Above, my download/upload speeds on Wednesday, March 7, 2007 —nearly 20 years ago — on my PowerBook G4 17" running OSX 10.3.9 on Comcast high-speed internet.
Back then I spent at least an hour a day waiting for sites to download and uploads to happen in the course of publishing boj, which in those halcyon days featured eight (8!) posts daily seven (7!) days/week.
This list tallies posts that have appeared since boj's reincarnation here on Blogger on October 1, 2025 after Typepad went belly-up.
I don't see any pattern: 2 of the 10 are personal essays, the rest are a potpourri.
This new iPhone camera app combines two lenses at once to produce one hi-res photo, giving real optical detail with no generative AI.
Don't take my word for it: visit the website and try it yourself using the cool slider.
Her powerful New York Times Op-Ed page essay of June 18, 2000 has become a classic.
Since then Thompson has written an acclaimed book about her shattering experience.
I've featured her Times piece every two or three years since boj's 2004 inception.
It's time.
In 1984 I was a 22-year-old college student with a grade point average of 4.0, and I really wanted to do something with my life. One night someone broke into my apartment, put a knife to my throat and raped me.
During my ordeal, some of my determination took an urgent new direction. I studied every single detail on the rapist's face. I looked at his hairline; I looked for scars, for tattoos, for anything that would help me identify him. When and if I survived the attack, I was going to make sure that he was put in prison and he was going to rot.
When I went to the police department later that day, I worked on a composite sketch to the very best of my ability. I looked through hundreds of noses and eyes and eyebrows and hairlines and nostrils and lips. Several days later, looking at a series of police photos, I identified my attacker. I knew this was the man. I was completely confident. I was sure.
I picked the same man in a lineup. Again, I was sure. I knew it. I had picked the right guy, and he was going to go to jail. If there was the possibility of a death sentence, I wanted him to die. I wanted to flip the switch.
When the case went to trial in 1986, I stood up on the stand, put my hand on the Bible and swore to tell the truth. Based on my testimony, Ronald Junior Cotton was sentenced to prison for life. It was the happiest day of my life because I could begin to put it all behind me.
In 1987, the case was retried because an appellate court had overturned Ronald Cotton's conviction. During a pretrial hearing, I learned that another man had supposedly claimed to be my attacker and was bragging about it in the same prison wing where Ronald Cotton was being held. This man, Bobby Poole, was brought into court, and I was asked, ''Ms. Thompson, have you ever seen this man?''
I answered: ''I have never seen him in my life. I have no idea who he is.''
Ronald Cotton was sentenced again to two life sentences. Ronald Cotton was never going to see light; he was never going to get out; he was never going to hurt another woman; he was never going to rape another woman.
In 1995, 11 years after I had first identified Ronald Cotton, I was asked to provide a blood sample so that DNA tests could be run on evidence from the rape. I agreed because I knew that Ronald Cotton had raped me and DNA was only going to confirm that. The test would allow me to move on once and for all.
I will never forget the day I learned about the DNA results. I was standing in my kitchen when the detective and the district attorney visited. They were good and decent people who were trying to do their jobs — as I had done mine, as anyone would try to do the right thing. They told me: ''Ronald Cotton didn't rape you. It was Bobby Poole.''
The man I was so sure I had never seen in my life was the man who was inches from my throat, who raped me, who hurt me, who took my spirit away, who robbed me of my soul. And the man I had identified so emphatically on so many occasions was absolutely innocent.
Ronald Cotton was released from prison after serving 11 years. Bobby Poole pleaded guilty to raping me.
Ronald Cotton and I are the same age, so I knew what he had missed during those 11 years. My life had gone on. I had gotten married. I had graduated from college. I worked. I was a parent. Ronald Cotton hadn't gotten to do any of that.
Mr. Cotton and I have now crossed the boundaries of both the terrible way we came together and our racial difference (he is black and I am white) and have become friends. Although he is now moving on with his own life, I live with constant anguish that my profound mistake cost him so dearly. I cannot begin to imagine what would have happened had my mistaken identification occurred in a capital case.
Today there is a man in Texas named Gary Graham who is about to be executed because one witness is confident that Mr. Graham is the killer she saw from 30 to 40 feet away. This woman saw the murderer for only a fraction of the time that I saw the man who raped me. Several other witnesses contradict her, but the jury that convicted Mr. Graham never heard any of the conflicting testimony.
If anything good can come out of what Ronald Cotton suffered because of my limitations as a human being, let it be an awareness of the fact that eyewitnesses can and do make mistakes. I have now had occasion to study this subject a bit, and I have come to realize that eyewitness error has been recognized as the leading cause of wrongful convictions. One witness is not enough, especially when her story is contradicted by other good people.
Last week, I traveled to Houston to beg Gov. George W. Bush and his parole board not to execute Gary Graham based on this kind of evidence. I have never before spoken out on behalf of any inmate. I stood with a group of 11 men and women who had been convicted based on mistaken eyewitness testimony, only to be exonerated later by DNA or other evidence.
With them, I urged the Texas officials to grant Gary Graham a new trial, so that the eyewitnesses who are so sure that he is innocent can at long last be heard.
I know that there is an eyewitness who is absolutely positive she saw Gary Graham commit murder. But she cannot possibly be any more positive than I was about Ronald Cotton. What if she is dead wrong?
Hercules in the Garden
Q. What makes it possible for weeds to grow through a two-inch-thick asphalt sidewalk?
A. The amazing strength of plants, from the mighty oak to the slenderest shoot or root, involves their inexorable growth and expansion by cell division. But it also depends on access to a water supply and on two interacting processes for handling water: osmosis and imbibition.
Water enters a plant's roots and moves through its cells by way of osmosis, diffusing through cell membranes from regions of weak concentrations of dissolved materials to regions of higher concentrations.
Imbibition is the swelling of plant tissues to several times their original volume. It comes about as the electrical charges on materials in suspension within the cells of the tissue make these substances interact with the polarized water molecules, which perform like tiny magnets. The suspended materials include minerals, cellulose, and starches.
Imbibition is responsible for the germination of seeds in the first place, and can continue within a plant's growth cells, leading to a tremendous internal pressure. Over short periods and long — sometimes over many year, in the case of tree growth — the result can be enough power to break sidewalks or even boulders.
[via C. Claiborne Ray writing in the New York Times]
"Open a tool, do the thing, leave. No account, no download, nothing between you and the answer. Private by default: most tools stay in your browser and nothing you enter is saved."
"Currently showing 193 of 193 tools."
Free, the way we like it.
Long story short: Dustbuster wins.
I've been using a Dustbuster (actually, a number of them since I keep several around, in different rooms so as to minimize my activation energy requirement to use one) for as long as I can remember.
All that time I read about how wondrous Dyson vacuums are but was deterred by their high cost.
Finally I got tired of wondering just how good they are and bought one.
I've had it for a couple years and used it often but have permanently retired it to a closet.
• My Dustbuster (left, above) costs $49.99; my Dyson (right, above; discontinued) cost $399.99.
• The Dustbuster has two speeds, as does the Dyson, but the Dyson has a major ergonomic FAIL: you have to keep strong pressure on the power switch while you're using it. The Dustbuster has a standard power switch, which locks in place where you set it and doesn't require constant pressure.
I find it incomprehensible that Dyson's design parameters are such as they are. I've read numerous discussions by Dyson about how their switch management ensures power preservation but that's just silly. Who in the world leaves a portable vacuum on while they go outside to check their mail etc.?
Turns out there are enough people like me bothered by this FAIL that a number of companies have created kludges — power switch add-ons that let you not have to keep pressing the switch (which also forces you into a single hand position that rapidly tires your grip) but instead keep the button in the On position.
I bought two of these add-ons: both are FAILs. They're difficult to position correctly and easily dislodged while using the vacuum.
• They both do a decent job of vacuuming.
• The Dustbuster's ready to go right now; the Dyson requires me to gather the components from another room where I keep them and carry them into my main workspace and assemble them
• The biggest difference (besides cost) is ease of use: the Dustbuster is light and easy to position precisely, whereas the Dyson is clunky and much heavier and has trouble getting into tight spaces like under my couch and along walls where there's lot of stuff.
• Dustbuster battery life on High is significantly better than the Dyson's MAX setting duration.
• Noise produced by the two machines is about the same.
• Physical effort required by the Dustbuster is more than that needed to use the Dyson since to vacuum the floor with the Dustbuster you have to bend over: I'm fine with that, I can always use a little exercise.
However, the clunkiness of the Dyson's business end and the significant weight of the battery integrated up top with the hand grip require constant repositioning and banging around, which along with the need to hold the power switch down gets old fast.
On July 24, 2026, a post titled "Where Things Are and Where They Go — Part 2: Replacement Theory" appeared in this space.
In it, my Crack Colorado Correspondent©®™weighed in on the previous week's post titled "Where Things Are and Where They Go."
On August 19, 2026, he emailed me the wonderful piece up top, entitled "Replacement theory works as a prophylactic, too."
Oh, I'm in heaven: this reminds me of the good old days, when I had so many readers sending me so much great stuff all I had to do was pick and choose for material for my then 8 (eight) posts daily.
1) Start with water — the amount you've selected for your load size — and wait till it's all in
2) Add detergent, fabric softener, and whatever else you like to put in (OxiClean, Febreze, etc.)
3) Last, put in the clothes
See how easy?
I only learned this long after I became a regular patron of those banks of washing and drying machines that required a roll of quarters.
Like many (most?) people, I threw in the clothes, added the detergent and turned on the machine, then walked away.
A good mnemonic I made up just for me and you: W.C. as in water closet.
Then think "alphabetical order."
Water, Detergent, Clothes — the D's gotta go in-between, see?
Type a domain, pick a country, and the page opens as a tile on an infinite board — each one a real browser running remotely in that country, so you can watch four news front pages (above) or three Amazon storefronts at once and see how the same site looks elsewhere.
Even the board's layout lives in the URL so you can share the arrangement with anyone.
Free, the way we like it.
[via Dense Discovery]
For over four decades, U.S. artist Patrick Dougherty has been weaving truckloads of willow saplings into more than 300 site-specific "Stickworks" — walk-through towers, arches, and urn-like forms that look grown in place.
[via Dense Discovery]
This list arrived in the form of an email this morning: I started going through it and added 8 films to my MUBI Watchlist after only viewing the first few screens on the site.
I scrolled through all 471 tools pending review with the same delight I experienced reading the original Whole Earth Catalog cover to cover — all 448 pages of very small print, every word — when it came out back in 1968.
Of the 471 under review I own 10:
• Stanley FatMax Tape Measure
• Wiss Snips
• 3M Super 33+ Vinyl Electrical Tape
• Pro Bar Halligan Tool
• Gardena Hose Connectors
• Haws Watering Can
• Welch Allyn Otoscope/Ophthalmoscope
• 3M Tegaderm Transparent Dressing
• Dansko Professional Clog
• RIDGID Heavy-Duty Straight Pipe Wrench
Soon it will be 11: I immediately ordered Pro Gaff Gaffer Tape when it showed up in this list so as to up my gaffer tape game.
So far 3 tools have passed review and become recognized standards.
I love stuff like this!
The five lanes of Highway 101 in Los Angeles are turned into a musical instrument: Each car on the live Caltrans camera is a note.
Previously this year: "Crime 101," featured July 10 and September 4.
[via Kottke]
How about "I can't remember" — does that sound about right?
Yesterday, while I was lacing up my running shoes to go out for a run, it occurred to me that my laces looked perfect — no signs of wear or tear — even though I've had the shoes for a fairly long time.
Then I got to thinking about how as a kid it seemed a frequent occurrence, breaking a lace and having to create a makeshift repair or relace through fewer eyelets to make what remained functional.
What's changed in shoelaces?
Why don't they seem to break anymore?
Inquiring mind wants to know.
Kevin Kelly's review:
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Wow, a whole new genre is emerging: real-time AI video generation. Exhibit A is Infinite Slop. Thousands of commentators vote up prompts in response to what is playing, and new video is generated instantly, soliciting more prompts, ad infinitum, in a cycle.
The result is a 24-hour stream of absurd, surreal, bizarre, silly, astounding, meme-maxing video slop from the hive mind that is also weirdly mesmerizing, and even satisfying. Hard to look away. Some bits are genius.
The new ability to generate video as fast as you can watch it will be used in other ways, such as in games, but this infinite slop is the first crude step as performance art. It is two weeks old and already has millions of fans and ads.
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Fair warning: there goes the rest of your life.
And why wouldn't I?
I took a few minutes earlier today to look at the list of 82 people I currently follow on X.
I piped almost all of them aboard before Twitter became X on July 23, 2023.
Before that, just one dead person appeared on that list.
Another died later in 2023 and another in 2024.
When I saw the name of the first dead person back in 2018 — the year he died — I thought to myself, "I really liked that guy," and it occurred to me that if I kept him on my "Following" list, whenever I glanced through the list I'd see his name and smile and recall how great and nice a person he was.
If I deleted him, I'd forget about him and prolly never ever remember him again.
So my "Following" list serves not only to keep track of those whose lives and doings I find interesting, but also as a virtual cemetery.
From the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service so you know it's authoritative.
"Look, up in the sky! It's a bird! It's a plane! It's Superman!"
FunFact: This iconic catchphrase debuted on the Superman Radio Serial on February 12, 1940.
I've waxed effusively here before about Perplexity Pro: it just saved me $800 right after I ponied up $200 to renew my subscription for a year.
Ever since Meta released its Ray-Ban Display AI glasses I've wanted a pair; alas, they're still in short supply and not available anywhere near my Podunkville domicile.
You can get them now without the currently required (by Meta) in-store demonstration and fitting if you're willing to pay above list price: there are many for sale on eBay.
I was starting to get all excited and thinking of taking a flutter but first I asked Perplexity Pro for a rundown on sizes, styles, colors, etc.
Turns out (top) they only come with Shiny Black or Shiny Sand frames (I prefer matte black like my current Meta Gen 2 non-display glasses) but the dealbreaker for me is the mandatory Transitions lenses (clear indoors, darkening outdoors): I hate transition lenses because they make it impossible to know exactly whatever you're recording actually looks like.
I'll keep my money, thank you very much.
Pictured above, it's Ferragamo's "Vara," introduced in 1978 and still among the company's best-selling shoes.
There must be a reason why that's so, don't you think?
Ms. Agins was a longtime fashion reporter for the Wall Street Journal.
Walkable Footwear
Q. "When traveling I love to walk for a long time, but I hate to wear tennis shoes because they instantly identify me as a tourist. I dress in longer skirts instead of pants, and I prefer to wear black. What do you recommend?"
A. More footwear makers have added an array of flats in recent years, so there's no reason you can't look reasonably chic while touring the streets of Rome or London. For serious walking, forget ballerina flats, which are too flimsy to support your feet. The same goes for flip-flops and most sandals, which expose your feet to too much urban grime.
For many years, my own favorite footwear for tooling around Manhattan has been Vara, a round-toed, low-heeled bow pump, in black patent leather. Introduced in 1978, the sturdy and super-comfortable Vara continues to be among Ferragamo's best-selling shoes. I take mine to the shoe repairman, who adds a thin layer of rubber to the sole, which helps make my stride more sure-footed. The advantage of patent leather — and not its cheaper cousin in stiff vinyl — is that shoes always look shiny and they repel rai
The properties that the best walking shoes have in common are: arch supports or orthotics to help absorb shock, flexible rubber soles, round or broad toes, and heels or wedges that are an inch or less high.
....................
$995.
UN Votes to Adopt New World Map That Shows Africa's True Scale
To phase out traditional map that depicts continent as similar size to Greenland
The UN General Assembly officially retired the 16th-century Mercator projection in favor of one based on the more accurate 2018 Equal Earth design (below).
The Mercator layout was introduced by Flemish cartographer Gerardus Mercator in 1569 to help sailors navigate the seas. Almost five centuries later, it remains the global standard.
Because of its projection style, however, regions near the equator appear significantly smaller than they are, whereas high-latitude areas look much larger. For example, the Mercator map shows Africa as being similar in size to Greenland, but Africa is 14 times larger [my bold italics] than the Danish territory.
"You could fit the United States, China, India, Japan, Mexico, and much of Europe into Africa and still have land to spare," says a petition on Change.org.
[via the Guardian]
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I can't end without a note on the terrible Blogger interface and experience: this post, which on Typepad would have taken about 10 minutes total, took me over an hour on Blogger with at least 20 revisions — and it still doesn't look nearly as finished as it should.
Stevenson was a psychiatrist, the founder and director of the Division of Perceptual Studies at the University of Virginia School of Medicine, where he served as a professor of psychiatry for fifty years.
When I read the sentence in the headline up top in an interview with him sometime last century, time stopped for me.
His definition trumps all others ever.
Ever since I saw it I've used it often to help me clarify if what I'm doing is what I want to be doing at that moment.
You can too!
But I digress.
A wonderful corollary to Stevenson's observation is from one Kinky Friedman: it appeared in an interview with him that appeared in the now defunct Style section of the Washington Post in the early 1980s.
Friedman remarked, "I'm in search of a lifestyle that does not require my presence."
Bingo.
These two brief yet transcendental epigrams have guided me well.
Lagniappe: read Herman Melville's sublime 1856 story "Bartleby, The Scrivener" here.
Free, the way we like it.
