Make more online, for less. Buy a domain and everything else you need.
Yale Engineering, on the publication of a “landmark study in hair animation”:
We have grown accustomed to seeing many aspects of our everyday world depicted using computer graphics, but some phenomena remain difficult for even the most experienced animators. Hair, specifically the highly coiled hair that is most common to Black characters, remains a notoriously difficult digital challenge.
Part of this problem is the lack of algorithms. Scores of technical papers have been written over the last few decades proposing algorithms for hair, but they have focused on the features most closely associated with white characters: straight or wavy hair. The number of papers written for highly coiled hair (a.k.a. Black hair) is virtually zero.
Theodore Kim, the Yale Professor who led this study, announcing the paper on Mastodon:
There has NEVER been [a] paper at #SIGGRAPH on Black, Afro-textured hair in its entire 50 year history. UNTIL NOW.
I’m shocked but not surprised to learn this is the first such paper presented at the premiere computer graphics conference.
The challenge with modeling “highly coiled hair” is that it doesn’t behave like straight hair, just with more coiling. Kim and his team identified
[…] three geometric phenomena unique to highly coiled hair: phase locking, switchbacks, and period skipping.
These phenomena do NOT appear in straight hair, and thus have been ignored at #SIGGRAPH, and CGI in general, for half a century.
These will be familiar to anyone with “Black hair” (or who has Black friends): strands that coil together; kinked strands that stick out; and flyaways and “bushiness”.
I read the abstract (which is very approachable—the videos and images help) and the paper, though I won’t pretend to fully understand the math and science presented. I grokked enough to be fascinated that my hairstyle, with all its kinks, twists, and coils could be accurately represented by a series of (complex) mathematical formulae.
Lends credence to the idea we’re living in a computer simulation and we’re figuring out how it works.
Dan Goodin, writing for Ars Technica last week:
Archive.org, one of the only entities to attempt to preserve the entire history of the World Wide Web and much of the broader Internet, was recently compromised in a hack that revealed data on roughly 31 million users.
Wes Davis, writing for The Verge:
Jason Scott, an archivist and software curator at the Internet Archive, said the site was experiencing a DDoS attack, posting on Mastodon that “according to their twitter, they’re doing it just to do it. Just because they can. No statement, no idea, no demands.”
The site is still down as of this writing. (Update/clarification below.)
Brewster Kahle, founder and “Digital Librarian” of Internet Archive, has been providing updates via his X/Twitter account, noting that the “data has not been corrupted” and “is safe,” which surely comes as a huge relief to both Kahle and the millions of fans and users of the Internet Archive.
The Wayback Machine part of the site—the part most of us use—has now “resumed in a provisional, read-only manner,” though it may get “suspended again” for ”further maintenance,” said Kahle in a Sunday night post.
The data breach—which consisted of at least a user accounts database—apparently happened at the end of September; it doesn’t appear to be directly related to the denial of service attack.
Lawrence Abrams from Bleeping Computer says of the leak:
The database contains authentication information for registered members, including their email addresses, screen names, password change timestamps, Bcrypt-hashed passwords, and other internal data.
This leak will impact Internet Archive users, but hopefully will have minimal impact on the service itself. Assuming that’s all that was leaked.
The hacker who apparently infiltrated the system left a taunt:
Have you ever felt like the Internet Archive runs on sticks and is constantly on the verge of suffering a catastrophic security breach? It just happened. See 31 million of you on HIBP!
(HIBP is Have I Been Pwned, a website that collects and notifies users of data breaches like this.)
Last week in “Saving the Internet Archive” I wrote:
We also need to address the “single point of failure” nature of the Internet Archive. These recent lawsuits—or future ones—could very well kill the nonprofit, and with it, petabytes of valuable archives.
The lawsuits were the stated context, but implicit in it was that this valuable trove of data exists in just one place—hopefully not literally, but certainly figuratively. Any type of disaster—financial, natural, or, like here, man-made—could wipe it out, a calamitous outcome.
Perhaps this crisis brings attention to the important work the Internet Archive is doing, and the limited resources it has to do it. As important an institution as many of us think it, it is, as I noted in my piece, supported by donations amounting to a mere $30 million a year, with expenses of $26 million. As I wrote:
I’d be surprised if that’s sufficient to continue archiving the ever-growing digital world—and to defend itself from lawsuits.
Now I must add, ‘… and against hackers’.
Speaking of DWB, here’s “The World's First 2024 DWB,” a car that’s “fully equipped to survive being racially profiled.”
I won’t spoil it, but it’s worth exploring the site. It’s a campaign from Courageous Conversations Global Foundation:
The mission of the Courageous Conversation® Global Foundation is to elevate racial consciousness through interracial healing. We believe that the key to driving systemic change in communities all over the world is uniting people of all races and helping them engage in authentic, sustained and compelling interracial dialogue. The conversations we foster create safe spaces for learning, solidarity and transformation to occur. If we are to eradicate racism, this is the hard work that must be done.
Other campaigns include America Erased (about eliminating Black history), What If They Were Black? (a reimagining of the January 6th insurrectionists), and Not a Gun (on systemic police bias).
When I linked to a study showing police stop Black drivers more often than speed cameras, I wrote:
There’s no denying DWB is real; I’ve experienced it myself multiple times.
Here’s one example. I originally wrote this in June 2008 for my now-defunct personal blog. I’ve updated temporal references appropriately, and lightly edited for clarity.
In late 2005, my buddy Ron and I and several other coworkers volunteered for Habitat for Humanity. Ron had asked our company to sponsor an event for the Black employees association, which included buying several boxes of pizza for the volunteers. By the end of the day, there were a lot of half-empty boxes no one wanted, so Ron decided to take them home.
We plopped into my Nissan Altima for the drive back to his place in Mountain View; me, with my baseball cap turned backwards; Ron, many boxes of pizza on his lap; both of us shabby from building houses. As we’re approaching our exit on the freeway, we notice a cop car trailing us. My immediate comment to Ron was “I bet you he exits with us” and, sure enough, he does.
But then, he passes us on the left and pulls a couple of cars ahead of us. As we wait for a light to change, I think, hey, it was just a coincidence, no ulterior motives.
We turn onto Ron’s block and park. Ron gets out, and I notice there are flashing lights behind us. Ron looks back, his hands filled with pizza boxes, and asks, somewhat incredulously, “Did he just pull us over?”
Yep. He sure did. He’d apparently waited until we turned, then flipped on his lights and followed us.
The cop gets out of his car, strolls over to us and asks for my license and registration, which I dutifully hand over. A well-trained question crosses my lips.
“What seems to be the problem, officer?”
His answer will go down in the annals of justification history: “I noticed your front license plate was missing.”
I glance over at Ron, then back to the cop.
“I know,” I say evenly. “Is that a problem?”
“There are people who steal the front license plates from cars, and put them onto similar vehicles. If you do a plate check, it seems to match.”
“So,” I ask coolly, “you wanted to warn me that my front plate was missing, in case it had been stolen and used on another, stolen, car?”
“That’s correct.”
I took a breath.
“Well, I only have the one,” I fibbed with a small smile, knowing full well the second one was on the back—and had been for some three years.
“Sometimes they come stuck together from the DMV, and you end up with both on the back.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that,” I responded with faux concern. “I’ll have to check that when I get home!”
At some point during this conversation, I’d gotten out the car so the cop could show me the missing plate I already knew was missing, and was standing with Ron, both of us rolling our eyes at each other in disbelief.
I eventually thanked the officer for his concern and assured him that my front license plate hadn’t been stolen (since one had never been placed there), and that I’d be sure to check my rear plate for a second one stuck to the first.
I also felt compelled to slip in during the conversation, in my best “I’m an educated black man: Your worst nightmare” voice, that we both worked for Apple, had just come from volunteering at Habitat for Humanity after having bought a dozen pizzas for the crew, and were taking the rest home. Just to let him know that he wasn’t dealing with a couple of punk-ass kids.
I asked if there’s anything else we can do for him, and bade him farewell, and we watched, shaking our heads, as he returned to his vehicle and pulled away.
Here we were, two intelligent, well-paid, well-spoken Black men in somewhat shabby clothing, pulled over by a cop who’d followed us on the freeway, run our plates and found nothing, but—still suspicious of two disheveled Black men driving a well-maintained car and carrying several boxes of pizza—“found” a reason to “inform” us that our front plate was missing.
Purely as a courtesy, of course.
If only we didn’t have those pizzas.
Maker’s Mark was the first bourbon I fell in love with, and Woodford Reserve may have been the second. Both remain favorites for an “every day” bottle, but I’ve long left them to explore the broader bourbon world.
My whiskey partner Tammy Tan also claims Maker’s Mark as her first bourbon love, so we—along with other members of the West Coast Whiskey Club—were excited to revisit these two beloved brands in some of their more distinctive forms.
Both Maker’s Mark and Woodford Reserve have distinctive flavor personalities. Maker’s, being a wheated bourbon (replacing the usual rye in the mash bill), tends to have a sweeter profile, with strong notes of vanilla, buttercream, and ripe fruit coming through. Woodford often has a drier, somewhat spicier profile, with notes of stewed fruit and burnt caramel.
Those broad distinctions showed up in this tasting, resulting in a nearly clean split of the brands in our final ranking.
As before, we tasted blind and discussed the pours together, then ranked them individually. We compared our rankings, and debated adjustments.
With our sometimes similar palates, Tammy and I again aligned on our top picks:
We weren’t surprised here: We both love Maker’s Mark in general. We found the Cellar Aged to be the most reminiscent of “classic” Maker’s Mark, but with way more depth and complexity. It was simply the most “interesting” yet “classic” bourbon in the collection.
I liked that it was sweet, smoky, and with a prominent but not overpowering alcohol nose. It was a bourbon I wanted to chew on while pondering a cigar.
The Cask Strength was a close second. Immediate baking spices on the nose, with lots of vanilla and fruit, and a bit of tar on the back. The alcoholic burn was more prominent than I’d like, and the finish a bit shorter that ideal, but that just made me want to go in for another sip. It turned out to be rather well balanced.
The Private Selection snuck up on us. On first taste, we found it had a limited nose and palate, and we were close to dismissing it. But after letting it sit for a while, it really opened up, and the vanilla, chewy caramel, and fruit (figs? dates?) really came out in a lovely way that rewarded our patience.
That left our final four:
Tammy | Jason | |
---|---|---|
4. | Woodford 2020 Master’s Collection | Maker’s Mark 2024 Heart Release |
5. | Woodford 2024 Master’s Collection | Woodford 2024 Master’s Collection |
6. | Maker’s Mark 2024 Heart Release | Woodford 2020 Master’s Collection |
7. | Woodford Distiller’s Select | Woodford Distiller’s Select |
Placing the Woodford Reserve Distiller’s Select in seventh place was an early, easy call. We both agreed it was a perfectly acceptable bourbon, but which didn’t have nearly enough distinguishing characteristics to make it stand out in this pack.
We struggled with the ordering for 4, 5, and 6. For a while, I had the Woodford Reserve 2020 Master’s Collection in fourth place (in part due to Tammy’s influence!), pushing the rest of my list down, but I kept coming back to the Maker’s Mark 2024 Heart Release because of its classic caramel and brown sugar goodness, plus a little bit of extra heat and woodiness I found interesting, and which Tammy found slightly off-putting. I had to move the Heart Release up.
Likewise, the Woodford Reserve 2024 Master’s Collection had a lovely nose once it opened up, and some soft caramel and perhaps peppermint on the palate, but it had a sharpness to it that I didn’t fully enjoy. I sense this would do well in a Mint Julep.
The Woodford Reserve 2020 Master’s Collection had me intensely debating its position. In the end, I found its heavy alcoholic burn hid too much of the nose and palate. Once that dissipated, I did enjoy its sugar cookie and cream wafer flavors, but I just couldn’t get past that burn, causing me to drop it a couple of positions.
The West Coast Whiskey Club collectively ranked things in a different order: They placed our favorite, the Maker’s Mark 2023 Cellar Aged, at the four spot, and the Maker’s Mark 2024 Heart Release at number one (with a small handful of members ranking it last or near last).
The Cellar Aged especially seemed quite polarizing: It garnered more 1s and 2s than the “winning” Heart Release, but also a lot more 6s and 7s. Sixteen of the 24 tasters gave the Cellar Aged a top-two or bottom-two rank, vs. just 12 for the Heart Release.
(The only more-polarizing entry was the Maker’s Mark Cask Strength, with 17 of 24 ranking it top-two or bottom-two. It ended up in fifth place in the WCWC rankings, and second for us.)
On the flip side, there was broad agreement on the placement of the Woodford Reserve Distiller’s Select; half the tasters rated in the bottom two spots, and it pulled seven last-place votes, more than double anything else. Only two people ranked it as their top two. It was clearly outshone in this competition.
These were all good bourbons, though. I expect most of them would be even more enjoyable outside of a taste test, whether on their own, or in a cocktail. The ranking is definitely not a reflection on their quality. It can be difficult to judge quality from a half-ounce pour, and more difficult still with five or six other whiskeys clamoring for the attention of our nose and taste buds. I’m sure if we did this tasting again tomorrow, we’d end up with a different ranking.
I know, for example, that despite landing in the seventh spot, that I would gladly partake of a Woodford Reserve Distillers Select most any day. I’ve done it many times before; it makes for a wonderful Manhattan, for example.
Taste, as always, is subjective. Personally, I think I’ll seek out a Cellar Aged for my collection.
Wenfei Xu, David Levinson, Michael J Smart, and Nebiyou Yonas Tilahun summarizing their paper, “The racial composition of road users, traffic citations, and police stops” in The Conversation (a new-to-me “fact-based” nonprofit news organization):
Our research, published in June 2024, used data on the racial composition of drivers on every street in Chicago. We then compared who is driving on roads with who is being ticketed by the city’s speed cameras and who is being stopped by the Chicago police.
Our findings show that when speed cameras are doing the ticketing, the proportion of tickets issued to Black and white drivers aligns closely with their respective share of roadway users. With human enforcement, in contrast, police officers stop Black drivers at a rate that far outstrips their presence on the road.
For instance, on roads where half of drivers are Black, Black drivers receive approximately 54% of automated camera citations. However, they make up about 70% of police stops.
On roadways where half of the drivers are white, white drivers account for around half of automated citations – and less than 20% of police stops.
“Grimm”, snarking on Mastodon:
COP UNIONS RIGHT NOW: This is definitely an issue. We need to train AI to be racist.
Brutal, but fair.
The article goes well beyond the paper, with examples of the consequences of Driving while Black (DWB) and ways to improve policing and enact police reform.
There’s no denying DWB is real; I’ve experienced it myself multiple times. Removing human bias from policing and similar decisions can be beneficial, but I’m not a fan of increasing the “surveillance state,” especially because—as we’ve seen with almost every AI or automated system—our human bias is often baked into the system.
For example, they note in their paper that:
the location of the cameras themselves may not be [race-independent]
because
cameras are not placed in a race-neutral way
and acknowledges that
police stops do not occur on random streets but are selective of specific streets.
This all suggests that cameras may be deployed—and policing may occur—more in Black and Latino neighborhoods than in white ones.
The cameras may be race-neutral, but the people placing them are not.
(Via Paul Cantrell.)
Vroom, a short film by David Ma:
Vroom is the movie I always made in my head when I played with RC cars growing up.
Shot on iPhone 16 Pro, a phone I have in my pocket. I half-expected to see the Apple logo on the end card.
Check out Ma’s other work; he is an inventive and creative director and filmmaker.
(Via Rob Cheng.)
Greg Evans for Deadline:
John Amos, the actor whose characters in Good Times, Roots and The Mary Tyler Moore Show lent the 1970s a solid share of its too-few portrayals of strong Black male role models, died August 21 in Los Angeles of natural causes. He was 84.
His son, Kelly Christopher Amos said in a statement:
He was a man with the kindest heart and a heart of gold… and he was loved the world over. Many fans consider him their TV father.
Good Times was the first TV show I remember where there was an entire family that looked like me. Amos as James was my first TV dad. His—spoiler for a 48-year-old show—off-screen death in the fourth season was heartbreaking.
His good-natured, good guy vibe was—spoiler for a 34-year-old movie—a major reason the unexpected twist in Die Hard 2 landed so well.
And of course, I loved him in The West Wing as Admiral Fitzwallace, and his—spoiler for a 20-year-old episode—death in Season 5 gutted me.
He was also brilliantly funny in Coming to America, one of the best parts of the movie, and it was a real treat to see him guest in Psych as Uncle Burton.
I’ll be queuing up a few episodes of television in his honor.
See also: L.A. Times.
Wes Davis, writing for The Verge:
You know how Marvel and DC have held joint ownership over trademarks for “Super Hero” for decades? That time is apparently mostly over, as the US Patent and Trademark Office has canceled the companies’ claim to several of their trademarks, reports Reuters.
I had no idea that “super hero” was a trademarked term. I’d guess most of the public didn’t either, despite being registered back in 1967. I assumed it was just a generic term. Perhaps that’s just five decades of my hearing the term “super hero” though.
The cancellation comes as the result of a challenge from Superbabies Limited, a small company that produces a series of Superbabies comics about, well, superhero babies. Superbabies creator S.J. Richold decided to challenge the two comic giants’ claim to the trademarks after DC “attempted to block Richold’s efforts to promote The Super Babies,” wrote the law firm that represented Richold in a release.
Congratulations to Richold and Superbabies Limited for bringing—and winning—this challenge. It seems ridiculous on its face that such a seemingly generic term could be trademarked, and has remained so for this long.
Curiously, Super Heroes and Super-Villain remain trademarked by DC and Marvel, though. I hope those are invalidated soon, too.
One of the lawyers involved in the Superbabies trademark challenge, Adam Adler, actually wrote up a two-part series of articles for Escapist Magazine lightly explaining how the companies came to jointly own the trademarks and what they’ve done to guard that ownership over the years.
Both are worth reading.
Marissa J. Lang, with a beautiful story for The Washington Post:
The table was set. The pastries arranged. A white tablecloth dangled placidly in the early morning mist, surrounded by 12 golden-hued high-backed chairs.
Five decades ago, a dozen friends gathered here, on the National Mall, for breakfast. They wore morning coats and floor-length dresses, dined on oysters, drank champagne and danced together as a string quartet played in the shadow of the Lincoln Memorial.
The extravagant scene on July 19, 1974, drew in a Washington Post photographer, who captured the moment in an image that would ricochet around the country in newspaper reprints.
While I’d seen this photo in passing, I never gave it much thought. It was not a story I expected to move me, but by the end I was wiping away some dust from my eye.
(Via Steve Herman by way of Michael B. Johnson.)
In “The Internet Archive’s Fight to Save Itself”, Kate Knibbs at Wired writes:
It is no exaggeration to say that digital archiving as we know it would not exist without the Internet Archive--and that, as the world's knowledge repositories increasingly go online, archiving as we know it would not be as functional. Its most famous project, the Wayback Machine, is a repository of web pages that functions as an unparalleled record of the internet. Zoomed out, the Internet Archive is one of the most important historical-preservation organizations in the world. The Wayback Machine has assumed a default position as a safety valve against digital oblivion. The rhapsodic regard the Internet Archive inspires is earned--without it, the world would lose its best public resource on internet history.
I, too, am rhapsodic about the Internet Archive. I use it regularly to find previous versions of websites, or content not otherwise available. Preserving our digital history is a noble and worthy effort that should be applauded. Sadly, but unsurprisingly, some would prefer to sue them out of existence:
Since 2020, it's been mired in legal battles. In Hachette v. Internet Archive, book publishers complained that the nonprofit infringed on copyright by loaning out digitized versions of physical books. In UMG Recordings v. Internet Archive, music labels have alleged that the Internet Archive infringed on copyright by digitizing recordings.
The book lending was a decade-old program, where they bought (or were donated) a physical copy of a book, scanned it, and loaned it out to a single person at a time, similar to a physical book from a library. It was expanded during the pandemic:
In March 2020, as schools and libraries abruptly shut down, they faced a dilemma. Demand for ebooks far outstripped their ability to loan them out under restrictive licensing deals, and they had no way of lending out books that existed only in physical form. In response, the Internet Archive made a bold decision: It allowed multiple people to check out digital versions of the same book simultaneously. It called this program the National Emergency Library. “We acted at the request of librarians and educators and writers,” says Chris Freeland.
Here’s what the Internet Archive wrote when they announced the National Emergency Library:
To address our unprecedented global and immediate need for access to reading and research materials, as of today, March 24, 2020, the Internet Archive will suspend waitlists for the 1.4 million (and growing) books in our lending library by creating a National Emergency Library to serve the nation’s displaced learners. This suspension will run through June 30, 2020, or the end of the US national emergency, whichever is later.
During the waitlist suspension, users will be able to borrow books from the National Emergency Library without joining a waitlist, ensuring that students will have access to assigned readings and library materials that the Internet Archive has digitized for the remainder of the US academic calendar, and that people who cannot physically access their local libraries because of closure or self-quarantine can continue to read and thrive during this time of crisis, keeping themselves and others safe.
Students and libraries didn’t have easy access to books during the pandemic, and the Internet Archive tried to help, at no cost to readers. Instead of supporting the effort, or providing access to ebooks themselves, book publishers and authors sued. It’s unclear how much money the book lending cost these publishers and authors; I’m guessing it’s far less than the lawsuit amount. I doubt a significant percentage of those book loans would have been purchases.
The recordings were of records in the “obsolete” 78 rpm format:
In 2023, several major record labels, including Universal Music Group, Sony, and Capitol, sued the Internet Archive over its Great 78 Project, a digital archive of a niche collection of recordings of albums in the obsolete record format known as 78s, which was used from the 1890s to the late 1950s. The complaint alleges that the project "undermines the value of music." It lists 2,749 recordings as infringed, which means damages could potentially be over $400 million.
I’m guessing these record companies weren’t making any money from these 78s, certainly not $400 million worth. I’d bet they haven’t made that much combined since those records were first sold. They’re suing because it’s the only way for them to make money on works that otherwise make them nothing. It’s rent-seeking in the form of copyright infringement lawsuits, a transfer of wealth from a nonprofit to a very-much-for-profit.
As a nonprofit, the Internet Archive is supported by some very large foundations (and individual donations), with reported revenue around $30 million and expenses of nearly $26 million, yet I’d be surprised if that’s sufficient to continue archiving the ever-growing digital world—and to defend itself from lawsuits. The UMG judgement is thirteen times more than the Internet Archive’s revenue, and may be enough to put the Internet Archive out of business.
The BBC’s Chris Stokel-Walker writes about the potential impact of losing our digital history:
38% of web pages that Pew tried to access that existed in 2013 no longer function. But it's also an issue for more recent publications. Some 8% of web pages published at some point 2023 were gone by October that same year.
This isn't just a concern for history buffs and internet obsessives. According to the study, one in five government websites contains at least one broken link. Pew found more than half of Wikipedia articles have a broken link in their references section, meaning the evidence backing up the online encyclopaedia's information is slowly disintegrating.
Stokel-Walker goes on to note that:
[…] thanks to the work of the Internet Archive, not all those dead links are totally inaccessible. For decades, the Archive's Wayback Machine project has sent armies of robots to crawl through the cascading labyrinths of the internet. These systems download functional copies of websites as they change over time – often capturing the same pages multiple times in a single day – and make them available to public free of charge.
“When we then went and looked at how many of those URLs were available in the Wayback Machine, we found that two-thirds of those were available in a way," [Mark Graham, director of the Internet Archive's Wayback Machine] says. In that sense, the Internet Archive is doing what it set out to do – it's saving records of online society for posterity.
Wikipedia gets a lot of attention as the world’s store of knowledge, but many of the “verifiable facts” that support Wikipedia articles are “backed” by the Internet Archive. Does Wikipedia pay anything to the Internet Archive for making their service more trustworthy?
(Worth noting: Wikipedia had 2023 revenue of $180 million and expenses of $168 million, six times that of the Internet Archive.)
Stokel-Walker, again:
One thing is clear, though, [Mar Hicks, a historian of technology at the University of Virginia] says, we should all pay up to support the fight for preservation. "From a very pragmatic perspective, if you do not pay these people and make sure that these archives are funded, they will not exist into the future, they will break down and then the whole point of collecting them will have gone out the window," says Hicks. "Because the whole point of the archive is not that it just gets collected, but that it persists indefinitely into the future."
If companies don’t want to maintain archives of their content themselves, rather than suing, why not partner with the Internet Archive to handle the archiving?
Just this September, Google and the Internet Archive announced a partnership to allow people to see previous versions of websites surfaced through Google Search by linking to the Wayback Machine. Google previously offered its own cached historical websites; now it leans on a small nonprofit.
It’s unclear how much—if anything—Google is actually paying for this partnership, though. Perhaps they donate, then take a tax deduction, saving themselves potentially millions of dollars while offloading the technical—and legal—burden?
I donate to the Internet Archive (and Wikipedia), but foundational aspects of the internet (see also open source projects) should not rely on the largess of individuals—or even massive foundations—to sustain them.
We also need to address the “single point of failure” nature of the Internet Archive. These recent lawsuits—or future ones—could very well kill the nonprofit, and with it, petabytes of valuable archives.
Perhaps every content company and publisher over a certain valuation should be encouraged (required?) to pay into a fund to ensure their content is archived for posterity, along the lines of FRAND licensing. Or they can maintain archives themselves, as long as they agree to make those archives available to the public in perpetuity.
Or perhaps indemnify the Internet Archive (and other nonprofits with similar goals) from these types of lawsuits. They aren’t selling access to this content, and there are no ads on the site. It’s not a money making venture.
Perhaps such an organization needs to be certified, or adhere to specific behaviors, to be indemnified.
Or perhaps the copyright laws need to be changed to allow for the explicit right to archive content and make it available online in some form.
(I’m not anti-copyright, unlike some critics of these lawsuits. I believe authors and publishers deserve the right to control the use of their content (especially in this AI-driven environment). That fundamental right needs to be balanced with the important goals of preservation and access.)
I’m not sure what the right answer is here, only that we need to preserve our books, movies, tv shows, music, and the rest of our human creativity.
I wrote at the top that I’m a big fan of the Internet Archive. I really do appreciate their work. For example, it enabled me to see the earliest versions of my first technology consulting company’s website. (Cringe.)
A perhaps more useful example: As a cocktail enthusiast, I enjoy drinking out of “Nick & Nora” glasses, named for the main characters in The Thin Man movies. But I’d never seen the movie, and it was challenging to find it to purchase or stream.
But the Internet Archive had a copy, and I was able to finally watch and enjoy this absolutely delightful movie.
(It’s now available almost everywhere, from Amazon to Apple TV+ to YouTube. Progress, I suppose, but what happens when the studio—or the streaming service—decides to pull it? This is also why I buy movies I care about on Blu-Ray, and rip/archive them myself.)
We need to ensure gems like these aren’t lost.
The official YouTube channel of The West Wing polled their audience for the top episode for each of the seven seasons and this video compiles the results. It’s hard to quibble with the selections. I was emotional from the jump.
When I linked to the Jen Psaki interview with Martin Sheen and Mary McCormack, I neglected to count the number of years since The West Wing debuted. Twenty five years seems impossibly long ago, yet the show holds up remarkably well, even in the face of a political climate that has shifted, seemingly inexorably, rightward. I can’t help but wonder what a modern version would look like.
I’ve known Kira, the daughter of my good friends Ron and Irene Lue-Sang, since she was a day old. She was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes (T1D) nearly a decade ago. Since 2015, the Lue-Sang family have helped raise funds to end T1D by walking in the annual Breakthrough T1D Walk (formerly JDRF). They’re fundraising ahead of the next walk on October 13, and I’m asking for your help in reaching their goal of raising $10,000.
If you’re unfamiliar with T1D:
Type 1 diabetes (T1D) is an autoimmune disease that is diagnosed in both children and adults and has nothing to do with diet or lifestyle.
As the Lue-Sangs note on their fundraising page:
When you have T1D, your body stops producing insulin—a hormone essential to turning food into energy. Managing the disease is a constant struggle that involves monitoring your blood-sugar level, administering insulin, and carefully balancing these insulin doses with your eating and activity.
Kira wears a continuous glucose monitor to check her blood sugar levels, and an “insulin infusion set”, which, Ron explains, are:
steel needles that stay embedded in her thigh or tricep to slowly do the work of providing the insulin her pancreas no longer produces.
Managing T1D is challenging for anyone; it requires constant attention: measuring carbs, checking blood sugar levels, injecting just the right amount of insulin around meals, adjusting throughout the day as needed, replacing those steel needles and sensors every few days…. It’s a lot, especially for a teenager who just wants to be a teenager. As Ron put it,
There’s simply too much life to live for an active teenager to be bothered….
But bother she must, because failing to be vigilant every day could mean having
blood sugars so low that she shouldn’t walk around unaccompanied, or blood sugar so high for so long that she might not be getting insulin at all. Either situation could end in her passing out, ending up in the hospital, or damaging her internal organs (eyes, kidneys, heart) a little bit at a time.
Parents may expect to argue with their kids about various dangers in life (like riding a motorcycle, or driving too fast), and to be dismissed as being overprotective and paranoid. As a T1D parent, those arguments unexpectedly shift from “Check your mirrors before changing lanes!” to “check your blood sugar before starting the car!”
Elizabeth Stone said that having a child is “to have your heart go walking around outside your body.”
Raising a T1D teen must be like having your heart roar off to school on a motorcycle every day.
The work Breakthrough T1D does helps further the science of living with T1D. Ron tells me:
One hundred years ago, science had barely discovered insulin. Before that, people with Type 1 Diabetes just wasted away a few months or years after diagnosis.
Ten years ago our standard of care was pricking Kira’s fingers to check blood sugar levels at least four times a day and injecting insulin by hand. We’re grateful for the advances technology has brought, including modern insulin, continuous glucose monitors, and insulin pumps. But we believe—it’s an article of faith—that there are still more advances to come, if only we pursue them.
If you can, please make a contribution to Breakthrough T1D to help them pursue those advances. Any amount helps, whether it’s $1, $10, or $100. No parent should agonize over the health of their kid, and no kid should have to stick steel needles into her thigh.
The Lue-Sang family thanks you, and I thank you.
Speaking of cocktail versatility and ratios, this piece from Mark J. on The Right Spirit is a handy introduction to a core understanding of cocktails:
Really there are only a handful of cocktails. It is in the details that the magic is made.
Just as the Negroni becomes a Boulevardier when you sub the gin for bourbon, or using Scotch instead of rye transforms a Manhattan into a Rob Roy, most cocktails are essentially the same ratios as another, but with a key ingredient substitution (or two). Knowing the ratios of classic cocktails opens up a world of experimentation.
The ratios listed here are not themselves the magic. They are common, which only happens for a reason: They tend to work well. But nuanced variations also work. A change of ingredient—something with a stronger or subtler flavor profile than average, for example—might necessitate a change of ratio to achieve balance. Adding a fourth or fifth ingredient into or on top of the ratio will create further nuance. Or a mess! But that’s part of the learning curve and the fun. To that end, these templates make a reliable starting point from which to make the magic happen.
After laying out the basics, Mark J. performs a few experiments, resulting in a handful of drinks I’ll definitely be trying.
Mark J. also highlights a few folks he’s learned from, including one of my faves, Anders Erickson, who has a video demonstrating how to go from “Manhattan to Margarita in 6 recipes,” highlighting the similarities of each of the cocktails and the power of substitutions.
I’m one hundred percent aligned with Mark J.’s idea that making cocktails is like playing with magic. I am, like him
a cocktail enthusiast whose ambition is to make great cocktails for friends and family.
Cheers to that.
(Via Tammy Tan.)
Imbibe magazine, on negroniweek.com:
In 2013 Imbibe Magazine launched Negroni Week as a celebration of one of the world’s great cocktails and an effort to raise money for charitable causes around the world.
Since then, Negroni Week has grown from about 120 participating venues to thousands of venues around the world, and to date, the initiative has raised over $5 million for charitable organizations.
The charitable organization this year is Slow Food:
Slow Food is a global movement acting together to ensure good, clean and fair food for all.
We’re halfway through the week, but better late than never.
There are about 60 venues participating in San Francisco; you can search your area.
I’ve been celebrating Negroni Week since at least 2015, and while I don’t need an excuse to tip a Negroni—it’s my favorite “daily drinker” cocktail—I welcome the opportunity.
While I definitely enjoy a classic Negroni (a 1:1:1 ratio of gin, sweet vermouth, and a bitter apertivo, historically Campari—my current standard being Sipsmith London Dry Gin, Cocci Vermouth di Torino, and St. George Bruto Americano or recent fave Bordiga “Red Bitter”) my favorite “Negroni” is in fact a variant, the Boulevardier, which swaps out gin for Bourbon.
What I love about the Negroni is its versatility. There are an infinite number of gins, bitter aperitivos, and vermouths to explore, each imparting its own distinct flavor on the classic, plus adjustments in ratios as taste dictates.
Then consider the spirit swaps. Prosecco for gin: the suddenly everywhere Sbagliato. Rum instead: The Kingston Negroni. Dry vermouth instead of sweet: The Cardinale. Sub in Rye and dry vermouth: The Old Pal. And of course, the aforementioned Boulevardier’s Bourbon. The Negroni Week site has several recipes that are with trying.
A few years back I joined a Negroni club (through Bitters and Bottles in South San Francisco) so I’d have an excuse to explore a range of Negroni-inspired cocktails.
Any (reasonably priced) spirit that enters my home bar will eventually get the Negroni treatment as part of its evaluation. It’s an experimenter’s delight.
Adam B. Vary and Carmel Dagan for Variety:
James Earl Jones, the prolific film, TV and theater actor whose resonant, unmistakable baritone was most widely known as the voice of "Star Wars" villain Darth Vader, died Monday morning at his home in Dutchess County, N.Y., his rep confirmed to Variety. He was 93.
Jones was a mainstay of my generation’s entertainment landscape. Star Wars, Coming to America, Field of Dreams, The Lion King… He brought gravitas and warmth to every role he played, even if it was “just” with his voice.
But oh, that voice! Powerful, majestic, authoritative, and unmistakable. I’ve been trying to imitate it since I was a kid. From “Commander, tear this ship apart until you’ve found those plans!” to “The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball” to “This is CNN.”
(It wouldn’t surprise me if “This is CNN” is among the most recognizable “spoken audio logo” in history, the closest competition likely being “You’ve Got Mail!” and “This is Audible.”)
Jones always struck me as a regular guy who just happened to be a world famous actor. He never seemed to take himself too seriously, including his willingness to do random guest appearances and silly cameos on sitcoms. (Frasier, Big Bang Theory, and Will & Grace come to mind.) He always seemed like an actor who wanted to work simply because he enjoyed the work. Nothing ever seemed beneath him, and he elevated everything he did.
I’m happy that he was so prolific; it gives us dozens of performances for us to remember him.
A personal anecdote: Sometime around 1988 or ’89, shortly after I started acting, my teacher/director commented after one of my monologues that I reminded him of James Earl Jones in August Wilson’s Fences. I was 19 or so, and the reference slid right past me, but it always stuck in my head. It was many years before I realized what a compliment that was.
Fifteen years ago, the producers of The Oprah Show staged a massive flash mob in Chicago for a stunned Oprah Winfrey, in celebration of her 24th season. Tens of thousands of people gathered to perform it.
The expressions of confusion, realization, and joy that parade across Oprah’s face as it slowly dawns on her what’s happening are absolutely priceless.
I get emotional watching a group of people come together to perform a synchronized dance, especially when it starts small and just… grows. From Soul Train, to party line dances like the Electric Slide or Cupid Shuffle, to music videos like Thriller, synchronized, choreographed dance numbers are a physical manifestation of humanity’s need for communal togetherness.
In musical theater, when your emotions are too strong to speak, you sing; when they’re too strong to sing, you dance. A flash mob breathes life into this, imbuing emotion into a few fleeting minutes that took hours or days to prepare for. A flash mob created to elicit joy from one person may be the ultimate expression of love, and this crowd loved Oprah.
I also recommend you watch the behind-the-scenes and making-of videos. It seems Oprah isn’t a big fan of surprises, so this was a bit of a calculated risk by her team. Watching Oprah bop around in excitement, I’d say it worked out OK.
Four years on, and this day—September 9, 2020—remains my most surreal and enduring memory of the pandemic.
Waking up during the 7 o’clock hour in early September in San Francisco usually means blinking away sunlight as it streams into our bedroom, while I fumble to snooze my iPhone alarm. Instead, it was curiously dark.
I didn’t think much of it as I stumbled through my morning ablutions and overnight work email catchup. It was 9 a.m. before I happened to peek out of our back window.
Six months into the pandemic lockdown, and I legitimately thought we’d finally reached Armageddon.
Our usually bright, almost Autumn morning was dark. Street lamps remained on, and morning songbirds stayed eerily silent. The pandemic lockdown already meant our neighborhood was quieter than usual, but this morning the streets were Zombie Apocalypse-level deserted.
It was hauntingly quiet.
Between meetings, I wandered down to Cole Valley. The N Judah station looked like the long-abandoned remnant of a distant civilization, and the usually bustling corner of Cole and Parnassus had but a few hardy souls brunching, as a lone dog walked its human.
My SFBA Friends iMessage group chat blew up that morning as we commiserated. “It’s the rapture,” cried Michael.
“I’m officially done with this year,” lamented Lisa.
“Me too,” agreed Kelly. “I think today’s orange sky is the day I finally lost it.”
We weren’t the only ones. Bay Area Twitter lit up, and the skies made national headlines, with some incredible photos.
The combination of the usual San Francisco fog, coupled with massive wildfires throughout the Bay Area, had conspired to blot out the sun and turn the sky a dusky orange this day four years ago. These images are now indelibly etched into my brain.
Jen Psaki, introducing her interview with Martin Sheen and Mary McCormack on Inside with Jen Psaki:
The story goes like this: The historically successful but aging Democratic president prepares to step aside from public life, and throws his support behind a young, impressive, diverse, and inspiring successor to carry his mantle forward. And no, I’m not talking about Joe Biden and Kamala Harris.
Psaki is talking about Season 7 of The West Wing, which I’m currently halfway through on my third? fourth? rewatch. The clip Psaki played, and Sheen’s reaction to it, made me emotional too.
Sheen and McCormack were promoting McCormack’s new book, co-authored with Melissa Fitzgerald, “What’s Next: A Backstage Pass to The West Wing, Its Cast and Crew, and Its Enduring Legacy of Service.” With a foreword by Aaron Sorkin, and an introduction by Allison Janney, it promises to
reunite the West Wing cast and crew in a lively and colorful “backstage pass” to the timeless series
while offering
a deeper analysis of the show’s legacy through American culture, service, government, and civic life underscores how the series envisaged an American politics of decency and honor
which made the book an insta-buy.
The West Wing remains one of my favorite television shows. It asked us to believe that politics could be hopeful, that government could be helpful, and that good people can put partisanship aside for the sake of the country. It made idealists out of many of us, and spurred many to public service.
Sheen and McCormack are clearly fans of the Biden/Harris administration, but especially, it seems, of Harris herself. I sense they see her as part of a “West Wing Generation” of politicians inspired by the show, and who embody a “public servant” selflessness in their approach to politics.
A final note: Sheen references an idea by co-star Richard Schiff for a West Wing reboot which would focus on local politics, with members of the original cast acting as mentors and boosters to up-and-comers. I would absolutely watch that show, especially if it gave us insight into the staff’s post-West Wing lives.
Someone needs to greenlight this one immediately.
Rachel Tompa, writing for Stanford Medicine News Center:
If it’s ever felt like everything in your body is breaking down at once, that might not be your imagination. A new Stanford Medicine study shows that many of our molecules and microorganisms dramatically rise or fall in number during our 40s and 60s.
Researchers assessed many thousands of different molecules in people from age 25 to 75, as well as their microbiomes — the bacteria, viruses and fungi that live inside us and on our skin — and found that the abundance of most molecules and microbes do not shift in a gradual, chronological fashion. Rather, we undergo two periods of rapid change during our life span, averaging around age 44 and age 60.…
“We’re not just changing gradually over time; there are some really dramatic changes,” said Michael Snyder, PhD, professor of genetics and the study’s senior author. “It turns out the mid-40s is a time of dramatic change, as is the early 60s.
It brings to mind Hemingway’s quote about bankruptcy happening “gradually, then suddenly.” As several friends in their mid- to late-40s have noted, “This explains why everything hurts for me!”
When I linked to Shakespeare’s Original Pronunciation, I wrote:
Someone also told me once that some American Southern accents are pretty close to “Original Pronunciation.”
Imagine my delight when my explorations led me to Jake Phillips, AKA The Cultured Bumpkin, who performs a variety of Shakespeare’s well-known monologues in Southern drawl.
While not terribly close to OP to my ear, it still sounds more accessible and less removed from the plain-spoken language that would have been common during Shakespeare’s time.
Also delightful: His full recording of Pride and Prejudice. From the opening “It’s a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a large fortune, must be in want of a wife,” I was immediately transported to antebellum Georgia. Virtually, I mean, thank goodness.
I’m now very curious what a production of Pride and Prejudice set in the American South would look like.
NPR Politics Podcast, in the show notes for the August 30, 2024 episode:
In this episode we incorrectly say the veterans’ organization Veterans of Foreign Wars (VFW) called Donald Trump’s remarks related to a confrontation at Arlington National Cemetery “asinine.” In fact, the VFW described Trump’s previous remarks in which he described the Presidential Medal of Freedom as superior to the Congressional Medal of Honor as asinine.
Glad they cleared that up.
Dennis Lee writing for The Takeout:
The mojito is a refreshing cocktail that’s perfect on a hot summer day. Thankfully, it doesn’t take much effort to make. All you need is rum, lime, fresh mint, sugar, and club soda, and within just a few minutes, you have a backyard sipper ready to cool you off. You’re probably wondering if you need some special cocktail equipment to make the best mojitos or other drinks that require fresh mint because not everyone has a muddler lying around.
In politics and public relations, the standard advice is “don’t accept the premise of the question.”
I suggest it’s true in cocktail headlines, too. Two things:
One, if you enjoy making cocktails, you should have a muddler. They’re not essential, but they are useful, especially when making classic cocktails like the Old Fashioned. Pick up a metal one with a rubber head or an unvarnished wooden one. You’ll be happy you did.
Two, and more importantly, don’t muddle your mint. Most people muddling ingredients for cocktails think it means crushing the living daylights out of them.
Please, for the love of mojitos, don’t do this!
Mint is a very delicate plant. The essence of mint is the oil from its leaves. The stems and stalks contain bitter flavors. You don’t want those in your drink.
My preferred way to “open up” and release just the minty goodness is to give the leaves a couple of gentle slaps in your palm, like you’re activating a Clapper.
Drop the newly awakened mint into your glass or cocktail tin and gently, gently mix them in with the other ingredients. Scoop and roll. Scoop and roll.
Your mojitos will taste better.
(Via Paul the Nerd.)
Dan Gillmor, on his new Cornerstone newsletter:
Welcome to a free daily compendium of the best reporting and commentary surrounding the pivotal 2024 elections in the United States. You won't find horse race coverage here, or the standard "both sides" BS that passes so often for political journalism. What you will find are links, with brief commentary, to work that I believe advances the conversation we must be having about America's – and the world's – future.
I follow Gillmor on Mastodon, where he surfaces insightful political stories daily. I’m thrilled to see him gathering and publishing them to his own newsletter (even more so that he, like me, uses Ghost to do so).
I like his stuff enough that I’ve made Cornerstone my first recommendation. I encourage you to sign up!
Jayson Stark, writing last week for The Athletic (News+):
Everyone knows you can’t be in two places at the same time. Those are the rules — the immutable rules of physics.
Ah, but who knew you can play for two teams in the same baseball game? Those are also the rules — the wacky suspended-game rules of baseball.
So next Monday, if all the forces in the universe line up right, Boston Red Sox catcher Danny Jansen will go where no baseball-playing human has ever gone before.…
In a week, he could become the first player in major-league history to appear in a box score for both teams in the same game.
The Athletic Staff, a week later (News+):
Danny Jansen had been at the plate for the Toronto Blue Jays on June 26 in a game against the Boston Red Sox with one on and one out in an 0-1 count, when the skies opened up and the game was suspended for severe weather.
Fast forward two months and the game resumed Monday, but with Jansen now playing for the Red Sox. The Red Sox traded for Jansen on July 27, setting up the possibility of one player appearing in the same game for both teams.
The possibility became reality on Monday.
With Jansen substituted into the game to catch for the Red Sox, he settled in behind the plate, for an at-bat in which he’d started as the batter.
Baseball is beautiful and sometimes,
“This game,” said Danny Jansen, “is nuts.”
It’s these beautiful oddities that make this game so delightful for fans—like me!—who love the history and stories of the game as much as the stats and outcomes. Both pieces are worth reading to understand the full extent of the nuttiness.
Thanks to the MLB app, I was able to watch the opening minutes of the game, so I could say I witnessed baseball history.
I expect the box score will one day make it to Cooperstown.
(Via Steve Hayman, who astutely notes “This must really test the referential integrity of sports databases. The same guy, playing for both teams in the same game? Surely THAT will never happen.”)
Arelis R. Hernández, writing at The Washington Post:
[Mary Ann] Obregón was one of four Latina women, three of whom were in their 70s and 80s, who said they were intimidated by the morning visits from armed investigators while they were still in their pajamas. Lidia Martinez, an 87-year-old retired educator, and Inelda Rodriguez, 73, a Dilley City Council member, were forced to turn over their phones and laptops.
“It was horrible, gestapo-style,” said Martinez, who added that investigators spent three hours searching her drawers and garage during the raid. “I thought we lived in a free country, not Russia.”
This is absolutely vile, in every conceivable way. It’s voter intimidation at its most glaring.
Coincidentally, I’m sure, Texas has seemingly moved to “Leans Republican” from “Likely Republican” according to 270toWin.
Hernández, again:
State investigators tied to state Attorney General Ken Paxton’s office executed search warrants last week at homes across three counties, as part of what Paxton said was a two-year investigation of alleged fraud and vote harvesting.
The Republican officeholder said in a statement that his office had “sufficient evidence” to confiscate cellphones, laptops and documents. Paxton’s office targeted a Democratic legislative candidate in a swing district important to state Republicans, her political consultant, campaign workers, a local mayor and a city council member in raids on their small-town homes.
Paxton—impeached but acquitted by his fellow Texas Republicans—is considered a possibility for U.S. Attorney General in a second Trump administration. This is part of an ongoing audition for that job, and an indication of how the Justice Department will likely operate if Trump wins.
Nilay Patel at The Verge, in a transcription of his Decoder podcast (Overcast; Apple Podcasts), interviews Ben Collins and Danielle Strle, The Onion’s new CEO and Chief Product Officer:
BC: I was reading Adweek, and I saw The Onion was for sale, and this was around the time where things were just shuttering. Sports Illustrated and Jezebel just shuttered — and it was from the same company, G/O owned Jezebel — or things were being turned into AI slop farms or Elon Musk was buying it. Worst-case scenario.
I posted on Bluesky. I said: “The Onion’s for sale, who wants to help me buy this thing? I have $600.” Leila Brillson, who’s in Chicago where The Onion is based, emailed me, and she was like, “But seriously, how do we do this? It’s an institution. We can’t let this thing die. It’s important to keep this thing alive.” I was like, “Let me just make some phone calls.” The first person I called was Danielle because she just knows.
Two and a half months later, he, Strle, and Twilio founder Jeff Lawson own the joint. How is that not an Onion story?
(Except, oddly, there’s not a single mention of Lawson or Twilio on the site. Is their new billionaire owner censoring them?!)
Patel:
There’s a lot going on in this episode, but the one thing I want to call out is just how much fun Ben and Danielle seem to be having. That’s a rare quality in media right now, and it’s infectious. In fact, I’ll just go out and say it because I think you’re going to hear it in the episode: I’m rooting for them to succeed. I have all the same memories of reading The Onion as anyone else, and I hope they figure it out.
I don’t read The Onion regularly, but when I do, it always hits. So deep-seated is the site in our cultural zeitgeist that “Not an Onion Headline” conveys an immediate understanding of quality, and “‘No Way To Prevent This,’ Says Only Nation Where This Regularly Happens” verges on liturgical.
By the 90-second mark, you’ll know this isn’t your typical “classical music” concert:
Experience a breathtaking collision of electronic dance music, live orchestra, DJs and vocalists, all in an immersive light, laser, and visual show, reimagining iconic club anthems.
It’s a vibrant, bouncy mashup. Many of the pieces are instantly recognizable to fans of EDM (and in some cases, fans of classic rock and uh, classic classical).
The crowds SYNTHONY draws are absolutely massive, and everyone’s clearly having a blast, right down to the conductor (Sarah-Grace Williams) animatedly bopping about as she leads the Auckland Philharmonia orchestra.
The first time I heard of SYNTHONY was from a link a friend sent to their performance of “Children.” I listened to that track a dozen times. It’s lusciously mesmerizing. You might think it’s an EDM version of a classical piece. Quite the opposite: “Children,” written by the late Italian composer Robert Miles, is a classic in the house/EDM scene, performed here by a full orchestra.
"Children" is one of the pioneering tracks of Dream house, a genre of electronic dance music characterized by dream-like piano melodies, and a steady four-on-the-floor bass drum. The creation of dream house was a response to social pressures in Italy during the early 1990s.
It went on to become a #1 hit in a dozen countries and a staple in dance clubs.
This version is a fantastic orchestral reimagining, and a highlight in a show full of them.
Nintendo […] will open its much-awaited first museum on Oct. 2 featuring vintage video games and an interactive shoot-em-up with Super Mario characters.
The museum in Uji, Kyoto Prefecture, is located inside a renovated old factory built in 1969, where the gaming giant began life making Western-style and Japanese playing cards and later repaired consoles.
Though I never had a Game Boy, I’m very much a Nintendo gamer: I’ve owned a Super NES, Wii, GameCube, and Switch—and I’m relatively confident I still have them and all my games in boxes somewhere. So while I’m not saying I’d make a trip to Japan just to visit the Nintendo museum, I’m not not saying that either.
The related video tour gives more insight into what the museum looks like, and shows off some of the early devices, their large game collection, and various interactive features.
Update: By happenstance, today marks 33 years since the Super NES North American release. Happy birthday, SNES.
After 31 years, Homicide: Life on the Street is finally streaming.
Today, Homicide: Life on the Street officially gave up its title as the Best TV Show You Can’t Stream. All 122 episodes of the Nineties cop drama are now on Peacock, along with Homicide: The Movie, a 2000 telefilm featuring the entire cast — even the ones whose characters died at some point in the previous seven seasons.
This is fantastic news: I never watched the series in its entirety when it first aired. It’ll be like watching it for the first time. I wonder where I can find a bottle of Zima?
Here are 10 episodes to sample if you want to see what all the fuss is about.
A great option for anyone unsure if the show’s for them; I’ll dispense with all that and just binge all 122 episodes. See you in six months!
There’s this small moment, right at the end of last night’s Democratic National Convention, which tells me so much about Kamala Harris. A little kid comes over to say hi to her and her husband, Doug.
Her husband gives the kid a solid, perfectly acceptable handshake, treating them as an adult.
Kamala stoops down to the kid’s level and makes direct eye contact, treating them as an equal. She even has a few words for the kid, then gives a little pinch of the chin.
It’s a subtle moment. Beautiful, empathetic, and, I’m guessing, instinctive. She clearly loves being around kids. Maybe this is why Gen-Z loves her.
Terrific video from the Real Engineering YouTube channel, showcasing the many technical hurdles Nintendo engineers (and game developers) overcame to bring their ideas to life, from screen voltage to screen refresh, music to memory, even a clever copy protection scheme. I remember the Game Boy was the handheld gaming system of the late ’80s/early ’90s; it was seemingly everywhere. I never had one though—I’d already moved on to drinking and smoking.
(Via Daring Fireball.)