Requiescat.

Isonomist's son (see here) died yesterday afternoon.

May light eternal shine upon him, O Lord,
in the company of Thy saints forever, for Thou art merciful.
Rest eternal grant to him, O Lord,
and let perpetual light shine upon him
Eternal light shine upon him, O Lord.
Eternal rest grant to him, O Lord.

(These words are a slight paraphrase - substituting "him" for "them" - of the words from the Requiem Mass as used in Greg Newsome's Lux Aeterna - see here and scroll down.)

Continental collision zone.

Kudos to Twiffer for referring me to another NASA site, Visible Earth, which features images of earth made by satellites or by astronauts on shuttles. This image is of a portion of northern Sudan, taken with a radar instrument carried aboard the shuttle Endeavour. The radar exposes hidden sub-surface features, such as, in this instance, rock formations covered by desert sand. The curving green band on the left side of the image is the Nile and its flood plain. To the right of the Nile is a nearly straight line separating reddish from yellowish portions of the image. This is a fault line that delineates a collision between two ancient continents which happened 600 million years ago. Further details can be found here.

Angry Sol?

This image, made by the SOHO observatory (see here), which orbits the Sun at a point inside the earth's orbit, shows a coronal mass ejection. Events like this, in which the Sun violently expels some mass, occur from time to time, with the frequency varying cyclically. When bubbles of magnetic plasma ejected in these events reach the earth, they can interfere with many forms of electromagnetic data transmission.

This image was taken from Astronomy Picture of the Day.

A warming thought on a chilly day.

Only ten days until Mets pitchers and catchers report for training.

Addendum: Sorry, Twiffer. You have to wait an extra day. Red Sox pitchers and catchers don't start until the 18th (spring training starting dates can be found here).

Two oranges.

On a clear morning, a Coast Guard helicopter banks into a turn over the Hudson River, in front of New Jersey's tallest building.



On a hazy morning, a Staten Island ferry approaches its Manhattan terminal.

Bears or Colts?

I don't need to decide. I could just watch The Game as a purely aesthetic propositon. In any event, I was leaning toward the Bears, for the folowing reasons:

1. I've never forgiven the Irsays for the slimy way they ravaged the Baltimore franchise, then snuck the Colts out of town at night like the two-bit bunco artists they are. I especially loathe Irsay Jr. for having memorialized this despicable act in the lyrics of a song that included something like: Spent some time around Baltimore,/ Folks down there don't want me no more/ Movin' on ... (OK, so Baltimore now has the Ravens, thanks to the trashing of another legendary franchise, the old Cleveland Browns, by Art Modell, and Cleveland has a new set of Browns, and Indy has a team where there was none before, which all adds up to a net gain in social utility. But I still hate the Colts for what the Irsays did.)

2. Those great Satuday Night Live skits about "da Bearsss."

3. Rex Grossman, the Bears' QB, was a Florida Gator.

But then my mother says, "Please root for the Colts. Tony Dungy is such a fine man." By way of background, Mom has lived almost half of her ninety years in Tampa, and spent the past thirty or so of those loathing the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, with two exceptions: Steve Young, when he was their quarterback, and Tony Dungy, who was their coach for several seasons. Well, I like Tony, too, even if he works for a franchise I despise.

So, I'll relax and enjoy the game.

"Where is Lady Lake?", I asked myself.

Yesterday evening my sitemeter showed a visit from someone in Lady Lake, Florida. Since I spent much of my childhood and youth in the Sunshine State, I'm pretty familiar with the geography. Still, because of the tremendous amount of development that has happened there since I left at the end of the 1960s, I will often see the name of a place that is unfamiliar. So it was with Lady Lake.

Then I checked this morning's news, and learned that Lady Lake is a community in Lake County, roughly west of Daytona Beach.

Whoever you are, my reader in Lady Lake, I hope you're well and your house is still standing.

To Fray friends.

Demos called me the night before last with the news about Isonomist's son. I sent Iso an e-mail yesterday; as usual, words couldn't convey anything sufficient.

If you haven't gotten the news, Iso's nineteen year old son, who has been struggling with leukemia, suffered a massive brain hemorrhage. He is now in a "medically induced" coma. His odds of survival are rated low; even if he does live, he is considered certain to have incurred massive cerebral damage.

If you believe in prayer, pray for him. If not, do what you can.

Addendum: If you haven't already, please read TenaciousK's eloquent post.

Meet my maker, Maddy Martini.

As I suspect is true of most mediocre bloggers , I've installed a site meter that keeps track of the visits to my blog, and, in some instances, can tell me from what other site the visitor was referred to mine (some non-mediocre bloggers have these as well; what gives my game up is that I obsessively check mine). A couple of days ago, I followed one of these links back to a site that hosts a fantasy stock market on which one may trade "shares" in blogs using virtual play money, and was amazed to find this blog listed twelfth on a "top 100" roster of best buys. It also showed no one having bought any shares in my blog.

Today, I checked it again and discovered that someone called Maddy Martini had bought 1,250 shares, making up 25% of the equity in Self-Absorbed Boomer (see here, and scroll down to "Shares Owners"). Presumably, the remainder of the shares lie in some limbo for the unsold.

Maddy's purchase, by driving the price per share up to a stunning 46 play cents, seems to have caused SAB to fall off of the top 100 list. What's worrying to me, though, is what Maddy may intend to do with this investment. Will she (I'm assuming Maddy is female) threaten to dump her shares unless I stop posting about ships or college football? Will she demand to know why my output is so much less than that of PiercePenniless, both on quantitative and qualitative bases?

Of course, I could register myself on the fantasy market and buy the remainder of the available shares, thereby assuring myself of outvoting Maddy at the next shareholders' meeting (Good God! Do I have to hold those, now?). But I'm inclined just to lie back and see what happens. If other people want to back my blog, even with play money, I guess I shouldn't complain.

Uh-oh! Maddy now owns fifty percent. How high would you like me to jump?

Good news: share value has almost doubled, to 88 play pennies.

Update: Maddy has increased her holding to 75%, but the noble Homer Fink, of Brooklyn Heights Blog, has bought five per cent, and, in doing so, has driven the share price up to an astronomical $4.13.

Homer, if I make your investment pay off, will you teach me how to play bocce?

Rant of the day.

I'm getting sick unto death of the word "edgy".

Goodbye, Molly.

I recently had occasion to quote from an article by Molly Ivins. Today, she lost her fight with breast cancer.

Texas has now lost two great women in the space of six months.

Upper West Side horror.

This afternoon I took my daughter to a friend's place for a sleepover. On my way back to the subway, I spotted this nearly completed building at Broadway between 100th and 101st Streets.

I can only surmise that this monstrosity is the result of a "bad architecture" contest, something like those Bulwer-Lytton contests for writers. If I were a real estate broker trying to sell condos in this thing, the best selling point I could think of is that if you live in it, you're assured of not having a view of it from your window.

Wretched refuse.

The caption is, of course, from Emma Lazarus' poem, The New Colossus (see here), but this isn't a screed about immigration. Instead, it's about people among us now, regardless of citizenship or residency status, who we too often regard as, simply, trash.

I'll begin by recommending another blog, Nurse Ratched's Place, written by Mother Jones, R.N., a psychiatric nurse. She mixes perceptive social commentary, focusing, of course, on health care issues, with sprightly reviews of the fiction genre that could be called "nurse lit". What I'm linking to here is in the former category. MJ doesn't harangue us in her post; she doesn't propose any changes in social policy. She just tells a story and lets us draw whatever conclusions, if any, we might. She also gives us a powerful simile; one to which an architecture buff like me can easly respond.

Shortly after reading MJ's post, I came across a long discussion on MSNBC of the horrifying Kendra Webdale incident. Back in 1999, Kendra, a young woman who had recently moved to New York City, was pushed to her death under a subway train by Andrew Goldstein, who had been diagnosed as schizophrenic and had a long history of violent behavior. A condensed account of the MSNBC piece, by producer Lee Kamlet, is here.

It may seem quite a leap from the harmless bag lady of MJ's story to Andrew, whose "voices" led him to kill, but both may be susceptible to the same diagnosis, and each has been a client of the system provided by a great city and state to help those in such circumstances. It appears that the bag lady's experience with the Chicago system was satisfactory, though she may simply have been lucky to have been delivered into MJ's care rather than that of someone less compassionate. By all accounts, Andrew's experience was much less successful.

The question of what shall we do for, or with, people like MJ's bag lady and Andrew used to be answered like this: if they seem dangerous to others or themselves, or even if they seriously disturb the public peace (and assuming they don't have family who can afford private care), they should be put away in facilities that will offer them treatment as well as separating them from the rest of us. In accordance with the principle of economy of scale, these were usually very large complexes in relatively isolated places. During the late 1970s, I worked for a time as an in-house lawyer for the electric and gas utility company serving Rockland County, New York, on the west side of the Hudson north of New York City. On my way to work, I would drive past one of these facilities, Rockland State Hospital, consisting of a number of large, forbidding looking buildings scattered over perhaps a square mile of land. One of the engineers at the utility company told me that, back during the 1950s, he noticed a spike in electric demand every Wednesday afternoon. When he inquired about the reason, he found out that this was when inmates at Rockland State were administered electroconvulsive therapy.

This system began to be questioned seriously in the 1960s, perhaps as a result of the civil rights movement's having focused attention on misuse of state power over individuals. At the end of that decade, Frederick Wiseman made the infamous film Titicut Follies (see here), which exposed the horrors of a Massachusetts asylum. The resistance to the continued "warehousing" of those with mental illness resulted in stronger legal constraints on commitment to institutions, as well as efforts to establish halfway houses and clinics for outpatient care. Unfortunately, these last too often proved inadequate, as the history of Andrew Goldstein attests.

Why have we, as a polity, resisted providing adequate services for these people, even though we could thereby avert many tragedies such as that of Kendra Webdale? I think several factors are involved here. Consider the first comment, by "Mike", offered in response to Lee Kamlet's article linked above, and which (to save you having to reopen the link) I've reprinted verbatim below.

A terrible crime comitted by a mentally unstable human being, which ultimately leads to a new law and an increase in tax payers pockets, because the sick person needs our help? My heart goes out to the family. I would not help any criminal, I would send them all to death row. The fact that this happens in a large city is not the surprise, the fact that more security is needed in subways after dark is no surprise either.I hope people find ways to get smart in this century. Perhaps with less denial and more assertive inteliigence, the country and it's cities will do what is right for themselves, even if it means getting tougher. With the population growing, ego's inflating, self-involvedment & selfishness overwhelming,there are people who are basically worthless, so it's time for those who are able to make positive changes for the country do so, step up, and make it happen. Is this you?

This comment seems to me to exemplify what Philip Slater calls the Toilet Assumption, which, along with its Janitorial Corollary, is succinctly defined by Todd Gitlin in his introduction to the second edition of Slater's The Pursuit of Loneliness - American Culture at the Breaking Point, here. Note the statement, "there are people who are basically worthless," indicating that "Mike" considers Andrew Goldstein, and those like him, as, effectively, shit.

Beyond that, and alluded to by "Mike's" reference to "taxpayer pockets", is, I believe, a fundamental sense of mistrust, both of the putative recipients of tax-funded assistance, who are seen as somehow gaming the system, and of the "experts" who propose to assist them, who are seen as seeking to build unnecessary bureaucratic empires at public expense. This is a topic I will address further when I belatedly join in the "just society" conversation so ably begun by El Cabrero and furthered by Hipparchia.

Finally, consider this comment on Kamlet's article by "Sickofitall":

Goldstein was crazy alright! Crazy like a fox. He had the wherewithal to plan the attack, someone was going to be pushed. He should be made to feel what Kendra must have felt, sheer terror, in the moments as she tumbled before the train. Nothing the mental health society or criminal justice system could ever come close.

(Incidentally, the comments responding to Kamlet were, by I'd say a three-quarters majority, not in the vein of those by "Mike" and "Sickofitall".) While this comment alludes to the mistrust I mentioned above ("Crazy like a fox"), it also points to a third factor in play here. That is the fear that even recognizing the possibility that such a dreadful act as the killing of Kendra could arise from mental illness rather than rational calculation somehow makes her death more terrifying, because of its apparent randomness. It also puts us on a slippery slope leading towards anomie and the negation of free will. While these are not, on their face, arguments against providing appropriate treatment to the mentally ill, they do, I think, underly a wish to ignore the problem. (I'm not much of a fan of slippery slope arguments, except in those rare instances where I can use one against something that I or a client of mine wants to derail. On the whole, I'm confident that the appropriate lines can be drawn, so long as the line-drawing is left to reasonable people like me.)

I don't believe that "Kendra's Law", as enacted in New York and in similar versions in many other states, is enough. It may well be preventing some Kendra-type tragedies from happening, but I suspect that a more fundamental overhauling of the mental health care delivery system is needed. It won't be easy, as it will demand scarce resources as well as balancing considerations of public safety and individual civil liberties. But it should be done.

Addendum: On re-reading, I realize that the parenthetical at the beginning of the penultimate paragraph above, concerning the tone of the majority of the comments on Kamlet's article, seems to undermine the contention that the reason it is politically difficult to provide an effective mental health system is the prevalence of attitudes like those expressed in the comments I quoted. I think the answer is that many of the "positive" comments came from mental health professionals, or from people who either themselves had experienced mental illness or had someone close to them experience it. The responses to Kamlet appear to have come mostly from two self-selected groups: those with a stake in improving the system, and those strongly opposed to doing anything for the likes of Andrew Goldstein beyond locking them up and throwing away the key. While I don't believe the majority of Americans would express their views on this matter in quite the stark terms that "Mike" and "Sickofitall" did, I suspect that those two comments are closer to the "average" view than those of the majority of the commentors on Kamlet's article.

New and improved addendum, complete with correction: TenaciousK (click on "comments" below) confirms something I suspected; that the story about the spike in electrical demand caused by ECT is a myth. I guess the engineer was just pulling my leg ("That new corporate lawyer, Scales? Dumb as a post. Got him to believe that old saw about electroshock at Rockland State causing a demand peak."). The rest of TK's "rant" is well worth reading.

Sunset on Mars.

It's blue.

Photo by the "Spirit" Mars rover, from NASA/JPL's Mars exploration rover site, thanks to a link from Cosmic Log.

Update: TenaciousK raises an interesting question.

The Bridge, again.

O Sleepless as the river under thee,
Vaulting the sea, the prairies' dreaming sod,
Unto us lowliest sometime sweep, descend
And of the curveship lend a myth to God.

Hart Crane, "To Brooklyn Bridge"

The hits just keep on coming.

This blog has alredy set records this month for both visits and page views (see here), and it's only the 20th. Thank you, my loyal readers.

I'm curious, though (not that I mind at all), as to why it's suddenly so popular in British Columbia.

Update: An anonymous interlocutor (from - where else? - Vancouver) suggests "DawnCoyote's jealous boyfriend?" If that's so, at least I have the comfort of knowing there's the breadth of a continent between us.

But then I think of General John Sedgwick (see here).

Concerning the provenance of hits.

Dawn Coyote (click on "View Full Size" under her eyes for a vision that, if you're attracted to women, will make your heart palpitate) has used her Sitemeter to determine what Google searches have brought visitors to her blog, Fond Adversria, and reported the results here. I tried the same thing, but my results were quite prosaic compared to hers (yeah, I know, it's to be expected - no one wants to see my naughty bits).

However, tonight one of my visitors had, as the URL referring to my blog, that for a post titled "Why Lying Works" in a blog titled "Survival Guide to Homelessness". I went to it, and found no link to my blog, either in the main post or in the comments. However, I found it well worth reading.

Update: Dawn Coyote has replied with a lovely video clip about addled arachnids. Well worth a look.

A sad note to follow a great season.

As those of you who've read my posts on college football know, this has been a really good season for me, despite my premonitions of disaster at every turn. The Gators won the big one, and my alma mater, South Florida, had their first bowl triumph.

Now this. I'm ashamed to say that my first reaction was to hope it wasn't the fault of the USF coaching staff; that Keeley Dorsey had some undetected somatic disorder. But all that matters is, as the Beach Boys once sang, "A young man is gone."

Addendum: Today's New York Times has a story by Alan Schwarz (if you're not already registered with the Times, you'll need to do so to see the article; it's free) about the outcome of medical tests following the recent suicide of former Philadelphia Eagles defensive back Andre Waters (see bio here). Waters, who was 44 at the time of his death and lived in Tampa (coincidentally also where Keeley Dorsey died) had suffered from depression over the past several years. According to Schwarz's story, a post-mortem examination of Waters' brain tissue showed that it was similar to that of an octogenarian in the early stages of Alzheimer's. Over the course of his football career, Waters had suffered perhaps fifteen or more concussions.

I'd be quick to say that, whenever I'm watching a game and see a player down on the field, whether he's with the team I root for or the other, I nod in agreement with the announcer who says, "Don't you just hate it when that happens?" I watch football to see the well-placed pass that threads the defensive needle, the graceful reception, the runner finding a gap in the line and artfully eluding defenders downfield, the defensive back tipping the ball away at the crucial moment, the field goal in the final seconds to win or go to overtime, even the punt into the coffin corner. Yes, but what about the jarring tackle that shakes the ball from the hands of the leaping receiver or lunging runner? The linebacker catching the quarterback from the blind side and slamming him down, or the blitzing safety plowing into him head-on? Well, these are part of the game too, and, yes, an enjoyable part.

So long as no one really gets hurt. But how do we know?

Are unions evil?

It seems that even Mickey Kaus thinks not (but you have to wait until the end of the discussion to find out).

Am I alone in thinking that Kaus looks like someone who would beat someone else up for lunch money, and Robert Wright looks like the kid he would beat up?

The romance of asphalt.

A few days ago, I was sitting here at the computer when the blast of a ship's whistle from the East River made me grab my camera and rush downstairs and across the street to the Brooklyn Heights Promenade (see here). The passing ship, heading south into New York Harbor, proved to be Asphalt Seminole, a small (108 meters length, 9,400 deadweight tons) liquid asphalt carrying tanker. A little Google research showed her owner to be an Isle of Man corporation belonging to the Sergeant Group of companies, headquartered in Boca Raton, Florida, and her registry to be Irish (as "Dublin" below her name on her stern - click on the photo to enlarge - indicated). She was built in a Croatian yard, and her trading range is shown on her owner's website as Caribbean/South America/West Africa/Europe, so this voyage had her a bit outside her usual stomping grounds.

What intrigues me about this ship is her Irish flag. Has the Celtic Tiger become a "flag of convenience"? I also found in my research a piece about a new container ship owned by the Evergreen group, of Taiwan, which flies the British flag. Has the whole flag of convenience game taken a new turn?

My small contribution to blogger knowledge.

If you want to attract visits to your blog, posting about a celebrity will spike your hit count for a short period, but blogging about a train will get you a steady stream of visitors.

Addendum: David Carr, of the New York Times, has a column in today's business section about his experience as a blogger. He has the following trenchant observation about having a blog: "[T]hink of [the blog] as a large yellow Labrador: friendly, fun, not all that bright, but constantly demanding your attention."

As I was still chuckling over that, however, I came to this chilling quotation from New York University professor Clay Shirky, with whom Mr. Carr was discussing blogging: "There is an obsessive, dollhouse pleasure in configuring and looking at it, a constant measure of social capital."

I could say more, but it's time to go check my Sitemeter.

A turning point in the climate change controversy?

Am I naive to think that this is a significant development?

Update: As of now, it doesn't seem to have had much effect on Exxon Mobil's stock price. (The gain for Exxon today appears to have been caused by a jump in the price of crude - see here.)

More on the oil front: Lord Browne, who was the first major oil CEO to break ranks on the greenhouse emissions issue and strove to create a "green" image for his company, is stepping down earlier than expected. This Wall Street Journal article implies that his departure was caused by dissatisfaction over BP's poor safety record over the past several years, not over his environmental stance. The sidebar on his successor, Tony Hayward, now head of BP's exploration and production, doesn't give any indication of his environmental views. Nevertheless, it seems unlikely he would try to reverse BP's course, especially in light of Exxon's action.

Was someone trying to tell me something?

(Click on image to enlarge.)

An offer that should not be misunderestimated.

Henry Blodget in today's Slate.

Possibly the greatest legislative speech ever made.

Every time I despair of the mess in Albany (and right now I'm skeptical of Spitzer's ability to make good on his promised reforms, at least so long as Joe Bruno and Shelly Silver keep their leadership posts in the Senate and Assembly, respectively), I can cheer myself up a bit by thinking of Texas. Kevin, a Canadian expat in Tokyo, put a link in his blog, The Woodshed, here, to a story about a Texas legislator who wants to allow blind people to hunt game with rifles. Stories like this bring to my mind an aritcle Molly Ivins wrote for The Atlantic back in the 1970s, titled "Inside the Austin Fun House", which described some of the wackier goings-on in the Texas "Lege". Included in the piece was the text, in full, of a speech on the floor of the Texas Senate in support of a bill to increase the tax on liquor by ten cents a bottle. It went approximately as follows:

Gentlemens, I wants you to imagine yourselves goin' to the store to buy yourselves a bottle. And on your way to the store, this little child comes up to you, and he says, "Mister, can you buy me a lollipop?" And you says, "Naw, son, I cain't buy you no lollipop." And you goes into the store and buys your bottle, and you pays your extra ten cents tax. Ain't nobody yet ever paid what it's really worth. And you says to yourself, "If I can afford an extra ten cents for this bottle of liquor, I can afford to buy that little child a lollipop." So, gentlemens, I asks for your vote on this bill, for the sake of the children of Texas.

All in all, an elegant rejoinder to Amity Shlaes' screed against Pigovian taxes, don't you think?

College football Wow! Gators win by palindromic score.

Florida 41, Ohio State 14. Eat crow, all you play-it-safe pundits, all you believers in Big Ten supremacy, all you worshippers of Tra-DI-shon. I could name names, but you know who you are. (Confession time: I almost joined you, but I hedged.)

Addendum: Last night's gratifying outcome got me to wondering - how many palindromic football scores are possible? Here's my list (for an obvious reason, I've limited my universe to four-digit scores):

21-12, 31-13, 32-23, 41-14, 42-24, 43-34, 51-15, 52-25, 53-35, 54-45, 61-16, 62-26, 63-36, 64-46, 65-56, 71-17, 72-27, 73-37, 74-47, 75-57, 76-67, 81-18, 82-28, 83-38, 84-48, 85-58, 86-68, 87-78, 91-19, 92-29, 93-39, 94-49, 95-59, 96-69, 97-79, 98-89

Anything past 62-26 seems extremely unlikely (63-36, 71-17 and 81-18 seem barely plausible). I did some quick Google research to try to find the highest total score in a college football game ever, but came up blank. Does anyone know?

Update: Hipparchia (be sure to follow that link and check out the lemming trampoline jump; also note that she calls SAB one of her favorite blogs - Smooch!) reminds me of something that was in the back of my mind, i.e. that Georgia Tech was once involved in a very high scoring game. She found a link that confirms my vague recollection (too vague to put in my post above) that the Yellow Jackets beat Cumberland 222-0 on October 7, 1916; that is, when my mother, whose 90th birthday we celebrated last year, was a five day old infant. I'm reasonably confident that's the highest total score ever in a college football game (maybe even in any football game); the odd thing being that all the scoring was on one side.

The Dark Side revealed!

What you see above is an image, made by Chandra, of two colliding clusters of galaxies. The red areas at the center of the image are normal interstellar gas heated by the collision. The outer blue areas are the first visual evidence of the "dark matter" that theorists have posited as making up most of the mass of the universe. The dark matter is not heated because units of such matter do not interact with each other or with normal matter in ways that generate heat. The dark matter is detected by gravitational lensing; that is, by the distortion of the light from more distant objects behind it.

I found this image, as in my earlier "Galactic Greetings" post, through a link in Cosmic Log. This link took me to a post of the "Top Ten Astronomy Images of 2006" in a superb blog called Bad Astronomy. The other images are well worth perusing.

Farewell to the H-Bomb.

No, not the weapon. On New Year's eve, we had some friends over for dinner and to watch the fireworks from our roof. My wife suggested that I play some James Brown, so I dug out my Roots of a Revolution, which documents his early years with King Records in Cincinnatti, backed by the first version of the Famous Flames. After that played, our guests were in the mood for more historic R&B, so I put on the third disc, "Things Have Changed 1951-1955", of a superb collection, Stompin' at the Savoy, which includes jump blues and R&B cuts released on the Savoy label from 1944 to 1961. The first cut on the "Things have Changed" disc happened to be "Good Lovin'" (not to be confused with the song released in 1966 by the Young Rascals) by "H-Bomb" Ferguson, a jump blues with a bellowing vocal backed by a snazzy band. The singer's name elicited some curiosity; all I could say was what I had read in the booklet accompanying the disc: that he was a blues shouter who recorded for Savoy in the early 1950s and had a style reminiscent of Wynonie Harris. The nickname came from Savoy producer Lee Magid, who said Ferguson's "voice could shake a room."

This morning I was reading an article by Will Friedwald in the arts section of the New York Sun inspired by a forthcoming Highlights in Jazz concert at the Tribeca Performing Arts Center, featuring the great alto saxophonist Lou Donaldson. Friedwald's article stresses the importance of Donaldson's roots in blues, and notes that, when he settled in New York after World War Two, he "began to study music seriously, working extensively with R&B singers such as H-Bomb Ferguson and Larry Darnell and touring with Wynonie Harris."

I figured that encountering references to the same relatively little-known R&B artist twice in three days must signal kismet. These days, kismet leads me to Google, where I learned that H-Bomb left New York in the late 1950s for Cincinnatti, where he, like James Brown, recorded for King Records. When his recording career didn't take off like Brown's, he continued to perform live, but didn't make a CD until 1993's Wiggin' Out, which took its name from his late career habit of performing in brightly colored wigs. You can hear a sample of "My Brown Frame Baby", from that album, here.

My Google search also uncovered this amazing list of "bomb songs" (including H-Bomb's 1952 "Rock H-Bomb Rock") compiled by an outfit called Conelrad (remember the original?) in a multi-disc collection called Atomic Platters - Cold War Music from the Golden Age of Homeland Security. Click on any song title to get a short account of the artist and history, along with the lyrics. For example, here's "Jesus Hits Like an Atom Bomb" by Lowell Blanchard and the Valley Trio, and here's the scarifying "When They Drop the Atomic Bomb", by Jackie Doll and his Pickled Peppers.

My research on Mr. Ferguson came to a sad conclusion with this item from Variety, noting his death just over a month ago.

Put a laurel crown over Exit Nine.

As I've noted here before, Rutgers played in, and won, the first college football game ever. But it's taken them 137 years to get their first bowl game victory. The boys from New Brunswick defeated those from Manhattan (Kansas, that is) by 37-10.

Meanwhile, on a different tectonic plate, a Florida State team that only managed to break even in its regular season beat UCLA by 44-27. Recalling that the Bruins beat Southern Cal by 13-9, a four point margin, and noting the Noles 17 point advantage over UCLA, can we conclude that FSU is better than USC by 21 points? No, no, no. Football teams are not elements of a well-ordered set.

Pre-title game update: Joey Johnston seems to be rethinking his earlier diss of the Gators.

A big "Thank you!" to Josh Levin, in Slate, for agreeing with me that the college game is more fun. (Now I'm kicking myself for missing the Fiesta Bowl.)

A white post-Christmas

On Christmas day, there was no snow to be seen in far northern New York State, where we were visiting for the holiday. On the morning of the 26th, however, we woke up to find this scene.