View from the eatery

 

When I first started seeing the name "George Segal" in art books, I thought, "Wow, the actor did this? Must be a pretty busy guy." Well, I'm sure he was, at times. But they're too different guys. 

This sculpture is called "The Restaurant Window II". Strictly speaking I guess it's a little more than a sculpture, because there's the background, incorporating incandescent lights. But the figure in the foreground is the key part. While the plaster she and her clothing are made of are uncolored, you can pick things up. Those are thick boots on her feet, so it's probably winter. And she looks to be waiting. For what or whom, we don't know. But it's starting to strain her patience.

Halo effect

I recently borrowed a short book from the library: The Saint and the Templar Treasure by Leslie Charteris. Or rather, by "Leslie Charteris." What I've since found out is that Charteris, though busy writing novels and short stories with his most famous creation for a period of about 30 years, largely left things to ghostwriters from the mid-late 60s onwards. The book is a good crime adventure, but it's "in the school of"  rather than by the original master.

Reading the story, it's pretty easy to hear Roger Moore in both Simon Templar's dialogue and in some of the narration. Moore was ideally suited to playing the Saint. He was winning as a bon vivant who loved fine wine and fancy baubles, but was ultimately a knight in shining armor. 007 wasn't as good a role for him because Bond shouldn't have easy charm, but rather be a little blunt.

Hey what're the odds

The full title of Joseph Mazur's book Fluke is Fluke: The Math & Myth of Coincidence. The cover of the 2016 Basic Books edition shows a man in silhouette, walking his dog. A lightning bolt descends from the word "Fluke", aimed at the man's head. Wouldn't it be crazy if he had been hit by lightning before and was about to be so struck again?

An excerpt: 

By definition, coincidences are events that happen without apparent cause. Apparent to whom? It does not mean there is no cause. The world generally moves by cause and effect. I say generally, because there are acausal phenomena in physics, psychology, and religion. But the word apparent tells us that the moment we learn the cause of a coincidental phenomenon, its status diminishes to a simple time-space event. That must mean that coincidences are relative to the people affected by them. It also means that the unapparent cause is there, waiting to be discovered. If there is no cause at all, then it happens by chance. 

This is graspable in theory. It doesn't necessarily make this "unapparent cause" easy to pin down. There are probably some coincidences where the actual odds for and against remain a topic of hot debate.

One interesting thing I learned about in this book is the birthday problem, meaning that the probability of two people having the same birthday reaches 50% when there are 23 people in the group. This threw me at first. I would have guessed that this point came at 183, which is about half the number of days in the year. But the numbers check out when you look at it.

Might have beens

There used to be an easy listening station here in the Providence area. It eventually converted to a talk format, but held on through most of the 90s I think. 

Anyway, among the old records they played was "Amapola", sung by Bob Eberly and Helen O'Connell with the Jimmy Dorsey Orchestra. It struck me as a very good performance.

Eberly's story is an interesting one, and for him must have been frustrating. When the Dorsey brothers split up, he stayed with Jimmy's band. Tommy would soon enlist a young Frank Sinatra. So could Eberly have been as big a star as Sinatra, with movie roles and his own record label? Maybe. He had a great voice, as heard here with unavoidable pops and hisses. And he was good looking in a slightly androgynous way. 

It wasn't quite to be, though. Mostly it seems to have come down to timing. When he died in 1981 he'd mostly be remembered by Big Band Era diehards. That's quite a sentence, but there are probably worse fates.

World without rocks

 

There's a famous anecdote about Samuel Johnson. It's said that he was so irritated by a mention of George Berkeley's assertion that there is no reality except for what is perceived that he kicked a rock and said, "Thus I refute Berkeley." 

What's the problem with arguing on the internet? Some people think it's that no one respects experts anymore and that leads them to spread misinformation. But in truth, most experts are fatuous idiots and liars, and it's actively a good thing that people ignore them.

A more serious problem is that there's no way to appeal to objective reality. You're not face to face with anyone. You're not sharing space with them. Cyberspace isn't space. So you do see people assert some things and deny other things in a way that would entirely collapse if they weren't alone with their reflections.

Men in white

I'm reading a Ray Bradbury collection called A Medicine for Melancholy. Not for the first time, but for the first time in a long time. And one thing about Bradbury is that he can launch into a bunch of different kind of stories.

When it was published, "The Wonderful Ice Cream Suit" probably wasn't what people were expecting from Bradbury, known to be a science fiction guy. It's about a half-dozen men who all go in on buying a gleaming white suit that none of them could afford on their own. Ultimately it's a very affecting story about friendship.

Could he have published it now? If he weren't already established as a big name, I mean. I don't know. The main characters are all Chicano. While wokeness isn't really rampant among American Latinos, editors might hesitate, saying that they'd "prefer a story like this from someone in the community." To which this hypothetical Ray Bradbury might respond, "Okay, but I'm the one who did write it, so how about evaluating it on its own terms?"  So again, I don't know what would happen.

Remember what I said about Bradbury's versatility? The next story in the collection is "Fever Dream", a scary story about a boy at the start of adolescence who gets sick. But that's not all, as the ad say.

Plant corner

Monkey puzzle trees are quite interesting both because of their unusual crisscross branches and because they're conifers native to the Southern hemisphere. They're not the only conifers from the Southern Hemisphere, but conditions in the southern temperate zones have almost certainly shaped them into what they are now. In any case, as they're endangered, may they soon be unendangered.

It's theorized that they're spiky branches evolved as a defense against dinosaurs. Crazy to think about how aspects of such a long-ago world are still with us today.