So, given the climbing death toll in the tsunami and the probable development of widespread disease as a result of sanitation problems, here’s a scary thought: the bird flu that we hear annual alarums about gets some sort of foothold in the affected populace.
Just a little nugget of positive thinking to kick off the New Year! How are those resolutions coming?
A Dinner in Ukraine Made for Agatha Christie [blogerated NYT link]
Toxicologists say dioxins are tasteless, although Dr. Schecter pointed out the provenance of this assertion is uncertain; he knew of no one who had ever tried tasting them.
From the end of the article, which is devoted to a) debunking the Youschenko “dinner” poisoning thesis, which is the word-of-mouth explanation for what happened to the Ukrainian presidential candidate’s face, and b) in a roundabout way, justifying the TOTAL FUCKING SILENCE in the western media about what exactly DID happen, thereby absolving the Times from complicity in those self-same popular rumors.
For what it’s worth, a city councilman in the town I grew up in once drank a glass of water that he claimed had been contaminated by the dioxin-based chemical, polychlorinated biphenyls (PCBs), that severely pollutes the county. Apparently the stunt was inspired by New York Governor Hugh Carey once claiming that the Hudson was so lightly polluted by PCBs that it was drinkable in an untreated state. A reporter challenged him on it at a press conference, and the governor wisely declined.
In my own experience, I associate a distinct rusty tang with exposure to the greasy, clear fluid. That may come from the rusted casings of the power-line transformers that contained the chemical, originally used as an insulator by the locally-based manufacturer.
The thrust of that hidden argument in the Times piece, by the way, is that there are no verifiable facts to report, and since reputable news source don’t repeat rumors and innuendo (unless they come from State or the Company, that is, natch), well, then, the only alternative was dignified silence.
Especially since Judith Miller’s gone up the river. Mum’s the word, people.
King5 just promo-ed a scare story about someone hijacking an iSight. First I’ve heard of this, might take a look when the news comes on.
UPDATE: This is absurd TV news bullshit. Here’s the (incredibly annoying registration forwarded) link to the King5 website’s version of the story. The footage for the show featured an Apple G4 with iSight active, and there is a screencap from that footage on the site.
Allow me to excerpt it:
Cyberstalker watched teen through Web cam
…
The hacker gained access to the victim’s computer through an email attachment virus. He started spying on private online conversations, and began sending vulgar, sexual messages to the victim’s friends and family.The teen had the virus and the hacker’s spy ware removed from her computer, but the stalker kept coming back. He managed to hack in and turn on the Web cam in her bedroom, and took nude pictures of her without her knowledge.
…
Internet security experts say once someone hacks your computer they can control every aspect of it, including Web cams. Wireless and digital networks are especially vulnerable.The bottom line: unless you disconnect them, Web cams are always watching.
…
Local police are investigating the crime. They believe they know the hacker’s name and are working to track him down.
To summarize: a nameless person watched an unnameable underage person via webcam. Police are investigating. There’s literally no useful information whatsover. There’s no information about what kind of camera, what sort of virus, or (and this is key) even what kind of platform the victim was using.
So, uh, be scared of the internet. The hackers will get you.
Man, King5 used to be good. But this is pathetic.
Oh, and by the way… it’s been rather busy here. I’ll try to do a wrapup, maybe sometime next week.
Where to start?
As I noted here previously, sometime around September of 2003 some fliers appeared in Seattle, proclaiming the loss of what appeared to be a small boy’s frog. “Who took my frog?” the author asked, plaintively. Concluding with a determined “P.S. I’ll find my frog,” the fliers were noted and remarked upon by at least a couple of Seattle-based bloggers, Jeff Sharman and Samantha, whose last name I do not know at present.
As Jeff notes, sometime in September 2004 the flier was introduced to an online image sharing community, where it quickly became the subject of a still-growing set of visual riffs. An enterprising individual soon registered the domain lostfrog.org, where new contributions continue to be posted. Around this time, another high-traffic community website, MetaFilter, hosted two different threads concerning the frog flier and subsequent images. This image of the flier comes from the lostfrog.org site.
In one of the MetaFilter threads, an enterprising researcher established that Hopkin was a toy distributed as a freebie by the McDonalds corporation. Others noted that someone had called the family and verified that the frog was indeed a toy. Intrigued, I went back and looked at the initial postings that Jeff and Samantha had made, and realized that there was a high likelihood that the person who made the fliers lived in my neighborhood.
I did my own research then, and quickly found one of the toys on eBay for about $5.00. Having purchased it and established where the flier artist lived, I cast about for my next step. As it happened, I received a call from an editor of mine, who was establishing a new relationship with a community paper that covers the neighborhood where the family lived. I ran it by her, and was given the go-ahead to pitch a story to the editor-in-chief of the neighborhood paper. We got in touch, and she green-lighted the idea.
I’m in the middle of working on a big pile of stories for another publication, so I added the family to my list of calls each day. Initially, I spoke with a female child, and requested a call back from her father; then I spoke with an elderly woman, and then an adult female. In no case did I ever get a call back; this didn’t greatly concern me.
Finally, Sunday afternoon, I picked up the phone and dialed the family’s number; to my surprise, the father was there. Here is more or less what he told me.
First, he was not interested in appearing in a neighborhood newspaper story about his son’s lost frog and the internet. He gave me permission to write about it here, however. Out of consideration for his concerns, I have chosen not to explicitly identify the family.
The person who drew the flier is a sixteen-year-old boy who suffers from autism. His father was unaware that his son may have made more than one batch of fliers (it appears that new fliers were hung in May of 2004). He did know about the loss of the frog and I believe that he knew about the first batch of fliers.
He also did not want me to give the frog to his son. He’s forgotten it, he told me. Bringing it up again will probably only bring up a bunch of bad memories.
He was quite unaware of the interest in the frog and the flier on the internet. He reiterated that he did not think it would be a good idea to show the sites to his son.
He was pleasant throughout our conversation. But he was quite clear and firm in his opinion that reminding the child of his lost frog, even to the point of restoring it to him, would be inadvisable for the boy. On his behalf, he asks that no-one send other Hopkins to the child. I was happy to hear that apparently I have been the only person calling them about the frog. Left unstated was the suggestion that future calls will be unnecessary.
So, then, that’s the resolution. Hopkin was lost by an autistic adolescent; this explains something of the sense of determination that comes through the initial flier. His family requests that no Hopkins be sent and that people seeing the Hopkin flier should not call with frog news, or, as I did, to find out what the story behind the flier is.
It’s a different ending to the story than I expected or had hoped for, certainly; but on another level, it means that Hopkin will remain forever lost, justifying and extending the mounting need for Hopkin-related photoshop tomfoolery. Perhaps someday the flier’s author will stumble upon lostfrog.org, or the tee shirt. I simply cannot imagine what that moment of perception might be like.
I hope this blog post satisfies some curious people. I am glad to know the backstory now, and hope this data proves useful to you as well.
UPDATE, July 1, 2005: Seven months later, this post is still generating interest and links from large collaborative sites. Every other month, on average, someone links to it from a high-traffic link-collector, and I get another day of several thousand site visits to the page. Just today, MetaFilter, a site in which I actively participate, linked to this page again. A commenter there chucklingly suggested I should link to the thread, and so I have.
Another commenter in the MeFi thread is curious about a link in a comment posted here after the initial publication. In that link, citizenkafka recounts calling Terry’s mom about two weeks before I did, and mentions a) Terry’s mom knew about lostfrog.org and b) that Terry has a new frog.
I did not speak to Terry’s mom, but to his dad. The family is of an ethnicity that often emphasizes patriarchy and the adults clearly speak English as a second language. I didn’t want to step on toes by grilling Mom or Sis or Granny.
Terry’s dad told me what I recount – he was unaware of the web’s interest, and so was Terry, and that was a good thing as far as he was concerned. I specifically asked if other people had been calling, and he indicated that no-one had.
However, not mentioned in the thread comments is yet another story of someone calling Terry’s family. In this story, a forum participant (possibly affiliated with the very first site to post the image) called and spoke with Terry’s sister. I can’t recall the details of that interaction, but the poster noted that he was ecouraged not to locate and give a new frog to Terry.
Finally, Terry’s dad did tell me that he has a new frog. Although I don’t recall this explicitly, I believe I must have asked if the frog was called Hopkins. Terry’s dad emphasized that the frog was different. I was surprised on reviewing this post that I did not mention it directly. Presumably I didn’t think it had bearing on Hopkin.
I believe that in all probability the other members of the family just never mentioned the calls regarding the appearance of the flyer on the web – remember that Terry was actively posting these flyers for at least six months, and that they included a phone number. Others must have called before the web got hold of it.
So in my mind, the different narratives associated with Terry’s family boil down to internally consistent perspectives, despite the apparent contradictions. It’s possible, of course, that Terry’s dad actually was aware of the internet hubbub but chose to deny it in order to keep our converation brief. Of course, over time it becomes more likely that the family will become aware of it, as well.
In my inbox today is a press release from Portland-based Top Shelf Comix, properly tooting their own horn on a first time eent in the history of comics. Portland-based comics author Craig Thompson swept the comics industry awards this year, winning every award he was nominated for in recognition of the stunning accomplishment of his second graphic novel, the brick-like, 500-page opus Blankets.
Here’s what the press release has to say:
Top Shelf would like to congratulate Craig Thompson for doing something that’s never been done in the history of comics: Sweep the Eisner, Harvey, and Ignatz Awards in a single category — and he did it twice! BLANKETS not only swept the awards in the “Best Original Graphic Novel” category, but Craig took home all three “Best Cartoonist/Outstanding Artist” awards as well. This is a rare feat indeed! If you haven’t read BLANKETS yet, you really need to see what all the fuss is about. You’re in for a real treat.
I couldn’t agree more. I loved Blankets when I read it last fall, and of all the interviews with comics people I did last year, interviewing Craig about this work was easily my favorite interviewing experience. It’s rare to have the opportunity to discuss a work of genius with the creator just before the work begins to develop a reputation. It was a chance to talk with a young man who was aware of having accomplished something special but who had not yet begun to incorporate others’ appreciation for the art into his expectations and understandings of how the world looks at him. He struck me as having a solid head screwed on his shoulders and I hope to see further amazing things from his pen.
I ran the whole long Craig Thompson interview here at the end of last year and also a brief conversation I had with him about Portland compared to Seattle as a comics-creator community.
Congratulations, Craig! Do it again!
So, this year, This American Life has run a fascinating show recorded largely in occupied Iraq, titled I’m From the Private Sector, and I’m Here to Help.
As I type this, I just now realize that the title is a snark aimed at the hilarious – and offensive, to me – ad that ran back in the Clinton era in which a litte old lady cowers in her apartment, peering through her peephole at a menacing horde of MIBs, there to reform her health care. The ad’s tagline, “We’re from the government, and we’re here to help!” is a masterpiece of American conservative propaganda. Why has it taken me so lingh to recognize this little joke?
Well, largely because the original show is not particularly expressive of a political viewpoint – it’s a personal show, about the lives of civilian contractors in Iraq. The strongest opinion expressed in the show comes partway through the second segment, when the young-sounding female reporter, Nancy, is following around a guy named Hank. Hank is trying to impose order on the chaotic operations of a security firm named Custer Battles (after the names of its’ founders).
Hank (who speaks in a flat, authoritative military twang) explains to the reporter how he is trying to train his male Iraqi employees to stop holding hands in public, which clearly really bothers him. His voice thickens as he describes the despicable act. Nancy (whom the listener imagines to be a birdlike recent graduate of the University of Chicago weighing 98 pounds and standing four feet, seven inches) flies off the handle, exclaiming, “Jesus Christ! Leave ’em alone! What’s wrong with you?”
She browbeats the surprised Hank in mid-sentence, emphatically exclaiming “No, I don’t think it’s wrong!” Hanks is utterly taken aback; clearly he’s never considered that there might be a possibility that a) male hand-holding is not a terrible crime against nature and b) someone of his own culture might be as offended by his attempts to correct the beknighted ways of the Iraqis as he is by those beknighted ways.
It sums up our current political condition; hell, it can practically substitute for the election.
The company the piece is about is described as having a poor track record in Iraq, including a memorable incident in which employees of the company engaged in a shootout with one another in front of an Iraqi hotel.
Why do I mention this today? The first news I heard on the radio this morning concerned Custer Battles, which is accused of engaging in a pattern of fraudulent billing practices. Those who know me will be unsurprised to hear that I found this to be incredibly funny. I literally cannot stop chuckling about it.
I wonder who owns the movie rights?
A reminder. Monkeyfilter / MetaFilter / Bloggish thing at the Elysian, 7p on Saturday. Open invites, no signup, just come on down if you want to! Contrary to the rumors, there will be no free beer.
New Orleans is displaying a customary level of political competence, it appears (kidding, Crescent City readers!). Commentary from the locals is welcome!
Lat night, I looked out of the windows of a building that exists only in my mind, at the windows of another building. The facing wall was old, and brick, and the windows set in the brick were dark. Multiple layers of glass blurred the reflections I saw in them.
The curious thing was that the windows did not reflect the viewer’s image, peering from the facing windows. Rather they reflected two black and white photographs, images I’ve never seen previously. I only recall one clearly, and it appears to be an image from a series of pictures found in my sister’s camera after her death. The series of images shows her taking candle-lit self-portraits in a mirror; the film containing these images was developed a month or so after she died. The photographs I dreamt of do not appear on the film roll, and presumably my subconscious whipped them up in response to the ghostly time of year and Suzy’s incipient birth anniversary, October 28.
On aspect of the images that was a bit odd was the presence of a white-handled Xacto knife; it’s a knife I have seen and held in real life. I don’t recall if it was among Suzy’s possessions or not. I do know that at times she engaged, like many depressed adolescents, in cutting; it’s possible that she had taken up the practice again at the time of her death.
I’ve been puzzling over this a bit today and I think the dream may also have been prompted by the death, in Boston, of a young college student in the street celebrations that followed the Red Sox win in the American League playoffs. The young woman was hit in the eye by a pepper-ball pellet, a one centimeter diameter plastic ball used as rounds in contemporary crowd control by police. I myself have scars on my ass and thighs from being struck by this kind of round during the events surrounding the WTO meeting held here in Seattle a few years ago.
Contrary to published manufacturer’s claims that the pellets do not break the skin, the pellets that struck me tore through three layers of clothing before opening bloody, three-quarter inch sores on my ass and legs. To the best of my understanding, these pellets were being used in accordance with the manufacturer’s operational training, which specifies that they should be directed at the lower body of persons in a crowd being herded. In the Boston fatality, it seems that the officer who fired the weapon into the crowd was not aiming low. When you own the equipment, you will certainly find the opportunity to use it. Each use increases the possibility of misuse.
Following her death, the Boston Herald, a tabloid-format paper, published a Friday edition with a cover photo of the young woman being tenderly cradled by her companions as she dies. The cover image ignited a firestorm of criticism and was followed up by a Saturday apology from the newspaper. I remain puzzled by the controversy. I found the image tragic and beautiful, in that it clearly records the fact of the love the dying woman was receiving. I dearly wish that I had such an image of my sister in the moments after her fatal impact on the station wagon windshield.