Do they know about this in Santa Fe?
Here’s the link to the article.
Thanks to Steve Terrell for the pointer.
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Wouldn’t this be sexual harassment in any other workplace? That’s the German chancellor Angela Merkel and she doesn’t seem all that happy about the attention. Click either photo to see more.
This is worse than talking with your mouth full.
Zidane headbutt outrage: new video evidence.
Laugh-out-loud Zidane videos and commentary!
Thanks to Jason for the link.
Billie Holiday died on this date in 1959. She was 44.
Considered by many to be the greatest jazz vocalist of all time, Billie Holiday lived a tempestuous and difficult life. Her singing expressed an incredible depth of emotion that spoke of hard times and injustice as well as triumph. Though her career was relatively short and often erratic, she left behind a body of work as great as any vocalist before or since.
Indeed. Treat yourself.
Read more about Billie Holiday.
“Black smoke rose over the city” of Haifa on Sunday morning, after Hezbollah militants fired at least 50 rockets into Israel. Meanwhile, Israeli bombs were “sending a thick column of white and black smoke skyward” over Beirut, Lebanon. And in California, firefighters watched as “plumes of gray, white and black smoke floated across the horizon.” What makes some smoke white and other smoke black?
The Explainer explains.
Often you can tell if fire fighters have reached a fire. Once they begin to put water on a fire the smoke will usually get lighter (as a result of the cooler fire and the steam I assume).
Daily Howler’s take on the Kornblut blunder:
[W]e won’t assume the report is “dishonest.” Though it’s understandably hard for most people to grasp, the national press corps—for all its celebrity—is an extremely unimpressive group of people. Yes, they do misconstrue on this scale, quite routinely; it’s entirely possible that Kornblut just bungled when she produced this groaning report. Indeed, it often seems that people get hired on the press corps’ highest levels only after proving their mediocrity. It often seems, when it comes to our celebrity press, that clear-thinkers need not apply.
As NewMexiKen has said, I’ve never seen a mainstream news report about something I was familiar with that did not have at least some inaccurate statements. (I started to correct this to “I’ve hardly ever,” but decided “never” was right.)
Addressed to men, I think most of these 18 tips would work for women, too. In any case, Jessica Simpson wouldn’t work for me.
Joe DiMaggio did not get a hit on this date in 1941. Too bad, if he had, his streak would have been 73. As it was he hit safely in 56 consecutive games up to this date — and 16 after. (44 is the best by anyone else.)
At AmericanHeritage.com, John Steele Gordon, who seems not to have heard of Eddie Gaedel, tells two good DiMaggio stories:
A few years before he died, in 1999, when baseball salaries had been going through the roof, a reporter asked DiMaggio what he thought he might be paid if he were playing baseball then. DiMaggio smiled and answered, “I’d just knock on Mr. Steinbrenner’s door and say, ‘Howdy, pardner.’”
The other story concerns his brief, disastrous marriage to Marilyn Monroe. Monroe was a film actress, used to working in front of cameras and technicians, not audiences. After their wedding, DiMaggio and Monroe went to Korea to entertain the American troops fighting there against the Chinese communists. There were perhaps 5,000 soldiers on the air-base runways waiting to greet them, and when they stepped out of the plane, the soldiers started cheering. Monroe, startled by the ovation, turned to her husband and said, “I bet you’ve never heard such cheering, Joe.” DiMaggio, who had brought a sold-out Yankee Stadium screaming to its collective feet more times than he could count, just said quietly, “Oh, yes I have.”
Then he beat her.
Santa Fe County Sheriff Greg Solano addresses the red light cameras again, linking to an interesting, if long-winded, post by a retired Albuquerque law enforcement officer that Albuquerque car owners (and voters) should read, and to studies suggesting that intersections with the cameras tend to have an increase in accidents.
The Albuquerque cameras are at Montgomery and San Mateo, Montgomery and Wyoming, Montgomery and Eubank, Eubank and Lomas, and Paseo Del Norte and Coors.
Think I’ll stay off Montgomery.
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… was established as a national park on this date in 1916. It became a national historic site in 1959.
In the fall of 1808, Thomas and Nancy Lincoln settled on the 348 acre Sinking Spring Farm. Two months later on February 12, 1809, Abraham Lincoln was born in a one-room log cabin near the Sinking Spring. Here the Lincolns lived and farmed before moving to land a few miles away at Knob Creek. The area was established by Congress on July 17, 1916. An early 19th century Kentucky cabin, symbolic of the one in which Lincoln was born, is preserved in a memorial building at the site of his birth.
Look at the icon for iCal. It’s today!
(Thanks to The Unofficial Apple Weblog for the pointer.)
“UC Merced: Still Undefeated”
Top-selling T-shirt at the University of California, Merced. The new campus (UC’s tenth) has, as yet, no athletic teams.
At The New Yorker, Alex Ross writes about Mozart, the man and the music. He listened to it all — in order. Fans of Mozart (and if you’re not, shame on you) should read the whole article. I liked this little bit:
Ambitious parents who are currently playing the “Baby Mozart” video for their toddlers may be disappointed to learn that Mozart became Mozart by working furiously hard, and, if Constanze was right, by working himself to death.
In 1991, the Philips label issued a deluxe, complete Mozart edition—a hundred and eighty CDs—employing such distinguished interpreters as Mitsuko Uchida, Alfred Brendel, and Colin Davis. The set has now been reissued in a handsome and surprisingly manageable array of seventeen boxes. During a slow week last winter, I transferred it to an iPod and discovered that Mozart requires 9.77 gigabytes.
And this:
In the unimaginable alternate universe in which he lived to the age of seventy, an anniversary-year essay might have contained a sentence such as this: “Opera houses focus on the great works of Mozart’s maturity—‘The Tempest,’ ‘Hamlet,’ the two-part ‘Faust’—but it would be a good thing if we occasionally heard that flawed yet lively work of his youth, ‘Don Giovanni.’”
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