“These meals give you the nutrition and calories you need in an emergency situation as well as the hearty, delicious taste of home.”
There are no circumstances I can foresee in which purchasing “Dinner in a Bucket” via the internet would be something I would do. If I decide to actually prepare for the apocalypse rather than just anticipating it with a vague sense of impatience, I will surely be willing to save a few bucks and buy my dinners and buckets separately and pack them myself. On the other hand, if I get to the point where the apocalypse is nigh and I haven’t yet stashed my dinner in buckets, ordering it online is probably not going to help me.
I am incredibly sad to say that activist, entrepreneur, writer and editor Joani Blank passed away over the weekend. Joani was an amazing soul who touched so many lives, including mine.
Mark Twain once “said”, “Eat a live frog first thing in the morning, and nothing worse will happen to you the rest of the day.” His observation is hardly true in all cases, and reciting it seems to me like tempting fate. Moreover, it’s the frog who’s actually guaranteed to reach the nadir of its upcoming day in this scenario.
But while this “Mark Twain quote” shows up in many, many self-appointed inspirations for productivity, I’m sorry to have to inform anyone reading this that Mark Twain (…wait for it…) never said it.
The good news is that the real quote appears to be even better. According to Quote Investigator, it’s from a 1790s writer named Nicolas Chamfort. It translates as:
“M. de Lassay, a very indulgent man, but with a great knowledge of society, said that we should swallow a toad every morning, in order to fortify ourselves against the disgust of the rest of the day, when we have to spend it in society.”
In short, it has nothing to do with getting things done. It refers to the unpleasantness of dealing with other people.
If this is the source of the “Twain Quote,” it is not about finishing that TPS report or filing your taxes at all. It’s rooted deeply in introversion and/or misanthropy.
To me, the most inspiring thing about this is that the sentiment was kidnapped by glurge commandos, made far less funny, and staple-gunned to probably the MOST generic Lt. Col in their never-said-it army. I think the esteemed Mr. Twain would find himself both amused and irritated by that.
So good morning, everyone. Ketchup with that?
Info & real quote via Quote Investigator.
As part of its venerable “100 years ago” feature — which used to be one of my favorite parts of the print magazine — Scientific American has a slideshow of state-of-the-art aviation in 1916.
There’s only 12 images, and not a lot I haven’t seen, but I was struck by this image of a Maurice-Farman Shorthorn (M11) biplane with a pusher configuration and the gunner standing in front of the pilot with the gun rear-facing. It’s a bizarre and counter-intuitive setup. SciAm’s caption said this plane was considered obsolete by the time the photo was published.
It’s good to remember how thoroughly aviation pioneers had to reinvent the wheel. Especially when it came to warfare, nobody was quite sure how to do it.
Lucky for us civilians that warplanes got so damned effective for the next war, huh?
I write and edit fiction, mostly erotica, crime noir, thrillers, and hard-boiled fiction, horror, science fiction, fantasy, and apocalyptic fiction. I’m also a training instructor at a nonprofit called San Francisco Sex Information and have been for 20 years. We teach a 60-hour course on human sexuality designed to help trainees identify their judgments and privilege as well as focusing on a fact-based, evidence-based model for sex information and sex education.
Over the years I’ve been a tech blogger, sex blogger, medical writer, marketing manager, catalog writer, public relations director, advertising writer, traffic manager, content release lead, sex educator, transcriptionist, bus driver, magazine editor, book doctor, copy editor, podcast producer and, occasionally, a guitarist and songwriter.
I’ve also put up about a dozen incarnations of Thomasroche.com over the years. This is the latest version, launched (re-launched?) in July 2016. We’ll see what happens with it.
Meanwhile, you can find my books at Amazon. You can also Social Media the hell out of me on Facebook, Twitter, or Google Plus, or see my book reviews at GoodReads and my movie reviews at Letterboxd. Be warned that my responsiveness to and involvement in Facebook, Twitter, etc varies greatly in any given week or month; while I’ve always been a big proponent of social media, lately I find it distracts me from writing, so I often skip it for weeks or even months at a time.
If you’d like to email me, you can do so at skidroche at gmail.com. If you’re interested in having me edit, copy edit, or book doctor your fiction or nonfiction project, please tell me a little about it and I’ll respond with rates. My rates are fairly flexible based on topic and genre.
To say my interests are eclectic is putting it mildly. My most enduring reading and research obsessions include: Organized crime, the histories and cultures of Europe, the Middle East, North Africa, Central Asia, Persia/Iran, South Asia, the Caucasus and Siberia, military history, social history, firearms, gender studies and Feminism, medical history, drugs and the pharmaceutical industry (particularly psychiatric medications), sexology and the history of scientific sex research, sex education, sex work, sex toys and sex therapy, law enforcement policy and practice, psychobiology, psychiatry and psychotherapy, particle physics and cosmology, genocide, racism, bladed weapons/fencing/swordfighting, nuclear weapons, nuclear power, and the history of media in general and social media specifically. I’m not anything close to an expert in any of those topics, but I know a certain amount about all of them.
William McKeown’s “Idaho Falls,” about the Idaho Falls SL-1 reactor incident in 1961, may be the most awful non-fiction book I have ever read — and believe me, there’s a hell of a lot of competition for that “honor.”
I should have known I was in for a ride when I scratched my head at the subtitle. “The story of America’s first nuclear accident.” Um. Except for the Santa Susana andWestmoreland partial core meltdowns in the 1950s and 1960, respectively, the Daghlian andSlotin deaths after their close encounters with the “demon core,” in the 1940s, plus a whole slew of military incidents in the 1950s…including non-nuclear detonations of nuclear weapons on U.S. soil. It might seem like nitpicking — but in nuclear science, terminology is critically important (get it?) The author didn’t even discuss the terminology used in contemporary incidents, nor did he address what is meant by “incident,” “accident,” and related terms. Instead, page after page after page after page after page after page is spent discussing the intimate family details of the servicemen responsible for the accident. I could be wrong, but I don’t think Slotin or Daghlian are even mentioned. If they are, the treatment is brief and inconsequential compared to the vast amount of ink devoted to the utterly irrelevant information and speculation about families of the men involved in the incident….about which, the same information is repeated over…and over…and over again, as if the author, you know…didn’t have anything else to talk about. How much weepy speculation is required in a book about a nuclear accident on how a son remembers his father, or what path the SON’s life might have taken if the father hadn’t died — when the son is unrelated to the incident. I get the sense the author was trying to fill pages without doing any additional research. That’s utterly mind-boggling in a book about nuclear technology, since there’s more information about nuclear accidents on Wikipedia than in all of McKeown’s book.
I can’t possibly go into everything I hate about this book, since there’s probably more words to be written about how bad this book is than there is in the original work. This is a textbook example of how bad popular science writing can be. Imagine The Hot Zone with ONLY the overwrought tones of terror present in the most overblown scary segments about how ebola rips you apart from the inside. Now imagine that kind of narrative style applied to such speculative scenes as how much liquor was consumed by Idaho Falls workers on a given night, or what a husband and wife or a commanding officer and subordinate may have said to each other while they were having a fight…in 1960.
What it boils down to is that the author tries to whip up drama from complete speculation, using overheated language for the most simplistic claims. He goes into great detail about very sketchy personal interactions, speculating wildly about what happened off the record — which is not a hanging offense — and, far worse, doing so in a crazed, overheated narrative voice that made me feel like I have been buttonholed at a backyard party by a crazed conspiracy theorist whose conspiracies are without a doubt the MOST BORING CONSPIRACIES IN HISTORY.
Obviously, this is a book that’s been padded from relatively sketchy information. The author does not really seem to understand the milieu of nuclear power, and repeatedly refers to atoms buzzing like “angry bees.” Such language is ridiculous the first time, and by what seems like the ten thousandth, the author has completely exhausted any chance of being taken seriously in my mind.
This dissonance becomes particularly evident near the end, when the author introduces some essentially unrelated questions (in quotations) about nuclear waste, as if it is a huge revelation, and as profound as the author thinks every other word in this book is. Unfortunately, such a sentiment is pretty pointless…since the SL-1 incident had nothing at all to do with waste. It was an operational accident, not a waste accent. That just goes to illustrate the incoherence central to this book’s narrative. As a reader, I was let with no real picture of what actually happened, in operational terms, or what the institutional failings were that led to the SL-1 incident. That makes the author’s completely credulous delivery of the “suicide” and “love triangle” hypotheses seem like I’ve stumbled on to the set of The Jerry Springer Show.
Ultimately, the lack of credibility in this book is not about specific problems but about something ineffable. I felt like the author either knows virtually nothing about nuclear history, or is simply a terrible writer…and not that smart. I find that last point somewhat impolite of me to make, and unlikely. But I can’t resist making it after suffering through this book’s delirious overblown and largely content-free narrative.
I’m not suggesting there’s not a story in the Idaho Falls incident, but this author was apparently unable to find it. Instead, he gave us an incoherent mess of a book with a clear agenda to whip the reader up into a frenzy.
Avoid this book like you would a swarm of angry bees.