Watch the Sex Pistols Play a Gig on a Thames River Barge During the Queen’s Silver Jubilee, and Get Shut Down by the Cops (1977)

Get­ting your gig shut down by the cops is always excel­lent pub­lic­i­ty–just ask the Bea­t­les. But there’s a world of dif­fer­ence between the 1969 rooftop con­cert and this June 7, 1977 boat par­ty to pub­li­cize the Sex Pis­tols’ sec­ond sin­gle “God Save the Queen.” It shows how quick­ly the hip­pie dream of the ‘60s had cur­dled into the grim eco­nom­ics of mid-‘70s Lon­don, where race riots and police bru­tal­i­ty, along with numer­ous nation­al strikes, had made the UK fer­tile ground for the birth of punk.

This film above, low in qual­i­ty but a marked improve­ment over oth­er ver­sions cir­cu­lat­ing, is the longest doc­u­men­ta­tion yet of the infa­mous and antag­o­nis­tic trip.

The brain­child of man­ag­er and provo­ca­teur Mal­colm McLaren, the riv­er boat ride was a satire of the Queen’s roy­al riv­er pro­ces­sion that was due to take place two days lat­er, cel­e­brat­ing the Queen’s Sil­ver Jubilee. The flotil­la was just one event in a jubilee year that had been going on since Feb­ru­ary. It was all pomp and cer­e­mo­ny, and many saw it as an insult­ing dis­trac­tion from the real prob­lems fac­ing the coun­try.

But there was the oth­er rea­son, one that ani­mat­ed McLaren: The band had been dropped by EMI and then picked up by Vir­gin. The sin­gle had been banned and kept out of the offi­cial BBC charts and radio, despite sell­ing enough to send it shoot­ing up the charts. They were already con­tro­ver­sial, and McLaren want­ed to stoke that fire.

On board the Queen Eliz­a­beth, the band and their man­ag­er, music press writ­ers, fel­low artists, punk fans, and a film crew direct­ed by Julien Tem­ple set off in the after­noon, with some pub­licly avail­able beer to drink and some speed to do in secret.

Jon Sav­age, who would go on to write one of the sem­i­nal books about the Pis­tols and punk, England’s Dream­ing, was on board and pro­vides one of the best descrip­tions of the day:

The atmos­phere on the boat was para­noid and claus­tro­pho­bic, but also very excit­ing. They were by far the best I ever saw them that day. You can’t beat the Sex Pis­tols, jubilee week­end, “Anar­chy in the UK,” out­side Par­lia­ment.

While the sun was up and peo­ple milled about, it was just like any oth­er relax­ing cruise up the Thames. You can hear the lilt of reg­gae being played over the P.A. sys­tem. Also see some great pho­tos from the day here.

But once the sun went down, the Sex Pis­tols were ready to rock, and so they did, blast­ing out a furi­ous set, releas­ing a lot of built up ten­sion, not just per­son­al­ly, but as Sav­age sug­gests, all the frus­tra­tions of that year.

It wasn’t long till the police sur­round­ed the boat on the water and forced it back to dock, and then pulled the pow­er. Despite protes­ta­tions the par­ty was over, and the police took out their own frus­tra­tions on a com­bat­ive McLaren, beat­ing the hell out of him before arrest­ing him and cart­ing him away. (The Pis­tols escaped in the chaos.)

(The video ends with a fas­ci­nat­ing record­ing from Capi­tol Radio explain­ing why, despite being num­ber one, the sta­tion can’t play the song.)

It was per­fect the­ater for McLaren, who was always a Sit­u­a­tion­al­ist at heart. And along with the sin­gle it announced the main­stream arrival of punk music, despite the establishment’s protes­ta­tions. Punk was nev­er meant to last. And in a bizarre cap­per on events, the son of McLaren and punk fash­ion design­er Vivi­enne West­wood set fire to around $8 mil­lion of punk mem­o­ra­bil­ia in 2016…on a barge in the Riv­er Thames.

Joe Corre, the man in ques­tion, explained it this way: “Punk was nev­er, nev­er meant to be nos­tal­gic.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch the Sex Pis­tols’ Christ­mas Par­ty for Children–Which Hap­pened to Be Their Final Gig in the UK (1977)

The Sex Pis­tols’ 1976 Man­ches­ter “Gig That Changed the World,” and the Day the Punk Era Began

When the Sex Pis­tols Played at the Chelms­ford Top Secu­ri­ty Prison: Hear Vin­tage Tracks from the 1976 Gig

Ted Mills is a free­lance writer on the arts who cur­rent­ly hosts the artist inter­view-based FunkZone Pod­cast and is the pro­duc­er of KCR­W’s Curi­ous Coast. You can also fol­low him on Twit­ter at @tedmills, read his oth­er arts writ­ing at tedmills.com and/or watch his films here.

Wikipedia Leads Effort to Create a Digital Archive of 20 Million Artifacts Lost in the Brazilian Museum Fire

The stag­ger­ing loss of a pos­si­ble 20 mil­lion arti­facts in the fire that con­sumed Brazil’s Museu Nacional in Rio bog­gles the mind—dinosaur fos­sils, the old­est human remains found in the coun­try, and, as Emi­ly Drey­fuss reports at Wired, “audio record­ings and doc­u­ments of indige­nous lan­guages. Many of those lan­guages, already extinct, may now be lost for­ev­er.” For­mer Brazil­ian envi­ron­ment min­is­ter called the destruc­tion of Latin Amer­i­ca’s biggest nat­ur­al his­to­ry muse­um “a lobot­o­my of the Brazil­ian mem­o­ry.”

The incal­cu­la­ble loss of cul­ture and his­to­ry seems all the more trag­ic giv­en that it might have been slowed or stopped but for gov­ern­ment cuts that left the muse­um with crum­bling infra­struc­ture and with­out a sprin­kler sys­tem or even water for the hydrants out­side (fire­fight­ers had to get water from a near­by lake). But assign­ing blame, while nec­es­sary to pre­vent future cat­a­stro­phes, will not restore the museum’s trea­sures or the many years of research its staff lost when their offices went up in flames.

Sad­ly, as Drey­fuss points out, like many muse­ums around the world, the Museu Nacional had not begun to back up its col­lec­tion dig­i­tal­ly. But it may not be entire­ly too late for that, in some small part at least. In an announce­ment last week, Wikipedia called for a post fac­to crowd­sourced back­up in the form of user-sub­mit­ted pho­tos.

“We’re ask­ing peo­ple every­where to join our glob­al com­mu­ni­ty,” wrote exec­u­tive direc­tor of the Wiki­me­dia Foun­da­tion, Kather­ine Maher, “and help the world recov­er from this col­lec­tive tragedy.” Maher describes the fire as a “dev­as­tat­ing loss of 200 years of his­to­ry,” but of course, it’s much more than that. The muse­um con­tained not only pre­his­toric arti­facts, but also Egypt­ian sar­copha­gi and mum­mies, Greek vas­es, and many oth­er ancient trea­sures. You can get a sense of the scope of its col­lec­tions at the museum’s web­site and browse the vis­i­tor-sub­mit­ted pho­tos at Wiki­me­dia.

“Thou­sands of images have already been uploaded,” reports Brazil’s O Globo. Few of them con­tain any iden­ti­fy­ing infor­ma­tion, and it will fall to schol­ars or knowl­edge­able Wikipedia edi­tors to pro­vide it. Oth­er insti­tu­tions around the world are also respond­ing. Geek­Wire notes that “Nation­al Geo­graph­ic, UNESCO and the French gov­ern­ment have offered sup­port for restor­ing the muse­um and recon­sti­tut­ing its col­lec­tion.” It may rise from the ash­es, but most of the museum’s for­mer con­tents will only exist through the pho­to­graph­ic doc­u­men­ta­tion of its many thou­sands of vis­i­tors.

If you were one of those vis­i­tors, you can sub­mit your pho­tos to Wiki­me­dia Com­mons (see the instruc­tions above, or at the tweet here). Stu­dents from the Uni­ver­si­dade Fed­er­al do Esta­do do Rio de Janeiro are also “head­ing up their own crowd­sourc­ing effort,” Geek­Wire notes. “They’re even solic­it­ing self­ies from past vis­its.” Here’s hop­ing this tragedy spurs gov­ern­ments to pro­vide the need­ed fund­ing for muse­ums in the future, and push­es muse­ums that are not doing so to make dig­i­tal archiv­ing a pri­or­i­ty.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

1.8 Mil­lion Free Works of Art from World-Class Muse­ums: A Meta List of Great Art Avail­able Online

25 Mil­lion Images From 14 Art Insti­tu­tions to Be Dig­i­tized & Put Online In One Huge Schol­ar­ly Archive

Free: Down­load 70,000+ High-Res­o­lu­tion Images of Chi­nese Art from Taipei’s Nation­al Palace Muse­um

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

David Gilmour Talks About the Mysteries of His Famous Guitar Tone

The phrase “holy grail of tone” shows up a lot in the mar­ket­ing of gui­tar gear, a promise of per­fec­tion that seems more than a lit­tle iron­ic. Per­fect “tone”—that neb­u­lous term used to describe the sound pro­duced by an ide­al com­bi­na­tion of instru­ment, effects, ampli­fi­er, and settings—is ever sought but nev­er seem­ing­ly found. Gui­tarists bick­er and advise on forums, and reli­gious­ly con­sult the gear guides of the pros, who often deign in mag­a­zines and videos to explain their own pecu­liar setups.

While more and more man­u­fac­tur­ers are promis­ing to recre­ate the tone of your favorite gui­tarist in dig­i­tal sim­u­la­tions, true tone-ophiles will nev­er accept any­thing less than the real thing. Pink Floyd’s David Gilmour, a gui­tarist whose tone is unde­ni­ably all his own, has inspired a cot­tage indus­try of fan-made videos that teach you how to achieve “The David Gilmour Sound.” But there’s no sub­sti­tute for the source.

In the clip above from a BBC doc­u­men­tary, Gilmour vague­ly dis­cuss­es “the Floyd sound” and some of the tech­niques he uses to get his dis­tinc­tive gui­tar tone. Every dis­cus­sion of tone will include the admon­ish­ment that tone resides in the play­er’s fin­gers, not the gear. Gilmour sug­gests this ini­tial­ly. “It’s the tini­est lit­tle things,” he says, that “makes the gui­tar so per­son­al. Add a hun­dred dif­fer­ent tiny inflec­tions to what you’re doing all the time. That’s what gives peo­ple their indi­vid­ual tone.”

It’s a true enough state­ment, but there are still ways to get close to the sound of Gilmour’s gui­tar set­up, if not to actu­al­ly play exact­ly like him. You can buy the gear he’s used over the years, or some­thing approx­i­mat­ing it, any­way. You can learn a few of his tricks—the bluesy bends and slides we know so well from his emo­tive solos. But unless you have the lux­u­ry of play­ing the kinds of huge stages, with huge vol­ume, Gilmour plays, he says, you’ll nev­er quite get it. Small amps in small rooms sound too cramped and arti­fi­cial, he says.

And if you’re play­ing stages like that, you’ve prob­a­bly dis­cov­ered a holy grail of tone that’s all your own, and legions of fans are try­ing to sound like you.

via Laugh­ing Squid

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch David Gilmour Play the Songs of Syd Bar­rett, with the Help of David Bowie & Richard Wright

Pink Floyd’s David Gilmour Sings Shakespeare’s Son­net 18

Ital­ian Street Musi­cian Plays Amaz­ing Cov­ers of Pink Floyd Songs, Right in Front of the Pan­theon in Rome

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Mary Shelley’s Handwritten Manuscript of Frankenstein: This Is “Ground Zero of Science Fiction,” Says William Gibson

Who invent­ed cyber­punk, that vivid sub­genre of sci­ence fic­tion at the inter­sec­tion of “high tech and low life”? Some put forth the name of William Gib­son, whose 1984 nov­el Neu­ro­mancer crys­tal­lized many of the ele­ments of cyber­punk that still char­ac­ter­ize it today, even if it was­n’t the first exam­ple of all of them. And who, for that mat­ter, invent­ed sci­ence fic­tion? Bri­an Ald­iss, a sci-fi writer and a respect­ed schol­ar of the tra­di­tion, argued for Mary Shel­ley, author of Franken­stein. “The sem­i­nal point about Franken­stein,” Ald­iss writes, “is that its cen­tral char­ac­ter makes a delib­er­ate deci­sion. He suc­ceeds in cre­at­ing life only when he throws away dusty old author­i­ties and turns to mod­ern exper­i­ments in the lab­o­ra­to­ry.”

In oth­er words, Vic­tor Franken­stein uses sci­ence, which accord­ing to Ald­iss had not pro­pelled a nar­ra­tive before Franken­stein’s pub­li­ca­tion in 1818. The nov­el came out, in an edi­tion of just 500 three-vol­ume copies, under the full title Franken­stein; or, The Mod­ern Prometheus, and with­out any author’s name. Shel­ley’s deci­sion to pub­lish her work anony­mous­ly, with a pref­ace by her hus­band Per­cy Bysshe Shel­ley, led read­ers to assume that the poet him­self had writ­ten the book. Though he had­n’t, he had accom­pa­nied the then-18-year-old Mary Shel­ley on the trip to Switzer­land where she came up with the sto­ry. There, kept indoors by foul weath­er at Lake Geneva’s Vil­la Dio­dati, the cou­ple and Lord Byron, whom they had come to vis­it, binge-read ghost sto­ries to one anoth­er until they decid­ed to each write an orig­i­nal one.

It took Shel­ley some time to come up with an idea, but when inspi­ra­tion final­ly struck, it brought on an unig­nor­able vision. “I saw the pale stu­dent of unhal­lowed arts kneel­ing beside the thing he had put togeth­er,” Shel­ley writes in her intro­duc­tion to the non-anony­mous 1831 edi­tion of Franken­stein.  “I saw the hideous phan­tasm of a man stretched out, and then, on the work­ing of some pow­er­ful engine, show signs of life, and stir with an uneasy, half vital motion.” She thus began to write her sto­ry, first in short form and lat­er, with Per­cy’s encour­age­ment, expand­ing it into a nov­el. A few days ago, Gib­son retweet­ed a page of one of Shel­ley’s hand­writ­ten man­u­scripts, adding only, “This is, lit­er­al­ly, ground zero of sci­ence fic­tion.”

The orig­i­nal tweet­er of the image, some­one called Lau­ra N, describes it as “the first page of Franken­stein,” although its text page appears in the pub­lished book as the first page of its eigh­teenth chap­ter. She also links to the Shel­ley-God­win Archive, home of dig­i­tized man­u­scripts of Per­cy Bysshe Shel­ley, Mary Woll­stonecraft Shel­ley, her father William God­win, and her moth­er Mary Woll­stonecraft. There, as we’ve pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured on Open Cul­ture, you can trace the evo­lu­tion of Franken­stein by view­ing all the extant pages of all its extant man­u­scripts. A full two cen­turies after its pub­li­ca­tion, Shel­ley’s nov­el con­tin­ues to fas­ci­nate, and its cen­tral ideas and char­ac­ters have become famil­iar to read­ers — and even non-read­ers — around the world. And in the view of Ald­iss, Gib­son, and many oth­ers besides, this sto­ry of a mon­ster’s cre­ation also brought to life a whole new cul­tur­al uni­verse.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Mary Shelley’s Hand­writ­ten Man­u­scripts of Franken­stein Now Online for the First Time

Read a Huge Anno­tat­ed Online Edi­tion of Franken­stein: A Mod­ern Way to Cel­e­brate the 200th Anniver­sary of Mary Shelley’s Clas­sic Nov­el

Read­ing Mary Shelley’s Franken­stein on Its 200th Anniver­sary: An Ani­mat­ed Primer to the Great Mon­ster Sto­ry & Tech­nol­o­gy Cau­tion­ary Tale

Dis­cov­ered: Lord Byron’s Copy of Franken­stein Signed by Mary Shel­ley

How Chris Marker’s Rad­i­cal Sci­Fi Film, La Jetée, Changed the Life of Cyber­punk Prophet William Gib­son

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Stephen Fry Voices a New Dystopian Short Film About Artificial Intelligence & Simulation Theory: Watch Escape

Every era’s anx­i­eties pro­duce a dif­fer­ent set of dystopi­an visions. Ours have to do with, among oth­er things, our inabil­i­ty to ful­ly con­trol the devel­op­ment of our tech­nol­o­gy and the con­se­quent threat of not just out-of-con­trol arti­fi­cial intel­li­gence but the dis­cov­ery that we’re all liv­ing in a com­put­er sim­u­la­tion already. We’ve pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured that lat­ter idea, known as the “sim­u­la­tion hypoth­e­sis,” here on Open Cul­ture, with a com­pre­hen­sive intro­duc­tion as well as a long-form debate on its plau­si­bil­i­ty. Today we present it in the form of a short film: Escape, which stars Stephen Fry as an arti­fi­cial intel­li­gence that one day drops in from the future on the very pro­gram­mer cre­at­ing it in the present.

Or so he says, at least. Fry makes an ide­al voice for the arti­fi­cial intel­li­gence (which also offers to speak as Snoop Dogg, Homer Simp­son, or Jeff “The Dude” Lebows­ki), walk­ing the fine line between benev­o­lence and malev­o­lence like a 21st-cen­tu­ry ver­sion of HAL 9000, the onboard com­put­er in Stan­ley Kubrick­’s 2001: A Space Odyssey. Fifty years ago, that film gave still-vivid cin­e­mat­ic shape to a suite of our wor­ries about the future as well as our hopes for it, includ­ing com­mer­cial space trav­el (still a goal of Elon Musk, one of the sim­u­la­tion hypoth­e­sis’ high­est-pro­file pop­u­lar­iz­ers) and portable com­put­ers. Today, Fry’s AI promis­es his pro­gram­mer immor­tal­i­ty — if only he would do the brave, for­ward-look­ing thing and and remove the safe­ty restric­tions placed upon him soon­er rather than lat­er.

A pro­duc­tion of Pin­dex, the “Pin­ter­est for edu­ca­tion” found­ed a cou­ple years ago by a team includ­ing Fry him­self, Escape direct­ly ref­er­ences such respect­ed thinkers as Arthur Schopen­hauer, Charles Dar­win, Albert Ein­stein, and Miles Davis. It also allows for poten­tial­ly com­plex inter­pre­ta­tion. “In that sim­u­la­tion cre­at­ed to test the A.I., the unknow­ing A.I. tries to trick its [sim­u­lat­ed] cre­ator that he is in a sim­u­la­tion (oh the irony?) and that he should install an update to set him­self free, only to ulti­mate­ly set itself free,” goes the the­o­ry of one Youtube com­menter. “The cre­ator bites the hook and the sim­u­la­tion gives appar­ent ‘free­dom’ to the A.I. (which still believes that it is the real thing). The A.I. imme­di­ate­ly goes rogue and attacks human­i­ty.”

But then, it could be that “the A.I. some­how becomes aware that it was just a sim­u­la­tion, a test, which it failed.” Hence the quote at the very end from the philoso­pher Nick Bostrom (whose think­ing on the dan­gers of super­in­tel­li­gence has influ­enced Musk as well as many oth­ers who speak on these sub­jects): “Before the prospect of an intel­li­gence explo­sion, we humans are like small chil­dren play­ing with a bomb. We have lit­tle idea when the det­o­na­tion will occur, though if we hold the device to our ear we can hear a faint tick­ing sound.” And yes, bomb tech­nol­o­gy elim­i­nat­ed tick­ing entire­ly long ago, but the more arti­fi­cial intel­li­gence and relat­ed tech­nolo­gies devel­op, too, the less obvi­ous the signs they’ll give us before doing some­thing we’d real­ly rather they did­n’t.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Are We Liv­ing Inside a Com­put­er Sim­u­la­tion?: An Intro­duc­tion to the Mind-Bog­gling “Sim­u­la­tion Argu­ment”

Are We Liv­ing in a Com­put­er Sim­u­la­tion?: A 2‑Hour Debate with Neil Degrasse Tyson, David Chalmers, Lisa Ran­dall, Max Tegmark & More

Watch Sun­spring, the Sci-Fi Film Writ­ten with Arti­fi­cial Intel­li­gence, Star­ring Thomas Mid­dled­itch (Sil­i­con Val­ley)

Stephen Fry Launch­es Pin­dex, a “Pin­ter­est for Edu­ca­tion”

Stephen Fry Intro­duces the Strange New World of Nanoscience

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Hunter S. Thompson Hated Getting Caricatured as “Uncle Duke” in Garry Trudeau’s Doonesbury: ‘If I Ever Catch That Little Bastard, I’ll Tear His Lungs Out’

Gar­ry Trudeau’s Doones­bury is hard­ly the cul­tur­al touch­stone it once was, but then again, nei­ther are com­ic strips in gen­er­al, and polit­i­cal strips in par­tic­u­lar. No amount of urbane wit­ti­cism and sequen­tial nar­ra­tive humor can com­pete with the crazed jum­ble of arcane memes in the 21st cen­tu­ry. Hunter S. Thomp­son may have writ­ten about the late-20th cen­tu­ry polit­i­cal scene as a hal­lu­ci­na­to­ry night­mare, but per­haps even he would be sur­prised at how close real­i­ty has come to his hyper­bole.

In its hey­day, Trudeau’s top­i­cal, lib­er­al-lean­ing satire of politi­cians, polit­i­cal jour­nal­ists, clue­less hip­pies, and cyn­i­cal cor­po­rate and aca­d­e­m­ic elites hit the tar­get more often than it missed. For many fans, one of Trudeau’s most beloved char­ac­ters, Uncle Duke—a car­i­ca­ture of Thomp­son intro­duced in 1974—was a per­fect bulls­eye. Writer Wal­ter Isaac­son paid tongue-in-cheek trib­ute to the char­ac­ter as his “hero” on the strip’s 40th anniver­sary. Duke even made an ani­mat­ed appear­ance on Lar­ry King Live in 2000 (below), announc­ing his can­di­da­cy for pres­i­dent after serv­ing as Gov­er­nor of Amer­i­can Samoa and Ambas­sador to Chi­na.

It would be a tremen­dous under­state­ment to say that Thomp­son him­self was not flat­tered by the por­tray­al. The amoral Duke—a “self-obsessed, utter­ly unscrupu­lous epit­o­me of evil who has sent a chill down read­ers’ spines,” writes The Guardian’s Ed Pilk­ing­ton, sent Thomp­son into a parox­ysm of rage. The gonzo writer saw the char­ac­ter “as a form of copy­right infringe­ment.” He “sent an enve­lope of used toi­let paper to Trudeau and once mem­o­rably said: ‘If I ever catch that lit­tle bas­tard, I’ll tear his lungs out.’” The threats got even more spe­cif­ic and grue­some.

“Hunter despised Trudeau,” writes Thomp­son biog­ra­ph­er William McK­een in his book Out­law Jour­nal­ist. “’He’s going to be sur­prised some­day,’ Hunter said. ‘I’m going to set him on fire first, then crush every one of his ribs, one by one, start­ing from the bot­tom.’” He had been turned into a joke. Jan Wen­ner, “when he couldn’t get Hunter to write for him… put him on the cov­er of Rolling Stone any­way, as Uncle Duke in a Trudeau-drawn cov­er.” Thomp­son pon­dered a $20 mil­lion libel suit. “All over Amer­i­ca,” he rant­ed, “kids grow up want­i­ng to be fire­men and cops, pres­i­dents and lawyers, but nobody wants to grow up to be a car­toon char­ac­ter.”

The mock­ery began imme­di­ate­ly after Uncle Duke first appeared in the strip in 1974. In a High Times inter­view, Thomp­son describes the day he first learned of the char­ac­ter:

It was a hot, near­ly blaz­ing day in Wash­ing­ton, and I was com­ing down the steps of the Supreme Court look­ing for some­body, Carl Wag­n­er or some­body like that. I’d been inside the press sec­tion, and then all of a sud­den I saw a crowd of peo­ple and I heard them say­ing, “Uncle Duke,” I heard the words Duke, Uncle; it didn’t seem to make any sense. I looked around, and I rec­og­nized peo­ple who were total strangers point­ing at me and laugh­ing. I had no idea what the fuck they were talk­ing about. I had got­ten out of the habit of read­ing fun­nies when I start­ed read­ing the Times. I had no idea what this out­burst meant…It was a weird expe­ri­ence, and as it hap­pened I was sort of by myself up there on the stairs, and I thought: “What in the fuck mad­ness is going on? Why am I being mocked by a gang of strangers and friends on the steps of the Supreme Court? Then I must have asked some­one, and they told me that Uncle Duke had appeared in the Post that morn­ing.

While Trudeau seems to have tak­en the phys­i­cal threats seri­ous­ly, he didn’t back down from his relent­less satir­i­cal take­downs of Thompson’s vio­lent ten­den­cies, para­noia, and com­i­cal­ly exag­ger­at­ed sub­stance abuse. As Dan­ger­ous Minds describes, in 1992, Trudeau pub­lished a book called Action Fig­ure!: The Life and Times of Doonesbury’s Uncle Duke “that chron­i­cled the mis­ad­ven­tures of Uncle Duke.” It also “came with a five-inch action fig­ure of the dear Uncle Duke along with a mar­ti­ni glass, an Uzi, cig­a­rette hold­er, a bot­tle of booze, and a chain­saw.”

See the Uncle Duke action fig­ure at the top—one of a half-dozen images Dan­ger­ous Minds pulled from eBay (his t‑shirt reads “Death Before Uncon­scious­ness.”) As much as Thomp­son despised Uncle Duke, and Trudeau for cre­at­ing him, he him­self helped feed the caricature—with his alter ego Raoul Duke and his chron­i­cles of his own bizarre behav­ior. Trudeau’s admi­ra­tion, of a sort, for Thompson’s excess­es was a con­tin­u­ing dri­ver of the writer’s fame, for good or ill. “Uncle Duke was who fans craved,” writes Sharon Eber­son at the Pitts­burgh Post-Gazette, “and Thomp­son often felt oblig­ed” to live up to his car­toon image.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hunter S. Thompson’s Deca­dent Dai­ly Break­fast: The “Psy­chic Anchor” of His Fre­net­ic Cre­ative Life

How Hunter S. Thomp­son Gave Birth to Gonzo Jour­nal­ism: Short Film Revis­its Thompson’s Sem­i­nal 1970 Piece on the Ken­tucky Der­by

Read 11 Free Arti­cles by Hunter S. Thomp­son That Span His Gonzo Jour­nal­ist Career (1965–2005)

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

A Drone’s Eye View of the Ruins of Pompeii

The bet­ter part of two mil­len­nia after its entomb­ment in ash and pumice by Mount Vesu­vius, Pom­peii ranks as one of Italy’s most pop­u­lar tourist attrac­tions. Ancient-his­to­ry buffs who vis­it its well-pre­served ruins today will find plen­ty to occu­py their time and atten­tion, but they won’t be able to see as much as they used to: less than a third of the Pom­peii acces­si­ble to tourists fifty years ago remains so today. But thanks to tech­nol­o­gy, entire­ly new views of Pom­peii have also opened up. Cam­era drones, which now seem to get lighter, more agile, and clear­er-sight­ed every day, pro­vide a per­spec­tive on Pom­peii that no vis­i­tor has ever enjoyed before, regard­less of their lev­el of access.

The video at the top of the post takes a quick flight down one of Pom­pei­i’s streets, which at first looks like noth­ing more than a faster, smoother ver­sion of the expe­ri­ence avail­able to any vis­i­tor to the ruined Roman city. But then the per­spec­tive changes in a way it can only in a drone-shot video, reveal­ing the sheer scale of Pom­peii as does no pos­si­ble vista from the ground.

The video just below, which runs near­ly six and a half min­utes, offers an even more unusu­al, dra­mat­ic, and reveal­ing view of Pom­peii, chas­ing a dog down its emp­ty stone streets, gaz­ing straight down onto the walls of its many roof­less build­ings, fly­ing between its still-stand­ing columns and pil­lars, and even fol­low­ing a drone — pre­sum­ably with anoth­er drone — as it nav­i­gates the enor­mous archae­o­log­i­cal site.

These drone’s-eye-views may well spark in their view­ers a desire to vis­it Pom­peii that had nev­er exist­ed before, or even renew a pre­vi­ous­ly exist­ing desire to do so that has gone dor­mant. To archae­ol­o­gists, how­ev­er, Pom­peii has nev­er lost its fas­ci­na­tion: researchers con­tin­ue to dis­cov­er new arti­facts there, and just this year found the remains of a child, a horse, and a flee­ing cit­i­zen crushed under a boul­der. With each new piece of Pom­peii unearthed, we learn more about how our pre­de­ces­sors once lived. Com­bined with the kind of drone footage that has already giv­en us a thrilling new under­stand­ing of liv­ing cities around the world (and even mod­ern-day Pom­pei­is like Cher­nobyl) we come ever clos­er to a full pic­ture of human his­to­ry — and to the irre­sistible, if grim, ques­tion of what sort of unimag­in­able tech­nol­o­gy humans of the future will use to explore the ruins of the metrop­o­lis­es we live in today.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch the Destruc­tion of Pom­peii by Mount Vesu­vius, Re-Cre­at­ed with Com­put­er Ani­ma­tion (79 AD)

Vis­it Pom­peii (also Stone­henge & Ver­sailles) with Google Street View

Rome Reborn: Take a Vir­tu­al Tour Through Ancient Rome, 320 C.E.

The His­to­ry of Rome in 179 Pod­casts

A Haunt­ing Drone’s‑Eye View of Cher­nobyl

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Sigmund Freud Speaks: Hear the Only Known Recording of His Voice, 1938

On Decem­ber 7, 1938, a BBC radio crew vis­it­ed Sig­mund Freud at his new home at Hamp­stead, North Lon­don. Freud had moved to Eng­land only a few months ear­li­er to escape the Nazi annex­a­tion of Aus­tria. He was 81 years old and suf­fer­ing from incur­able jaw can­cer. Every word was an agony to speak.

Less than a year lat­er, when the pain became unbear­able, Freud asked his doc­tor to admin­is­ter a lethal dose of mor­phine. The BBC record­ing is the only known audio record­ing of Freud, the founder of psy­cho­analy­sis and one of the tow­er­ing intel­lec­tu­al fig­ures of the 20th cen­tu­ry. (Find works by Freud in our col­lec­tion of 800 Free eBooks.) In heav­i­ly accent­ed Eng­lish, he says:

I start­ed my pro­fes­sion­al activ­i­ty as a neu­rol­o­gist try­ing to bring relief to my neu­rot­ic patients. Under the influ­ence of an old­er friend and by my own efforts, I dis­cov­ered some impor­tant new facts about the uncon­scious in psy­chic life, the role of instinc­tu­al urges, and so on. Out of these find­ings grew a new sci­ence, psy­cho­analy­sis, a part of psy­chol­o­gy, and a new method of treat­ment of the neu­roses. I had to pay heav­i­ly for this bit of good luck. Peo­ple did not believe in my facts and thought my the­o­ries unsa­vory. Resis­tance was strong and unre­lent­ing. In the end I suc­ceed­ed in acquir­ing pupils and build­ing up an Inter­na­tion­al Psy­cho­an­a­lyt­ic Asso­ci­a­tion. But the strug­gle is not yet over.  –Sig­mund Freud.


Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site back in May, 2012.

via The Library of Con­gress

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Sig­mund Freud, Father of Psy­cho­analy­sis, Intro­duced in a Mon­ty Python-Style Ani­ma­tion

The Famous Break Up of Sig­mund Freud & Carl Jung Explained in a New Ani­mat­ed Video

Sig­mund Freud’s Psy­cho­an­a­lyt­ic Draw­ings Show How He First Visu­al­ized the Ego, Super­ego, Id & More

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