Embedding disabled, but well worth the click-thru and 3 minutes: High Voltage Cable Inspection – YouTube
Good Ole Violence, Always Here To Solve Our Problems #guns #risk
My latest column is up at the Chronicle–and, with any luck, will be my final column about guns and their control (a thoroughly exhausting topic). From here on out it’s nothing but puppies with lightsabers!
The Ann Arbor Chronicle | In It For The Money: Brawling About Guns
Maybe more to the point, I can have a deep and genuine affection for guns, and still believe that maybe it’s time that we get past our core American notion – one effectively enshrined in the Second Amendment – that violence is a valid and respectable solution to our problems.
We characterize “debate” as a rational process of sorting competing ideas, but it isn’t. In America, “debate” is just another word for “brawl.” No one learns a new point of view when they are jumped in an alley or hop into the monkey knife fighting pit; you show up with what you’ve got, and pound on each other until someone flees or collapses.
If you are about to take exception to this characterization, then riddle me this: If you are “rational” and “pro-gun control,” then why the hell aren’t you already familiar with the SCotUS 2007 opinions? Isn’t an understanding of the current state of the Second Amendment sorta-kinda vital to “debating” about the Second Amendment?
And if you “rationally support gun rights” – likely because of personal safety issues – then why aren’t you already concerned that guns appear to protect people once for every two times they hurt someone? Would you take meds your physician prescribed while noting nonchalantly, “Oh, FYI, if these pills do anything at all, there’s a 64% chance they’ll hurt or kill you, and an unknown – but very high – likelihood they’ll do nothing. But they might also save your life. Maybe. We haven’t really done the research on that. Make sure to drink plenty of fluids!”
. . .
We characterize “debate” as a rational process of sorting competing ideas, but it isn’t. In America, “debate” is just another word for “brawl.” No one learns a new point of view when they are jumped in an alley or hop into the monkey knife fighting pit; you show up with what you’ve got, and pound on each other until someone flees or collapses.
If you are about to take exception to this characterization, then riddle me this: If you are “rational” and “pro-gun control,” then why the hell aren’t you already familiar with the SCotUS 2007 opinions? Isn’t an understanding of the current state of the Second Amendment sorta-kinda vital to “debating” about the Second Amendment?
And if you “rationally support gun rights” – likely because of personal safety issues – then why aren’t you already concerned that guns appear to protect people once for every two times they hurt someone? Would you take meds your physician prescribed while noting nonchalantly, “Oh, FYI, if these pills do anything at all, there’s a 64% chance they’ll hurt or kill you, and an unknown – but very high – likelihood they’ll do nothing. But they might also save your life. Maybe. We haven’t really done the research on that. Make sure to drink plenty of fluids!”
. . .
Good God! A Sunny Day Would Be Gorgeous in a House Made of Heineken Bottles!
![](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9Zle5-YQlpw/SPnaT03J28I/AAAAAAAAB5k/WQcIKYChVu8/s320/wobo2.jpg")
Envisioned by beer brewer Alfred Heineken and designed by Dutch architect John Habraken, the “brick that holds beer” was ahead of its ecodesign time, letting beer lovers and builders alike drink and design all in one sitting.
Mr. Heineken’s idea came after a visit to the Caribbean where he saw two problems: beaches littered with bottles and a lack of affordable building materials. The WOBO became his vision to solve both the recycling and housing challenges that he had witnessed on the islands.
The final WOBO design came in two sizes – 350 and 500 mm versions that were meant to lay horizontally, interlock and layout in the same manner as ‘brick and mortar’ construction. One production run in 1963 yielded 100,000 bottles some of which were used to build a small shed on Mr. Heineken’s estate in Noordwijk, Netherlands. One of the construction challenges “was to find a way in which corners and openings could be made without cutting bottles,” said Mr. Habraken.
Mr. Heineken’s idea came after a visit to the Caribbean where he saw two problems: beaches littered with bottles and a lack of affordable building materials. The WOBO became his vision to solve both the recycling and housing challenges that he had witnessed on the islands.
The final WOBO design came in two sizes – 350 and 500 mm versions that were meant to lay horizontally, interlock and layout in the same manner as ‘brick and mortar’ construction. One production run in 1963 yielded 100,000 bottles some of which were used to build a small shed on Mr. Heineken’s estate in Noordwijk, Netherlands. One of the construction challenges “was to find a way in which corners and openings could be made without cutting bottles,” said Mr. Habraken.
*Please* Write Me the Horror Novels that Would Use these Vintage Safety Posters as Cover Art! @fritzswanson @poormojo @joe_hill #writing
FACT: “Koolmonoxyde” is a damned rad title, too! That package is done, just gimme 85,000 words with abject terror and a strong romantic entanglement. I’m pretty sure David Lynch would buy the movie rights, manuscript unread.
Check them all out here: Vintage Safety – 50 Watts
(via io9: “These vintage Dutch safety posters are stunning, completely terrifying”)
Sex-guns, Tentacle Earrings, Steampunk Santa, and Corsets, Corsets, Corsets! (At the #Steampunk Convention: Up in the Aether 2013)
Over the Memorial Day weekend I worked the Up in the Aether Steampunk Convention in Dearborn, MI. My panels included writing and publishing and speculative fiction, but I was mostly there to run DIY workshops on building Victorian-style kites and lil steamboats. Although the DIY track was sort of an low-expectation tack-on to this con, all of the DIY sessions ran at capacity. After the con, I happened to see this post over on Facebook (just before they banned my book); it’s by far my favorite cataclysmic putt-putt boat failure *ever*:
I did make the boat. That sucker did only slightly better than the Titanic…inaugural trip around the tub went fine. But then, I tried to use a turkey baster to refuel my burner, and the alcohol dribbled (apparently) all over the bottom of the boat. When I lit it, it went up like a viking funeral, and then sank. Kind of entertaining actually. I did salvage my copper boiler, and there’s always more half & half containers . . .
Having done a Steampunk event or two in the past, I can tell you that the folks showing up to these here are increasingly into making and DIY, with a corresponding improvement in costumes. I was *shocked* that not only were most of the attendees costumed (easily over 80 percent, evenly split with men and women), but that most had *multiple outfits per day,* and that these were overwhelmingly high-quality construction, clever, and increasingly representing a wider swatch of the imagined populace (mechanics alongside officers, dirty grubbers and opulent ladies, more cowboys and pirates, a couple time-traveling Star Trek crewmen, etc.) Yeah, the Prussian aspect of many uniforms meant that the crowd often took on an unintentional “affable Nazi” look that I wasn’t not cool with, but even the Third Reich-iest looking folks were 1) super nice and 2) totally oblivious to how badly their costumes were freaking me out.
A few quick pics:
Those wings are articulated; really lovely movement.
(He’s one of the organizers, actually; a bona fide Lord of Steam.)
The night before I took this pic I wandered in to an “Open Knife Fighting” event run by these Western Martial Arts folks as a sort of on-boarding activity. As it turns out, foam knife fighting–which sounds sorta NERFy–is essential getting punched. I’m terrible at fighting, but great at getting hit. This gal stabbed me *so many times* in those two hours. For the next three days I was all bruises down both arms, with actual cuts on my knife arm, a bruised hip, and aching kidneys. Brutally delightful.
Steampunk Santa sat in on a couple of my workshops, and was actually a really rad guy. He totally, and totally unobtrusively, inhabited the best possible Santa persona: He was affable and friendly without getting loud or in your face, always had candy canes (I guess con goers are notorious for skipping meals and getting light headed–which is certainly something I do when running workshops; dude saved me from swooning on several occasions), and always happy to help folks on their projects.
This pic is a twofer, since it 1) gives you a glimpse of the corset effect–overwhelmingly adopted by female attendees, even those participating in the Monkey Knife Fights mentioned above–and 2) *That mask!* That mask is articulated, so that when she talks the jaw moves independently, and it isn’t leather: It’s thin, fired porcelain *super-glued to her face*!
This is one half of the team Whalen & Shimmin, Traveling Tin-typists, who use authentic antebellum materials and methods to shoot tintypes (which, fun fact, were traditionally actually done on steel, not tin). These are really great sharp, bright images–the website totally does them no justice. Tintypes in general have sort of a ghostly depth to them that’s fun, but these are exceptionally nice tintypes. Nice folks, too.
Last but not least, these noble wounded warrior:
And, yup, that pistol–here’s a zoom-in:
It is indeed an internal-usage-approved personal vibrating wand device. As an aside, I met the dude responsible for inventing this steampunk dildo-zap-gun-handicraft; he is very rad, and as perplexed by the fascination as you are (it started out as a gag gift for a lady friend–which is neither a pun nor a literal description). I’m being coy about his identity because he’s also a children’s book author.
Unbeknownst to me a professional photographer snapped a pic of me and the steampunk Robocop at the book signing. The resulting image looks very much like me meeting a much cooler version of me from an alternate continuity:
(I gave him that bespoke print edition of “Tucker Teaches the Clockies to Copulate”, because I was crazy geeked about his outfit, and also was drinking bourbon out of the paper cup resting on my table.)
If You Learn About Only One Bat-shit Crazy Thing Today, Make It Jeremy Bentham’s “Auto Icon”
Listen: The father of Utilitarianism had his skeleton preserved and dressed in his favorite suit, in order to preside over meetings after his demise. Bentham did this. Bentham, in many regard the ur-Rational Guy, the philosophical father of our post-modern avatar of Rational Behavior.
But the preservation method for Bentham’s head got screwed up, with monstrous results. It wound up looking like it was carved from meatloaf jerky, so they used a wax head instead, and positioned Jeremy Bentham’s actual severed head on the floor between the philosophy scarecrow’s feet–just because.
They (who? who knows?!) ultimately decided the severed head on the floor was either gruesome or an attractive nuisance, and so decided to store it in a box somewhere and replaced it with a replica, or sometimes nothing. Anyway, in the pic above, that’s Jeremy Bentham’s actual head on the floor, fronting all John the Baptist-post-Salome-style. Here’s a close up of the head–the actual head of an actual famous philosopher who had this done to himself on purpose:
So those creepy peepers? Bentham carried those around in his pocket for much of his life, so they could wind up in his severed jerky head and attend meetings for all eternity.
This . . . I . . . damn. I guess dude believed this bizarre gesture would somehow maximize humanity’s happiness and reduce suffering, although the mechanism for that escapes me.
In the end, though, I find the idea of those eyes staring at the inside of a dark box even *more* distressing than having them stare out a glass case from between Bentham’s feet. Even though he can’t see us, J.B. is still watching us, and likely finding us wanting. *shudders*
Jeremy Bentham – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Bentham died on 6 June 1832 the age of 84 at his residence in Queen Square Place in Westminster, London. He had continued to write up to a month before his death, and had made careful preparations for the dissection of his body after death and its preservation as an auto-icon. As early as 1769, when Bentham was just twenty-one years old, he made a will leaving his body for dissection to a family friend, the physician and chemist George Fordyce, whose daughter, Maria Sophia (1765–1858), married Jeremy’s brother Samuel Bentham.[18] A paper written in 1830, instructing Thomas Southwood Smith to create the auto-icon, was attached to his last will, dated 30 May 1832.[18]
On 8 June 1832, two days after his death, invitations were distributed to a select group of friends, and on the following day at 3 p.m., Southwood Smith delivered a lengthy oration over Bentham’s remains in the Webb Street School of Anatomy & Medicine in Southwark, London. The printed oration contains a frontispiece with an engraving of Bentham’s body partly covered by a sheet.[18]
Afterward, the skeleton and head were preserved and stored in a wooden cabinet called the “Auto-icon”, with the skeleton padded out with hay and dressed in Bentham’s clothes. Originally kept by his disciple Thomas Southwood Smith,[19] it was acquired by University College London in 1850. It is normally kept on public display at the end of the South Cloisters in the main building of the college; however, for the 100th and 150th anniversaries of the college, it was brought to the meeting of the College Council, where it was listed as “present but not voting”.[20]
Bentham had intended the Auto-icon to incorporate his actual head, mummified to resemble its appearance in life. However, Southwood Smith’s experimental efforts at mummification, based on practices of the indigenous people of New Zealand and involving placing the head under an air pump over sulphuric acid and simply drawing off the fluids, although technically successful, left the head looking distastefully macabre, with dried and darkened skin stretched tautly over the skull.[18] The Auto-icon was therefore given a wax head, fitted with some of Bentham’s own hair. The real head was displayed in the same case as the Auto-icon for many years, but became the target of repeated student pranks. It is now locked away securely.[21]
On 8 June 1832, two days after his death, invitations were distributed to a select group of friends, and on the following day at 3 p.m., Southwood Smith delivered a lengthy oration over Bentham’s remains in the Webb Street School of Anatomy & Medicine in Southwark, London. The printed oration contains a frontispiece with an engraving of Bentham’s body partly covered by a sheet.[18]
Afterward, the skeleton and head were preserved and stored in a wooden cabinet called the “Auto-icon”, with the skeleton padded out with hay and dressed in Bentham’s clothes. Originally kept by his disciple Thomas Southwood Smith,[19] it was acquired by University College London in 1850. It is normally kept on public display at the end of the South Cloisters in the main building of the college; however, for the 100th and 150th anniversaries of the college, it was brought to the meeting of the College Council, where it was listed as “present but not voting”.[20]
Bentham had intended the Auto-icon to incorporate his actual head, mummified to resemble its appearance in life. However, Southwood Smith’s experimental efforts at mummification, based on practices of the indigenous people of New Zealand and involving placing the head under an air pump over sulphuric acid and simply drawing off the fluids, although technically successful, left the head looking distastefully macabre, with dried and darkened skin stretched tautly over the skull.[18] The Auto-icon was therefore given a wax head, fitted with some of Bentham’s own hair. The real head was displayed in the same case as the Auto-icon for many years, but became the target of repeated student pranks. It is now locked away securely.[21]
(see also: Jeremy Bentham’s Auto-Icon | Atlas Obscura)
Facebook Banned My Book–Have They Banned Yours?
Facebook has expunged the fan Page for Snip, Burn, Solder, Shred, basically without explanation, notice, or recourse.
On May 28 I happened to glance at Facebook and saw that I had a Notification that the fan Page for my geeky DIY book had been “unpublished” for “bullying.” There was a button to “Appeal” this decision, so I clicked it. Within a few hours my Page was expunged and my personal account was under a 12-hour ban from FB activity (even “Liking” friends’ posts). I received no notification of any of this through any channel, apart from the single Notification of the initial flagging (which has since disappeared). I only knew the Page was gone because I checked on it the next morning and it wasn’t there. (I’ve since tried contacting FB through their various “Contact Us” avenues, and have heard nothing.)
After some moderate persecution anxiety, I’d kinda settled into thinking that, in their enthusiasm to finally do something about their misogyny problem, an underpaid Facebook temp had fat-fingered a pull-down menu [1]. Besides, the Page wasn’t really a meaningful part of my business (most folks connect to my through twitter or over email), so I was gonna shrug it off as stressful annoyance.
Then a pal forwarded me this link:
Facebook unfriends The Aviator | The Burning World
Yesterday The Aviator‘s Facebook page disappeared. When I logged in to check the page I was greeted by a message that said the page was being removed because it had been identified as carrying material related to bullying. There was a button labelled “appeal”, so I pressed it. That’s all. No contact information, no detail of the complaint. Nothing. Except that I was also prevented from posting or sharing anything on Facebook for 12 hours. The page no longer exists, and I am annoyed. . . .
Turns out Gareth–a dude very much like me, albeit in New Zealand–had seemingly the *exact same* experience. So, has this happened to you or an author you know? Please feel free to drop me a line on Twitter or by email, and share this post far and wide (at your discretion). Thanks!
Continue reading “Facebook Banned My Book–Have They Banned Yours?”
Argyle Sock Squid!
Man, I *love* the argyle ones!
(Hand sewn by our friend Beth Wodzinski! Thx for the pic, B.!!!)
History furnishes a brief video counter-argument to my recent “3D-Printed Plastic #Guns Are Malarky” streak
I’ve been pretty harsh on the breathless reporting and legislative freak-outs triggered (pun!) by DefDist’s most recent 3D-printing shenanigans (and other folks’ mods and improvements there-of; read my full thoughts here:Snip, Burn, Solder Blog: The “Liberator” 3D-Printed Plastic Pistol: A Thing You Don’t Have to Worry About #guns and here: Snip, Burn, Solder Blog: Mandatory Reading for Folks Excited about 3D Printing Who’ve Never *Used* a 3D Printer).
As an olive branch to the “technology always gets faster/cheaper/better” crowd, I offer this brief snippet of history[*] without further commentary:
News report from 1981 about the Internet. [VIDEO]
From the video’s closer: “It takes over two hours to receive the entire daily paper electronically, and at $5 per hour, it isn’t competition for the daily street edition.”
From the video’s closer: “It takes over two hours to receive the entire daily paper electronically, and at $5 per hour, it isn’t competition for the daily street edition.”
Recommended Reading/Listening: “LizardFoot” by John Jasper Owens
A cappella Zoo 3: “LizardFoot,” by John Jasper Owens – A cappella Zoo
If there’s something not to like about this story, I frankly can’t imagine it–and the audio version is *even better.*
Please accept my resignation as Grand White Pharaoh of the Order of Racial Purity, and the return on these here robes (enclosed) which have been patched by Missy-Bee before she run off, and dry-cleaned all the way up in Shilohville by authentic Koreans.
As y’all know, I never quite fit in with The Order. I have nothing special against black people (except for Highsmith Jones, who beat me out for running back when we were in school, and that was more of a personal thing). Plus, I have never actually seen a Jew, but if they do control all media, I remain angry with them for taking Katie Couric off of the before-shift television, where she was good-looking to wake up to, and putting her on nights, where I have had enough of women by then.
I have long suspected anyway I was only invited to join The Order on account of my Kingfisher pontoon, on which we all can get on to go fishing, and my extra large hog pit for barbeques. And likewise for being hitched to Missy-Bee, who has long spoke out against racial intermixing, and is Super-Grand White Squid of Paladuck County Ezekiel’s sister, and second runner-up for homecoming queen, and well-liked.
Well I suppose y’all are wondering why I am resigning, on account of y’all have not been mean to me lately in any serious way. Well, it is the direct result of our LizardFoot con introduced in order to make money from Yankees.
As y’all know, Yankees are stupid. . . .
As y’all know, I never quite fit in with The Order. I have nothing special against black people (except for Highsmith Jones, who beat me out for running back when we were in school, and that was more of a personal thing). Plus, I have never actually seen a Jew, but if they do control all media, I remain angry with them for taking Katie Couric off of the before-shift television, where she was good-looking to wake up to, and putting her on nights, where I have had enough of women by then.
I have long suspected anyway I was only invited to join The Order on account of my Kingfisher pontoon, on which we all can get on to go fishing, and my extra large hog pit for barbeques. And likewise for being hitched to Missy-Bee, who has long spoke out against racial intermixing, and is Super-Grand White Squid of Paladuck County Ezekiel’s sister, and second runner-up for homecoming queen, and well-liked.
Well I suppose y’all are wondering why I am resigning, on account of y’all have not been mean to me lately in any serious way. Well, it is the direct result of our LizardFoot con introduced in order to make money from Yankees.
As y’all know, Yankees are stupid. . . .