It’s ‘Trump’s America’
1 hour ago
Sunday, June 17, 2012
project euler
http://www.theatlantic.com/technology/print/2011/06/how-i-failed-failed-and-finally-succeeded-at-learning-how-to-code/239855/
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
from Seth Godin:
How to
make money online
- The first step is to stop Googling things like, "how to make money online." Not because you shouldn't want to make money online, but because the stuff you're going to find by doing that is going to help you lose money online. Sort of like asking a casino owner how to make money in Vegas...
- Don't pay anyone for simple and proven instructions on how to achieve this goal. In particular, don't pay anyone to teach you how to write or sell manuals or ebooks about how to make money online.
- Get rich slow.
- Focus on the scarce resource online: attention. If you try to invent a way to take cheap attention and turn it into cash, you will fail. The attention you want isn't cheap, it's difficult to get via SEO and it rarely scales. Instead, figure out how to earn expensive attention.
- In addition to attention, focus on trust. Trust is even more scarce than attention.
- Don't worry so much about the 'online' part. Instead, figure out how to create value. The online part will take care of itself.
- Don't quit your day job. Start evenings and weekends and figure it out with small failures.
- Build a public reputation. A good one, and be sure that you deserve it, and that it will hold up to scrutiny.
- Obsessively specialize. No niche is too small if it's yours.
- Connect the disconnected.
- Lead.
- Build an online legacy that increases in value daily.
- Make money offline. If you can figure out how to create value face to face, it's a lot easier to figure out how to do the same digitally. The web isn't magic, it's merely efficient.
- Become the best in the world at something that people value. Easier said than done, worth more than you might think.
- Hang out with people who aren't looking for shortcuts. Learn from them.
- Fail. Fail often and fail cheaply. This is the very best gift the web has given to people who want to bootstrap their way into a new business.
- Make money in the small and then relentlessly scale.
- Don't chase yesterday's online fad.
- Think big, act with intention and don't get bogged down in personalities. If it's not on your agenda, why are you wasting time on it?
- Learn. Ceaselessly. Learn to code, to write persuasively, to understand new technologies, to bring out the best in your team, to find underused resources and to spot patterns.
- This is not a zero sum game. The more you add to your community, the bigger your piece gets.
Monday, April 2, 2012
101 Simple Salads for the Season
By MARK BITTMAN
SUMMER may not be the best time to cook, but it's certainly among the best times to eat. Toss watermelon and peaches with some ingredients you have lying around already, and you can produce a salad that's delicious, unusual, fast and perfectly seasonal.
That's the idea behind the 101 ideas found in this section. In theory, each salad takes 20 minutes or less. Honestly, some may take you a little longer. But most minimize work at the stove and capitalize on the season, when tomatoes, eggplant, herbs, fruit, greens and more are plentiful and excellent.
This last point is important. Not everything needs to be farmers' market quality, but it's not too much to expect ripe fruit, fragrant herbs and juicy greens.
Salt, to taste, is a given in all of these recipes. Pepper, too (if I want you to use a lot of pepper, I say so).
Herein, then, are enough salad ideas to tide you over until the weather cools down.
MOSTLY VEGAN SALADS
1. Cube watermelon and combine with tomato chunks, basil and basic vinaigrette. You can substitute peach for the watermelon or the tomato (but not both, O.K.?). You can also add bacon or feta, but there goes the vegan-ness.
2. Mix wedges of tomatoes and peaches, add slivers of red onion, a few red-pepper flakes and cilantro. Dress with olive oil and lime or lemon juice. Astonishing.
3. A nice cucumber salad: Slice cucumbers thin (if they're fat and old, peel and seed them first), toss with red onions and salt, then let sit for 20 to 60 minutes. Rinse, dry, dress with cider vinegar mixed with Dijon mustard; no oil necessary.
4. Shave raw asparagus stalks with a vegetable peeler. Discard the tough first pass of the peeler — i.e., the peel — but do use the tips, whole. Dress with lemon vinaigrette and coarse salt. (Chopped hard-boiled eggs optional but good.)
5. Grate or very thinly slice Jerusalem artichokes; mix with pitted and chopped oil-cured olives, olive oil, lemon juice and a sprinkling of coarsely ground cumin. Unusual and wonderful.
6. Sichuan slaw: Toss bean sprouts, shredded carrots and celery, minced fresh chili, soy sauce, sesame oil and a bit of sugar. Top with chopped peanuts and chopped basil, mint and/or cilantro. (The full trio is best.)
7. Grate carrots, toast some sunflower seeds, and toss with blueberries, olive oil, lemon juice and plenty of black pepper. Sweet, sour, crunchy, soft.
8. Chop or slice radishes (or jicama, or the ever-surprising kohlrabi) and combine with chopped or sliced unripe (i.e., still crunchy) mango, lime juice and mint or cilantro.
9. Chop or slice jicama (or radishes or kohlrabi) and mango and mix with coconut milk, lime juice, curry powder and cilantro or mint.
10. Cook whole grape tomatoes in olive oil over high heat until they brown lightly, sprinkling with curry powder. Cool a bit, then toss with chopped arugula, loads of chopped mint and lime juice.
11. Chop and steam baby or grown-up bok choy until crisp-tender, then shock it in ice water. Drain, then toss with halved cherry tomatoes, capers, olive oil and lemon juice.
12. Combine sliced fennel and prune plums; serve with vinaigrette spiked with minced ginger. Nice pairing.
13. A red salad: Combine tomato wedges with halved strawberries, basil leaves, shaved Parmesan and balsamic vinegar.
14. A classic Moroccan thing: Thinly slice carrots, or grate or shred them (the food processor makes quick work of this). Toss with toasted cumin seeds, olive oil, lemon juice and cilantro. Raisins are good in here, too. There is no better use of raw carrots.
15. Cut cherry or grape tomatoes in half; toss with soy sauce, a bit of dark sesame oil and basil or cilantro. I love this — the tomato juice-soy thing is incredible.
16. Slice fennel and crisp apple about the same thickness (your choice). Combine, then dress with mustardy vinaigrette and chopped parsley. Come fall, this will be even better.
17. With thanks to Szechuan Gourmet restaurant: Finely chop celery and mix with a roughly equal amount of pressed or smoked tofu, chopped. Dress with peanut oil warmed with chili flakes and Sichuan peppercorns, then mixed with soy sauce.
18. Roughly chop cooked or canned chickpeas (you can pulse them, carefully, in a food processor) and toss with olive oil, lemon juice, lots of chopped fresh parsley and mint, and a few chopped tomatoes. Call this chickpea tabbouleh.
19. Mix cooked cannellini or other white beans, chopped cherry or grape tomatoes and arugula or baby spinach. Lightly toast sliced garlic in olive oil with rosemary and red pepper flakes; cool slightly, add lemon zest or juice or both, then pour over beans.
20. Shred Napa cabbage and radishes. The dressing is roasted peanuts, lime juice, peanut or other oil, cilantro and fresh or dried chili, all whizzed in a blender. Deliciousness belies ease.
21. Dice cucumbers (if they're fat and old, peel and seed them first) and toss with cubes of avocado, a little mirin (or honey, but then it's not vegan), rice vinegar and soy sauce. (You could mix in a little lump crab meat, really not vegan, even rice, and call it a California roll salad.)
22. Thinly slice button mushrooms; toss with finely chopped carrots and celery and mix with mung bean sprouts. Finish with peanut or olive oil, sherry vinegar, a little soy sauce and minced ginger. (This is a super vinaigrette, by the way.)
23. Thinly slice some cucumbers (if they're fat and old, peel and seed them first), red onions, radishes and fresh chili pepper. Soak for a few minutes in equal amounts vinegar and water, with some salt and sugar. When they taste lightly pickled, drain and serve, alone or over rice.
24. Blanch spinach, then drain and shock in ice water. Squeeze it dry, chop it and toss it with toasted pine nuts, raisins, olive oil and a tiny bit of balsamic vinegar. Capers are good, too. Quite elegant, actually.
25. Combine chopped bell peppers, tomatoes, red onion, chilies and cilantro, then toss with corn tortilla strips, toasted in a 350-degree oven until crisp (or yes, use packaged chips; why not?). Dust with chili powder and lots of lime juice.
26. Combine mushroom caps and thinly sliced red onions with olive oil; broil gently until tender and browned. Toss with a lot of chopped fresh parsley or basil (or both) and a simple vinaigrette. Some chopped escarole, arugula or watercress is good, too.
27. Cook whole, unpeeled eggplant in a dry, hot skillet or on a grill, turning occasionally, until completely collapsed and soft. Chop and toss with toasted pita, toasted pine nuts, cooked white beans and halved cherry tomatoes. Dress with olive oil, lemon juice and lots of black pepper. Or a (non-vegan) yogurt dressing is good, especially one laced with tahini.
28. Toss mâche or another soft green with toasted slivered almonds and roughly chopped fresh figs. Thin some almond butter with water and sherry vinegar to taste and use as a dressing. Some will like this with fresh goat cheese.
29. Pit and halve cherries (or halve and pit cherries), then cook gently with olive oil and a little balsamic vinegar until they break down. Toss with chopped radicchio, endive, escarole or a combination, some toasted hazelnuts and more oil and vinegar, if necessary.
30. Fast, grown-up potato salad: Boil bite-size red potatoes. While still warm, dress them with olive oil, lemon juice, whole grain mustard, capers and parsley. Chopped shallots, bell peppers, etc., all welcome, too.
31. Roast beets whole (or buy them precooked), then slice or cube and toss with a little chopped garlic (or a lot of roasted garlic), toasted walnuts, orange juice and olive oil.
32. Same deal with the beets, but toss with cooked corn, arugula, olive oil, sherry vinegar and chopped shallots.
33. The real five-bean: Chickpeas, cannellini or other white beans, kidney or other red beans, steamed string beans and steamed yellow wax beans. Toss with vinaigrette, chopped scallions or red onion, and parsley.
34. Grill quartered romaine hearts, radicchio and/or endive. Drizzle with olive oil and sherry vinegar, and add dill and chopped shallots. Teeny-tiny croutons are great on this.
35. Combine cooked or canned black beans with shredded cabbage and this vinaigrette: olive oil, fresh orange juice, not much sherry vinegar, ground cumin.
36. Mix cooked or canned chickpeas with toasted coconut, shredded carrots, chopped celery, curry powder, olive oil, lime juice and cilantro.
VEGETARIAN SALADS
37. Cube smoked tofu, then brush it with a mixture of honey and orange juice; broil until browned. Toss with chopped cucumbers, radishes and peas or pea shoots; drizzle with soy sauce and lime juice.
38. Cube watermelon; combine with roughly chopped mint, crumbled feta, sliced red onion and chopped Kalamata olives. Dress lightly with olive oil and lemon juice. Despite saltiness of feta and olives, this may need salt.
39. Yucatecan street food as salad: Roast fresh corn kernels in a pan with a little oil; toss with cayenne or minced chilis, lime juice and a little queso fresco. Cherry tomatoes are optional.
40. Slice cucumber and top with capers, olive oil, lots of pepper and little dollops of fresh ricotta. Note: cucumbers, ricotta and oil must all be really good.
41. Halve avocados and scoop out some but not all of their flesh. Roughly chop and toss with black beans, queso fresco, cilantro, chopped tomatillos and lime juice. Serve in the meaty avocado shells.
42. Trim crusts if necessary from day-or-two-old bread (or even three-day-old bread), cube and marinate in black olive tapenade thinned with more olive oil. Add chopped capers and toss with tomatoes, basil and mozzarella. (Anchovies optional.)
43. Grate raw beets (use the food processor to avoid ruining everything within spattering distance) and toss with watercress or arugula. Top with sherry vinaigrette and a little goat cheese. Especially obvious, perhaps, but also especially popular.
44. Make a crisp grilled cheese sandwich, with good bread and not too much good cheese. Let it cool, then cut into croutons. Put them on anything, but especially tomato and basil salad. This you will do forever.
45. Halve or quarter cooked artichoke hearts (the best are fresh and grilled, but you can use canned or frozen) and combine with cherry tomatoes, bits of feta or Parmesan or both, olive oil and lemon juice.
46. Sauté mushrooms and shallots in olive oil. Add a lot of spinach, chopped unless the leaves are small. When it wilts, stir in parsley and crumbled blue cheese. Feels like a steakhouse side-dish salad.
47. Thinly slice raw button mushrooms; combine with sliced or shaved Parmesan, parsley and a vinaigrette of olive oil, sherry vinegar and shallots.
48. Toss roughly chopped dandelion greens (or arugula or watercress) with chopped preserved lemon, chickpeas, crumbled feta and olive oil. (Before you start cursing me out, here's a quick way to make preserved lemons: chop whole lemons and put in a bowl with the juice of another lemon or two, sprinkle with a fair amount of salt and let sit for an hour or so.)
49. Toss greens with walnuts, blue cheese and raspberries; drizzle with a simple vinaigrette. Sell for $14 a serving.
50. It's puttanesca-ish: Egg salad with pitted black olives, chopped tomatoes, capers, anchovies (optional), a tiny bit of garlic and some red onion; mayonnaise as needed.
51. Arrange sliced ripe tomatoes and hard-boiled eggs on a platter; scatter a handful of chopped pitted green olives on top. Drizzle with a dressing made with olive oil, sherry vinegar and a teaspoon of pimentón.
52. Chop hard-boiled eggs and mix with just enough mayonnaise to bind; spoon into endive leaves. Top each with a small canned sardine and drizzle with a vinaigrette of olive oil, lemon juice and mustard.
53. Peel beets and grate them in a food processor. Mix equal parts plain yogurt and tahini, and toss with the beets along with lemon juice and za'atar (a mixture of toasted sesame seeds, dried green herbs and ground sumac; you can make it yourself using dried thyme).
54. Slice roasted red peppers (if you must use canned, try to find piquillos) and fresh mozzarella. Toss with cooked white beans, olive oil, red wine vinegar, a chopped shallot and fresh rosemary or parsley.
SALADS WITH SEAFOOD
55. Mix watercress with chopped smoked salmon, avocado, red onion and capers. Make a vinaigrette with olive oil, sherry vinegar and mustard powder.
56. Salade niçoise, sort of: On or around a bed of greens, make mounds of olives, cooked new potatoes and green beans (warm or at room temperature), good tomatoes, capers, fennel slivers, hard-cooked eggs and good quality Italian canned tuna. None of these is crucial; you get the idea. Serve with vinaigrette or aioli.
57. Toss cubes of day-or-more-old good bread with soy sauce, chopped sautéed shrimp, chopped radishes and cilantro. Like a weird shrimp toast panzanella.
58. Sear tuna until rare (for that matter, you could leave it raw) and cut it into small cubes. Toss with shredded jicama or radish and shredded Napa cabbage; season with mirin, soy sauce and cilantro. Avocado and/or wasabi paste are great with this, too.
59. Sear tuna, or use good canned tuna. Chop it up and mix with chopped olives, capers, tomatoes, parsley and olive oil.
60. Ditto on the tuna. Mix with chopped apples, halved seedless grapes, chopped red onion, olive oil, a bit of cumin and black pepper.
61. Mix canned salmon (sockeye, or use cooked fresh) with capers, chopped celery, yogurt or mayonnaise, and lemon juice. Serve on greens or in endive leaves.
62. Dust shrimp with chili powder. Sauté in butter or oil (or a combination) with fresh corn kernels and flavorful cooking greens (bok choy is good, as is watercress). Add halved cherry tomatoes and lime juice at the last minute.
63. Sunday brunch salad: Mix diced cucumbers, chopped tomato, minced red onion and capers with bits of smoked salmon. Dress with lemon juice (you won't need much oil, if any). Take a step further by adding croutons of cubed toasted bagels.
64. Alternative Sunday brunch: Shred or chop cucumbers (if they're fat and old, peel and seed them first), then toss with flaked smoked trout or whitefish, capers, dill, lemon juice and olive oil.
65. In a hot pan, flash-cook cut-up squid in a little olive oil for no more than two minutes. Toss with cooked or canned chickpeas, chopped bell peppers, lemon juice, a little more oil and parsley.
66. In a hot pan, sear sea scallops for a minute or two on each side, depending on size. Slice or chop, then toss with thinly sliced fennel and lemon or orange vinaigrette and some chopped fennel fronds.
67. Bread salad for anchovy lovers: Chop together many anchovies, a few capers, lemon juice and olive oil (or anchovy oil). Toss with cubes of toasted bread and chopped tomatoes or halved cherry or grape tomatoes.
68. Mix crab meat with pan-roasted corn, chopped avocado, halved cherry or grape tomatoes, olive oil, lemon juice and perhaps a bit of cilantro and crumbled ancho chili.
69. Stir-fry small or chopped shrimp in olive or peanut oil with lots of ginger; while still warm, combine with tomato wedges, chopped romaine, cilantro, scallions and lots of lime juice. Good in pita.
SALADS WITH MEAT
70. Shred brussels sprouts in the food processor, preferably with the slicing disk. Toss with vinaigrette and crumbled bacon.
71. Combine sliced green tomatoes and sliced fresh mozzarella; top with roughly chopped basil, olive oil, black pepper and crumbled bacon.
72. Sort-of carpaccio salad: Broil or grill skirt or sirloin steak very rare and slice very thin. Arrange on a plate with tomato wedges, lettuce and lemon juice.
73. Hawaiitalian: Combine pineapple chunks with bits of any cured pork product — cooked guanciale is ideal, or any ham — and a not-too-subtle chili vinaigrette.
74. Julienne red, yellow and orange bell peppers; mix with thinly sliced red onion, olive oil and cooked crumbled sausage or chopped salami.
75. The Little Italy salad: Chop or julienne salami and prosciutto, then toss with cubed mozzarella, chopped tomato, pepperoncini, oil and wine vinegar.
76. Slice fresh figs — many, if you live where they grow — and top with crumbled bacon, balsamic vinegar (the best you have) and crumbled blue cheese.
77. Combine shredded cabbage or lettuce with bits of good turkey, Swiss cheese and rye croutons. Top with good old Russian dressing, call it a turkey sandwich salad and don't knock it until you try it.
78. What happens when your Chicago hot dog falls apart: Toss together tomato wedges, chopped pickles, hot peppers, shredded lettuce and a few slices of broiled or grilled hot dog. Dress with a vinaigrette made with mustard (should be yellow for authenticity, but ...) and celery salt. (You could throw in freshly made croutons; inauthentic, but better than a hot dog bun.)
79. Sear a steak and move it to a cutting board (don't wash the pan); wait a minute or two, then slice. Cut kale (preferably black, also known as Tuscan, or dino kale) into thin ribbons and toss in the pan over high heat for a minute. Turn off the heat, add chopped black olives, olive oil and sherry vinegar. Serve kale with steak on top.
80. Sort-of-Cobb salad: Choose any combination of hard-cooked eggs, chopped prosciutto, cooked chicken, crumbled Gorgonzola, chopped tomatoes, chickpeas or white beans, sliced red onion, olives. Make vinaigrette with capers and anchovies.
81. Soak sliced prune plums or figs in balsamic vinegar for a few minutes, then add olive oil, chopped celery and red onion, shreds of roasted or grilled chicken, chopped fresh marjoram or oregano and chopped almonds. Serve on top of or toss with greens. So good.
82. Cut pancetta into matchsticks and crisp in a skillet with some oil, then caramelize onions in the fat. Toss both with chopped bitter greens — radicchio, escarole or endive, for example — toasted pine nuts and halved cherry or grape tomatoes.
83. Toss thinly sliced Vidalia or other sweet onions with olive oil and red wine vinegar. Sear a skirt steak and let sit a minute; slice it thin. Toss salad greens with the onions, roasted red peppers, and steak; add a little more oil and vinegar if necessary.
SALADS WITH NOODLES
84. Spring rolls, unrolled: One at a time, soften a few sheets of rice paper in warm water. Drain, pat dry, cut into strips and toss with chopped cucumber, grated carrots, chopped cilantro, bean sprouts, chili flakes and chopped roasted peanuts. Dress with toasted sesame oil, fish sauce or soy sauce, and rice vinegar or lime juice. A few shrimp are a nice addition.
85. Mix lots of arugula with somewhat less cold whole wheat penne, lemon zest, olive oil and Parmesan. The idea is an arugula salad with pasta, not a pasta salad with arugula.
86. Toss chilled cooked soba noodles with diced cucumber (if they're fat and old, peel and seed them first), a small amount of hijiki reconstituted with water, toasted sesame seeds and a vinaigrette laced with soy sauce and miso.
87. Cold not-sesame noodles: Combine about a half-cup peanut butter with a tablespoon soy sauce and enough coconut milk to make the mixture creamy (about a half cup), along with garlic and chili flakes in a blender or food processor. Toss sauce with cooked and cooled noodles, a load of mint, Thai basil, and/or cilantro, and lime juice. Shredded cucumber and carrots optional.
88. Toss cooked pasta with roasted red peppers, toasted walnuts, fresh goat cheese, basil and olive oil. Corny, but still good.
89. Soak or cook rice noodles, drain and rinse; toss with cubed unripe mango, chopped peanuts, shredded carrot and minced scallion. Make a dressing of rice vinegar, fish sauce, lime juice, chili and a bit of sugar.
90. Sort of classic pasta salad: Pasta, artichoke hearts, sliced prosciutto or salami, chopped plum tomato. Dress with olive oil and a bit of balsamic vinegar, perhaps with some mustard.
GRAIN SALADS
91. Cereal for grown-ups: Start with puffed brown rice; toss with chopped tomatoes, scallions, a minced chili, cooked or canned chickpeas and toasted unsweetened coconut. Dress with coconut milk and lime juice.
92. Simmer a cup of bulgur and some roughly chopped cauliflower florets until tender, 10 to 15 minutes. Toss with chopped tarragon, roughly chopped hazelnuts, minced garlic, Dijon mustard, olive oil and lemon juice.
93. Mix leftover rice with lemon or lime juice, soy sauce and a combination of sesame and peanut oils. Microwave if necessary to soften the rice, then serve at room temperature, tossed with sprouts, shredded radishes, chopped scallions, bits of cooked meat or fish if you like and more soy sauce.
94. Cook and cool quinoa. Toss with olive oil, loads of lemon juice, tons of parsley, some chopped tomatoes and, if you like, toasted pine nuts. Call it quinoa tabbouleh.
95. Mix cooked couscous or quinoa with orange zest and juice, olive oil, maybe honey, sliced oranges, raisins or dried cranberries, chopped red onion and chopped almonds. Serve over greens, or not.
96. Cook short-grain white rice in watered-down coconut milk (be careful that it doesn't burn) and a few cardamom pods. While warm, toss with peas (they can be raw if they're fresh and tender), chopped cashews or pistachios, a pinch of chili flakes and chopped raw spinach.
97. Toss cooked, cooled farro, wheat berries, barley or other chewy grain with chopped-up grapes. Add olive oil, lemon juice and thinly sliced romaine lettuce; toss again, with ricotta salata or feta if you want.
98. Toss cooked bulgur with cooked chickpeas, quartered cherry or grape tomatoes, a little cumin, lots of chopped parsley, and lemon juice.
99. Toss cooked quinoa with fresh sliced apricots, cherries, pecans, and enough lemon and black pepper to make the whole thing savory.
100. Mash a canned chipotle with some of its adobo and stir with olive oil and lime juice. Toss with drained canned hominy, fresh corn cut from the cob (or drained pinto beans), cilantro and green onions.
101. Cook a pot of short-grain rice. While it's still hot, toss with raw grated zucchini, fermented black beans, sriracha, sesame oil, sake and a touch of rice vinegar. Add bits of leftover roast chicken or pork if you have it, and pass soy sauce at the table.
--
Philip Baker
116 South Front Street, Memphis, TN 38103
901-337-0411
philbake@gmail.com
facebook.com/philbake
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Ted Kaye's 5 Basic Principles of Flag Design
1. Keep It Simple
The flag should be so simple that a child can draw it from memory…
2. Use Meaningful Symbolism
The flag’s images, colors, or patterns should relate to what it
symbolizes…
3. Use 2–3 Basic Colors
Limit the number of colors on the flag to three, which contrast well and
come from the standard color set…
4. No Lettering or Seals
Never use writing of any kind or an organization’s seal…
5. Be Distinctive or Be Related
Avoid duplicating other flags, but use similarities to show connections…
link
The flag should be so simple that a child can draw it from memory…
2. Use Meaningful Symbolism
The flag’s images, colors, or patterns should relate to what it
symbolizes…
3. Use 2–3 Basic Colors
Limit the number of colors on the flag to three, which contrast well and
come from the standard color set…
4. No Lettering or Seals
Never use writing of any kind or an organization’s seal…
5. Be Distinctive or Be Related
Avoid duplicating other flags, but use similarities to show connections…
link
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Richard Florida says...
Creativity is the decisive source of competitive advantage. Creativity comes from people [and that means] people are the critical resource of the new age. Access to talented and creative people is to modern business what access to coal and iron ore was to steel making. For a city to succeed in today's economy, it must attract and retain talented people. Because creative people are the "critical resource of the new age," then a city eager for economic development must attract them. Highly skilled creative people gravitate to places that are centers of creativity, places that are multifunctional and diverse, full of stimulation and cultural interplay. Successful places will need to cultivate "a people climate" as well as a business climate. Successful cities will insure that their people climate is especially appealing to young creative people. The cities that succeed will be talent magnets.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Dieter Ram's 10 Principles of 'Good Design'
The 10 principles were clipped from this SFMOMA article
Good Design Is Innovative— The possibilities for innovation are not, by any means, exhausted. Technological development is always offering new opportunities for innovative design. But innovative design always develops in tandem with innovative technology, and can never be an end in itself.
Good Design Makes a Product Useful—A product is bought to be used. It has to satisfy certain criteria, not only functional but also psychological and aesthetic. Good design emphasizes the usefulness of a product while disregarding anything that could possibly detract from it.
Good Design Is Aesthetic—The aesthetic quality of a product is integral to its usefulness because products are used every day and have an effect on people and their well-being. Only well-executed objects can be beautiful.
Good Design Makes A Product Understandable—It clarifies the product's structure. Better still, it can make the product clearly express its function by making use of the user's intuition. At best, it is self-explanatory.
Good Design Is Unobtrusive— Products fulfilling a purpose are like tools. They are neither decorative objects nor works of art. Their design should therefore be both neutral and restrained, to leave room for the user's self-expression.
Good Design Is Honest— It does not make a product more innovative, powerful or valuable than it really is. It does not attempt to manipulate the consumer with promises that cannot be kept
Good Design Is Long-lasting— It avoids being fashionable and therefore never appears antiquated. Unlike fashionable design, it lasts many years – even in today's throwaway society.
Good Design Is Thorough Down to the Last Detail—Nothing must be arbitrary or left to chance. Care and accuracy in the design process show respect towards the consumer.
Good Design Is Environmentally Friendly— Design makes an important contribution to the preservation of the environment. It conserves resources and minimises physical and visual pollution throughout the lifecycle of the product.
Good Design Is as Little Design as Possible—Less, but better – because it concentrates on the essential aspects, and the products are not burdened with non-essentials. Back to purity, back to simplicity.
Good Design Is Innovative— The possibilities for innovation are not, by any means, exhausted. Technological development is always offering new opportunities for innovative design. But innovative design always develops in tandem with innovative technology, and can never be an end in itself.
Good Design Makes a Product Useful—A product is bought to be used. It has to satisfy certain criteria, not only functional but also psychological and aesthetic. Good design emphasizes the usefulness of a product while disregarding anything that could possibly detract from it.
Good Design Is Aesthetic—The aesthetic quality of a product is integral to its usefulness because products are used every day and have an effect on people and their well-being. Only well-executed objects can be beautiful.
Good Design Makes A Product Understandable—It clarifies the product's structure. Better still, it can make the product clearly express its function by making use of the user's intuition. At best, it is self-explanatory.
Good Design Is Unobtrusive— Products fulfilling a purpose are like tools. They are neither decorative objects nor works of art. Their design should therefore be both neutral and restrained, to leave room for the user's self-expression.
Good Design Is Honest— It does not make a product more innovative, powerful or valuable than it really is. It does not attempt to manipulate the consumer with promises that cannot be kept
Good Design Is Long-lasting— It avoids being fashionable and therefore never appears antiquated. Unlike fashionable design, it lasts many years – even in today's throwaway society.
Good Design Is Thorough Down to the Last Detail—Nothing must be arbitrary or left to chance. Care and accuracy in the design process show respect towards the consumer.
Good Design Is Environmentally Friendly— Design makes an important contribution to the preservation of the environment. It conserves resources and minimises physical and visual pollution throughout the lifecycle of the product.
Good Design Is as Little Design as Possible—Less, but better – because it concentrates on the essential aspects, and the products are not burdened with non-essentials. Back to purity, back to simplicity.
Kary Mullis's Recommended Reading List
This list is from karymullis.com
Mullis is the '93 Nobel Prize winner for Chemistry
Douglas Adams
The Ultimate Hitchhikers Guide
Halton Arp
Seeing Red: Red Shifts, Cosmology and Academic Science
Lyndon Ashmore
The Big Bang Blasted
Jean Auel
Clan of the Cave Bear
Robert Aunger
Electric Meme
Julian Barbour
The End of Time
John D. Barrow, and J. Frank Tipler
The Anthropic Cosmological Principle
John D. Barrow
New Theories of Everything and The Infinite Book
John M. Barry
The Great Influenza
Gregory Benford
Timescape
David Berlinski
A Tour of the Calculus
Harvey Bialy
Oncogenes, Aneuploidy and AIDS
Douglas Bohm
Wholeness and the Implicate Order
Colin Bruce
Schroedingers Rabbits: The Many Worlds of Quantum
Chandler Burr
The Emperor of Scent
Orson Scott Card
Ender's Game
Sean Carrol
From Eternity to Here
Marcus Chown
We Need to Talk About Kelvin
Brian Cleg
The God Effect
Brian Cox, and Jeff Forshaw
Why Does E=mc2
Matthew B. Crawford
Shop Class as Soulcraft: An Inquiry into the Value of Work
Michael Crichton
The State of Fear
Richard Dawkins
The Ancestors Tale
The Selfish Gene
Daniel Dennett
Breaking the Spell
Consciousness Explained
Darwins Dangerous Idea
David Deutsch
The Beginning of Infinity
The Fabric of Reality
Jared Diamond
Collapse
Guns, Germs and Steel
Freeman Dyson
Disturbing the Universe also Infinite in All Directions
Loren Eiseley
The Star Thrower
Paul Ewald
Plague Time: The New Germ Theory of Disease
Brian Fagan
The Long Summer: How Climate Changed Civilization
Richard Feynman
Surely You Must Be Joking, Mr. Feynman
Michael W. Friedlander
A Thin Cosmic Rain
Max G. Gergel
Excuse Me Sir, Would you like to buy a Kilo of Isopropyl Bromide
Rebecca Goldstein
Incompleteness: The Proof and Paradox of Kurt Goedel
Brian Greene
The Elegant Universe
The Fabric of the Universe
Sam Harris
The End of Faith
Jack Heighway
Einstein, the Aether and Variable Rest Mass
Russell Hoban
Riddley Walker
Douglas Hofstadter
I am a Strange Loop
Bruce M. Hood
Supersense: Why We Believe in the Unbelievable
Fred Hoyle, Geoffrey Burbidge and Jayant V. Narlikar
A Different Approach to Cosmology
Julian Jaynes
The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind
Michio Kaku
Hyperspace
Visions
Robert Kaplan
The Nothing That Is: A Natural History of Zero
Serge Lang
Challanges
Robert Lanza, and Bob Berman
Biocentrism: How Life and Consciousness are the Keys to Understanding the True Nature of the Universe
Eric J. Lerner
The Big Bang Never Happened
Steven Levitt and Stephen Dubner
Freakonomics
David Lindley
Boltzmanns Atom
David J. C. MacKay
Sustainable Energy Without the Hot Air
Cormac McCarthy
The Road
Mark W. Moffett
Adventures Among Ants
Richart A. Muller
Physics for Future Presidents
Robert Nadeau and Menas Kafatos
The Non-Local Universe
V. S. Naipaul
Beyond Belief
Isaac Newton
The Principia
Steven Pinker
How the Mind Works
Michael Pollan
The Botany of Desire
Dean Radin
Entangled Minds: Extrasensory Experience in a Quantum Reality
Lisa Randall
Warped Passages
Tom Robbins
Skinny Legs and All
Dan Rockmore
Stalking the Riemann Hypothesis
Benjamin Rosenbaum
The Ant King and Other Stories
Bruce Rosenblum and Fred Kuttner
Quantum Enigma
Gunter Sachs
The Astrology File
Oliver Sacks
The Island of the Colorblind
Erwin Schrodinger
What Is Life
Kathyrn Schulz
Being Wrong
Charles Seife
Zero
Walter Semkiw
Return of the Revolutionaries: The Case for Reincarnation
Simon Singh
Fermats Last Theorem
Lee Smolin
The Life of the Cosmos
The Trouble with Physics
Three Roads to Quantum Gravity
Willie Soon, and Steven Yaskell
The Maunder Minimum and the Variable Sun-Earth Connection
Russell Standish
Theory of Nothing
Paul J. Steinhardt and Neil Turok
Endless Universe: Beyond the Big Bang
Gunter Stent
Paradoxes of Free Will
Ian Stewart, Jack and Cohen
Figments of Reality
Leonard Susskind
The Cosmic Landscape
Henrik Svensmark and Nigel Calder
The Chilling Stars: A Cosmic View of Climate Change
Bryan Sykes
Adam's Curse
Thomas Szasz
Ceremonial Chemistryand The Myth of Mental Illness
Nassim Nicholas Taleb
The Black Swan
Michael Ray Taylor
Dark Life
Wallace Thornhill and David Talbott
The Electric Universe
The Urantia Book
ostensibly by Extraterrestrials
Vlatko Vedral
Decoding Reality
Alex Vilenkin
Many Worlds in One
Andrew Weil
The Natural Mind
Julia Whitty
The Fragile Edge
Ian Wishart
Air Con: The Inconvenient Truth About Global Warming
Peter Woit
Not Even Wrong
Herman Wouk
The Language God Talks
Mullis is the '93 Nobel Prize winner for Chemistry
Douglas Adams
The Ultimate Hitchhikers Guide
Halton Arp
Seeing Red: Red Shifts, Cosmology and Academic Science
Lyndon Ashmore
The Big Bang Blasted
Jean Auel
Clan of the Cave Bear
Robert Aunger
Electric Meme
Julian Barbour
The End of Time
John D. Barrow, and J. Frank Tipler
The Anthropic Cosmological Principle
John D. Barrow
New Theories of Everything and The Infinite Book
John M. Barry
The Great Influenza
Gregory Benford
Timescape
David Berlinski
A Tour of the Calculus
Harvey Bialy
Oncogenes, Aneuploidy and AIDS
Douglas Bohm
Wholeness and the Implicate Order
Colin Bruce
Schroedingers Rabbits: The Many Worlds of Quantum
Chandler Burr
The Emperor of Scent
Orson Scott Card
Ender's Game
Sean Carrol
From Eternity to Here
Marcus Chown
We Need to Talk About Kelvin
Brian Cleg
The God Effect
Brian Cox, and Jeff Forshaw
Why Does E=mc2
Matthew B. Crawford
Shop Class as Soulcraft: An Inquiry into the Value of Work
Michael Crichton
The State of Fear
Richard Dawkins
The Ancestors Tale
The Selfish Gene
Daniel Dennett
Breaking the Spell
Consciousness Explained
Darwins Dangerous Idea
David Deutsch
The Beginning of Infinity
The Fabric of Reality
Jared Diamond
Collapse
Guns, Germs and Steel
Freeman Dyson
Disturbing the Universe also Infinite in All Directions
Loren Eiseley
The Star Thrower
Paul Ewald
Plague Time: The New Germ Theory of Disease
Brian Fagan
The Long Summer: How Climate Changed Civilization
Richard Feynman
Surely You Must Be Joking, Mr. Feynman
Michael W. Friedlander
A Thin Cosmic Rain
Max G. Gergel
Excuse Me Sir, Would you like to buy a Kilo of Isopropyl Bromide
Rebecca Goldstein
Incompleteness: The Proof and Paradox of Kurt Goedel
Brian Greene
The Elegant Universe
The Fabric of the Universe
Sam Harris
The End of Faith
Jack Heighway
Einstein, the Aether and Variable Rest Mass
Russell Hoban
Riddley Walker
Douglas Hofstadter
I am a Strange Loop
Bruce M. Hood
Supersense: Why We Believe in the Unbelievable
Fred Hoyle, Geoffrey Burbidge and Jayant V. Narlikar
A Different Approach to Cosmology
Julian Jaynes
The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind
Michio Kaku
Hyperspace
Visions
Robert Kaplan
The Nothing That Is: A Natural History of Zero
Serge Lang
Challanges
Robert Lanza, and Bob Berman
Biocentrism: How Life and Consciousness are the Keys to Understanding the True Nature of the Universe
Eric J. Lerner
The Big Bang Never Happened
Steven Levitt and Stephen Dubner
Freakonomics
David Lindley
Boltzmanns Atom
David J. C. MacKay
Sustainable Energy Without the Hot Air
Cormac McCarthy
The Road
Mark W. Moffett
Adventures Among Ants
Richart A. Muller
Physics for Future Presidents
Robert Nadeau and Menas Kafatos
The Non-Local Universe
V. S. Naipaul
Beyond Belief
Isaac Newton
The Principia
Steven Pinker
How the Mind Works
Michael Pollan
The Botany of Desire
Dean Radin
Entangled Minds: Extrasensory Experience in a Quantum Reality
Lisa Randall
Warped Passages
Tom Robbins
Skinny Legs and All
Dan Rockmore
Stalking the Riemann Hypothesis
Benjamin Rosenbaum
The Ant King and Other Stories
Bruce Rosenblum and Fred Kuttner
Quantum Enigma
Gunter Sachs
The Astrology File
Oliver Sacks
The Island of the Colorblind
Erwin Schrodinger
What Is Life
Kathyrn Schulz
Being Wrong
Charles Seife
Zero
Walter Semkiw
Return of the Revolutionaries: The Case for Reincarnation
Simon Singh
Fermats Last Theorem
Lee Smolin
The Life of the Cosmos
The Trouble with Physics
Three Roads to Quantum Gravity
Willie Soon, and Steven Yaskell
The Maunder Minimum and the Variable Sun-Earth Connection
Russell Standish
Theory of Nothing
Paul J. Steinhardt and Neil Turok
Endless Universe: Beyond the Big Bang
Gunter Stent
Paradoxes of Free Will
Ian Stewart, Jack and Cohen
Figments of Reality
Leonard Susskind
The Cosmic Landscape
Henrik Svensmark and Nigel Calder
The Chilling Stars: A Cosmic View of Climate Change
Bryan Sykes
Adam's Curse
Thomas Szasz
Ceremonial Chemistryand The Myth of Mental Illness
Nassim Nicholas Taleb
The Black Swan
Michael Ray Taylor
Dark Life
Wallace Thornhill and David Talbott
The Electric Universe
The Urantia Book
ostensibly by Extraterrestrials
Vlatko Vedral
Decoding Reality
Alex Vilenkin
Many Worlds in One
Andrew Weil
The Natural Mind
Julia Whitty
The Fragile Edge
Ian Wishart
Air Con: The Inconvenient Truth About Global Warming
Peter Woit
Not Even Wrong
Herman Wouk
The Language God Talks
Charlie Cook's 3 Rules of Human Nature
People are attracted by solutions to their problems.
People forget.
People want to be confident they are making the right decision.
from Charlie Cook's Marketing for Success
People forget.
People want to be confident they are making the right decision.
from Charlie Cook's Marketing for Success
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
David Gergen's 5 Gathering Storms
In an article in May 29, 2006 issue of USN&WR,
David Gergen cautions about the following 'gathering storms.'
The Danger of Drift
Education
Healthcare
Worldwide Competitiveness
Energy and Environment
Unfunded Government Liabilities
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Dr. James Canton's Top 10 Trends of The Extreme Future
Fueling the Future - The energy crisis, the post-oil future, and the future of energy alternatives like hydrogen. The critical role that energy will play in every aspect of our lives in the 21st century.
The Innovation Economy - The transformation of the global economy based on the convergence of free trade, technology and democracy, driving new jobs, new markets, globalization, competition, peace and security. The Four Power Tools of the Innovation Economy are Nano-Bio-IT-Neuro.
The Next Workforce - How the workforce of the U.S. is becoming more multicultural, more female and more Hispanic. Why the future workforce must embrace innovation to become globally competitive.
Longevity Medicine - The key forces that will radically alter medicine such as nanotech, neurotech, and genomics, leading to longer and healthier lives.
Weird Science - How science will transform every aspect of our lives, culture and economy—from teleportation to nanobiology to multiple universes.
Securing the Future - The top threats to our freedom and our lives, from hackers to terrorists to mind control. Defining the risk landscape of the 21st century.
The Future of Globalization - The new realities of global trade and competition; the rise of China and India; the clash of cultures and ideologies; and the cultural-economic battle for the future.
The Future of Climate Change - How the environment is changing and how we need to prepare for increased global warming, pollution, and threats to biodiversity.
The Future of the Individual - The risks and challenges from institutions, governments, and ideologies in the struggle for human rights and the freedom of the individual in the 21st century.
The Future of America - The power of America and its destiny to champion global democracy, innovation, human rights and free markets.
The Innovation Economy - The transformation of the global economy based on the convergence of free trade, technology and democracy, driving new jobs, new markets, globalization, competition, peace and security. The Four Power Tools of the Innovation Economy are Nano-Bio-IT-Neuro.
The Next Workforce - How the workforce of the U.S. is becoming more multicultural, more female and more Hispanic. Why the future workforce must embrace innovation to become globally competitive.
Longevity Medicine - The key forces that will radically alter medicine such as nanotech, neurotech, and genomics, leading to longer and healthier lives.
Weird Science - How science will transform every aspect of our lives, culture and economy—from teleportation to nanobiology to multiple universes.
Securing the Future - The top threats to our freedom and our lives, from hackers to terrorists to mind control. Defining the risk landscape of the 21st century.
The Future of Globalization - The new realities of global trade and competition; the rise of China and India; the clash of cultures and ideologies; and the cultural-economic battle for the future.
The Future of Climate Change - How the environment is changing and how we need to prepare for increased global warming, pollution, and threats to biodiversity.
The Future of the Individual - The risks and challenges from institutions, governments, and ideologies in the struggle for human rights and the freedom of the individual in the 21st century.
The Future of America - The power of America and its destiny to champion global democracy, innovation, human rights and free markets.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
2012 50y USMS Nat'l QTs
50 Free 26.51
100 Free 56.88
200 Free 2:04.61
500 Free 5:45.13
1000 Free 11:59.26
1650 Free 20:33.66
50 Back 31.60
100 Back 1:07.86
200 Back 2:23.56
50 Breast 33.93
100 Breast 1:14.60
200 Breast 2:39.76
50 Fly 28.64
100 Fly 1:04.50
200 Fly 2:26.74
100 IM 1:07.23
200 IM 2:23.41
400 IM 5:14.19
100 Free 56.88
200 Free 2:04.61
500 Free 5:45.13
1000 Free 11:59.26
1650 Free 20:33.66
50 Back 31.60
100 Back 1:07.86
200 Back 2:23.56
50 Breast 33.93
100 Breast 1:14.60
200 Breast 2:39.76
50 Fly 28.64
100 Fly 1:04.50
200 Fly 2:26.74
100 IM 1:07.23
200 IM 2:23.41
400 IM 5:14.19
Monday, October 31, 2011
Mona Simpson's Eulogy of Steve Jobs
Op-Ed Contributor
A Sister’s Eulogy for Steve Jobs
By MONA SIMPSON
Published: October 30, 2011
I grew up as an only child, with a single mother. Because we were poor and because I knew my father had emigrated from Syria, I imagined he looked like Omar Sharif. I hoped he would be rich and kind and would come into our lives (and our not yet furnished apartment) and help us. Later, after I’d met my father, I tried to believe he’d changed his number and left no forwarding address because he was an idealistic revolutionary, plotting a new world for the Arab people.
Related
Even as a feminist, my whole life I’d been waiting for a man to love, who could love me. For decades, I’d thought that man would be my father. When I was 25, I met that man and he was my brother.
By then, I lived in New York, where I was trying to write my first novel. I had a job at a small magazine in an office the size of a closet, with three other aspiring writers. When one day a lawyer called me — me, the middle-class girl from California who hassled the boss to buy us health insurance — and said his client was rich and famous and was my long-lost brother, the young editors went wild. This was 1985 and we worked at a cutting-edge literary magazine, but I’d fallen into the plot of a Dickens novel and really, we all loved those best. The lawyer refused to tell me my brother’s name and my colleagues started a betting pool. The leading candidate: John Travolta. I secretly hoped for a literary descendant of Henry James — someone more talented than I, someone brilliant without even trying.
When I met Steve, he was a guy my age in jeans, Arab- or Jewish-looking and handsomer than Omar Sharif.
We took a long walk — something, it happened, that we both liked to do. I don’t remember much of what we said that first day, only that he felt like someone I’d pick to be a friend. He explained that he worked in computers.
I didn’t know much about computers. I still worked on a manual Olivetti typewriter.
I told Steve I’d recently considered my first purchase of a computer: something called the Cromemco.
Steve told me it was a good thing I’d waited. He said he was making something that was going to be insanely beautiful.
I want to tell you a few things I learned from Steve, during three distinct periods, over the 27 years I knew him. They’re not periods of years, but of states of being. His full life. His illness. His dying.
Steve worked at what he loved. He worked really hard. Every day.
That’s incredibly simple, but true.
He was the opposite of absent-minded.
He was never embarrassed about working hard, even if the results were failures. If someone as smart as Steve wasn’t ashamed to admit trying, maybe I didn’t have to be.
When he got kicked out of Apple, things were painful. He told me about a dinner at which 500 Silicon Valley leaders met the then-sitting president. Steve hadn’t been invited.
He was hurt but he still went to work at Next. Every single day.
Novelty was not Steve’s highest value. Beauty was.
For an innovator, Steve was remarkably loyal. If he loved a shirt, he’d order 10 or 100 of them. In the Palo Alto house, there are probably enough black cotton turtlenecks for everyone in this church.
He didn’t favor trends or gimmicks. He liked people his own age.
His philosophy of aesthetics reminds me of a quote that went something like this: “Fashion is what seems beautiful now but looks ugly later; art can be ugly at first but it becomes beautiful later.”
Steve always aspired to make beautiful later.
He was willing to be misunderstood.
Uninvited to the ball, he drove the third or fourth iteration of his same black sports car to Next, where he and his team were quietly inventing the platform on which Tim Berners-Lee would write the program for the World Wide Web.
Steve was like a girl in the amount of time he spent talking about love. Love was his supreme virtue, his god of gods. He tracked and worried about the romantic lives of the people working with him.
Whenever he saw a man he thought a woman might find dashing, he called out, “Hey are you single? Do you wanna come to dinner with my sister?”
I remember when he phoned the day he met Laurene. “There’s this beautiful woman and she’s really smart and she has this dog and I’m going to marry her.”
When Reed was born, he began gushing and never stopped. He was a physical dad, with each of his children. He fretted over Lisa’s boyfriends and Erin’s travel and skirt lengths and Eve’s safety around the horses she adored.
None of us who attended Reed’s graduation party will ever forget the scene of Reed and Steve slow dancing.
His abiding love for Laurene sustained him. He believed that love happened all the time, everywhere. In that most important way, Steve was never ironic, never cynical, never pessimistic. I try to learn from that, still.
Steve had been successful at a young age, and he felt that had isolated him. Most of the choices he made from the time I knew him were designed to dissolve the walls around him. A middle-class boy from Los Altos, he fell in love with a middle-class girl from New Jersey. It was important to both of them to raise Lisa, Reed, Erin and Eve as grounded, normal children. Their house didn’t intimidate with art or polish; in fact, for many of the first years I knew Steve and Lo together, dinner was served on the grass, and sometimes consisted of just one vegetable. Lots of that one vegetable. But one. Broccoli. In season. Simply prepared. With just the right, recently snipped, herb.
Even as a young millionaire, Steve always picked me up at the airport. He’d be standing there in his jeans.
When a family member called him at work, his secretary Linetta answered, “Your dad’s in a meeting. Would you like me to interrupt him?”
When Reed insisted on dressing up as a witch every Halloween, Steve, Laurene, Erin and Eve all went wiccan.
They once embarked on a kitchen remodel; it took years. They cooked on a hotplate in the garage. The Pixar building, under construction during the same period, finished in half the time. And that was it for the Palo Alto house. The bathrooms stayed old. But — and this was a crucial distinction — it had been a great house to start with; Steve saw to that.
This is not to say that he didn’t enjoy his success: he enjoyed his success a lot, just minus a few zeros. He told me how much he loved going to the Palo Alto bike store and gleefully realizing he could afford to buy the best bike there.
And he did.
Steve was humble. Steve liked to keep learning.
Once, he told me if he’d grown up differently, he might have become a mathematician. He spoke reverently about colleges and loved walking around the Stanford campus. In the last year of his life, he studied a book of paintings by Mark Rothko, an artist he hadn’t known about before, thinking of what could inspire people on the walls of a future Apple campus.
Steve cultivated whimsy. What other C.E.O. knows the history of English and Chinese tea roses and has a favorite David Austin rose?
He had surprises tucked in all his pockets. I’ll venture that Laurene will discover treats — songs he loved, a poem he cut out and put in a drawer — even after 20 years of an exceptionally close marriage. I spoke to him every other day or so, but when I opened The New York Times and saw a feature on the company’s patents, I was still surprised and delighted to see a sketch for a perfect staircase.
With his four children, with his wife, with all of us, Steve had a lot of fun.
He treasured happiness.
Then, Steve became ill and we watched his life compress into a smaller circle. Once, he’d loved walking through Paris. He’d discovered a small handmade soba shop in Kyoto. He downhill skied gracefully. He cross-country skied clumsily. No more.
Eventually, even ordinary pleasures, like a good peach, no longer appealed to him.
Yet, what amazed me, and what I learned from his illness, was how much was still left after so much had been taken away.
I remember my brother learning to walk again, with a chair. After his liver transplant, once a day he would get up on legs that seemed too thin to bear him, arms pitched to the chair back. He’d push that chair down the Memphis hospital corridor towards the nursing station and then he’d sit down on the chair, rest, turn around and walk back again. He counted his steps and, each day, pressed a little farther.
Laurene got down on her knees and looked into his eyes.
“You can do this, Steve,” she said. His eyes widened. His lips pressed into each other.
He tried. He always, always tried, and always with love at the core of that effort. He was an intensely emotional man.
I realized during that terrifying time that Steve was not enduring the pain for himself. He set destinations: his son Reed’s graduation from high school, his daughter Erin’s trip to Kyoto, the launching of a boat he was building on which he planned to take his family around the world and where he hoped he and Laurene would someday retire.
Even ill, his taste, his discrimination and his judgment held. He went through 67 nurses before finding kindred spirits and then he completely trusted the three who stayed with him to the end. Tracy. Arturo. Elham.
One time when Steve had contracted a tenacious pneumonia his doctor forbid everything — even ice. We were in a standard I.C.U. unit. Steve, who generally disliked cutting in line or dropping his own name, confessed that this once, he’d like to be treated a little specially.
I told him: Steve, this is special treatment.
He leaned over to me, and said: “I want it to be a little more special.”
Intubated, when he couldn’t talk, he asked for a notepad. He sketched devices to hold an iPad in a hospital bed. He designed new fluid monitors and x-ray equipment. He redrew that not-quite-special-enough hospital unit. And every time his wife walked into the room, I watched his smile remake itself on his face.
For the really big, big things, you have to trust me, he wrote on his sketchpad. He looked up. You have to.
By that, he meant that we should disobey the doctors and give him a piece of ice.
None of us knows for certain how long we’ll be here. On Steve’s better days, even in the last year, he embarked upon projects and elicited promises from his friends at Apple to finish them. Some boat builders in the Netherlands have a gorgeous stainless steel hull ready to be covered with the finishing wood. His three daughters remain unmarried, his two youngest still girls, and he’d wanted to walk them down the aisle as he’d walked me the day of my wedding.
We all — in the end — die in medias res. In the middle of a story. Of many stories.
I suppose it’s not quite accurate to call the death of someone who lived with cancer for years unexpected, but Steve’s death was unexpected for us.
What I learned from my brother’s death was that character is essential: What he was, was how he died.
Tuesday morning, he called me to ask me to hurry up to Palo Alto. His tone was affectionate, dear, loving, but like someone whose luggage was already strapped onto the vehicle, who was already on the beginning of his journey, even as he was sorry, truly deeply sorry, to be leaving us.
He started his farewell and I stopped him. I said, “Wait. I’m coming. I’m in a taxi to the airport. I’ll be there.”
“I’m telling you now because I’m afraid you won’t make it on time, honey.”
When I arrived, he and his Laurene were joking together like partners who’d lived and worked together every day of their lives. He looked into his children’s eyes as if he couldn’t unlock his gaze.
Until about 2 in the afternoon, his wife could rouse him, to talk to his friends from Apple.
Then, after awhile, it was clear that he would no longer wake to us.
His breathing changed. It became severe, deliberate, purposeful. I could feel him counting his steps again, pushing farther than before.
This is what I learned: he was working at this, too. Death didn’t happen to Steve, he achieved it.
He told me, when he was saying goodbye and telling me he was sorry, so sorry we wouldn’t be able to be old together as we’d always planned, that he was going to a better place.
Dr. Fischer gave him a 50/50 chance of making it through the night.
He made it through the night, Laurene next to him on the bed sometimes jerked up when there was a longer pause between his breaths. She and I looked at each other, then he would heave a deep breath and begin again.
This had to be done. Even now, he had a stern, still handsome profile, the profile of an absolutist, a romantic. His breath indicated an arduous journey, some steep path, altitude.
He seemed to be climbing.
But with that will, that work ethic, that strength, there was also sweet Steve’s capacity for wonderment, the artist’s belief in the ideal, the still more beautiful later.
Steve’s final words, hours earlier, were monosyllables, repeated three times.
Before embarking, he’d looked at his sister Patty, then for a long time at his children, then at his life’s partner, Laurene, and then over their shoulders past them.
Steve’s final words were:
OH WOW. OH WOW. OH WOW.
Mona Simpson is a novelist and a professor of English at the University of California, Los Angeles. She delivered this eulogy for her brother, Steve Jobs, on Oct. 16 at his memorial service at the Memorial Church of Stanford University.
A Sister’s Eulogy for Steve Jobs
By MONA SIMPSON
Published: October 30, 2011
I grew up as an only child, with a single mother. Because we were poor and because I knew my father had emigrated from Syria, I imagined he looked like Omar Sharif. I hoped he would be rich and kind and would come into our lives (and our not yet furnished apartment) and help us. Later, after I’d met my father, I tried to believe he’d changed his number and left no forwarding address because he was an idealistic revolutionary, plotting a new world for the Arab people.
Related
Even as a feminist, my whole life I’d been waiting for a man to love, who could love me. For decades, I’d thought that man would be my father. When I was 25, I met that man and he was my brother.
By then, I lived in New York, where I was trying to write my first novel. I had a job at a small magazine in an office the size of a closet, with three other aspiring writers. When one day a lawyer called me — me, the middle-class girl from California who hassled the boss to buy us health insurance — and said his client was rich and famous and was my long-lost brother, the young editors went wild. This was 1985 and we worked at a cutting-edge literary magazine, but I’d fallen into the plot of a Dickens novel and really, we all loved those best. The lawyer refused to tell me my brother’s name and my colleagues started a betting pool. The leading candidate: John Travolta. I secretly hoped for a literary descendant of Henry James — someone more talented than I, someone brilliant without even trying.
When I met Steve, he was a guy my age in jeans, Arab- or Jewish-looking and handsomer than Omar Sharif.
We took a long walk — something, it happened, that we both liked to do. I don’t remember much of what we said that first day, only that he felt like someone I’d pick to be a friend. He explained that he worked in computers.
I didn’t know much about computers. I still worked on a manual Olivetti typewriter.
I told Steve I’d recently considered my first purchase of a computer: something called the Cromemco.
Steve told me it was a good thing I’d waited. He said he was making something that was going to be insanely beautiful.
I want to tell you a few things I learned from Steve, during three distinct periods, over the 27 years I knew him. They’re not periods of years, but of states of being. His full life. His illness. His dying.
Steve worked at what he loved. He worked really hard. Every day.
That’s incredibly simple, but true.
He was the opposite of absent-minded.
He was never embarrassed about working hard, even if the results were failures. If someone as smart as Steve wasn’t ashamed to admit trying, maybe I didn’t have to be.
When he got kicked out of Apple, things were painful. He told me about a dinner at which 500 Silicon Valley leaders met the then-sitting president. Steve hadn’t been invited.
He was hurt but he still went to work at Next. Every single day.
Novelty was not Steve’s highest value. Beauty was.
For an innovator, Steve was remarkably loyal. If he loved a shirt, he’d order 10 or 100 of them. In the Palo Alto house, there are probably enough black cotton turtlenecks for everyone in this church.
He didn’t favor trends or gimmicks. He liked people his own age.
His philosophy of aesthetics reminds me of a quote that went something like this: “Fashion is what seems beautiful now but looks ugly later; art can be ugly at first but it becomes beautiful later.”
Steve always aspired to make beautiful later.
He was willing to be misunderstood.
Uninvited to the ball, he drove the third or fourth iteration of his same black sports car to Next, where he and his team were quietly inventing the platform on which Tim Berners-Lee would write the program for the World Wide Web.
Steve was like a girl in the amount of time he spent talking about love. Love was his supreme virtue, his god of gods. He tracked and worried about the romantic lives of the people working with him.
Whenever he saw a man he thought a woman might find dashing, he called out, “Hey are you single? Do you wanna come to dinner with my sister?”
I remember when he phoned the day he met Laurene. “There’s this beautiful woman and she’s really smart and she has this dog and I’m going to marry her.”
When Reed was born, he began gushing and never stopped. He was a physical dad, with each of his children. He fretted over Lisa’s boyfriends and Erin’s travel and skirt lengths and Eve’s safety around the horses she adored.
None of us who attended Reed’s graduation party will ever forget the scene of Reed and Steve slow dancing.
His abiding love for Laurene sustained him. He believed that love happened all the time, everywhere. In that most important way, Steve was never ironic, never cynical, never pessimistic. I try to learn from that, still.
Steve had been successful at a young age, and he felt that had isolated him. Most of the choices he made from the time I knew him were designed to dissolve the walls around him. A middle-class boy from Los Altos, he fell in love with a middle-class girl from New Jersey. It was important to both of them to raise Lisa, Reed, Erin and Eve as grounded, normal children. Their house didn’t intimidate with art or polish; in fact, for many of the first years I knew Steve and Lo together, dinner was served on the grass, and sometimes consisted of just one vegetable. Lots of that one vegetable. But one. Broccoli. In season. Simply prepared. With just the right, recently snipped, herb.
Even as a young millionaire, Steve always picked me up at the airport. He’d be standing there in his jeans.
When a family member called him at work, his secretary Linetta answered, “Your dad’s in a meeting. Would you like me to interrupt him?”
When Reed insisted on dressing up as a witch every Halloween, Steve, Laurene, Erin and Eve all went wiccan.
They once embarked on a kitchen remodel; it took years. They cooked on a hotplate in the garage. The Pixar building, under construction during the same period, finished in half the time. And that was it for the Palo Alto house. The bathrooms stayed old. But — and this was a crucial distinction — it had been a great house to start with; Steve saw to that.
This is not to say that he didn’t enjoy his success: he enjoyed his success a lot, just minus a few zeros. He told me how much he loved going to the Palo Alto bike store and gleefully realizing he could afford to buy the best bike there.
And he did.
Steve was humble. Steve liked to keep learning.
Once, he told me if he’d grown up differently, he might have become a mathematician. He spoke reverently about colleges and loved walking around the Stanford campus. In the last year of his life, he studied a book of paintings by Mark Rothko, an artist he hadn’t known about before, thinking of what could inspire people on the walls of a future Apple campus.
Steve cultivated whimsy. What other C.E.O. knows the history of English and Chinese tea roses and has a favorite David Austin rose?
He had surprises tucked in all his pockets. I’ll venture that Laurene will discover treats — songs he loved, a poem he cut out and put in a drawer — even after 20 years of an exceptionally close marriage. I spoke to him every other day or so, but when I opened The New York Times and saw a feature on the company’s patents, I was still surprised and delighted to see a sketch for a perfect staircase.
With his four children, with his wife, with all of us, Steve had a lot of fun.
He treasured happiness.
Then, Steve became ill and we watched his life compress into a smaller circle. Once, he’d loved walking through Paris. He’d discovered a small handmade soba shop in Kyoto. He downhill skied gracefully. He cross-country skied clumsily. No more.
Eventually, even ordinary pleasures, like a good peach, no longer appealed to him.
Yet, what amazed me, and what I learned from his illness, was how much was still left after so much had been taken away.
I remember my brother learning to walk again, with a chair. After his liver transplant, once a day he would get up on legs that seemed too thin to bear him, arms pitched to the chair back. He’d push that chair down the Memphis hospital corridor towards the nursing station and then he’d sit down on the chair, rest, turn around and walk back again. He counted his steps and, each day, pressed a little farther.
Laurene got down on her knees and looked into his eyes.
“You can do this, Steve,” she said. His eyes widened. His lips pressed into each other.
He tried. He always, always tried, and always with love at the core of that effort. He was an intensely emotional man.
I realized during that terrifying time that Steve was not enduring the pain for himself. He set destinations: his son Reed’s graduation from high school, his daughter Erin’s trip to Kyoto, the launching of a boat he was building on which he planned to take his family around the world and where he hoped he and Laurene would someday retire.
Even ill, his taste, his discrimination and his judgment held. He went through 67 nurses before finding kindred spirits and then he completely trusted the three who stayed with him to the end. Tracy. Arturo. Elham.
One time when Steve had contracted a tenacious pneumonia his doctor forbid everything — even ice. We were in a standard I.C.U. unit. Steve, who generally disliked cutting in line or dropping his own name, confessed that this once, he’d like to be treated a little specially.
I told him: Steve, this is special treatment.
He leaned over to me, and said: “I want it to be a little more special.”
Intubated, when he couldn’t talk, he asked for a notepad. He sketched devices to hold an iPad in a hospital bed. He designed new fluid monitors and x-ray equipment. He redrew that not-quite-special-enough hospital unit. And every time his wife walked into the room, I watched his smile remake itself on his face.
For the really big, big things, you have to trust me, he wrote on his sketchpad. He looked up. You have to.
By that, he meant that we should disobey the doctors and give him a piece of ice.
None of us knows for certain how long we’ll be here. On Steve’s better days, even in the last year, he embarked upon projects and elicited promises from his friends at Apple to finish them. Some boat builders in the Netherlands have a gorgeous stainless steel hull ready to be covered with the finishing wood. His three daughters remain unmarried, his two youngest still girls, and he’d wanted to walk them down the aisle as he’d walked me the day of my wedding.
We all — in the end — die in medias res. In the middle of a story. Of many stories.
I suppose it’s not quite accurate to call the death of someone who lived with cancer for years unexpected, but Steve’s death was unexpected for us.
What I learned from my brother’s death was that character is essential: What he was, was how he died.
Tuesday morning, he called me to ask me to hurry up to Palo Alto. His tone was affectionate, dear, loving, but like someone whose luggage was already strapped onto the vehicle, who was already on the beginning of his journey, even as he was sorry, truly deeply sorry, to be leaving us.
He started his farewell and I stopped him. I said, “Wait. I’m coming. I’m in a taxi to the airport. I’ll be there.”
“I’m telling you now because I’m afraid you won’t make it on time, honey.”
When I arrived, he and his Laurene were joking together like partners who’d lived and worked together every day of their lives. He looked into his children’s eyes as if he couldn’t unlock his gaze.
Until about 2 in the afternoon, his wife could rouse him, to talk to his friends from Apple.
Then, after awhile, it was clear that he would no longer wake to us.
His breathing changed. It became severe, deliberate, purposeful. I could feel him counting his steps again, pushing farther than before.
This is what I learned: he was working at this, too. Death didn’t happen to Steve, he achieved it.
He told me, when he was saying goodbye and telling me he was sorry, so sorry we wouldn’t be able to be old together as we’d always planned, that he was going to a better place.
Dr. Fischer gave him a 50/50 chance of making it through the night.
He made it through the night, Laurene next to him on the bed sometimes jerked up when there was a longer pause between his breaths. She and I looked at each other, then he would heave a deep breath and begin again.
This had to be done. Even now, he had a stern, still handsome profile, the profile of an absolutist, a romantic. His breath indicated an arduous journey, some steep path, altitude.
He seemed to be climbing.
But with that will, that work ethic, that strength, there was also sweet Steve’s capacity for wonderment, the artist’s belief in the ideal, the still more beautiful later.
Steve’s final words, hours earlier, were monosyllables, repeated three times.
Before embarking, he’d looked at his sister Patty, then for a long time at his children, then at his life’s partner, Laurene, and then over their shoulders past them.
Steve’s final words were:
OH WOW. OH WOW. OH WOW.
Mona Simpson is a novelist and a professor of English at the University of California, Los Angeles. She delivered this eulogy for her brother, Steve Jobs, on Oct. 16 at his memorial service at the Memorial Church of Stanford University.
Walter Isaacson on Steve Jobs
From NYTimes.com
Opinion
The Genius of Jobs
By WALTER ISAACSON
Published: October 29, 2011
ONE of the questions I wrestled with when writing about Steve Jobs was how smart he was. On the surface, this should not have been much of an issue. You’d assume the obvious answer was: he was really, really smart. Maybe even worth three or four reallys. After all, he was the most innovative and successful business leader of our era and embodied the Silicon Valley dream writ large: he created a start-up in his parents’ garage and built it into the world’s most valuable company.
But I remember having dinner with him a few months ago around his kitchen table, as he did almost every evening with his wife and kids. Someone brought up one of those brainteasers involving a monkey’s having to carry a load of bananas across a desert, with a set of restrictions about how far and how many he could carry at one time, and you were supposed to figure out how long it would take. Mr. Jobs tossed out a few intuitive guesses but showed no interest in grappling with the problem rigorously. I thought about how Bill Gates would have gone click-click-click and logically nailed the answer in 15 seconds, and also how Mr. Gates devoured science books as a vacation pleasure. But then something else occurred to me: Mr. Gates never made the iPod. Instead, he made the Zune.
So was Mr. Jobs smart? Not conventionally. Instead, he was a genius. That may seem like a silly word game, but in fact his success dramatizes an interesting distinction between intelligence and genius. His imaginative leaps were instinctive, unexpected, and at times magical. They were sparked by intuition, not analytic rigor. Trained in Zen Buddhism, Mr. Jobs came to value experiential wisdom over empirical analysis. He didn’t study data or crunch numbers but like a pathfinder, he could sniff the winds and sense what lay ahead.
He told me he began to appreciate the power of intuition, in contrast to what he called “Western rational thought,” when he wandered around India after dropping out of college. “The people in the Indian countryside don’t use their intellect like we do,” he said. “They use their intuition instead ... Intuition is a very powerful thing, more powerful than intellect, in my opinion. That’s had a big impact on my work.”
Mr. Jobs’s intuition was based not on conventional learning but on experiential wisdom. He also had a lot of imagination and knew how to apply it. As Einstein said, “Imagination is more important than knowledge.”
Einstein is, of course, the true exemplar of genius. He had contemporaries who could probably match him in pure intellectual firepower when it came to mathematical and analytic processing. Henri Poincaré, for example, first came up with some of the components of special relativity, and David Hilbert was able to grind out equations for general relativity around the same time Einstein did. But neither had the imaginative genius to make the full creative leap at the core of their theories, namely that there is no such thing as absolute time and that gravity is a warping of the fabric of space-time. (O.K., it’s not that simple, but that’s why he was Einstein and we’re not.)
Einstein had the elusive qualities of genius, which included that intuition and imagination that allowed him to think differently (or, as Mr. Jobs’s ads said, to Think Different.) Although he was not particularly religious, Einstein described this intuitive genius as the ability to read the mind of God. When assessing a theory, he would ask himself, Is this the way that God would design the universe? And he expressed his discomfort with quantum mechanics, which is based on the idea that probability plays a governing role in the universe by declaring that he could not believe God would play dice. (At one physics conference, Niels Bohr was prompted to urge Einstein to quit telling God what to do.)
Both Einstein and Mr. Jobs were very visual thinkers. The road to relativity began when the teenage Einstein kept trying to picture what it would be like to ride alongside a light beam. Mr. Jobs spent time almost every afternoon walking around the studio of his brilliant design chief Jony Ive and fingering foam models of the products they were developing.
Mr. Jobs’s genius wasn’t, as even his fanboys admit, in the same quantum orbit as Einstein’s. So it’s probably best to ratchet the rhetoric down a notch and call it ingenuity. Bill Gates is super-smart, but Steve Jobs was super-ingenious. The primary distinction, I think, is the ability to apply creativity and aesthetic sensibilities to a challenge.
In the world of invention and innovation, that means combining an appreciation of the humanities with an understanding of science — connecting artistry to technology, poetry to processors. This was Mr. Jobs’s specialty. “I always thought of myself as a humanities person as a kid, but I liked electronics,” he said. “Then I read something that one of my heroes, Edwin Land of Polaroid, said about the importance of people who could stand at the intersection of humanities and sciences, and I decided that’s what I wanted to do.”
The ability to merge creativity with technology depends on one’s ability to be emotionally attuned to others. Mr. Jobs could be petulant and unkind in dealing with other people, which caused some to think he lacked basic emotional awareness. In fact, it was the opposite. He could size people up, understand their inner thoughts, cajole them, intimidate them, target their deepest vulnerabilities, and delight them at will. He knew, intuitively, how to create products that pleased, interfaces that were friendly, and marketing messages that were enticing.
In the annals of ingenuity, new ideas are only part of the equation. Genius requires execution. When others produced boxy computers with intimidating interfaces that confronted users with unfriendly green prompts that said things like “C:\>,” Mr. Jobs saw there was a market for an interface like a sunny playroom. Hence, the Macintosh. Sure, Xerox came up with the graphical desktop metaphor, but the personal computer it built was a flop and it did not spark the home computer revolution. Between conception and creation, T. S. Eliot observed, there falls the shadow.
In some ways, Mr. Jobs’s ingenuity reminds me of that of Benjamin Franklin, one of my other biography subjects. Among the founders, Franklin was not the most profound thinker — that distinction goes to Jefferson or Madison or Hamilton. But he was ingenious.
This depended, in part, on his ability to intuit the relationships between different things. When he invented the battery, he experimented with it to produce sparks that he and his friends used to kill a turkey for their end of season feast. In his journal, he recorded all the similarities between such sparks and lightning during a thunderstorm, then declared “Let the experiment be made.” So he flew a kite in the rain, drew electricity from the heavens, and ended up inventing the lightning rod. Like Mr. Jobs, Franklin enjoyed the concept of applied creativity — taking clever ideas and smart designs and applying them to useful devices.
China and India are likely to produce many rigorous analytical thinkers and knowledgeable technologists. But smart and educated people don’t always spawn innovation. America’s advantage, if it continues to have one, will be that it can produce people who are also more creative and imaginative, those who know how to stand at the intersection of the humanities and the sciences. That is the formula for true innovation, as Steve Jobs’s career showed.
Walter Isaacson is the author of “Steve Jobs.”
Saturday, September 24, 2011
David Brook's 8
Harvard Bound? Chin Up? by David Brooks appeared in the March 2, 2006 edition of the New York Times.
If you do everything on this list, you'll get a great education:
Read Reinhold Niebuhr
Read Plato's "Gorgias"
Take a course on ancient Greece
Learn a foreign language
Spend a year abroad
Take a course in neuroscience
Take a course in statistics
forget about your career for once in your life
If you do everything on this list, you'll get a great education:
Read Reinhold Niebuhr
Read Plato's "Gorgias"
Take a course on ancient Greece
Learn a foreign language
Spend a year abroad
Take a course in neuroscience
Take a course in statistics
forget about your career for once in your life
Stephen Pratt's 25 Superfoods
Pratt's website lists the following nutrient rich foods:
broccoli or other cruciferous vegetables including cabbage, cauliflower and brussels sprout
blueberries or other berries or grapes or cranberries
spinach or other fresh greens
green tea or other tea
tomatoes
walnuts or other nuts or nut butters with no transfats or added sugar
wild salmon or other high omega 3/low mercury fish including sardines and herring
turkey breast or other skinless poultry breast
nonfat yogurt or kefir
orange or other citrus
sweet potatoes or carrots or pumpkin or squash
oats or other whole grain especially wheat germ
soy or tofu or edamame
beans or other legumes
red onions or other onions or shallots
garlic
cinnamon
avocado
pomegranate
kiwi
apple or other fresh fruit
extra virgin olive oil
dried fruit like prunes
dark chocolate 70+ percent cocoa solids
honey
plus others include the following foods as super:
water, hot peppers and hot pepper sauce, mushrooms, spices especially turmeric and ginger
broccoli or other cruciferous vegetables including cabbage, cauliflower and brussels sprout
blueberries or other berries or grapes or cranberries
spinach or other fresh greens
green tea or other tea
tomatoes
walnuts or other nuts or nut butters with no transfats or added sugar
wild salmon or other high omega 3/low mercury fish including sardines and herring
turkey breast or other skinless poultry breast
nonfat yogurt or kefir
orange or other citrus
sweet potatoes or carrots or pumpkin or squash
oats or other whole grain especially wheat germ
soy or tofu or edamame
beans or other legumes
red onions or other onions or shallots
garlic
cinnamon
avocado
pomegranate
kiwi
apple or other fresh fruit
extra virgin olive oil
dried fruit like prunes
dark chocolate 70+ percent cocoa solids
honey
plus others include the following foods as super:
water, hot peppers and hot pepper sauce, mushrooms, spices especially turmeric and ginger
Friday, December 4, 2009
Think for yourself
Do what you want to do
And go where you're going to
Think for yourself
because I won't be there with you
-George Harrison
And go where you're going to
Think for yourself
because I won't be there with you
-George Harrison
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Inspiration is for amateurs.
Inspiration is for amateurs.
The rest of us just show up and get to work.
-Chuck Close
The rest of us just show up and get to work.
-Chuck Close
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Great people talk about ideas.
Great people talk about ideas.
Average people talk about things.
Small people talk about others.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Grizzlies New Uniform
The Memphis Grizzlies get a new uniform inspired by Memphis:
'The base color of the uniform is Beale Street Blue , and the neon shimmer look was chosen by the design team to mirror the signs on Beale Street that give off the same vibrant glow. The intense shapes used on the uniform, including the Grizzlies’ Gold inlays, are inspired by the Grizzlies logo itself and the Egyptians from which the city’s name is derived.'
To design an image with ties to Memphis seems to me that the first step would be to change the name from Grizzlies.
'The base color of the uniform is Beale Street Blue , and the neon shimmer look was chosen by the design team to mirror the signs on Beale Street that give off the same vibrant glow. The intense shapes used on the uniform, including the Grizzlies’ Gold inlays, are inspired by the Grizzlies logo itself and the Egyptians from which the city’s name is derived.'
To design an image with ties to Memphis seems to me that the first step would be to change the name from Grizzlies.
Jackpot Enterprises
A tombstone for an IPO appeared in the Wall Street Journal on October 19, 1987. The new listing was Jackpot Enterprises, a 'gaming machine route operator.' Jackpot's stock symbol was 'J'. That was the symbol of Standard Oil of New Jersey. The stock gods were angered. The DJIA closed down almost 23% from the close of the prior trading session.
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