[ed. I misplaced the source for this photo, but it's one of my favorites. I'll be gone on a walkabout for a few days. Enjoy the archives.]

Muku hanga, Bumblebee
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So the Innocent Have Nothing to Fear?

You've had your fun: now we want the stuff back. With these words the British government embarked on the most bizarre act of state censorship of the internet age. In a Guardian basement, officials from GCHQ gazed with satisfaction on a pile of mangled hard drives like so many book burners sent by the Spanish Inquisition. They were unmoved by the fact that copies of the drives were lodged round the globe. They wanted their symbolic auto-da-fe. Had the Guardian refused this ritual they said they would have obtained a search and destroy order from a compliant British court.

Two great forces are now in fierce but unresolved contention. The material revealed by Edward Snowden through the Guardian and the Washington Post is of a wholly different order from WikiLeaks and other recent whistle-blowing incidents. It indicates not just that the modern state is gathering, storing and processing for its own ends electronic communication from around the world; far more serious, it reveals that this power has so corrupted those wielding it as to put them beyond effective democratic control. It was not the scope of NSA surveillance that led to Snowden's defection. It was hearing his boss lie to Congress about it for hours on end.

Last week in Washington, Congressional investigators discovered that the America's foreign intelligence surveillance court, a body set up specifically to oversee the NSA, had itself been defied by the agency "thousands of times". It was victim to "a culture of misinformation" as orders to destroy intercepts, emails and files were simply disregarded; an intelligence community that seems neither intelligent nor a community commanding a global empire that could suborn the world's largest corporations, draw up targets for drone assassination, blackmail US Muslims into becoming spies and haul passengers off planes.

Yet like all empires, this one has bred its own antibodies. The American (or Anglo-American?) surveillance industry has grown so big by exploiting laws to combat terrorism that it is as impossible to manage internally as it is to control externally. It cannot sustain its own security. Some two million people were reported to have had access to the WikiLeaks material disseminated by Bradley Manning from his Baghdad cell. Snowden himself was a mere employee of a subcontractor to the NSA, yet had full access to its data. The thousands, millions, billions of messages now being devoured daily by US data storage centres may be beyond the dreams of Space Odyssey's HAL 9000. But even HAL proved vulnerable to human morality.

by Simon Jenkins, The Guardian |  Read more:

Image: Yannis Behrakis/Reuters

Pearl Jam

by Anyes Galleani
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‘Having perfected our disguise, we spend our lives searching for someone we don’t fool.’ –Robert Brault

[ed. h/t quote: the New Shelton wet dry.]

by Kleemo on Flickr
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Self-Fashioning in Society and Solitude

Each spring term since 2008, Hobbs professor of cognition and education Howard E. Gardner and Pforzheimer professor of teaching and learning Richard J. Light—in cooperation with the Freshman Dean’s Office and a group of facilitators—have offered “Reflecting on Your Life.” These voluntary discussions, made available to all first-year undergraduates, provide an opportunity to discuss ways to make life choices and to think about values. Last spring, Nannerl Keohane—a scholar of political theory, the past president of Wellesley College and of Duke University, and a member of the Harvard Corporation—met with a group of discussion leaders and students. She asked them to prepare for their conversation by reading “Self-Fashioning in Society and Solitude,” remarks she had earlier shared with students at Stanford. This text, adapted from those remarks, bears generally on the aims of a liberal-arts education, at the outset of a new year for the entire University community, and particularly for entering members of the class of 2017.

Self-fashioning is part of the age-old purpose of higher education, particularly in the liberal arts and sciences. The key point is to be aware, sometimes, that this is happening—to deliberately engage in fashioning—not just let events and experiences sweep you along without your conscious participation.

Richard Brodhead expressed this well in his speech to the entering class as dean of Yale College in 1995: “You’ve come to one of the great fresh starts in your life, one of the few chances your life will offer to step away from the person you’ve been taken for and decide anew what you would like to become.” In this mood, students typically see college as a place where a new stage of life’s journey begins. “Incipit Vita Nova” was one motto of my alma mater, Wellesley, and it surely seemed appropriate at the time.

You now have this incredible opportunity to shape who you are as a person, what you are like, and what you seek for the future. You have both the time and the materials to do this. You may think you’ve never been busier in your life, and that’s probably true; but most of you have “time” in the sense of no other duties that require your attention and energy. Shaping your character is what you are supposed to do with your education; it’s not competing with something else. You won’t have many other periods in your life that will be this way until you retire when, if you are fortunate, you’ll have another chance; but then you will be more set in your ways, and may find it harder to change.

by Nannerl O. Keohane, Harvard Magazine |  Read more:

Illustration: Dan Williams

Afghanistan in 1967

In 1967, Professor William Podlich (Arizona State University) took a sabbatical for two years to teach in the College of Teachers in Kabul as part of a collaboration with UNESCO. Besides his teaching activities, Podlich was a prolific photographer, and documented extensively everyday life. For the record, we are a decade before the Soviet invasion (1979).

Back to school for Afghan girls. They were also educated than boys. While in uniform, they were not allowed to wear the burqa to go to school.

Text translated from the original French at Curiosités de Titam. Galleries of the original photos are at this link. Note the Paghman Gardens photo location looks a bit different today...

[ed. h/t TYWKIWDBI]

The Hunt

What happens when someone accuses you of something you simply can't disprove, something that will ruin and condemn you the rest of your life- whether guilty or innocent.

Review: Seattle Weekly

[ed.h/t Reciprocity Failure]

Life and Death: Part 2

Darryl Kelly lives in the Bronx and has never spent a night outside New York City. Harry Shunk had photographs in the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Centre Pompidou in Paris, and he worked with some of the great artists of the late 20th century. Mr. Kelly is a cleanup man. Mr. Shunk was a recluse and a compulsive hoarder.

Their fates crossed in 2006 under the worst of circumstances: in Mr. Shunk’s West Village apartment, where his body had decomposed for about 10 days before it was found, upside down and trapped by stacks of his accumulated possessions, with only his ankles and his feet visible.

The cleanup specialist and the hoarder — yin and yang of New York’s real estate ecology. Now, the death of one may be a fresh start for the other. (...)

When Mr. Shunk died in June 2006, there was no money for a proper burial, said Evelyne Chemouny, a former social worker at Westbeth. Mr. Kender also died in poverty, in 2009. No major American newspaper appears to have acknowledged either man’s death.

But there was stuff. The building staff had to remove the door from its hinges to get into the apartment because there was too much stuff inside to push it open. Mr. Shunk died without a will or known relatives, so the Manhattan public administrator took control of his estate. For about a week, a team of investigators removed whatever it deemed valuable. Two years later, at auction, the Roy Lichtenstein Foundation acquired the bulk of Mr. Shunk’s archive, about 200,000 photographs and other items, valued at $2 million.

Mr. Russas called Mr. Kelly to haul off the rest.

“It was almost like an archaeological dig,” Mr. Russas said.

For a week, Mr. Kelly and his team removed items through a first-floor window, filling seven Dumpsters.

There were papers and portfolios, books and newspapers and boxes of meticulously rolled tube socks. As they threw things out, they noticed people grabbing them from the Dumpster.

On the last day, Mr. Kelly said, as he started to drive away, “I said, ‘Greg, back this truck up.’ ” He said they would have to be “stupid” not to take something. They grabbed what they could, about 2,000 items in all, and stored them in a closet in Mr. Kelly’s apartment, never really looking at what they had.

There the items sat, to the consternation of Mr. Kelly’s wife, he said. “She said: ‘Would you please get that stuff out of my house? It’s worthless.’ ”

by John Leland, NY Times |  Read more:

Image: Ángel Franco/The New York Times

Life and Death: Part 1

[ed. The Kansas City Star reported that former Sports statistics editor and blogger Martin Manley was found dead in the parking lot of the Overland Park police station on August 15, 2013. The day his body was found, this web site went up, explaining in extensive detail the reasons for his suicide (and providing a eulogy of sorts with his full life story.]

I know the question you are asking. "Why did you want to die? ... or Why didn't you want to live?" Here is the answer. I didn't want to die. If I could have waved a magic wand and lived for 200 years, I would have. Unfortunately, that's not an option. Therefore, since death is inevitable, the better question is... do I want to live as long as humanly possible OR do I want to control the time and manner and circumstances of my death? That was my choice (and yours). I chose what was most appealing to me. (...)

I wish there were a different word for "suicide" because that word has become so stigmatized. But, whether I said “suicide” or “taking my life” or “ending my life” or "beginning my death" or whatever… it still amounts to the same thing.

You will rarely get any details for why a person committed suicide, but that won't be the case with me! In fact, this may be the most detailed example of a suicide letter in history - something to be entered into the Guinness Book of Records! My hope is that it is. (...)

I decided I wanted to have one of the most organized good-byes in recorded history and I think I will be successful. The key has always been to do it before it becomes impossible to accomplish what I’m doing now – because then it’s too late and I would simply be along for the ride to the inevitable cliff. And, that has always been an unacceptable conclusion to my life. I became convinced that had I waited even another few years, I would never have been able to produce this site.

by Martin Manley, My Life and Death |  Read more:

Image: Kansas City Star

James P. Blair, Sun City, Arizona.
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Should We Be Embracing Golf Carts as a Cheaper Alternative to Electric Vehicles?

[ed. This makes a lot of sense to me. We already have bicycles and scooters, why not golf carts? Secondary road use only -- no primary thoroughfares -- neighborhood roads, connecting sidestreets, parks? I think a lot of older folks would welcome this option (me included, since I could use one for the golf course, too.]

If you live in Kentucky, you may have noticed lately that a fair number of golf carts have strayed quite a bit from the course. These aren't poor golfers looking for an errant shot — at least, not exclusively. The Associated Press reports that multiple Kentucky municipalities have recently passed or are actively considering laws allowing golf carts on city streets.

The trend began back in 2008, when the state legislature awarded local governments the right to award golf carts the right to certain public roads. Initially there was a provision keeping the carts within 5 miles of a golf course, but that restriction was dropped in 2010. Now the permissible area has expanded to any road with a speed-limit of 35 miles per hour.

Kentucky is not exactly in uncharted waters here. In 1998, responding to growing concerns about golf carts on roads, the federal government created safety standards for a new class of vehicles called "low-speed vehicles." Those rules required LSVs to have basic safety equipment like headlights and seatbelts. (Oddly enough, the standards didn't apply to golf carts, since most didn't travel 20-25 m.p.h.)

Still, states had the final say where LSVs could go. While the initial idea was for this new class of vehicles to make a short trip into town, traveling primarily around communities (especially retirement communities) properly planned for LSV traffic, today all but four states allow LSVs to mix with traffic on regular roads — with relatively few restrictions: (...)

So why are so many people in Kentucky cities — and beyond — risking personal safety by cruising regular roads in golf carts and their kind? Well the simplest answer is money: the AP reports that Kentuckians have turned to golf carts as a way to avoid rising gas prices. But if that's the case, then why aren't these same people just buying full-sized electric vehicles?

by Eric Jaffe, Atlantic |  Read more:

Image: Shutterstock

A Picky Eater's Lament

The guy in the flannel shirt really wanted me to eat his crab. “Have a claw!” he said, waving a steaming pincer in my face with a two-foot pair of metal tongs. “No, thanks. I’m good. You go ahead,” I said. Really, it’s all yours. Take the claw. It’s the best part.” “No, seriously. I don’t want it.”

Something embarrassing was about to happen. I knew because I’d suffered through this gastronomic showdown a million times, from Paris to Paducah, and it always ends the same way. I turn down food I don’t want to eat. At best I offend somebody. At worst I make a new un-friend.

The crab pusher came at me last summer at a beach party in Gustavus, Alaska, a little town on the fringes of Glacier Bay National Park. An easy scene to visualize: Golden sun shining off the water. Friendly locals. Cans of Rainier on ice. Alaskan king crab pulled from the frigid Pacific just hours earlier, now boiling in a giant kettle. A big-hearted fisherman rattling his tongs in the pot, working through the steam, pulling out my prize.

“Have a claw!”

After my third refusal, the cheery offer started to sound more like a prison warden’s order to get back in line. The fisherman’s expression said, I am the executor of your once-in-a-lifetime experience. So take the goddamn claw and we’ll both walk away happy.

Now here it was, the inevitable moment when the personal capital I’d accrued was about to get squandered with a single confession: I don’t eat crab. I don’t care how much butter and garlic you soak it in, that sea spider’s gnarled clamper is not coming anywhere near my mouth.

“Don’t eat crab?” His mariner eyes narrowed. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“Any seafood, actually,” I said. “I don’t eat fish. Period.”

Being a picky eater is more than a simple nuisance or emasculating badge of shame. For someone like me, who has spent most of his adult life as an international traveler in search of adventure and work, it’s a flaw that has ruined dinner parties, derailed relationships, and led to countless hungry nights.

by Chuck Thompson, Outside |  Read more:

Image: Grant Cornett

Azechi Umetaro, Talking with a Bird. 1965
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Join PRSM, the Most Social Network

Introducing a brand new way to share everything.

[ed. h/t Boing Boing]

Yiqing- Yin Couture F/W 2012
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Darin Mickey
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