A changeable sculpture by Swiss artist Markus Raetz:
A change of heart:
A similar idea in French:
The Dali Museum in Spain contains a room based on his 1934 painting “Mae West (Face of Mae West Which Can Be Used as an Apartment)”:
See Figure and Ground.
William … asks me to set down the story of Barbara Wilkinson’s Turtle Dove. Barbara is an old maid. She had 2 turtle Doves. One of them died the first year I think. The other bird continued to live alone in its cage for 9 years, but for one whole year it had a companion and daily visitor, a little mouse that used to come and feed with it, and the Dove would caress it, and cower over it with its wings, and make a loving noise to it. The mouse though it did not testify equal delight in the Dove’s company yet it was at perfect ease. The poor mouse disappeared and the Dove was left solitary till its death. It died of a short sickness and was buried under a tree with funeral ceremony by Barbara and her maiden, and one or two others.
— Dorothy Wordsworth, Grasmere Journals, Jan. 30, 1802
W.H. Auden won first prize for mathematics at St. Edmund’s School in Hindhead, Surrey, when he was 13. He recalled being asked to learn the following mnemonic around 1919:
Minus times Minus equals Plus;
The reason for this we need not discuss.
This Katzensymphonie, by Moritz von Schwind (1804-71), resides in the Staatliche Kunsthalle Karlsruhe in Germany. Dick Higgins, in Pattern Poetry, writes, “This piece, drawn in pencil and ink on music paper (but not orchestrated) has charm but does not appear to have been intended for performance at all. It may be a satire or lampoon on the famous violinist Joseph Joachim (1831-1904), to whom it is dedicated.”
Perhaps it might be played on the Katzenklavier, a (thankfully) imaginary instrument described by Jean-Baptiste Weckerlin in his Musiciana, extraits d’ouvrages rare ou bizarre of 1877:
[A] chariot … carried the most singular music that can be imagined. It held a bear that played the organ; instead of pipes, there were sixteen cat heads each with its body confined; the tails were sticking out and were held to be played as the strings on a piano, if a key was pressed on the keyboard, the corresponding tail would be pulled hard, and it would produce each time a lamentable meow. The historian Juan Christoval Calvete, noted the cats were arranged properly to produce a succession of notes from the octave … (chromatically, I think).
In 1890 the Glasgow University magazine published this anonymous assessment of the musicianship of botanist and amateur violoncellist Frederick Orpen Bower:
There was a professor of flowers
The ‘cello he’d torture for hours
When the strings gave a growl
The cats gave a howl
And eclipsed all his musical powers.
Today marks the official launch of our new book, a collection of hundreds of hand-picked favorites from the site’s 10-year archive of the marvelous, the diverting, and the strange — the perfect gift for people who are impossible to buy gifts for, or for yourself!
Like the website, Futility Closet 2: A Second Trove of Intriguing Tidbits contains hundreds of entertaining oddities in history, literature, language, art, philosophy, and mathematics, plus scores of amusing inventions, curious words, and beguiling puzzles.
“A wild, wonderful, and educational romp through history, science, zany patents, math puzzles, wonderful words (like boanthropy, hallelujatic, and andabatarian), the Devil’s Game, self-contradicting words, and so much more. Buy this book and feed your mind!”— Clifford A. Pickover, author of The Mathematics Devotional
Futility Closet 2 joins our first book, Futility Closet: An Idler’s Miscellany of Compendious Amusements, which reviewers have called “funny, interesting, thought-provoking, and completely original” and “a most entertaining compendium of unusual knowledge.”
In August 1977, Ohio astronomer Jerry Ehman discovered a radio signal so exciting that he wrote “Wow!” in the margin of its computer printout. Arriving from the direction of the constellation Sagittarius, the signal bore all the characteristics of an alien transmission. But despite decades of eager listening, astronomers have never heard it repeated. In this episode of the Futility Closet podcast we’ll review the story of the “Wow! signal,” which remains an intriguing, unexplained anomaly in the search for extraterrestrial intelligence.
We’ll also share some more nuggets from Greg’s database of oddities and puzzle over why a man chooses to drive a long distance at only 15 mph.
Sources for our segment on the Wow! signal:
Robert H. Gray, The Elusive Wow, 2012.
Giuseppe Cocconi and Philip Morrison, “Searching for Interstellar Communication,” Nature, Sept. 19, 1959.
Frank White, The SETI Factor, 1990.
David W. Swift, SETI Pioneers, 1990.
David Darling, The Extraterrestrial Encyclopedia, 2000.
Michael Brooks, 13 Things That Don’t Make Sense, 2008.
“Humanity Responds to ‘Alien’ Wow Signal, 35 Years Later,” space.com, Aug. 17, 2012 (accessed Oct. 31, 2014).
Here’s Stephen Colbert’s message to the denizens of Sagittarius:
Notes and sources for our miscellany from Greg’s notes:
Iowa City’s web page explains that Lyman Dillon plowed a furrow from Iowa City to Dubuque in 1839.
The item on oil pit squids is from George Eberhart’s 2002 book Mysterious Creatures. The squids were found in “oil-emulsion pits containing antifreeze, stripper, oil, and chemicals used in manufacturing plastic automobile bumpers.” Eberhart cites Ken de la Bastide, “Creature in Plant 9 Pits,” Anderson (Ind.) Herald Bulletin, March 5, 1997.
Thanks to reader John McKenna for letter from the ancient Greek boy Theon to his father. It’s from the Oxyrhynchus papyri, from the 2nd or 3rd century:
Theon to his father Theon, greeting. It was a fine thing of you not to take me with you to the city! If you won’t take me with you to Alexandria I won’t write you a letter or speak to you or say goodbye to you; and if you go to Alexandria I won’t take your hand nor ever greet you again. That is what will happen if you won’t take me. Mother said to Archelaus, ‘it quite upsets him to be left behind.’ It was good of you to send me presents … on the 12th, the day you sailed. Send me a lyre, I implore you. If you don’t, I won’t eat, I won’t drink; there now!
The item on William and Henry James is from Vincent Barry’s 2007 book Philosophical Thinking About Dying.
According to the Encyclopedia of Fictional and Fantastic Languages (2006), Gaff’s command to Deckard in Blade Runner is Monsieur, azonnal kövessen engem bitte (“Sir, follow me immediately please”).
The anecdote about Alfred Lunt and the green umbrella is from the Methuen Drama Dictionary of the Theatre (2013).
This week’s lateral thinking puzzle comes from Paul Sloane and Des MacHale’s 1998 book Ingenious Lateral Thinking Puzzles.
Many thanks to Harry’s for supporting this week’s episode. Enter coupon code CLOSET with your first purchase and they’ll give you a $5 discount.
Many thanks to Doug Ross for the music in this episode.
If you have any questions or comments you can reach us at firstname.lastname@example.org. Thanks for listening!
When Jos de Vink retired from a career in computer technology in 2002, he began casting about for an engaging project. His neighbor, a passionate model builder, challenged him to design a working hot air engine driven solely by the heat of a tea or wax light.
De Vink produced a trial engine using the principles of the first hot air engine built by Robert Stirling in 1816. He displayed it for his model club and at a model exhibition in the Netherlands and, encouraged by the response, began to build more.
By 2010 he had created about 27 engines and began construction on several Stirling low temperature difference (LTD) engines that can run on the warmth of a human hand.
“De Vink designs his engines from scraps of brass and bronze from a scrap dealer,” writes Art Donovan in The Art of Steampunk. “The machines demonstrate the possibility of moving large objects using little energy and show different drive techniques used by hot air engine builders for the past two centuries.”
I have often noticed at the Poetry Society that, after a poem has been read and applauded, when someone dares to get up and inquire what it means, there is likely to be a great outcry to the effect that one cannot analyze a beautiful thing. That is a basic absurdity and represents nothing but a variety of snobbery.
Some will declare indignantly, ‘This thought is too great to be definitely expressed.’ There is truth, I am certain, in the lines ‘whatever deep or shallow, new or old / is clearly thought, can be as clearly told.’ The writer who does not say what he has to say clearly, is shirking his job.
— Arthur Guiterman, quoted in Everett S. Allen, Famous American Humorous Poets, 1968
adj. on one’s knees
n. a marriage suit