Archive for September 2009
For the Square Pegs among us…
…the elegant science writer Ivar Peterson explains “How to Drill a Square Hole.”
As we relax into the unaccustomed feeling of fitting in, we might recall that on this date in 1639, the New World’s first– but of course by no means its last– alcohol prohibition law, outlawing the drinking of toasts, was passed in Massachusetts. Boston’s first Brew Pub opened earlier that year; the Colony’s Fathers were apparently acting to preempt any inappropriate merriment, there or elsewhere in the area.
William’s Tavern, where toasting was not allowed
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Circus Antiquus…
George W. Hall, Jr. (1868)
The circus is a magical place, packed with performers of astounding feats and possessed of a language of its own.
Thanks to the Wisconsin Historical Society, readers can browse a remarkable gallery of circus folk from years past— like the young snake handler above.
As we resist the urge to run away and join up, we might stay tuned, as it was on this date in 1951 that the first long-running soap opera, Search for Tomorrow, premiered on CBS. The show, which ran for just over 35 years (though on NBC in its last five years), focused on Joanne, a housewife played for the entire run by Mary Stuart, in a midwestern town called “Henderson”; its first head writer was Agnes Nixon, the Grande Dame of Daytime Television, who went on to create and write such stalwarts as One Life to Live and All My Children (the former of which was later written by the remarkable Michael Malone, whose efforts won him an Emmy to go with his Edgar, O. Henry, and Writers Guild awards).
Getting better all the time…
The ads scattered throughout the pages of magazines from the 1950s and 1960s (particularly men’s magazines like Argosy, True, Zest and Bluebook) are like main lines to the quick-fix, reptile brain. Stitched together, sans those pesky “articles” and “editorials” surrounding them, they reveal a rich (and shockingly affordable) fantasy world, which is readily available to any person with an open mind, a handful of small bills, and a fresh book of stamps.
Get an adorable pet monkey through the mail for under $20! Discover simple routes to exciting new occupations, like “Meat Cutter” or “Crime Investigator” or “Hotel Executive”!
Keep dropping that money in the mailbox and, soon enough, not only will you have the body of a Greek god, you’ll be able to read minds, see through walls, look taller, control friends and enemies alike through various forms of hypnosis, see through women’s dresses, and generally get anything and everything you ever wanted.
The amazing products and lifestyles that would be at your fingertips if you had a time machine and a magazine subscription… see them all at The Immaculate Consumption.
As we await the postman, we might recall that it was on this date in 1941 (in some of that “editorial material”) that the Green Lantern, after posing for a photo with the Justice League, conquered both his own fear and The Fear Creature in Green Lantern #1.
Deja vu all over again…
Further to “Pardon me, but do you have the time?…,” an epic effort from David McCandless and InformationIsBeautiful.net:
As for his next project, McCandless is recruiting: “So who wants to work with me on the Dr Who one? I’m serious. Email me.”
As we check our watches, we might recall that it was this date in 1998 that Scholastic published the first book in the Harry Potter saga, re-titled Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone for consumption in the United States. The changes went beyond the title (Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone in the original UK incarnation): illustrations were added to the start of each chapter, and British spelling, punctuation, grammar, and vocabulary were “translated” into American English. The first print run was 50,000 copies. (The initial UK run was 500 copies, which occasioned an extraordinary scramble at the printers…)
Scholastic was behaving in a time-honored way, recognizing that (as Wilde or Shaw or Churchill; it’s variously attributed) observed, “England and America are two people divided by a common language.” When Samuel Goldwyn was preparing the U.S. release the film adaptation of Alan Bennett’s wonderful play, The Madness of George III, he insisted that the title be changed to The Madness of King George. Goldwyn was concerned that American audiences might take the original title to mean that the film was a sequel.
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