Search Results for "ty"

Watch Episode #2 of Neil deGrasse Tyson’s Cosmos: Explains the Reality of Evolution (US Viewers)

On Sun­day night, Fox view­ers were treat­ed to Episode #2 of Neil deGrasse Tyson’s new Cos­mos series. (If you’re locat­ed in the US, you can watch it free online above.)  This episode was called “Some of the Things That Mol­e­cules Can Do,” and it gave view­ers an hour-long edu­ca­tion on the Earth­’s many life forms and the well-doc­u­ment­ed the­o­ry of evo­lu­tion. Along the way, Tyson care­ful­ly refut­ed, as Moth­er Jones notes, one of “cre­ation­ist’s favorite canards: The idea that com­plex organs, like the eye, could not have been pro­duced through evo­lu­tion.” And, to cap things off, Tyson declared, “Some claim evo­lu­tion is just a the­o­ry, as if it were mere­ly an opin­ion. The the­o­ry of evo­lu­tion, like the the­o­ry of grav­i­ty, is a sci­en­tif­ic fact. Evo­lu­tion real­ly hap­pened.” For sci­en­tists, it’s not up for debate.

When Fox aired the first episode (watch it online here), one Fox affil­i­ate in Okla­homa City appar­ent­ly man­aged to edit out the only men­tion of the word “evo­lu­tion” in the show. It would be inter­est­ing to know they han­dled this entire sec­ond show.

Future episodes of Cos­mos can be viewed at Hulu.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch the High­ly-Antic­i­pat­ed Evolution/Creationism Debate: Bill Nye the Sci­ence Guy v. Cre­ation­ist Ken Ham

Richard Dawkins Explains Why There Was Nev­er a First Human Being

Dar­win: A 1993 Film by Peter Green­away

Free Course: “Dar­win and Design” Exam­ines Philo­soph­i­cal Ques­tions of Intel­li­gence and Human Behav­ior

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Famous Architects Dress as Their Famous New York City Buildings (1931)

On Jan­u­ary 13, 1931, the Soci­ety of Beaux-Arts Archi­tects held a ball at the Hotel Astor in New York City. Accord­ing to an adver­tise­ment for the event, any­one who paid $15 per tick­et (big mon­ey dur­ing the Depres­sion) could see a “hilar­i­ous mod­ern art exhi­bi­tion” and things “mod­ernistic, futur­is­tic, cubis­tic, altru­is­tic, mys­tic, archi­tis­tic and fem­i­nis­tic.” Atten­dees also got to wit­ness more than 20 famous archi­tects dressed as build­ings they had designed, some of them now fix­tures of the New York City sky­line.

In the pic­ture above, we have from left to right: A. Stew­art Walk­er as the Fuller Build­ing (1929), Leonard Schultze as the Wal­dorf-Asto­ria Hotel (1931) , Ely Jacques Kahn as the Squibb Build­ing (1930), William Van Alen as the Chrysler Build­ing (1930), Ralph Walk­er as 1 Wall Street (1931), D.E.Ward as the Met­ro­pol­i­tan Tow­er and Joseph H. Free­lander as the Muse­um of the City of New York (1930).

A 2006 arti­cle in The New York Times notes that the event, now con­sid­ered “one of the most spec­tac­u­lar par­ties of the last cen­tu­ry,” was cov­ered by WABC radio. A few pho­tographs remain (like the one above — click it to enlarge). As does a tan­ta­liz­ing short bit of video.

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via NYT

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The His­to­ry of West­ern Archi­tec­ture: From Ancient Greece to Roco­co (A Free Online Course)

David Byrne: How Archi­tec­ture Helped Music Evolve

Ten Build­ings That Changed Amer­i­ca: Watch the Debut Episode from the New PBS Series

A Tour Inside Sal­vador Dalí’s Labyrinthine Span­ish Home

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David Bowie and Cher Sing Duet of “Young Americans” and Other Songs on 1975 Variety Show

David Bowie and Cher: the com­bi­na­tion sounds so incon­gru­ous, but then you think about it and real­ize the two could hard­ly have more in com­mon. Two singers of the same gen­er­a­tion, close indeed in age but both (whether through their sen­si­bil­i­ties or through var­i­ous cos­met­ic tech­nolo­gies) per­pet­u­al­ly youth­ful; both per­form­ers of not exact­ly rock and not exact­ly pop, but some oscil­lat­ing form between that they’ve made whol­ly their own; both mas­ters of the dis­tinc­tive­ly flam­boy­ant and the­atri­cal; both giv­en to some­times rad­i­cal changes of image through­out the course of their careers; and both imme­di­ate­ly iden­ti­fi­able by just one name. The only vast dif­fer­ence comes in their per­for­mance sched­ules: Bowie, despite releas­ing an acclaimed album The Next Day last year, seems to have quit play­ing live shows in the mid-2000s, while Cher’s con­tin­u­ing tours grow only more lav­ish.

Long before this cur­rent stage of Bowie and Cher’s lives as musi­cal icons, the two came togeth­er on an episode of the lat­ter’s short-lived solo (i.e., with­out ex-hus­band Son­ny Bono, with whom she’d host­ed The Son­ny & Cher Show) tele­vi­sion vari­ety show, sim­ply titled Cher. On the broad­cast of Novem­ber 23, 1975, Bowie and Cher sang “Young Amer­i­cans,” at the top, “Can You Hear Me,” just above, and bits of oth­er songs besides.

Watch these clips not just for the per­for­mances, and not just for the out­fits — cos­tumes, real­ly, espe­cial­ly when you con­sid­er Cher’s even then-famous vari­ety of arti­fi­cial hair­styles — but for the video effects, which by mod­ern stan­dards look like some­thing out of a late-night pub­lic-access cable pro­gram. An espe­cial­ly trip­py set of visu­als accom­pa­nies Bowie’s solo moment on the episode below, singing about the one qual­i­ty that per­haps unites he and Cher more than any oth­er: “Fame.” And lots of it.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

David Bowie Sings ‘I Got You Babe’ with Mar­i­anne Faith­full in His Last Per­for­mance As Zig­gy Star­dust

David Bowie Releas­es Vin­tage Videos of His Great­est Hits from the 1970s and 1980s

David Bowie Recalls the Strange Expe­ri­ence of Invent­ing the Char­ac­ter Zig­gy Star­dust (1977)

David Bowie’s Top 100 Books

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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Monty Python Sings “The Philosopher’s Song,” Revealing the Drinking Habits of Great European Thinkers

Did you know, stu­dent of dead white philoso­phers, that Hei­deg­ger was a “boozy beg­gar”? Wittgen­stein a “beery swine” and Descartes a “drunk­en fart”? What about Pla­to, who, “they say, could stick it away; Half a crate of whiskey every day”? Nei­ther did I until I saw mem­bers of Mon­ty Python sing “The Philosopher’s Song,” above, from their 1982 live show at the Hol­ly­wood Bowl. Eric Idle, in what looks like an Aus­tralian bush hat strung with teabags, intro­duces the num­ber, say­ing it’s “a nice intel­lec­tu­al song for those two or three of you in the audi­ence who under­stand these things.” Then Idle, joined by Michael Palin and fre­quent Python col­lab­o­ra­tor Neil Innes, launch­es into a paean to drink­ing that col­or­ful­ly calls the great philoso­phers crazed dip­so­ma­ni­acs. Well, all but John Stu­art Mill, who got “par­tic­u­lar­ly ill” from “half a pint of shandy.”

It’s all non­sense, right? Maybe so, but the Pythons were no strangers to phi­los­o­phy. Hav­ing assem­bled from the august bod­ies of Oxford and Cam­bridge Uni­ver­si­ties, they per­pet­u­al­ly revis­it­ed aca­d­e­m­ic themes, if only to mock them. And yet some philoso­phers take the work of Mon­ty Python very seri­ous­ly. In his Mon­ty Python and Phi­los­o­phy: Nudge, Nudge, Think Think!, Phi­los­o­phy Pro­fes­sor Gary Hard­cas­tle refers to an essay called “Trac­ta­tus Come­dio-Philo­soph­i­cus,” which “wants us to know that the only dif­fer­ence between Mon­ty Python and aca­d­e­m­ic phi­los­o­phy is that phi­los­o­phy isn’t fun­ny.” So there you have it. Skip the years of penury and over­work and go direct­ly to Youtube for your high­er edu­ca­tion in the clas­sics from the Pythons. Then lis­ten to Pro­fes­sor Hardcastle—in Open Court’s “Pop­u­lar Cul­ture and Phi­los­o­phy” pod­cast above—expound at length on the philo­soph­ic virtues of Cleese, Idle, Palin, Gilliam, and Jones. And final­ly, a bonus: below watch Christo­pher Hitchens sing “The Philoso­pher’s Song” from mem­o­ry in a 2009 inter­view.

The song grew out of an ear­li­er Python set­up known as “The Bruce Sketch” (below). The sketch is pret­ty dated—some moments cer­tain­ly come off as more offen­sive than per­haps deemed at the time. (Our Eng­lish read­ers will have to let us know if “pom­my bas­tard” smarts.) Four Aus­tralian phi­los­o­phy pro­fes­sors at the fic­ti­tious Uni­ver­si­ty of Woola­maloo, all of them named Bruce, wel­come a new mem­ber, Michael Bald­win (whom they insist on call­ing “Bruce”). The Bruces seem a nice bunch of chaps until they start in on their rules, reveal­ing a con­temp­tu­ous obses­sion with keep­ing out the “poofters.” It’s per­fect­ly in keep­ing with this assem­bly of ami­able right-wing nation­al­ists: The Bruces inform their Eng­lish col­league that he may teach “the great social­ist thinkers, pro­vid­ed he makes it clear that they were wrong,” and then they get a vis­it from a shuf­fling car­i­ca­ture of an Abo­rig­i­nal ser­vant (whom one must­n’t mis­treat, state the rules, “if there’s any­one watch­ing”). In addi­tion to big­otry, Aus­tralia, pol­i­tics and prayer, the Bruces, their new mem­ber learns, seem most­ly con­cerned with drink­ing rather than phi­los­o­phy. In my per­son­al expe­ri­ence of some aca­d­e­m­ic quar­ters, this is at least one part of the sketch that hasn’t aged at all.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Mon­ty Python’s Best Phi­los­o­phy Sketch­es

Watch Mon­ty Python’s “Sum­ma­rize Proust Com­pe­ti­tion” on the 100th Anniver­sary of Swann’s Way

Mon­ty Python’s Life of Bri­an: Reli­gious Satire, Polit­i­cal Satire, or Blas­phe­my?

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

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Watch Episode #1 of Neil deGrasse Tyson’s Cosmos Reboot on Hulu (US Viewers)

After a long wait, Neil deGrasse Tyson’s reboot of Cos­mos began air­ing on Fox this past Sun­day night, some 34 years after Carl Sagan launched his epic series on the more heady air­waves of PBS. Fox execs pre­dict­ed big num­bers for the first show — 40 mil­lion view­ers. But only 5.8 mil­lion showed up. But, as we know, quan­ti­ty has noth­ing to do with qual­i­ty. Crit­ics have called Tyson’s show a “strik­ing and wor­thy update” of the orig­i­nal. If you live in the US, you can see for your­self. Episode 1 appears above, and it looks like the remain­ing 12 episodes will appear on Hulu. For those out­side the US, our apolo­gies that you can’t see this one. But we do have some great relat­ed mate­r­i­al below, includ­ing one of our favorite posts: Neil deGrasse Tyson Lists 8 (Free) Books Every Intel­li­gent Per­son Should Read.

via Kot­tke

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Neil deGrasse Tyson Lists 8 (Free) Books Every Intel­li­gent Per­son Should Read

Neil deGrasse Tyson Deliv­ers the Great­est Sci­ence Ser­mon Ever

Stephen Col­bert Talks Sci­ence with Astro­physi­cist Neil deGrasse Tyson

Neil deGrasse Tyson on the Stag­ger­ing Genius of Isaac New­ton

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Getty Images Makes 35 Million Photos Free to Use Online

Found­ed in 1997, Get­ty Images has made a busi­ness out of licens­ing stock pho­tog­ra­phy to web sites. But, in recent years, the com­pa­ny has strug­gled, fac­ing stiffer com­pe­ti­tion from oth­er com­pa­nies .… and from online pira­cy. Quot­ed in the British Jour­nal of Pho­tog­ra­phy, Craig Peters, a Senior VP at Get­ty Images, observes that Get­ty is “real­ly start­ing to see the extent of online infringe­ment. In essence, every­body today is a pub­lish­er thanks to social media and self-pub­lish­ing plat­forms. And it’s incred­i­bly easy to find con­tent online and sim­ply right-click to utilise it.” All of this becomes a prob­lem, for Get­ty, when cash-strapped “self pub­lish­ers, who typ­i­cal­ly don’t know any­thing about copy­right and licens­ing,” start right click­ing and using the com­pa­ny’s images with­out attri­bu­tion or pay­ment.

Fight­ing a los­ing bat­tle against infringers, Get­ty Images sur­prised con­sumers and com­peti­tors yes­ter­day when it announced that it would make 35 mil­lion images free for pub­lish­ers to use, with a few strings attached. Pub­lish­ers, broad­ly defined, are now allowed to add cer­tain Get­ty images to their sites, on the con­di­tion that they use embed code pro­vid­ed by the com­pa­ny.  That embed code (find instruc­tions here) will ensure that “there will be attri­bu­tion around that image,” that “images will link back to [Get­ty’s] site and direct­ly to the image’s details page,” and that Get­ty will receive infor­ma­tion on how the images are being used and viewed.

Not every Get­ty image can be embed­ded — only 35,000,000 of the 80,000,000 images in Get­ty’s archive. And, to be sure, many of those 35 mil­lion Get­ty images are stock pho­tos that will leave you unin­spired. But if you’re will­ing to sift patient­ly through the col­lec­tion, you can find some gems, like the shots fea­tured above of some great jazz leg­ends — Miles Davis, Bil­lie Hol­i­day and John Coltrane.

If you’re inter­est­ed in rum­mag­ing through free images from muse­ums and libraries, don’t miss our recent post: Where to Find Free Art Images & Books from Great Muse­ums, and Free Books from Uni­ver­si­ty Press­es.

via BJP

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The British Library Puts 1,000,000 Images into the Pub­lic Domain, Mak­ing Them Free to Reuse & Remix

14,000 Free Images from the French Rev­o­lu­tion Now Avail­able Online

The Get­ty Puts 4600 Art Images Into the Pub­lic Domain (and There’s More to Come)

Where to Find Free Art Images & Books from Great Muse­ums, and Free Books from Uni­ver­si­ty Press­es

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George Washington’s 110 Rules for Civility and Decent Behavior

GW_Stuart-CT-6437

In “George Wash­ing­ton’s Extreme Makeover,” nov­el­ist Dou­glas Cou­p­land imag­ines the first Pres­i­dent of the Unit­ed States of Amer­i­ca sci­ence-fic­tion­al­ly trans­port­ed “from atop his horse some­where in the Vir­ginia coun­try­side into a Lev­el 3 clean room 500ft beneath that exact same spot some 230-odd years lat­er, cir­ca 2014” where “a crew of doc­tors, den­tists and exodon­tists wear­ing haz­mat suits” would heal his every 18th-cen­tu­ry ail­ment and replace his every fail­ing 18th-cen­tu­ry body part. All of Wash­ing­ton’s mil­i­tary and polit­i­cal accom­plish­ments sound even more impres­sive in light of his life­time of severe bod­i­ly (and espe­cial­ly den­tal, though not involv­ing wood) dis­com­fort, but even if his admir­ers can’t yet pull him ahead in time for such thor­ough phys­i­cal adjust­ments, they can, right here and now, pay the best-known found­ing father trib­ute by fol­low­ing his rec­om­mend­ed behav­ioral adjust­ments, cod­i­fied in his rules of civil­i­ty.

“As a young school­boy in Vir­ginia,” says an NPR fea­ture on the sub­ject, “George Wash­ing­ton took his first steps toward great­ness by copy­ing out by hand a list of 110 ‘Rules of Civil­i­ty & Decent Behav­ior in Com­pa­ny and Con­ver­sa­tion.’ Based on a 16th-cen­tu­ry set of pre­cepts com­piled for young gen­tle­men by Jesuit instruc­tors, the Rules of Civil­i­ty were one of the ear­li­est and most pow­er­ful forces to shape Amer­i­ca’s first pres­i­dent, says his­to­ri­an Richard Brookhis­er.” Brookhis­er’s book Rules of Civil­i­ty: The 110 Pre­cepts That Guid­ed Our First Pres­i­dent in War and Peace appeared a decade ago, but you can still read the rules them­selves (“for ease of read­ing, punc­tu­a­tion and spelling have been mod­ern­ized”) below:

1. Every action done in com­pa­ny ought to be with some sign of respect to those that are present.

2. When in com­pa­ny, put not your hands to any part of the body not usu­al­ly dis­cov­ered.

3. Show noth­ing to your friend that may affright him.

4. In the pres­ence of oth­ers, sing not to your­self with a hum­ming voice, or drum with your fin­gers or feet.

5. If you cough, sneeze, sigh or yawn, do it not loud but pri­vate­ly, and speak not in your yawn­ing, but put your hand­ker­chief or hand before your face and turn aside.

6. Sleep not when oth­ers speak, sit not when oth­ers stand, speak not when you should hold your peace, walk not on when oth­ers stop.

7. Put not off your clothes in the pres­ence of oth­ers, nor go out of your cham­ber half dressed.

8. At play and attire, it’s good man­ners to give place to the last com­er, and affect not to speak loud­er than ordi­nary.

9. Spit not into the fire, nor stoop low before it; nei­ther put your hands into the flames to warm them, nor set your feet upon the fire, espe­cial­ly if there be meat before it.

10. When you sit down, keep your feet firm and even, with­out putting one on the oth­er or cross­ing them.

11. Shift not your­self in the sight of oth­ers, nor gnaw your nails.

12. Shake not the head, feet, or legs; roll not the eyes; lift not one eye­brow high­er than the oth­er, wry not the mouth, and bedew no man’s face with your spit­tle by approach­ing too near him when you speak.

13. Kill no ver­min, or fleas, lice, ticks, etc. in the sight of oth­ers; if you see any filth or thick spit­tle put your foot dex­ter­ous­ly upon it; if it be upon the clothes of your com­pan­ions, put it off pri­vate­ly, and if it be upon your own clothes, return thanks to him who puts it off.

14. Turn not your back to oth­ers, espe­cial­ly in speak­ing; jog not the table or desk on which anoth­er reads or writes; lean not upon any­one.

15. Keep your nails clean and short, also your hands and teeth clean, yet with­out show­ing any great con­cern for them.

16. Do not puff up the cheeks, loll not out the tongue with the hands or beard, thrust out the lips or bite them, or keep the lips too open or too close.

17. Be no flat­ter­er, nei­ther play with any that delight not to be played with­al.

18. Read no let­ter, books, or papers in com­pa­ny, but when there is a neces­si­ty for the doing of it, you must ask leave; come not near the books or writ­tings of anoth­er so as to read them unless desired, or give your opin­ion of them unasked. Also look not nigh when anoth­er is writ­ing a let­ter.

19. Let your coun­te­nance be pleas­ant but in seri­ous mat­ters some­what grave.

20. The ges­tures of the body must be suit­ed to the dis­course you are upon.

21. Reproach none for the infir­mi­ties of nature, nor delight to put them that have in mind of there­of.

22. Show not your­self glad at the mis­for­tune of anoth­er though he were your ene­my.

23. When you see a crime pun­ished, you may be inward­ly pleased; but always show pity to the suf­fer­ing offend­er.

24. Do not laugh too loud or too much at any pub­lic spec­ta­cle.

25. Super­flu­ous com­pli­ments and all affec­ta­tion of cer­e­monies are to be avoid­ed, yet where due they are not to be neglect­ed.

26. In putting off your hat to per­sons of dis­tinc­tion, as noble­men, jus­tices, church­men, etc., make a rev­er­ence, bow­ing more or less accord­ing to the cus­tom of the bet­ter bred, and qual­i­ty of the per­sons. Among your equals expect not always that they should begin with you first, but to pull off the hat when there is no need is affec­ta­tion. In the man­ner of salut­ing and resalut­ing in words, keep to the most usu­al cus­tom.

27. ‘Tis ill man­ners to bid one more emi­nent than your­self be cov­ered, as well as not to do it to whom it is due. Like­wise he that makes too much haste to put on his hat does not well, yet he ought to put it on at the first, or at most the sec­ond time of being asked. Now what is here­in spo­ken, of qual­i­fi­ca­tion in behav­ior in salut­ing, ought also to be observed in tak­ing of place and sit­ting down, for cer­e­monies with­out bounds are trou­ble­some.

28. If any one come to speak to you while you are are sit­ting stand up, though he be your infe­ri­or, and when you present seats, let it be to every­one accord­ing to his degree.

29. When you meet with one of greater qual­i­ty than your­self, stop and retire, espe­cial­ly if it be at a door or any straight place, to give way for him to pass.

30. In walk­ing, the high­est place in most coun­tries seems to be on the right hand; there­fore, place your­self on the left of him whom you desire to hon­or. But if three walk togeth­er the mid­dest place is the most hon­or­able; the wall is usal­ly giv­en to the most wor­thy if two walk togeth­er.

31. If any­one far sur­pass­es oth­ers, either in age, estate, or mer­it, yet would give place to a mean­er than him­self in his own lodg­ing or else­where, the one ought not to except it. So he on the oth­er part should not use much earnest­ness nor offer it above once or twice.

32. To one that is your equal, or not much infe­ri­or, you are to give the chief place in your lodg­ing, and he to whom it is offered ought at the first to refuse it, but at the sec­ond to accept though not with­out acknowl­edg­ing his own unwor­thi­ness.

33. They that are in dig­ni­ty or in office have in all places prece­den­cy, but whilst they are young, they ought to respect those that are their equals in birth or oth­er qual­i­ties, though they have no pub­lic charge.

34. It is good man­ners to pre­fer them to whom we speak before our­selves, espe­cial­ly if they be above us, with whom in no sort we ought to begin.

35. Let your dis­course with men of busi­ness be short and com­pre­hen­sive.

36. Arti­fi­cers and per­sons of low degree ought not to use many cer­e­monies to lords or oth­ers of high degree, but respect and high­ly hon­or then, and those of high degree ought to treat them with affa­bil­i­ty and cour­tesy, with­out arro­gance.

37. In speak­ing to men of qual­i­ty do not lean nor look them full in the face, nor approach too near them at left. Keep a full pace from them.

38. In vis­it­ing the sick, do not present­ly play the physi­cian if you be not know­ing there­in.

39. In writ­ing or speak­ing, give to every per­son his due title accord­ing to his degree and the cus­tom of the place.

40. Strive not with your supe­ri­or in argu­ment, but always sub­mit your judg­ment to oth­ers with mod­esty.

41. Under­take not to teach your equal in the art him­self pro­fess­es; it savors of arro­gan­cy.

42. Let your cer­e­monies in cour­tesy be prop­er to the dig­ni­ty of his place with whom you con­verse, for it is absurd to act the same with a clown and a prince.

43. Do not express joy before one sick in pain, for that con­trary pas­sion will aggra­vate his mis­ery.

44. When a man does all he can, though it suc­ceed not well, blame not him that did it.

45. Being to advise or rep­re­hend any one, con­sid­er whether it ought to be in pub­lic or in pri­vate, and present­ly or at some oth­er time; in what terms to do it; and in reprov­ing show no signs of cholor but do it with all sweet­ness and mild­ness.

46. Take all admo­ni­tions thank­ful­ly in what time or place soev­er giv­en, but after­wards not being cul­pa­ble take a time and place con­ve­nient to let him know it that gave them.

47. Mock not nor jest at any thing of impor­tance. Break no jests that are sharp, bit­ing, and if you deliv­er any thing wit­ty and pleas­ant, abstain from laugh­ing there­at your­self.

48. Where­in you reprove anoth­er be unblame­able your­self, for exam­ple is more preva­lent than pre­cepts.

49. Use no reproach­ful lan­guage against any one; nei­ther curse nor revile.

50. Be not hasty to believe fly­ing reports to the dis­par­age­ment of any.

51. Wear not your clothes foul, or ripped, or dusty, but see they be brushed once every day at least and take heed that you approach not to any uncleaness.

52. In your appar­el be mod­est and endeav­or to accom­mo­date nature, rather than to pro­cure admi­ra­tion; keep to the fash­ion of your equals, such as are civ­il and order­ly with respect to time and places.

53. Run not in the streets, nei­ther go too slow­ly, nor with mouth open; go not shak­ing of arms, nor upon the toes, kick not the earth with your feet, go not upon the toes, nor in a danc­ing fash­ion.

54. Play not the pea­cock, look­ing every where about you, to see if you be well decked, if your shoes fit well, if your stock­ings sit neat­ly and clothes hand­some­ly.

55. Eat not in the streets, nor in the house, out of sea­son.

56. Asso­ciate your­self with men of good qual­i­ty if you esteem your own rep­u­ta­tion; for ’tis bet­ter to be alone than in bad com­pa­ny.

57. In walk­ing up and down in a house, only with one in com­pa­ny if he be greater than your­self, at the first give him the right hand and stop not till he does and be not the first that turns, and when you do turn let it be with your face towards him; if he be a man of great qual­i­ty walk not with him cheek by jowl but some­what behind him, but yet in such a man­ner that he may eas­i­ly speak to you.

58. Let your con­ver­sa­tion be with­out mal­ice or envy, for ’tis a sign of a tractable and com­mend­able nature, and in all caus­es of pas­sion per­mit rea­son to gov­ern.

59. Nev­er express any­thing unbe­com­ing, nor act against the rules moral before your infe­ri­ors.

60. Be not immod­est in urg­ing your friends to dis­cov­er a secret.

61. Utter not base and friv­o­lous things among grave and learned men, nor very dif­fi­cult ques­tions or sub­jects among the igno­rant, or things hard to be believed; stuff not your dis­course with sen­tences among your bet­ters nor equals.

62. Speak not of dole­ful things in a time of mirth or at the table; speak not of melan­choly things as death and wounds, and if oth­ers men­tion them, change if you can the dis­course. Tell not your dreams, but to your inti­mate friend.

63. A man ought not to val­ue him­self of his achieve­ments or rare qual­i­ties of wit; much less of his rich­es, virtue or kin­dred.

64. Break not a jest where none take plea­sure in mirth; laugh not aloud, nor at all with­out occa­sion; deride no man’s mis­for­tune though there seem to be some cause.

65. Speak not inju­ri­ous words nei­ther in jest nor earnest; scoff at none although they give occa­sion.

66. Be not froward but friend­ly and cour­te­ous, the first to salute, hear and answer; and be not pen­sive when it’s a time to con­verse.

67. Detract not from oth­ers, nei­ther be exces­sive in com­mand­ing.

68. Go not thith­er, where you know not whether you shall be wel­come or not; give not advice with­out being asked, and when desired do it briefly.

69. If two con­tend togeth­er take not the part of either uncon­strained, and be not obsti­nate in your own opin­ion. In things indif­fer­ent be of the major side.

70. Rep­re­hend not the imper­fec­tions of oth­ers, for that belongs to par­ents, mas­ters and supe­ri­ors.

71. Gaze not on the marks or blem­ish­es of oth­ers and ask not how they came. What you may speak in secret to your friend, deliv­er not before oth­ers.

72. Speak not in an unknown tongue in com­pa­ny but in your own lan­guage and that as those of qual­i­ty do and not as the vul­gar. Sub­lime mat­ters treat seri­ous­ly.

73. Think before you speak, pro­nounce not imper­fect­ly, nor bring out your words too hasti­ly, but order­ly and dis­tinct­ly.

74. When anoth­er speaks, be atten­tive your­self and dis­turb not the audi­ence. If any hes­i­tate in his words, help him not nor prompt him with­out desired. Inter­rupt him not, nor answer him till his speech be end­ed.

75. In the midst of dis­course ask not of what one treats, but if you per­ceive any stop because of your com­ing, you may well entreat him gen­tly to pro­ceed. If a per­son of qual­i­ty comes in while you’re con­vers­ing, it’s hand­some to repeat what was said before.

76. While you are talk­ing, point not with your fin­ger at him of whom you dis­course, nor approach too near him to whom you talk, espe­cial­ly to his face.

77. Treat with men at fit times about busi­ness and whis­per not in the com­pa­ny of oth­ers.

78. Make no com­par­isons and if any of the com­pa­ny be com­mend­ed for any brave act of virtue, com­mend not anoth­er for the same.

79. Be not apt to relate news if you know not the truth there­of. In dis­cours­ing of things you have heard, name not your author. Always a secret dis­cov­er not.

80. Be not tedious in dis­course or in read­ing unless you find the com­pa­ny pleased there­with.

81. Be not curi­ous to know the affairs of oth­ers, nei­ther approach those that speak in pri­vate.

82. Under­take not what you can­not per­form but be care­ful to keep your promise.

83. When you deliv­er a mat­ter do it with­out pas­sion and with dis­cre­tion, how­ev­er mean the per­son be you do it to.

84. When your supe­ri­ors talk to any­body hear­ken not, nei­ther speak nor laugh.

85. In com­pa­ny of those of high­er qual­i­ty than your­self, speak not ’til you are asked a ques­tion, then stand upright, put off your hat and answer in few words.

86. In dis­putes, be not so desirous to over­come as not to give lib­er­ty to each one to deliv­er his opin­ion and sub­mit to the judg­ment of the major part, espe­cial­ly if they are judges of the dis­pute.

87. Let your car­riage be such as becomes a man grave, set­tled and atten­tive to that which is spo­ken. Con­tra­dict not at every turn what oth­ers say.

88. Be not tedious in dis­course, make not many digres­sions, nor repeat often the same man­ner of dis­course.

89. Speak not evil of the absent, for it is unjust.

90. Being set at meat scratch not, nei­ther spit, cough or blow your nose except there’s a neces­si­ty for it.

91. Make no show of tak­ing great delight in your vict­uals. Feed not with greed­i­ness. Eat your bread with a knife. Lean not on the table, nei­ther find fault with what you eat.

92. Take no salt or cut bread with your knife greasy.

93. Enter­tain­ing any­one at table it is decent to present him with meat. Under­take not to help oth­ers unde­sired by the mas­ter.

94. If you soak bread in the sauce, let it be no more than what you put in your mouth at a time, and blow not your broth at table but stay ’til it cools of itself.

95. Put not your meat to your mouth with your knife in your hand; nei­ther spit forth the stones of any fruit pie upon a dish nor cast any­thing under the table.

96. It’s unbe­com­ing to heap much to one’s mea. Keep your fin­gers clean and when foul wipe them on a cor­ner of your table nap­kin.

97. Put not anoth­er bite into your mouth ’til the for­mer be swal­lowed. Let not your morsels be too big for the jowls.

98. Drink not nor talk with your mouth full; nei­ther gaze about you while you are drink­ing.

99. Drink not too leisure­ly nor yet too hasti­ly. Before and after drink­ing wipe your lips. Breathe not then or ever with too great a noise, for it is unciv­il.

100. Cleanse not your teeth with the table­cloth, nap­kin, fork or knife, but if oth­ers do it, let it be done with a pick tooth.

101. Rinse not your mouth in the pres­ence of oth­ers.

102. It is out of use to call upon the com­pa­ny often to eat. Nor need you drink to oth­ers every time you drink.

103. In com­pa­ny of your bet­ters be not longer in eat­ing than they are. Lay not your arm but only your hand upon the table.

104. It belongs to the chiefest in com­pa­ny to unfold his nap­kin and fall to meat first. But he ought then to begin in time and to dis­patch with dex­ter­i­ty that the slow­est may have time allowed him.

105. Be not angry at table what­ev­er hap­pens and if you have rea­son to be so, show it not but on a cheer­ful coun­te­nance espe­cial­ly if there be strangers, for good humor makes one dish of meat a feast.

106. Set not your­self at the upper of the table but if it be your due, or that the mas­ter of the house will have it so. Con­tend not, lest you should trou­ble the com­pa­ny.

107. If oth­ers talk at table be atten­tive, but talk not with meat in your mouth.

108. When you speak of God or His attrib­ut­es, let it be seri­ous­ly and with rev­er­ence. Hon­or and obey your nat­ur­al par­ents although they be poor.

109. Let your recre­ations be man­ful not sin­ful.

110. Labor to keep alive in your breast that lit­tle spark of celes­tial fire called con­science.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Smith­son­ian Picks “101 Objects That Made Amer­i­ca”

Dis­cov­er Thomas Jefferson’s Cut-and-Paste Ver­sion of the Bible, and Read the Curi­ous Edi­tion Online

A Short His­to­ry of Amer­i­ca, Accord­ing to the Irrev­er­ent Com­ic Satirist Robert Crumb

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on cities, aes­thet­ics, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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Watch a Witty, Gritty, Hardboiled Retelling of the Famous Aaron Burr-Alexander Hamilton Duel

Imag­ine Vice Pres­i­dent Joe Biden being on the receiv­ing end of a vocif­er­ous attack in the press by for­mer Sec­re­tary of the Trea­sury, Tim Gei­th­n­er. Now, pic­ture Biden demand­ing sat­is­fac­tion, and tak­ing the morn­ing off from his vice pres­i­den­tial duties to set­tle things man-to-man, and Gei­th­n­er wind­ing up in a coma. As unbe­liev­able as this episode may seem today, this kind of affair played out some 200 years ago on a much grander scale when Vice Pres­i­dent Aaron Burr fatal­ly shot Alexan­der Hamil­ton dur­ing a duel. The Burr-Hamil­ton con­fronta­tion remains an infa­mous black mark on Amer­i­can pol­i­tics. Burr, serv­ing as VP in Thomas Jefferson’s admin­is­tra­tion, is wide­ly seen as a vil­lain for mur­der­ing Hamil­ton. Hamil­ton, for his part, is beloved as one of the Found­ing Fathers and a vocal cham­pi­on of the U.S. Con­sti­tu­tion. For our non-Amer­i­can read­ers, this adu­la­tion trans­lates to his face now grac­ing the $10 bill.

But were things real­ly so sim­ple? Dana O’Keefe, the film­mak­er behind Aaron Burr, Part 2, answers with a resound­ing no. “His­to­ry is a con­test, not unlike a duel. I end­ed his life. But he ruined mine. I won the duel, but I lost my place in his­to­ry,” Burr declares in the open­ing mono­logue of O’Keefe’s 8‑minute short, and it is pre­cise­ly Burr’s place in his­to­ry that the film seeks to address. In O’Keefe’s mod­ern retelling, Burr emerges as an unfair­ly maligned fig­ure, whose brav­ery in bat­tle has been over­shad­owed by the incom­pe­tence of supe­ri­ors such as Gen­er­als George Wash­ing­ton and Richard Mont­gomery. It’s effec­tive. Mix­ing archival footage of orig­i­nal doc­u­ments with re-enact­ments and present day shots, O’Keefe cre­ates a grit­ty, some­times wit­ty, hard­boiled feel to Bur­r’s sto­ry, and view­ers begin to sym­pa­thize with the dis­par­aged fig­ure. To the sounds of tracks like Dr. Dre’s “The Next Episode” and some cre­ative use of iPhones, O’Keefe dis­pels the idea that Burr shot Hamil­ton first. Rather, Burr is the hon­or­able par­ty, and Hamil­ton is the scoundrel. It’s well worth a watch.

via The Atlantic

Ilia Blin­d­er­man is a Mon­tre­al-based cul­ture and sci­ence writer. Fol­low him at @iliablinderman, or read more of his writ­ing at the Huff­in­g­ton Post.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Drunk His­to­ry: An Intox­i­cat­ed Look at the Famous Alexan­der Hamil­ton – Aaron Burr Duel

Alexan­der Hamil­ton: Hip-Hop Hero at the White House Poet­ry Evening

Free Online His­to­ry Cours­es

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The Roving Typist: A Short Film About a New York Writer Who Types Short Stories for Strangers

C.D. Her­melin, a lit­er­ary agency asso­ciate with a degree in Cre­ative Writ­ing, is the self-pro­claimed Rov­ing Typ­ist. It’s an apt title for one who achieved fame and for­tune — okay, rent mon­ey — by appear­ing in var­i­ous pub­lic spaces around New York City, type­writer in lap. Direc­tor Mark Cer­sosi­mo’s short film, above, intro­duces him as a mild-man­nered, slight­ly awk­ward soul. Engag­ing with strangers lured by the sign taped to his type­writer case is where Her­melin comes into his own.

The sign promis­es “sto­ries while you wait,” a con­cept that recalls the “Poems on Demand” author and writ­ing guru, Natal­ie Gold­berg, who com­posed poems to raise funds for the Min­neso­ta Zen Cen­ter. (Her­melin got his idea — and per­mis­sion to imple­ment it — from a guy he saw doing some­thing sim­i­lar in San Fran­cis­co.)

He’s open to requests, and pay­ment is left to the dis­cre­tion of the recip­i­ent. He seems to take extra care when his cus­tomer is a child.

A harm­less enough pur­suit in an era where sub­way musi­cians and car­i­ca­tur­ists lin­ing the path to the Cen­tral Park Zoo hus­tle hard­er than ‘90s-era shell game artistes.

It’s rea­son­able to assume that inno­cent­ly blun­der­ing onto a cel­lo play­er’s turf is the worst trou­ble a guy like Her­melin’s like­ly to stir up.

Instead, he became the tar­get of a mass cyber­bul­ly­ing cam­paign, after a stranger post­ed a pho­to of him and his type­writer parked on the High Line on a swel­ter­ing day in 2012. Cue an avalanche of hip­ster-hat­ing Red­dit com­ments, in addi­tion to a meme at his expense.

Rather than suc­cumb to the vast neg­a­tive out­pour­ing, the Rov­ing Typ­ist con­front­ed the sit­u­a­tion head on, pub­lish­ing his side of the sto­ry in The Awl:

Orig­i­nal­ly, it felt sil­ly label­ing my ven­ture a “cause” while I defend­ed myself to an anony­mous horde—but now it feels any­thing but. The expe­ri­ence of being labeled and then cast aside made me real­ize that what many peo­ple call “hip­ster­ism” or, what they per­ceive as a slav­ish devo­tion to irony, are often in fact just forms of extreme, rad­i­cal sin­cer­i­ty. I think of Brook­lyn-based “hip­ster” brand Mast Broth­ers Choco­late, which uses an old-fash­ioned schooner to retrieve their cacao beans, because the ener­gy is clean­er, because they think that’s how it should be done. I think of the legions of Etsy-type hand­made artist shops, of peo­ple who couldn’t make mon­ey in their pro­fes­sion, so found a way to make mon­ey with their art.

Sub­ject a whim­si­cal project to the forge, and it just might become a voca­tion.

Be sure to check out the bonus out­take “I Was  A Hat­ed Hip­ster Meme” and don’t fret if your trav­els won’t take you near New York City any­time soon. Her­melin and his type­writer are spend­ing the win­ter indoors, ful­fill­ing the pub­lic’s on-demand sto­ries via mail order.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

David Rees Presents a Primer on the Arti­sanal Craft of Pen­cil Sharp­en­ing

Humans of New York: Street Pho­tog­ra­phy as a Cel­e­bra­tion of Life

What Hap­pens When Every­day Peo­ple Get a Chance to Con­duct a World-Class Orches­tra in NYC

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the long run­ning zine, The East Vil­lage Inky. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

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Scenes from Star Wars, The Godfather, Scarface and Other Classic Movies Adapted Into Ottoman-Style Paintings

STARWARS

Every now and again, we like to bring you a reimag­in­ing of an old clas­sic. Some time ago, for exam­ple, we post­ed about a rein­ven­tion of Star Wars: A New Hope, shot by scores of ardent fans, and spliced togeth­er from 15-sec­ond frag­ments. Today, we’re writ­ing about anoth­er project that grew out of a twist on Star Wars, called Clas­sic Movies in Minia­ture Style. Murat Pal­ta, a Turk­ish illus­tra­tor, decid­ed to com­bine a west­ern film with the intri­cate two-dimen­sion­al motifs found in Ottoman minia­ture paint­ings, and got the sur­re­al result that you see above. Pay par­tic­u­lar atten­tion to Han Solo’s smug grin, and Darth Vad­er dal­ly­ing to smell the ros­es.

With Ottoman Star Wars hav­ing gar­nered high marks from his pro­fes­sors, and hav­ing enjoyed the project, Pal­ta decid­ed to keep with his theme and illus­trate oth­er icon­ic movies in the same style. Here are a cou­ple of oth­er movie posters he’s pro­duced since:

SCARFACE

GODFATHER-1

As you prob­a­bly guessed, the first depicts the final moments of Scar­face (1983), where a coked-out Tony Mon­tana rains bul­lets on a team of assas­sins who have infil­trat­ed his lav­ish com­pound. In the sec­ond, a com­pendi­um of God­fa­ther scenes, a regal Don Cor­leone lis­tens to sup­pli­cants, as Jack Woltz, in the bot­tom left-hand cor­ner, finds his prized stallion’s sev­ered head in his bed. While the con­cept is clever, what real­ly stands out in Palta’s illus­tra­tions is the lev­el of detail, from Brando’s sour facial expres­sion, to Tony Montana’s fez. The remain­der of the posters on his web­site, which include The Shin­ing, Alien, and a ter­rif­ic ver­sion of A Clock­work Orange, are no less impres­sive.

For more of Murat Palta’s Ottoman movie posters, vis­it his page at Behance.net.

Ilia Blin­d­er­man is a Mon­tre­al-based cul­ture and sci­ence writer. Fol­low him at @iliablinderman, or read more of his writ­ing at the Huff­in­g­ton Post.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Star Wars as Silent Film

Star Wars is a Remix

Star Wars Retold with Paper Ani­ma­tion

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Open Culture was founded by Dan Colman.