Before “Bottle of Blues,” Beck told a funny story about years ago, when an 11-year-old girl with headgear was impressed by his harmonica holder; Beck just played the riff of “Cars” on piano over and over and sort of mumbled the lyrics, as he tried to figure the song out. Not a full cover at all. Then he moved into “Raspberry Beret,” of which he only sang the chorus.; Rare “Kanga Roo” played on the piano, not acoustic guitar. May have been the only time it was done this way!; Beck may have played more keyboards on this show than any other; This “Back Streets of DC” is a very short acoustic guitar improv about “Me playing jams from the last decade.”; Beck improvised the silliest, most absurd “Debra” ever.; “Sunday Morning” is introduced by a short song about the show coming to an end;
How should you process news you find online? SIFT:
Mr. Caulfield refined the practice into four simple principles:
2. Investigate the source.
3. Find better coverage.
4. Trace claims, quotes and media to the original context.
When reached for comment on Sunday, the user defended penning the review but did not answer whether they had been to the store themselves. “Everyone can not be lying,” they told the Daily Dot, pointing to screenshots of other negative reviews—most of which were no longer available on Yelp on Sunday.
The Internet – I can’t be wrong for kneejerk reacting to a post on the internet because the mob who kneejerk reacted can’t be wrong, too.
A new project for me to never complete: photos of the books that make up my library.
“Never complete” because I’ll probably forget I started it and/or there are a LOT of books and/or I’ll keep getting more so it’s never ending anyway.
Not all of my books are educational or highfalutin, but all of them are here for a reason beyond just being a hoarder of books.
And, before anyone asks, no, I haven’t read all of them. And probably never will. In some cases I worry I’d wreck the book because of it’s age and I have it more for historical or personal reasons. In other cases I ascribe to Umberto Eco’s “Antilibrary” which Nassim Nicholas Taleb covered in Black Swan (which I own and will photograph at some point):
The writer Umberto Eco belongs to that small class of scholars who are encyclopedic, insightful, and nondull. He is the owner of a large personal library (containing thirty thousand books), and separates visitors into two categories: those who react with “Wow! Signore professore dottore Eco, what a library you have! How many of these books have you read?” and the others — a very small minority — who get the point that a private library is not an ego-boosting appendage but a research tool. Read books are far less valuable than unread ones. The library should contain as much of what you do not know as your financial means, mortgage rates, and the currently tight real-estate market allows you to put there. You will accumulate more knowledge and more books as you grow older, and the growing number of unread books on the shelves will look at you menacingly. Indeed, the more you know, the larger the rows of unread books. Let us call this collection of unread books an antilibrary.
So many of these, sure, I’ve read. Many more I WANT to read because they’re knowledge I have yet to gain. Or mindless reads I’m waiting for a good vacation or retirement (HA! HA HA HA HA HA! I’m going to die working.) to get to.
I’ll be presenting these largely without context beyond my owning them. Maybe I’ll feel compelled to provide a backstory or explanation. Maybe not. We’ll see. It’s a lot of books.
Enough with the intro and excuses! Pictures of books!
Doomscrolled to this article about doomscrolling and how you can stop it – which seems to mainly be to stop following doom-ish people and get offline once in a while. Winter and COVID would like to have a word with you, Professor Doctor Sir…
Strive for excellence, by all means. My God, please strive for excellence. Excellence alone will haul us out of the hogwash. But lower the bar, and keep it low, when it comes to your personal attachment to the world. Gratification? Satisfaction? Having your needs met? Fool’s gold. If you can get a buzz of animal cheer from the rubbishy sandwich you’re eating, the daft movie you’re watching, the highly difficult person you’re talking to, you’re in business. And when trouble comes, you’ll be fitter for it.
Every parent wants to be a good parent. And every parent, every day, fails at that because, right now, being a good parent is literally impossible. A fine parent? Maybe. An OK one? Possibly. But a good one? We’re eleven months into a pandemic that sent all our children home, laid waste to jobs, killed a half-million people in this country, and sickened many millions more. Politicians like Ted Cruz ensured it would hurt as much as possible by fighting against public health measures and relief efforts that would have made a difference. So no: a good parent isn’t really an option. We’re all just barely getting by.
I want to remind readers that Facebook was not started for news. Our readers took news there because we in our field did not provide the mechanisms for them to share it and discuss it with friends outside of awful comments sections. Twitter was not started for news; our readers, as witnesses to news, chose to share it there. Google was not started for news; our industry could not get its act together (see: New Century Network) to provide an overview of the news ecosystem. We could have started Next Door to allow our local readers to meet with neighbors years ago, but Silicon Valley beat us to it. Our readers deserted us because the net provided mechanisms we did not. And we did not because our colleagues in news have been too busy trying to find new ways to pay for old ways instead.
And I think that the ultimate way you and I get lucky is if you have some success early in life, you get to find out early it doesn’t mean anything. Which means you get to start early the work of figuring out what does mean something.