How odious! Via Unfogged, from  the Women’s Media Center:

[F]or all of the available examples of fossilized bones, no one in the early world of paleontology had ever discovered a complete and intact fossilized skeleton. This lack of information forced Owen to extrapolate about dinosaurs’ size and shape from examples of teeth, rib bones, and spikes, and to make educated guesses about their position in dinosaurs’ unique morphology. In the late 1840s, Owen commissioned Benjamin Waterhouse Hawkins, a British artist and amateur scientist, to build the first life-size sculptures of dinosaurs based on speculations by Owen and Gideon Mantell, the British paleontologist who had done the first work on iguanodons. Hawkins created them for the Great Exhibition of 1851 in Hyde Park, and after the close of the exhibition helped to transport them in 1852 to Sydenham, a suburb south of London, where an enlarged version of the Crystal Palace was rebuilt on what became Crystal Palace Park. The dinosaur sculptures were made of iron skeletons and fashioned from bricks and concrete, a hybrid form that evoked both the prefabricated steel-and-glass structures that comprised the original Crystal Palace as well as the brick and mortar of traditional English architecture.

more from Cabinet here.

IN THE Los Angeles Times a few weeks ago, the middlebrow American eclecticist and historian Mark Kurlansky told his readers that a new piece of writing “may be one of the most important books you will ever read”. The work was Human Smoke, by the novelist Nicholson Baker, a factual venture into the origins of the Second World War. Human Smoke, Kurlansky said, demonstrated “that World War II was one of the biggest, most carefully plotted lies in modern history”.

Kurlansky was not talking about Hitler and his various inventions or provocations that permitted him to occupy several neighbouring states. The lies, according to Kurlansky, were told by the leaders of the democracies, especially Roosevelt and Churchill. Baker had shown, “step by step, how an alliance dominated by leaders who were bigoted, far more opposed to communism than to fascism, obsessed with arms sales and itching for a fight coerced the world into war”.

In fact Baker’s book does not “show” or “demonstrate” anything in particular about the causes of the war, consisting, as it does, of hundreds of snippets of speech, diary extracts and single lines from newspaper reports, combined into a chronological narrative.

more from the Sunday Times here.

State lotteries, it’s sometimes said, are a tax on people who don’t understand mathematics. But there is no cause for anyone to feel smug. The brain, no matter how well schooled, is just plain bad at dealing with randomness and probability. Confronted with situations that require an intuitive grasp of the odds, even the best mathematicians and scientists can find themselves floundering.

Suppose you want to calculate the likelihood of tossing two coins and coming up with one head. The great 18th-century mathematician Jean Le Rond d’Alembert thought the answer was obvious: there are three possibilities, zero, one or two heads. So the odds for any one of those happening must be one in three.

But as Leonard Mlodinow explains in “The Drunkard’s Walk: How Randomness Rules Our Lives,” there are, in fact, four possible outcomes: heads-heads, heads-tails, tails-heads and tails-tails. So there is a 25 percent chance of throwing zero or two heads and a 50 percent chance of throwing just one. In the long run, anyone offering d’Alembert’s odds in a coin-flipping contest would lose his shirt.

more from the NY Times here.

///
The Hymn of Awakening
Pradodh Parikh

The one who has returned after awakening
Awaking
Flying, drowning, taking leaps, scooping out water from sinking lifeboats
Returned to himself –
What of his awakening?
The one who has returned after awakening
Who has flown after flying, drowned after drowning, leapt after leaping, died after dying,
What of his awakening?
And what of PuPu’s wretched Dada,
Mankind,
and Tiresias knocking his stick?
Who anchored his wisdom at the port of a gypsy town
and returned to himself
wearing knickers from the land of the moon
after digging wells
wearing Nixon’s nose
leaving shops behind
Has flown, jumped, drowned –
What of his awakening?
Praise be to awakening
Praise be to peace
Peace
Let there be peace
Corpulent, bloody and
Fluttering there in a corner.
Peace.
What’s done is done.
Upon all the planets in all the houses
Peace.
But do keep in mind,
The one who has
Returned
After awakening
Drowned after drowning
Leaped after leaping
Died after dying
Awakened after awakening –

What of his awakening?

//

From Nature:

Controlling your anger and reacting sensibly when someone treats you badly can be a problem. And if you have low levels of serotonin, it can be even more of a problem, a new study has found. Molly Crockett at the University of Cambridge, UK, and her colleagues gave volunteers a drink that temporarily lowered their levels of serotonin, a brain ‘neurotransmitter’ linked to happy mood. They then had them play ‘the Ultimatum Game’, which involves accepting or rejecting offers of money. Those with lower serotonin levels showed increased retaliation to offers that they perceived to be unfair. “We’ve suspected for years that there’s a link between serotonin and impulsive aggression and emotional regulation,” says Crockett. “Until this study it wasn’t clear whether serotonin was playing a causal role.”

It has long been known that low serotonin levels are associated with groups of people prone to impulsiveness and problems with emotional control, such as alcoholics, violent criminals and suicide attempters. Low serotonin is also found in clinical conditions such as depression and anxiety.

More here.

From The Guardian:

In 1927, The Good Soldier was reissued as the first volume of a uniform edition of Ford Madox Ford’s works. In a dedicatory letter to Stella Ford, the novelist explained that his “tale of passion” was a true story heard a decade previously from the character he calls Edward Ashburnham, but that he’d needed to wait until all the originals were dead before he could write it. He claimed it as his best book, and asked, uxoriously, that Stella accept not just this work, but “the general dedication of the edition”.

More recently, I was talking to Ian McEwan, who told me that a few years ago he’d been staying in a house with a well-stocked library. There he found a copy of The Good Soldier, which he read and admired greatly. A while later, he wrote On Chesil Beach, that brilliant novella in which passion, and Englishness, and misunderstanding, lead to emotional catastrophe. Only after publishing the book did he realise that he had unconsciously given his two main characters the names Edward (as in Ashburnham) and Florence (as in Dowell). He is quite happy for me to pass this on.

So Ford’s presence, and subterranean influence, continue. He is not so much a writer’s writer (which can suggest hermeticism) as a proper reader’s writer. The Good Soldier needs The Good Reader. It’s true that he isn’t yet being taught to students at Durham University, but there are still 75 years of the allotted 150 for them to get up to speed. And after that, we can start working on Cheltenham, Eton College, and the nation’s tennis-players . . .

More here. (Note: It remains one of my favorite novels since my nephew Asad recommended it to me.)

Jennifer Fisher Wilson in The Smart Set:

Sometimes the smell of body odor means more than just “Wash me!” A person whose sweat starts to smell fruity may have developed diabetes, and an ammonia smell may indicate liver or kidney disease. Odor of rotting fish may signal trimethylaminuria — a rare syndrome caused by a defective gene that prevents people from metabolizing trimethylamine, a natural byproduct of digestion of certain foods like saltwater fish, eggs, and liver.

Body odors have a way of making a lasting impression, even when they don’t signal illness and even when we try ignore them. I’ll never forget the powerful scent emanating from Father Brady, the Irish priest at the church where I grew up. He never looked sweaty, but whenever he would lean over to shake my hand with his own squat, papery one, a smell that made me wrinkle my nose wafted through his robes. My family always joked that we should give him Old Spice for Christmas.

We all emit body odors of some sort, of course, but some of us just cover them up better than others. I must have gone through a particularly stinky stage when, during my early adolescence, my mother took me to the grocery store and showed me where to find Tussy. The spicy-smelling, aqua-colored stick deodorant was the forerunner to Teen Spirit. Apparently, I needed it.

More here.

Patrick House in Slate:

Today I can finally update my résumé to include “Writer, The New Yorker.” Yes, I won The New Yorker Cartoon Caption Contest, and I’m going to tell you how I did it. These observations have been culled from months of research and are guaranteed to help you win, too. (Note from Slate‘s lawyers: Observations not guaranteed to help you win.)

Most people who look at the winners of the caption contest say, “I could’ve done better than that.” You’re right. You could have. But that doesn’t mean you could’ve won the caption contest—it just means you could’ve done better. And if your goal is not to win the caption contest, why bother entering? There is one mantra to take from this article, worth its own line break:

You are not trying to submit the funniest caption; you are trying to win The New Yorker‘s caption contest.

Humor and victory are different matters entirely. To understand what makes the perfect caption, you must start with the readership. Paging through The New Yorker is a lonesome withdrawal, not a group activity. The reader is isolated and introspective, probably on the train commuting to work. He suffers from urban ennui. He does not make eye contact. Laughing out loud is, in this context, an unseemly act sure to draw unwanted attention. To avoid this, your caption should elicit, at best, a mild chuckle. The first filter for your caption should be: Is it too funny? Will it make anyone laugh out loud? If so, throw it out and work on a less funny one.

More here.  Try to think of a caption for the cartoon above. To see House’s winning caption, highlight the text of this sentence: [“O.K. I’m at the window. To the right? Your right or my right?“]

///
Compositions of Distance
Asim Khan

Through these poems,
I belong to you,
My Kenya, my land
On these streets,
That go by your home

Prophecy of your dreams
To return and to see,
The years of your life
Through those playgrounds
Built for you,
With butterflies and rainbows

I have heard of stories
From nomads of the desert
Where you belong,
Crevices of life and its mechanics
As I follow those paths
Through these compositions
Of distance and dreams

Through these poems,
I belong to you,
The history of its days and nights
All in my veins, all in my skin
On these streets
That go by your home

Through those words,
I write for you,
On these streets,
Engulfed in silence and fear
Occupied by oppression
And hands occupied
In prayers and eyes in tears

Through these poems
I belong to you
The story and its existence
On these streets,
That go by your home!

//

Pervez Hoodbhoy and Zia Mian made this documentary on the tragedy of Kashmir (released by the Eqbal Ahmad Foundation). Beena Sarwar’s review in Countercurrents can be found here.

Aida Edemariam on Michael Frayn, his new play and theatrical performance, in The Guardian:

Michael Frayn’s new play, Afterlife, like Democracy and Copenhagen, takes a real historical incident as its starting point. Like Copenhagen it cycles deftly through the years, each cycle getting at something new, some different layer of meaning, like simultaneously spinning plates. As in Noises Off, there is a play within a play; like many of his plays, it is acutely aware of its theatricality.

“It seems to me that the theatre’s just a very clear example of what we all do all the time in life – we’re both performing and being the audience,” says Frayn, long limbs folding into the corner of a sofa in the home he shares with his wife, biographer Claire Tomalin, in Petersham, south-west London. He has a monumental head, and a deep quiet rumble of a voice, often directed inward. “Even as we sit here I am being the audience when you ask a question. When I reply, I take over the performance, and you’re the audience. The theatre’s only an extension of that.”

Most dramatists, he writes in Stage Directions, a new collection of his writing on the theatre, “start young, when they are full of passion and certainty; and often, by the age of 36, which I was when my first play was produced, have already got it out of their system, and sunk exhausted into obscurity, celebrity, or drink.”

Michael Saler reviews David Hajdu’s The Ten-Cent Plague and Michael Chabon’s Maps and Legends in the TLS:

Hajdu’s The Ten-Cent Plague is a thoroughly researched, engagingly written account of a modern witch-hunt: the public hysteria over horror and crime comics in the United States during the early 1950s. Many of these were excessive in their gratuitous depictions of violence, as Hajdu admits, but the reaction to them was even more extreme. Schools and churches organized public burnings of comics, when Nazi book-burnings were still a recent memory; laws were passed to prohibit sales; publishers were forced out of business and artists lost their livelihood. The industry responded to the outcry by creating a self-censoring body whose code was so restrictive that comics lost their vitality and much of their audience.

At first glance, this sad episode of censorship and paranoia seems to coincide with the chilling climate fostered by McCarthyism. There were clear overlaps: the panic was promoted by Dr Fredric Wertham who, like Joseph McCarthy, found a cause that would bring him the national attention he craved. Wertham’s scientific credentials in psychiatry seemed to legitimate his specious claim that comic books caused juvenile delinquency, and made oracular his pronouncement that “Hitler was a beginner compared to the comic book industry”. His Seduction of the Innocent (1954) led parents to believe that Superman promoted Fascism, Batman and Robin homosexuality, and Wonder Woman sadomasochism. (Wertham wasn’t entirely wrong about the last: Wonder Woman enjoyed using her “golden lasso” and “bracelets of submission” on villains; her creator, William Moulton Marston, claimed she “satisfies the subconscious, elaborately disguised desire of males to be mastered by a woman who loves them”.) Politicians, such as Senator Estes Kefauver, joined Wertham in order to advance their careers.

Hajdu notes these similarities, but argues that while McCarthyism represented anti-elitism, the crusade against comics was “anti-anti-elitism, a campaign by protectors of rarefied ideals of literacy, sophistication, and virtue to rein in the practitioners of a wild, homegrown form of vernacular American expression”.

Like something out of Cronenberg’s Crash, in Newsweek:

“Josh” says he was fully prepared when he amputated his left hand with a power tool. He says he had tried to cut it off before—once putting it underneath a truck and trying to crush it (the jack didn’t collapse right); once attempting to saw it off with a table saw (he lost his nerve). He even spent countless miles driving around with his hand dangling out the window, hoping to get side-swiped. But this time he was determined to succeed. Josh, who insisted on anonymity because his family thinks he lost his hand in an accident, says he practiced on animal legs he got from a butcher, and he was equipped with bandages to stop the bleeding and a charged cell phone in case he got dizzy. Now, years later, Josh says he feels wonderful without his hand, that his amputation finally ended a “torment” that had plagued him since middle school. “It is a tremendous relief,” he told NEWSWEEK. “I feel like my body is right.”

Surprising as it may seem, Josh is not alone. He has what some scientists are calling Body Integrity Identity Disorder (BIID), an exceedingly rare condition characterized by an overwhelming desire to amputate one or more healthy limbs or become paraplegic. The desire to be disabled seems so bizarre and contrary to basic human instincts that those who suffer from BIID have largely kept their compulsion a secret. But online communities of those with BIID have formed over the last decade, galvanizing a small movement to bring the disorder into the open.

[H/t: Ruchira Paul]

In the LRB, Donald MacKenzie on the building economic crisis:

Indices and other tranches quickly became a huge-volume, liquid market. They facilitated the creation not just of standard CDOs but of bespoke products such as CDO-like structures that consist only of mezzanine tranches…All this activity explains the attractiveness of the end-of-the-world trade. The trade is the buying and selling of protection on the safest, super-senior tranches of the investment-grade indices. No one buys protection on these tranches because they are looking for a big pay-out if capitalism crumbles: if nothing else, they have no reason to expect that the institution that sold them protection would survive the carnage and be able to make the pay-out. Instead, they are looking to hedge their exposure to movements in the credit market, especially in correlation. Traders need to demonstrate they’ve done this before they’re allowed to book the profits on their deals, so from their viewpoint it’s worth buying protection, for example from ‘monolines’ (bond insurers), even if the latter would almost certainly be insolvent well before any pay-out on the protection was due.

With problems such as the non-observability of correlation apparently adequately solved by the development of indices, the credit-derivatives market, which emerged little more than a decade ago, had grown by June 2007 to an aggregate total of outstanding contracts of $51 trillion, the equivalent of $7,700 for every person on the planet. It is perhaps the most sophisticated sector of the global financial markets, and a fertile source of employment for mathematicians, whose skills are needed to develop models better than the single-factor Gaussian copula.

From The Washington Post:

WHAT HAPPENED: Inside the Bush White House and Washington’s Culture of Deception by Scott McClellan.

McClellan says the “defining moment in my time working for the president, and one of the most painful experiences of my life,” occurred in July 2005, when he discovered that what he had told the press two years earlier — that Karl Rove and Lewis Libby were not involved in “the leaking of classified information” about Valerie Plame, Wilson’s wife — was untrue. “I had unknowingly passed along false information,” he writes. “And five of the highest-ranking officials in the administration were involved in my doing so: Rove, Libby, Vice President Cheney, the president’s chief of staff Andrew Card, and the president himself.” Upon learning this, he felt “constrained by my duties and loyalty to the president and unable to comment. But I promised reporters and the public that I would someday tell the whole story of what I knew.”

What Happened is the result. “I’ve written it not to settle scores or enhance my own role,” McClellan says, “but simply to record what I know and what I learned,” and on the whole this seems to be the case. As a deputy in the White House press office and then as press secretary, McClellan did not participate in high-level decision-making, especially with regard to foreign policy, but attempted to explain presidential decisions to the public — as those decisions had been explained to him — through the various conduits provided by the press. It is the fate of the presidential press secretary to be among an administration’s most visible public faces yet to be comparatively impotent within the circles of real power. McClellan struggled with this as did all press secretaries before him, but it was his misfortune to be the spokesman for an administration in which deceit and prevarication were commonplace.

If McClellan feels betrayed, he doesn’t say so. Instead, in the self-effacing manner that characterizes his book (and renders it somewhat limp), he merely says, “I blame myself. I allowed myself to be deceived,” and then blandly adds, “But the behavior of the president and his key advisers was even more disappointing.” Well, yes.

More here.

From Scientific American:

Ever wondered why some people seem able to gobble down anything and still stay slim?

New research shows that the answer may lie in serotonin, a neurotransmitter, or chemical messenger produced by nerve cells. Scientists at the University of California, San Francisco, (U.C.S.F.) report in the journal Cell Metabolism that the nerve messenger, a known appetite suppressant, not only controls whether and how much you eat but, independent of that, also plays a role in what the body does with the calories once they’re consumed. “This may mean you could develop therapeutic strategies to manipulate fat metabolism (the rate at which food is turned into energy) independently of what you eat,” says study co-author Kaveh Ashrafi, a U.C.S.F. physiologist.

Many weight-loss drugs now on the market are designed to increase serotonin levels, but they were believed to work by stemming appetite; the new research shows they may also work by speeding metabolism. That means, Ashrafi says, that treatments could be developed that target obesity, which has been linked to a slew of ills from diabetes to cancer, without necessarily suppressing appetite. Ashrafi says he launched the study to determine why some people on diet drugs regained their weight after they stopped popping them, even if they did not increase their caloric intake. “The assumption that body weight is simply a consequence of behavior is not exactly correct,” he says. “It is the combination of behavior and the organism’s propensity for what to do with nutrients it takes in,” whether to store or use them.

More here.

Josh Cohen reviews Paul Reitter’s biography of the favorite of my ethical spectres, Karl Kraus, in The Forward:

Kraus was born in 1874 in Austro-Hungarian Gitschin, now Jicˇín in the Czech Republic. It should be ironic that his father was a successful manufacturer of paper. Vienna 1899 was the decisive dateline: In that year, Kraus renounced Judaism and began Die Fackel, The Torch, which published whenever he pleased, even daily. After 1911, and up until the end of his life in 1936 amid fascism’s rise, he wrote most of this publication himself. Before Nazism became news, newly broadcast over the radio and on newsreels, Die Fackel’s intertextuality would preview that of the Internet; formed on the informal, referential feuilleton style of Heinrich Heine, Kraus’s literary editorializing could be considered — but isn’t, in any cyber history I’ve read — the first blog.

With the regrettable exception of Hitler’s mature years, there was no German-language phenomenon that did not occasion Kraus’s print comment: He inveighed against the Neue Freie Presse, Vienna’s petit-bourgeois paper of record; the ideal of pan-Germany; the Habsburg Monarchy, and, especially, the new Jewish science that was psychoanalysis: Kraus found exceptional hilarity in Freud’s account of Vienna’s fantasies of violence and sex, which frolicked after the populace was safely in bed, and the Realism of the newspaper’s day sound asleep.

Die Fackel’s eminent early contributors included Peter Altenberg, Richard Dehmel, Oskar Kokoschka, Else Lasker-Schüler, Adolf Loos, Heinrich Mann, Arnold Schoenberg, August Strindberg, George Trakl, Franz Wedekind, Franz Werfel and Oscar Wilde; Prague’s Franz Kafka was a loyal reader, as was Berlin’s Walter Benjamin, who regarded Kraus’s project as the literary fulfillment of Trotsky’s Permanent Revolution — the making of “an eternally new newspaper.” Benjamin often discussed Die Fackel with his friend Gershom (then Gerhard) Scholem, who would torch the noun Fackel into a verb: fackelt, “to fackel on” — signifying a prophetic though aggressively egotistical rhetoric, not necessarily flattering, but proof that Kraus could not be ignored.

Kerri Smith in news@nature:

Researchers have come up with a new use for the ubiquitous mobile phone: tracking human movements. By monitoring the signals from 100,000 mobile-phone users sending and receiving calls and text messages, a team from Northeastern University in Boston, Massachusetts, has worked out some apparently universal laws of human motion.

The results could help epidemiologists to predict how viruses will spread through populations, and help urban planners and traffic forecasters to allocate resources.

Albert-László Barabási and his colleagues show that most people, perhaps unsurprisingly, are creatures of habit. They make regular trips to the same few destinations such as work and home, and pepper these with occasional longer forays such as vacations.

The distances people covered varied widely between individuals, but follow a similar pattern — most people move on average a short distance on a daily basis, whereas a few hardy souls move long distances in a short time.

[H/t: Aditya Dev Sood & Misha Lepetich]