not go congratulating him: his success was a fluke. In fact, Denys only transfused his patient, a 15-year-old boy, after bloodletting him to near-fatal levels. And to top it off, Denys gave the boy an infusion of lamb blood. His rationale was that fawns are "pure," and so their blood must also be pure and a panacea. He was wrong of course. Thanks to the discoveries of Austrian physician Karl Landsteiner in 1901, we now know that a healthy blood transfusion must use corresponding blood types. If the blood types are different, the body's antigens—the security scanners of the immune system—reject the transfusion. Needless to say, a lamb and a boy weren't going to have matching blood types. Fortunately for Denys, he only injected a negligible amount of lamb blood. The boy somehow survived the chimeric transfusion, as did the butcher Denys next experimented on. Denys was turning heads in medical circles. He grew confident. Just how far could he stretch the "benefits" of his new therapy? Denys' third patient was a Parisian man with mental illness. Ever imaginative, Denys thought he could cure the man's insanity with the pure and docile blood of a calf. Denys repeatedly injected the man with up to six ounces of calf blood. His patient grew feverish the first and second times. On the third round of Denys' third treatment, his patient died. Shortly after, Denys found himself in French court, which nationally banned transfusions (fearing man-animal hybrids). Curiously, the death was actually attributed to mysterious arsenic poisoning and Denys was released. Nevertheless, Denys had so thoroughly shocked the scientific community that blood transfusions weren't studied again until the 1800s. Denys would tell you it's better to quit while you're still ahead!
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FREEHumanities Daily CurioFree1 CQ
It's Flashback Friday! Enjoy this favorite from the Curio Cabinet archives.
Last week, Taiwan became the first Asian country to legalize same-sex marriage. It's a major milestone for LGBT rights in a country that has seesawed on the issue. Two years ago, the island's highest court ruled the law defining marriage as only between a man and a woman to be unconstitutional. It gave lawmakers two years to issue a new law legalizing same-sex marriage. A public outcry followed, pressuring the administration to hold a national referendum on the subject. 67 percent of voters rejected making same-sex marriage legal. But then, with the supreme court deadline looming, the legislature proposed three different bills technically legalizing gay marriage. Two of the bills didn't use the word "marriage" but instead legalized "same-sex unions" and "same-sex family relationships." The third, more progressive bill legalized "same-sex marriage" and was the one passed into law—overwhelmingly, with 66 to 27 votes. It still doesn't give LGBT people full adoption or cross-national marriage rights, but it's a pretty good start. Believe me, there's still plenty of work left to do in Asia on the gay-rights front. For example, last month the ruler of the oil-rich kingdom of Brunei announced he would introduce death by stoning for those convicted of gay sex. Two steps forward, one step way back.
Image credit & copyright: EPA
It's Flashback Friday! Enjoy this favorite from the Curio Cabinet archives.
Last week, Taiwan became the first Asian country to legalize same-sex marriage. It's a major milestone for LGBT rights in a country that has seesawed on the issue. Two years ago, the island's highest court ruled the law defining marriage as only between a man and a woman to be unconstitutional. It gave lawmakers two years to issue a new law legalizing same-sex marriage. A public outcry followed, pressuring the administration to hold a national referendum on the subject. 67 percent of voters rejected making same-sex marriage legal. But then, with the supreme court deadline looming, the legislature proposed three different bills technically legalizing gay marriage. Two of the bills didn't use the word "marriage" but instead legalized "same-sex unions" and "same-sex family relationships." The third, more progressive bill legalized "same-sex marriage" and was the one passed into law—overwhelmingly, with 66 to 27 votes. It still doesn't give LGBT people full adoption or cross-national marriage rights, but it's a pretty good start. Believe me, there's still plenty of work left to do in Asia on the gay-rights front. For example, last month the ruler of the oil-rich kingdom of Brunei announced he would introduce death by stoning for those convicted of gay sex. Two steps forward, one step way back.
Image credit & copyright: EPA
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FREEWorld History Daily Curio #2053Free1 CQ
According to ancient Greek polymath Eratosthenes, the legendary city of Troy was razed on this day in 1184 B.C.E. For over a millennium that estimated date was taken seriously. Yet by the 19th century, scholars shrugged of the Trojan War as a mere tale. That's because the best historical source of the alleged war, Homer's epics, the Iliad and the Odyssey, are rife with fantastical details. For instance, according to Homer, the entire conflict allegedly started after Prince Paris of Troy gifted the Greek Goddess Aphrodite a golden apple. There's also the implausibility of a 10-year siege happening in the Bronze Age (how did the Trojans stave off starvation?). Nevertheless, in 1870, German treasure hunter Heinrich Schliemann turned all that thinking on its head. Schliemann's obsession with Homer's writings drew him to Hisarlik, Turkey, where he dug up the ruins of a walled city that matched descriptions of Troy. Over the decades, dating has shown that Hisarlik was inhabited since at least 3,000 B.C.E., and that there were some 10 cities constructed atop each other at the site. One city closely matches the timeline and supposed citadel of Homeric Troy. Which shouldn't be that surprising. Eratosthenes became the first person to calculate the circumference of Earth way back in the third century B.C.E. If he could do that, he could probably wield a calendar. Homer, who lived around 400 years after the Trojan War, also would have been able to visit and explore Troy's ruins. In fact, many famous people did. King Xerxes of Persia—the foe of the 300 Spartans—stopped at Troy to sightsee and pay his respects. As did Alexander the Great during his conquests. Troy may have failed as a city-state, but as an ancient tourist hub, it continued to flourish!
According to ancient Greek polymath Eratosthenes, the legendary city of Troy was razed on this day in 1184 B.C.E. For over a millennium that estimated date was taken seriously. Yet by the 19th century, scholars shrugged of the Trojan War as a mere tale. That's because the best historical source of the alleged war, Homer's epics, the Iliad and the Odyssey, are rife with fantastical details. For instance, according to Homer, the entire conflict allegedly started after Prince Paris of Troy gifted the Greek Goddess Aphrodite a golden apple. There's also the implausibility of a 10-year siege happening in the Bronze Age (how did the Trojans stave off starvation?). Nevertheless, in 1870, German treasure hunter Heinrich Schliemann turned all that thinking on its head. Schliemann's obsession with Homer's writings drew him to Hisarlik, Turkey, where he dug up the ruins of a walled city that matched descriptions of Troy. Over the decades, dating has shown that Hisarlik was inhabited since at least 3,000 B.C.E., and that there were some 10 cities constructed atop each other at the site. One city closely matches the timeline and supposed citadel of Homeric Troy. Which shouldn't be that surprising. Eratosthenes became the first person to calculate the circumference of Earth way back in the third century B.C.E. If he could do that, he could probably wield a calendar. Homer, who lived around 400 years after the Trojan War, also would have been able to visit and explore Troy's ruins. In fact, many famous people did. King Xerxes of Persia—the foe of the 300 Spartans—stopped at Troy to sightsee and pay his respects. As did Alexander the Great during his conquests. Troy may have failed as a city-state, but as an ancient tourist hub, it continued to flourish!
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FREESTEM Daily Curio #2052Free1 CQ
What goes up doesn't always need to go down, but when Kathy Sullivan does, it turns heads. For those who don't know her, Sullivan was an astronaut-geologist who became the first woman to walk in space on October 11, 1984. She left NASA back in 1993, after flying 532 hours in space aboard three shuttle missions. But that's not to say she retired from civic duty or exploration. She served as both Under Secretary of Commerce for Oceans and Atmosphere and Administrator of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA). She also served a term in the U.S. Senate that ended in 2017. Only now she's set her sights low. Very low. On Monday, Sullivan also became the first-ever woman to reach Challenger Deep, in the Mariana Trench off Guam. Challenger Deep refers to the deepest known location on the planet—a segment of the Mariana Trench that extends to depths of over 35,000 feet. The descent was first accomplished by oceanographers Don Walsh and Jacques Piccard in 1960. The next manned dive came 50 years later. It was the first solo dive of the region, done by filmmaker James Cameron of all people. It's a serious feat. Pressure reaches 16,000 pounds per square inch down in the deep. That's a far cry from the weightlessness Sullivan experienced in orbit. Only Sullivan could comment on how the stark difference feels firsthand: she's the only person to have reached Challenger Deep and also gone into space. At any rate, I have to imagine the 16,000 pounds of pressure gave her less of a headache than sitting through a Congressional hearing!
Image credit & copyright: Enrique Alvarez
What goes up doesn't always need to go down, but when Kathy Sullivan does, it turns heads. For those who don't know her, Sullivan was an astronaut-geologist who became the first woman to walk in space on October 11, 1984. She left NASA back in 1993, after flying 532 hours in space aboard three shuttle missions. But that's not to say she retired from civic duty or exploration. She served as both Under Secretary of Commerce for Oceans and Atmosphere and Administrator of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA). She also served a term in the U.S. Senate that ended in 2017. Only now she's set her sights low. Very low. On Monday, Sullivan also became the first-ever woman to reach Challenger Deep, in the Mariana Trench off Guam. Challenger Deep refers to the deepest known location on the planet—a segment of the Mariana Trench that extends to depths of over 35,000 feet. The descent was first accomplished by oceanographers Don Walsh and Jacques Piccard in 1960. The next manned dive came 50 years later. It was the first solo dive of the region, done by filmmaker James Cameron of all people. It's a serious feat. Pressure reaches 16,000 pounds per square inch down in the deep. That's a far cry from the weightlessness Sullivan experienced in orbit. Only Sullivan could comment on how the stark difference feels firsthand: she's the only person to have reached Challenger Deep and also gone into space. At any rate, I have to imagine the 16,000 pounds of pressure gave her less of a headache than sitting through a Congressional hearing!
Image credit & copyright: Enrique Alvarez
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FREEMusic Appreciation Daily Curio #2051Free1 CQ
On today's date in 1915, Lester Polfuss, aka "Les Paul," was born. It's impossible to overstate his legacy in modern music. It didn't seem that way at first, though. An early music teacher of his once remarked to his mother, "Your boy, Lester, will never learn music." But his love of sound carried him on, and he learned how to play the guitar, banjo, and harmonica (with help from a rambling ditch-digger). He was also a lover of tinkering. Around the same time, he built himself a crystal radio, a harmonica holder, and an amplified guitar. He was a semi-professional country guitarist by the age of 13. In his mid-'20s, he invented the first-ever solid-body, or soundbox-devoid, amplified guitar. You know, the ubiquitous standard we see nowadays. Funny thing was, Gibson president Ted McCarty brushed it off as a "broomstick with pickups." Meanwhile, Paul sold millions of albums performing with his wife, Mary Ford.
As he performed alongside the likes of Art Tatum, the Andrews Sisters, Gene Autry, and Nat King Cole, Paul became increasingly absorbed in his gizmos. He quickly converted the first-ever tape recorder, designed by Ampex, into the first overdubbing tape machine. Otherwise known as "sound on sound," overdubbing refers to recording new music synchronously with pre-recorded samples. It's a focal aspect of most modern music. As are phasing effects, multitrack recording, tape delays, and other production methods Paul pioneered shortly after. In 1950, Gibson finally came around to Pauls' solid-body guitar idea. The newfangled instrument took a viral hold on the Baby Boomer generation. So did the eight-track tape recorder, which Paul also thought up with help from Ampex. Paul's many accomplishments and more—including his own masterful guitar playing—have caused music historians to cite him as an "architect." The genres of rock 'n' roll, country, pop—and even hip-hop, to an extent—owe the late Paul thanks. He wouldn't have asked for it, though. Ever in love with music, Paul was just an inventor who had the world on a (six)string.
Image credit & copyright: Les Paul Foundation
On today's date in 1915, Lester Polfuss, aka "Les Paul," was born. It's impossible to overstate his legacy in modern music. It didn't seem that way at first, though. An early music teacher of his once remarked to his mother, "Your boy, Lester, will never learn music." But his love of sound carried him on, and he learned how to play the guitar, banjo, and harmonica (with help from a rambling ditch-digger). He was also a lover of tinkering. Around the same time, he built himself a crystal radio, a harmonica holder, and an amplified guitar. He was a semi-professional country guitarist by the age of 13. In his mid-'20s, he invented the first-ever solid-body, or soundbox-devoid, amplified guitar. You know, the ubiquitous standard we see nowadays. Funny thing was, Gibson president Ted McCarty brushed it off as a "broomstick with pickups." Meanwhile, Paul sold millions of albums performing with his wife, Mary Ford.
As he performed alongside the likes of Art Tatum, the Andrews Sisters, Gene Autry, and Nat King Cole, Paul became increasingly absorbed in his gizmos. He quickly converted the first-ever tape recorder, designed by Ampex, into the first overdubbing tape machine. Otherwise known as "sound on sound," overdubbing refers to recording new music synchronously with pre-recorded samples. It's a focal aspect of most modern music. As are phasing effects, multitrack recording, tape delays, and other production methods Paul pioneered shortly after. In 1950, Gibson finally came around to Pauls' solid-body guitar idea. The newfangled instrument took a viral hold on the Baby Boomer generation. So did the eight-track tape recorder, which Paul also thought up with help from Ampex. Paul's many accomplishments and more—including his own masterful guitar playing—have caused music historians to cite him as an "architect." The genres of rock 'n' roll, country, pop—and even hip-hop, to an extent—owe the late Paul thanks. He wouldn't have asked for it, though. Ever in love with music, Paul was just an inventor who had the world on a (six)string.
Image credit & copyright: Les Paul Foundation
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FREEWorld History Daily Curio #2050Free1 CQ
Working on your best beach body for the upcoming summer? Try working out like a medieval knight. Seriously. Contrary to popular belief, knights were in peak physical condition and were agile in their clattering suits. Think about it: a full knight suit, called a panoply, could weigh up to 110 pounds. Fortunately, these suits furnished a full range of motion (you could even do cartwheels in many of them). This meant you could also do calisthenics in full armor. And that's exactly what knights did to ready themselves for the grueling slog of melee combat. In full panoply, knights would perform intrepid wall climbs of castles. They would execute one- and two-man horse vaults. They somersaulted, swung hammers, and hurled massive stones under the weight of their armor. But there was more. To really get their testosterone going, they threw punches at the ground, walls, and just about everything else to channel their inner Rocky. They performed ladder climbs using only their arms. My favorite exercise has to be gold old dancing. While a lute was picked and strummed, armor-clad knights would click and clack as they dance-marathoned until they dropped. Finally, there was the classic jog in armor with your weapon. A vital aspect of this one was giving each of your passersby a friendly wave, so they didn't think you were about to assail them. I can't imagine these workouts were easy on the spine and shoulders, but um, the average medieval lifespan was just over 30 years. There's also the matter of hydrating and frequently taking the suit on and off to urinate. It was the price to pay to make it seem like you weren't wearing any weighty armor. Well, except for the awful clanging noises. Those would never go away.
Working on your best beach body for the upcoming summer? Try working out like a medieval knight. Seriously. Contrary to popular belief, knights were in peak physical condition and were agile in their clattering suits. Think about it: a full knight suit, called a panoply, could weigh up to 110 pounds. Fortunately, these suits furnished a full range of motion (you could even do cartwheels in many of them). This meant you could also do calisthenics in full armor. And that's exactly what knights did to ready themselves for the grueling slog of melee combat. In full panoply, knights would perform intrepid wall climbs of castles. They would execute one- and two-man horse vaults. They somersaulted, swung hammers, and hurled massive stones under the weight of their armor. But there was more. To really get their testosterone going, they threw punches at the ground, walls, and just about everything else to channel their inner Rocky. They performed ladder climbs using only their arms. My favorite exercise has to be gold old dancing. While a lute was picked and strummed, armor-clad knights would click and clack as they dance-marathoned until they dropped. Finally, there was the classic jog in armor with your weapon. A vital aspect of this one was giving each of your passersby a friendly wave, so they didn't think you were about to assail them. I can't imagine these workouts were easy on the spine and shoulders, but um, the average medieval lifespan was just over 30 years. There's also the matter of hydrating and frequently taking the suit on and off to urinate. It was the price to pay to make it seem like you weren't wearing any weighty armor. Well, except for the awful clanging noises. Those would never go away.