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What happens to our star-crossed lovers? How does their love ebb and flow over time? That’s where the math comes in. By writing equations that summarize how Romeo and Juliet respond to each other’s affections and then solving those equations with calculus, we can predict the course of their affair. The resulting forecast for this couple is, tragically, a never-ending cycle of love and hate. At least they manage to achieve simultaneous love a quarter of the time. The model can be made more realistic in various ways. For instance, Romeo might react to his own feelings as well as to Juliet’s. He might be the type of guy who is so worried about throwing himself at her that he slows himself down as his love for her grows. Or he might be the other type, one who loves feeling in love so much that he loves her all the more for it. — “Guest Column: Loves Me, Loves Me Not (Do the Math),” Steven Strogatz, The New York Times
New Haruki Murakami novel is out in Japan; third child (first boy) born on London Underground; book sales down; “DRM is so rage-inducing, even to ordinary, legal users of content, that it can even drive the blind to download illegal electronic Bibles”; Mine is a personalized magazine from Time; Time matches photo, caption
Hand-drawn and photocopied maps of Saltillo and Zacatecas feature in the archive as part of McCarthy’s research for All the Pretty Horses, while correspondence between McCarthy and a doctor is included with The Crossing. “From a literary standpoint, there is no doubt that the scene well depicts the adversity Boyd faces in the character of the Mexican physician who intervenes. However, from a purely medical view, it doesn’t tie together,” the author is told about a scene depicting Boyd’s surgery in Mexico. He is later provided with advice about “how a competent, rural physician might handle a gunshot wound.” “I wanted you to know these things for the small percentage of readers who are medically sophisticated… I’d get a kick out of having them wonder how in the hell did you know these things,” writes the doctor, who also provided information about the period appropriateness for some of the medical instruments used in the novel, part of McCarthy’s acclaimed Border Trilogy. — “Cormac McCarthy archive goes on display in Texas,” Alison Flood, The Guardian
The Great Seal is, in fact, a graphic representation of “the idea of America,” from its birth. It should be exhumed from the depths of the psyche and displayed on the walls of every classroom. It should certainly appear in the background of all of the Kim Il-Sung-style worship of that savage murderer and torturer Ronald Reagan, who blissfully described himself as the leader of a “shining city on the hill,” while orchestrating some of the more ghastly crimes of his years in office, notoriously in Central America but elsewhere as well. — “The Torture Memos and Historical Amnesia ,” by Noam Chomsky, The Nation
Years ago, I lived in Montana, a land of purple sunsets, clear streams, and snowflakes the size of silver dollars drifting through the cold air. There were no speed limits and you could legally drive drunk. My small apartment in Missoula had little privacy. In order to write, I rented an off-season fishing cabin on Rock Creek, a one-room place with a bed and a bureau. I lacked the budget for a desk. My idea was to remove a sliding door from a closet in my apartment and place it over a couple of hastily cobbled-together sawhorses.
Amount by which a typical good-looking U.S. worker will out-earn a typical ugly one over a lifetime:
A Japanese inventor unveiled a new invisibility cloak that uses a material made of thousands of tiny beads called “retro-reflectum.”
A couple at a Cracker Barrel restaurant in Greenville, South Carolina, left their waitress a note telling her “the woman’s place is in the home,” in lieu of a tip.
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"She never thanked me, never looked at me—melted away into the miserable night, in the strangest manner I ever saw. I have seen many strange things, but not one that has left a deeper impression on my memory than the dull impassive way in which that worn-out heap of misery took that piece of money, and was lost."