Up on the roof

I saw this clip today. Not for the first time, but something struck me about it.

As far as the music goes, the song and performance proves that the Beatles were still the Beatles even as the whole thing was imploding. But look at them. John, George, and Ringo are all dressed for winter. As well they might be, as it's late January in London. Billy Preston's coat looks pretty well insulated as well.

But Paul? He's out there bundled up in nothing more than a suit jacket. No sweater, no scarf. Either he's trying to psych the other three out―which I wouldn't put past him―or he's got special bassist powers.

maps + math

In the history of Western cartography, a distinction was made between maps and charts. Charts referred to the depictions used by mariners that contained varied types of information based on their experience and specific to their purposes. Maps, however, were largely academic, concerned with the world as a whole. Early cartographers, such as Ptolemy of Alexandria, Greece (ca. 120 CE) defined what they did as geography―"a representation in pictures of the whole known world together with the phenomena that are contained therein." He distinguished that from chorography, which he deemed regional and selective, "even dealing with the smallest conceivable localities, such as harbors, farms, villages, river courses, and the like." Our broader definition of maps is in keeping with more modern writers who view world-wide maps and local maps simply as different streams, which have an underlying conceptual unity and which eventually merged. Differences in terminology, however, have persisted. Hence, maps specifically for mariners are still called charts, and so the unique objects created by Marshall Islanders are commonly referred to as stick charts.

That's an excerpt from Mathematics Elsewhere: An Exploration of Ideas Across Cultures by Marcia Ascher. Ascher is―or rather was, since she died in 2013―a Professor Emerita of Mathematics at Ithaca College. She's an accomplished mathematician. I'm really not, although I can add, subtract, multiply, and divide in my head. So when she goes into detail on some things, it can sail over my head. 

No matter. It's a great book. While mathematics is her academic subject, she also provides some interesting anthropological studies here. And what she realizes is that mathematics reaches in various forms across the globe, but it never exists in isolation. There are algorithms used in divination rituals. There are calendars. The Jewish, Gregorian, and Muslim calendars are respectively luni-solar, solar, and lunar. There are other calendars that are none of these things, and their purpose isn't to measure time in the natural world. And of course, maps. The purposes cause math to take different forms in different cultures.

Picture it

Does the Thematic Apperception Test work? That is, does it provide accurate diagnostic information about the patient's psychological state? I have no idea. I'm not in that business (i.e. headshrinking) nor am I in therapy. What the psychiatric/psychological field considers good therapy is beyond me.

But I do like the idea of the person under analysis engaged in a kind of storytelling process, being creative in the process of figuring the insides of their own heads. And many of the images are hauntingly beautiful, or at least hauntingly weird. 

Brother against brother

Romulus killed his brother Remus over who would get to name their city. The natives called it Rome from there on.

In an early episode of The Sopranos, Tony and his crew are working over a Hasidic guy at the behest of his former father-in-law. He speaks of his people outlasting the Roman Empire and says, "And the Romans, where are they now?" Tony responds, "You're lookin' at 'em, asshole."

On the surface, the Remus and Romulus story seems to prove Tony's point. It should be recognized, however, that this myth has always had numerous interpretations. Not a few felt all along that, even though they got Rome out of it, this was a tragic tale.

Bible study

Mike Huckabee, America's current Ambassador to Israel, has been on his current track for a long time. A brief piece from 2016 has him justifying support of Israel's settlement policies with a quote of Genesis 12:3, reading, "I will bless them that bless thee, and curse them that curseth thee." This is a promise made by God to Abraham, before even the ancient Kingdom of Israel has been founded. It's at least worth asking if it applies to all Abrahamic faiths.

More to the point, it seems like a lot of Christians approach the Bible less as an invitation to moral and spiritual growth and more as a potboiler novel with absolute good guys and purely evil bad guys. That's fine if you're writing a Netflix miniseries based on it. Not so much if you're basing your and, in fact, the nation's politics on it.

Spot of tea

 

I've heard it said that coffee is supercharged and tea is time-released. A kind of sprint vs. marathon effect. Truth to tell, I'm no expert. I tend to get my caffeine from coffee. When I drink tea, it's most often herbal.

Still, I love the way this song captures those qualities of tea. The first verse is gentle and a bit sleepy, but picks up speed. With the "Hallelujah, Rosa Lea" chorus, well, the caffeine hits full force.

Keychain creatures

I've heard of Labubu without thinking much about what they were. It just sounded like something Yogi Bear might say if French people visited Jellystone. Apparently they're these little toys reminiscent of Teletubbies and/or Troll dolls, which is not surprising. What might be a surprise is how they're being sold.

It’s easy to dismiss the Labubu Craze of 2025 as just the latest in the long line of tulip manias for toys. The fact that consumers are rushing to spend anywhere between $25 and $150,000 a pop on maniacally grinning monsters designed by Chinese-Dutch artist Kasing Lung is eyebrow-raising, but not unprecedented.

But in the 2020s, the script has flipped on who the dolls are actually designed for. Parents once bloodied each other to put the toy du jour under the Christmas tree for their children, as in the so-called Cabbage Patch Kids Riots of 1983, or later skirmishes over Beanie Babies or Furbies. Now men and women are eagerly lining up outside designer toy shops to secure Labubus for the only children in their family—themselves. Collectors, mostly in their twenties and thirties, post Labubu unboxing videos on TikTok with the reverence of a gender reveal party. Recently in Washington, DC, a crowd of Zoomers met up for espresso martinis and photo-ops with their fuzzy toys; in Los Angeles, hundreds packed into a club for a Labubu-inspired rave. 

Be careful out there. I can't think of many more embarrassing phrases to come up at your emergency room visit than "Labubu-inspired rave."

Fad toys that people who are―God help us!―old enough to vote and maybe run for office are bad bets for the collectibles market. If no one or almost no one is buying them for actual children, it's unlikely that kids will grow up to have nostalgic feelings toward them and seek them out when they get older. You could try selling your collection on eBay in fifteen years and find that it hasn't even kept up with the rate of inflation.

Of course at least you'll have something solid, something that actually exists in physical space. It's an edge over Bored Apes.

Pretty soon you're talking serious money

Apparently Larry Ellison recently became the richest person in the world, although they're also saying that Elon Musk rebounded after a few hours to keep the title. Still, they're both one of a very small elite. The wealthiest men who haven't paid to have their names removed from the public record. 

Will Ellison use his wealth more for good than evil. I wouldn't count on it, given that his son is looking to further merger the already thoroughly mergered Hollywood. 

But the weird thing from my perspective is how Ellison got there with Oracle. Don't get me wrong, Oracle seems from the outside like it would be quite profitable. But look at Microsoft. They took over the operating system business with MS-DOS in 1981, when the personal computing era was just getting underway. Windows came a few years later. I use Windows. Most people do in some way, whether they like it or not. And the Microsoft Office suite that includes Word and Excel is pretty much universally used. So I know how I've put money in Bill Gates's pocket. Anything I've done to make Ellison richer has been invisible.

Arcadia

Here's a nice little article about Lily Dale. Lily Dale is a hamlet in New York's Chautauqua County with an estimated population of about 275. It's been the home of the National Spiritualist Association of Churches since that organization's founding in 1893. Hence it's a real hub spiritual mediums' activity.

Do I believe in mediums? I guess it's a matter of degree. Supernatural phenomena are likely rare, which is why we can't tie them into the rules of nature. Still, there are things I don't expect to be explained in my lifetime.

But there's something to Lily Dale beyond whether its residents can get in touch with your departed grandmother. Despite its tiny size, it actually has an identity. From the look of the town, that's helped it escape the grip of hypermodernity. Considering where modernity is going and where it seems to be taking us, that's something other villages, small towns, and maybe even cities should study.

Visions of the Northwest

 

The Tlingit people are one of the major native tribes of Alaska. As such, the first Europeans to make contact with them were Russians. The Tlingit language has often been written in Cyrillic letters. 

Tlingit art is beautiful. It's dramatic. It speaks of a fascinating mythopoeia. 

Of course, cultures are complex. For a long time, the Tlingit were both a warlike and a slave-keeping society. Of course that's not who they are anymore. But it's a reminder that you have to take the bitter with the sweet. This is true across cultures.

What bugs you

Today marks the fourth time I've seen a lanternfly and the first time I've tried to kill one. They say that you should kill one every time you see it, because they're invasive and explosive and all that. But I have a different ethic. If an insect gets into my home its life is forfeit. If I encounter a bug in nature and it doesn't bite or otherwise molest me, I leave it alone. 

Lanternflies look kind of pitiful when they just walk on the ground. When they fly they're sort of pretty, in a way. It was one that had just landed that I tried to stomp on. Figured it had made a good show. But it leaped away before I could reach it. 

I'm not that bothered. Things have a way of balancing out. And a huge number of bird species eat insects, especially birds with pointy beaks. They seem to have put the kibosh on the cicada swarm we were supposed to get last year.

Case in point

 

Younger bands and musicians often have to license their songs to advertising in order to make money. I understand this. But more established players who have other options might want to think twice.

A few years back this song was used in a car ad. I don't remember the company. But I do remember that the music and vocals were turned down for most of it while the spiel guy did his 1000-word-per-minute spiel. Then when he was done with that "The best I ever had" blasted out. 

Pete Townshend said in essence that it was his song and if he wanted to put some extra money away from ad royalties that was his right. He wasn't wrong. But realize that some people in younger age brackets are hearing the song for the first time, in a context that's annoying enough that some will just tune it out. Then the question becomes whether it's worth it.

I'll tell you what the destructive force is

 Poetry Is a Destructive Force

That's what misery is,

Nothing to have at heart.

It is to have or nothing.

It is a thing to have,

A lion, an ox in his breast,

To feel it breathing there.

Corazón, stout dog,

Young ox, bow-legged bear,

He tastes its blood, not spit.

He is like a man

In the body of a violent beast.

Its muscles are his own . . .

The lion sleeps in the sun.

Its nose is on its paws.

It can kill a man.

That's a poem by Wallace Stevens, so don't think I'm taking credit for it. But it's stuck with me since I read it X years ago. In a way that I wouldn't be so arrogant as to try to explain it or pick it apart. So I'll just touch on a couple of things.

It's a bold statement that "poetry is a destructive force." One you might expect to hear from some insane crusader, not an actual poet. So what is it that poetry destroys? In some cases, the poet. Dylan Thomas and Sylvia Plath are notorious cases, although I believe this poem predates their final stages. But they weren't the first.

But this is not a dry exposé of poetic self-destructiveness. There's something else. If poetry works differently on the mind than do other things, you don't know what it's going to unleash.

Most of the lines are quite short. They don't tell, they just are.

The cool world

It's getting to be that time again. Sweater season. To specify a little, if you're up late at night, and the window is open, and you're wearing a short-sleeved shirt, it's nice to have a sweater on-hand. Unless and until there's another hot spell. 

I realized a while ago that if I'm going to wear sweaters, I prefer cardigans. They're considerably more flexible than other sweaters. The one I'm wearing now is sort of a mint green and made out of what they say is Scottish wool. It's got a nice aroma to it.

From the other side

 

The mechanized future of early pop art had become the present, and the liberation from the old values it promised had come to be seen as what it was: an emptying-out process of jumped-up consumer stimulation that left you with very little in the way of tangible values. If pop started out as a way of "liking things," as Andy said, probably quite sincerely, its legacy in the '70s and '80s was more complicated: you can like things all you want, but they will not like you back. In fact, when you're not looking, they will rob you. It's now more or less agreed that the great liberation that was supposed to flow from the new industrial society never actually took place, and even if it did, it ushered in another set of problems. The great leveling of social codes that followed the breakdown of the 1950s order only led to more anxiety. By the '70s, pop art started to look like an embrace of this new consumer-driven social order; it felt a touch corrupt and compromised, and integrated a little too easily into the middle-high strata of public taste.

The above passage is from David Salle's How to See: Looking, Talking, and Thinking about Art. Yes, bless him, Salle is a fellow adherent of the Oxford comma. Specifically, it's from Salle's overview on Roy Lichtenstein. Lichtenstein became famous in the '60s for his update of the pointillist method. He would take comic book panels, subtly alter their imagery and layout, enlarge them in the form of paintings, which also included enlarging the Ben-Day dots.

Lichtenstein eventually moved onto other subjects, derived from high art rather than pop ephemera. It was a necessary change. His old style had been (re)appropriated by the makers of ironic t-shirts, coffee mugs, etc. You could see it as the curse of the SubGenius. But while he changed subject matter, the dots stayed. One might look at them and wonder why he was doing it like that. Salle, a much sought-after painter in his own right, provides some explanation of why Lichtenstein was doing what he did the way he did it.

His insights extend a bit beyond the art world as well. The "emptying-out" he speaks of certainly reached a lot further, and has never ended. The past sixty years or so have seen a great deal of change on the social, economic, and political fronts. It's mostly been a discarding of the old where one waits in vain for the "in with the new" part. So how can you counteract that? It's an open question.