Silver Jacket

Author: Matthew Hutson

  • Mirror Mirror

    MirrorDiscovery News reported last month on a Japanese robot that’s been designed to recognize itself in a mirror and to imitate other robots. I had to blink a couple times when the reporter threw in this WTF comment from the researcher (emphasis mine):

    "Imitation, said Takeno, is an act that requires both seeing a behavior in another and instantly transferring it to oneself and is the best evidence of consciousness."

    Well, um, apparently not.

    Okay, presumably Junichi Takeno doesn’t believe his aping Aibo is conscious. But one of the aims of his group’s research is to model and understand human consciousness by developing self-aware robots. The article says the Roomba reproduction has "artificial nerve cell groups built into the robot’s computer brain." Whatever that means.

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  • Don’t Bite My Style

    JawsThis month, the NYT Mag highlighted "Celebrity Teeth" in its "The Year in Ideas" issue. The gist: If you want your teeth to look like those of Cameron Diaz, Halle Berry, or Jessica Simpson, go see the inventor of the Snap-On Smile, Marc Liechtung.

    Ok,that’s great. But the article missed a huge part of the trend. What if you want your grill to look like Flava Flav, Mike Jones, or Nelly? Ah yes, go see Paul Wall.

    And what’s gonna be poppin for 06? How about a reality series based in a gold teeth shop? No joke.

    P.S. Nobody better be bitin my style when I come through flossin diamond-studded spinners on my teeth. That shit’s mine, ya heard?

  • Sorry ladies, only room for one Jesus in this manger.

    RipodbAh yes, my favorite Christmas tale. I turned atheist around the age of 10, but before that I went to church on the regular. My church (First Presbyterian, in Columbus, Indiana) had a special Christmas Eve tradition in which the pastor would read the story of the birth of Christ, and all the kids in attendance would dress as a character in the story. When their characters were first mentioned, they would rise from the pews and join the nativity scene on the stage. I had a friend named Brock Jolly who liked to pick farm animals and would show up in elaborate costumes constructed of cardboard and papier mache. My sister and I would just grab hockey sticks and bathrobes at the last minute and go as shepherds.

    Typically if you were dressed as Mary you were responsible for bringing a baby Jesus. So all Marys would carry dolls and place them in the manger. One year I decided to be Joseph, and I also decided that I had just as much a stake in our son (no pun intended) as Mary did, so I brought a baby Jesus. Now this wasn’t just any doll. This was one my mom had as a girl. It was large and heavy and realistic. When you tilted its head back, the eyelids would close over its stunning glass eyes. I had the best baby Jesus in the room, hands down.

    The way the story was told, the pastor mentioned Joseph before Mary, so I had a leg up on the competition. I went up there with my son and nestled him snug in the manger. By the time the cavalcade of Marys approached, I’d decided the crib was mine–after all, my Jesus objectively kicked their Jesus’ asses–and I stood my ground. Rabidly. Blood may have been shed. Look, bitches, this inn is full.

    I don’t remember how they eventually got me to relent. I think adult intervention was involved. But for a moment I had truly created a Jerry Springer Christmas on that stage. And for any baby Jesuses I may have tossed out of that manger in a fit of parental pride, I truly apologize.

  • Will Someone Change God’s Diaper Already?

    Saul_williamsOn November 20 I saw Saul Williams in concert. He’s an impressive poet and an energetic performer. The only problem is, his work is very political and racially charged, and he was opening for Nine Inch Nails, a band largely followed by white, apolitical gothtards. I saw approximately (no wait, exactly) one black person in the audience.

    So, early in the set, Saul was all, "Where my niggas at?!"

    And we were all, "…"

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  • Bootstraps or Leather Straps? Your Call.

    BouncerDo people with better memories store more information in their brains? Maybe not. Last month a cognitive neuroscientist (Edward Vogel at the University of Oregon) published a paper in Nature showing that certain types of memory capacity may have less to do with how much raw data you can store than with how selective you are at letting in relevant information. (Here‘s a press release describing the experiment.)

    Notably, Vogel describes the brain filter that keeps the bad stuff out as a nightclub bouncer. Regrettably, I think my brain hires bouncers from a temp service. Sometimes I get the "come one, come all" circus caller who will let in hobos, Hiltons, and stray cats ("Hey look at that piece of lint! Oh, wow, tin foil!") and sometimes I get the off-duty SWAT team member ("I’m sorry, did you just say something?").

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  • Turning in Her Grave

    MissgouldThe letters page (20) of the Nov 28 New Yorker contains an odd use of the phrase "survival of the fittest":

    "Idealists may be shocked, but pragmatists know that Harvard and Yale are wise in admitting future survivors of the fittest."

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  • At this VERY moment?

    DoctorGina Kolata has an article in the New York Times Health section this week about docs with poor bedside manners. It includes this gem:

    The woman, who lives in Washington, asked not to be identified because she did not want her mother to know about her sex life. Her problem doctor was a new gynecologist she saw for a routine checkup. The doctor began the examination, inserting a speculum into the young woman’s vagina.

    "She asked if I was sexually active," the woman said. "I said I was. She asked if I was sexually active at this moment. I said yes."

    The woman, presumably, also did not want her mother to know that she got off on speculum play.

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  • Keepin’ It Unreal

    SpatsIn The Onion today, a former trucker-hat pioneer reports taking his fashion statement another step and asks, "Why Can’t Anyone Tell I’m Wearing This Business Suit Ironically?" (He later went on to work at "this hysterical corporate law firm," married "this clueless girl from Connecticut," and had "two ironic kids" to complete the parody.)

    If only The Onion were not so unintentionally prescient. This winter, look for a new line of spats from LeTigre.

    Also, I think hipster vegans should eat steak, like, all the time. You know, for the irony. Assholes.

  • Worlds of Possibility

    TnlaptopcrankI nearly shed a tear today reading a brief quote by Nicholas Negroponte about his effort to provide $100-laptops to every child in the developing world, whether they want one or not. (They may not even know they want one.) The part that misted my eyes I’ve put in bold.

    Giving the kids a programming environment of any sort, whether it’s a tool like Squeak or Scratch or Logo to write programs in a childish way — and I mean that in the most generous sense of the word, that is, playing with and building things — is one of the best ways to learn. Particularly to learn about thinking and algorithms and problem solving and so forth.

    As mental prosthetics, computers are literally mind-bending, mind-expanding tools. Giving naive, undereducated children, presumably bubbling with glorious potential, their own personal computers will explode their universes. I’m talking new dimensions. Now imagine giving them the freedom to PLAY in that space, to BE CHILDISH and create things from scratch. That’s an experience perhaps as powerfully transformative as learning to read and write.

    I can only compare it to my own bursts of self-realization within the worlds of LEGO, HyperCard, and LSD. But next to those, this is like handing a kid a fucking magic wand.

  • DOOL Fools

    DaysSo last Friday night I was chillin up in Hollywood, you know, just hangin out at the Days of Our Lives 40th Anniversary Party, as I do every year. Cause I watch a lot of soaps and I’m tight with that whole crew. And Ali Sweeney was all, "So glad you could make it, Matt!" and I was all, "No problem, hon."

    Okay, I was there, but I had no idea who the stars were. A college friend who works on the show invited me as her guest, and she had to explain to me whom I was meeting. I’m sure soap stars don’t take well to "Nice to meet you. So what do you do?" You have to be very delicate with their egos. The most interesting person I talked to was a woman who had bid ten thousand dollars to be an extra on a Days episode. I believe she hangs an ornament on a tree in the background of a scene.

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