Search Results for "feed"

Total Noob to Learning Online? P2PU’s Peer-to-Peer Courses Hold Your Hand

Those of us inter­est­ed in explor­ing the myr­i­ad free cours­es avail­able online will appre­ci­ate the work being done at P2PU. It’s per­haps a fun­ny name when you first say it out loud, but P2PU’s approach and orig­i­nal learn­ing con­tent are for real.

You may have guessed what the name stands for: peer to peer uni­ver­si­ty. P2PU’s mod­el is inno­v­a­tive. Their idea is that tak­ing an online course should be more like learn­ing on the job than tak­ing a tra­di­tion­al class. Their approach encour­ages peo­ple to work togeth­er on projects—whether learn­ing com­put­ing pro­gram­ming or some­thing else—and to assess one another’s work with con­struc­tive feed­back.

Users can design their own cours­es with help from P2PU. Course design is bro­ken down into dis­crete steps and course con­tent is vet­ted by peer users and P2PU staff.

Cours­es are hands-on and super var­ied. One course lets users take a hack at design­ing their own big game—the kind that gets adults out in the streets defend­ing a foun­tain or hid­ing trea­sures under bus stop bench­es. Anoth­er cours­es lays out the steps for mak­ing a music video. Fif­teen oth­er peo­ple are already tak­ing the chal­lenge. Two have com­plet­ed it and four men­tors have offered their help.

One of the most pop­u­lar cours­es is about writ­ing for the web. The com­ments sec­tions for each step are live­ly and filled with links to real blogs. Par­tic­i­pants in this course share their writ­ing and opin­ions about what makes for good web writ­ing.

One of the site’s oth­er well-sub­scribed cours­es teach­es par­tic­i­pants how to pro­gram using the Twit­ter API. P2PU breaks the chal­lenge down into nine steps (the first of which is to intro­duce your­self to oth­ers already tak­ing the course). Par­tic­i­pants pro­ceed at their own pace and can reach out for help to oth­er stu­dents, men­tors and P2PU staff along the way.

Not all of the cours­es focus on new tech­nolo­gies. Always use­ful and nev­er out-of-date, this course is a per­fect fit for num­ber noobs.

You can find a list of P2Pu’s new cours­es here. And while you’ve got your think­ing cap on, don’t for­get our big list of 500 Free Online Cours­es.

Kate Rix is an Oak­land-based free­lance writer. See more of her work at .

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Professor Ronald Mallett Wants to Build a Time Machine in this Century … and He’s Not Kidding

Time trav­el. Since Ein­stein for­mu­lat­ed his spe­cial the­o­ry of rel­a­tiv­i­ty, we have known that it is the­o­ret­i­cal­ly pos­si­ble, even if pop­u­lar notions of time trav­el have dete­ri­o­rat­ed slight­ly from the august H.G. Wells’ The Time Machine to… well, Hot Tub Time Machine. Which is to say that few people—lay or professional—take the con­cept very seri­ous­ly any­more. But Uni­ver­si­ty of Con­necti­cut Pro­fes­sor Dr. Ronald Mal­lett still believes, and he has sought to real­ize his dream of mak­ing time trav­el pos­si­ble in this cen­tu­ry by infil­trat­ing the sci­en­tif­ic pro­fes­sion, becom­ing a respect­ed the­o­ret­i­cal physi­cist, then brav­ing the ridicule and oppro­bri­um, or at least dis­agree­ment, of his col­leagues to begin work on a time machine.

In the video above, Dr. Mal­lett describes his expe­ri­ence of “risk­ing pro­fes­sion­al sui­cide,” and phys­i­cal pain, to work out his ideas. Since com­ing out, so to speak, as a pro­po­nent of time trav­el, Mal­lett pub­lished a mem­oir in 2006, Time Trav­el­er: A Scientist’s Per­son­al Mis­sion to Make Time Trav­el a Real­i­ty. It’s both a descrip­tion of his fifty years of sci­en­tif­ic work toward his project Space-time Twist­ing by Light (STL) and a mov­ing per­son­al nar­ra­tive of grow­ing up under seg­re­ga­tion, los­ing his father at a young age, and becom­ing one of the first African Amer­i­can the­o­ret­i­cal physi­cists.

Spike Lee has acquired the film rights to his mem­oir (though the project seems to be stalled), and Mal­lett has told his sto­ry on This Amer­i­can Life, CNN, and in speak­ing tours around the coun­try. Whether Mallett’s enthu­si­asm will trans­late into real­i­ty remains to be seen, but his pas­sion for Einstein’s pre­dic­tions is infec­tious and illu­mi­nat­ing.

The video comes from a new series from THNKR called EPIPHANY, a “dai­ly series invit­ing impas­sioned thought lead­ers across all dis­ci­plines to reveal the inno­v­a­tive, the improb­a­ble, and the unex­pect­ed of their worlds.” Each week is devot­ed to a new “thought leader.” Vis­it the EPIPHANY chan­nel to view the rest of Dr. Mallett’s “rev­e­la­tions.”

Anoth­er online source for infor­ma­tion, the Cas­siopeia Project, claims to “make sci­ence sim­ple.” In the video below, learn the basics of time trav­el and spe­cial rel­a­tiv­i­ty.

via Boing­Bo­ing

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Tom Davis, Original Saturday Night Live Writer, “De-animates” at 59

Back in 1975, Tom Davis and Al Franken, two Min­neso­ta-born come­di­ans, joined the writ­ing staff of Sat­ur­day Night Live, a new late-night com­e­dy show. Togeth­er, Franken & Davis sketched out some unfor­get­table SNL char­ac­ters — The Cone­heads played by Dan Aykroyd, Jane Curtin and Laraine New­man. Nick The Lounge Singer, a char­ac­ter inhab­it­ed won­der­ful­ly by Bill Mur­ray. Julia Child brought to life by Aykroyd again. 37 years lat­er, Sat­ur­day Night Live is still going strong.

The Franken & Davis com­e­dy team broke up in 1990. Time passed. And, in 2009, their lives went in very dif­fer­ent direc­tions. Al Franken was elect­ed to the U.S. Sen­ate. Tom Davis was diag­nosed with throat and neck can­cer — the dis­ease that final­ly took his life yes­ter­day. In recent months, Davis wrote open­ly about his jour­ney with can­cer. In a blog post called The Dark Side of Death, he joked about indulging in med­ical mar­i­jua­na (“These days I get my mar­i­jua­na through air­port secu­ri­ty by hid­ing it in the mor­phine”) and the day he’d “de-ani­mate.” But he also talked mov­ing­ly about the per­spec­tive the dis­ease gave him, writ­ing:

I wake up in the morn­ing, delight­ed to be wak­ing up, read, write, feed the birds, watch sports on TV, accept­ing the fact that in the fore­see­able future I will be a dead per­son. I want to remind you that dead peo­ple are peo­ple too. There are good dead peo­ple and bad dead peo­ple. Some of my best friends are dead peo­ple. Dead peo­ple have fought in every war. We’re all going to try it some­time. For­tu­nate­ly for me, I have always enjoyed mys­tery and soli­tude.

Many peo­ple in my sit­u­a­tion say, “It’s been my worst and best year.” If that sounds like a cliché, you don’t have can­cer. On the plus side, I am grate­ful to have gained real, not just intel­lec­tu­al empa­thy. I was pre­pared to go through life with­out hav­ing suf­fered, and I was doing a good job of it. Now I know what it’s like to starve. And to accept “that over which I have no con­trol,” I had to turn inward. Peo­ple from all over my life are recon­nect­ing with me, and I’ve tried to take respon­si­bil­i­ty for my deeds, good and bad. As my friend Tim­o­thy Leary said in his book, Death by Design, “Even if you’ve been a com­plete slob your whole life, if you can end the last act with panache, that’s what they’ll remem­ber.”

I think I’ve final­ly grown up.

When Davis said that “some of my best friends are dead peo­ple,” he was prob­a­bly think­ing of Tim­o­thy Leary and Jer­ry Gar­cia too. Here, you can watch Davis and the Grate­ful Dead front­man cook a meal togeth­er, and above we bring you Franken & Davis con­duct­ing a Grate­ful Dead triv­ia con­test in 1980. Thanks to Tom for the mem­o­ries and laughs.

via NYTimes

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22-Year-Old P.O.W. Kurt Vonnegut Writes Home from World War II: “I’ll Be Damned If It Was Worth It”

If you read Open Cul­ture, smart mon­ey says you’ll also enjoy Let­ters of Note, a site we occa­sion­al­ly ref­er­ence. They col­lect, post, and pro­vide con­text for “fas­ci­nat­ing let­ters, post­cards, telegrams, fax­es, and mem­os” to and from all man­ners of lumi­nar­ies through­out the his­to­ry of art, pol­i­tics, music, sci­ence, media, and, er, let­ters. Dig into the archives and you’ll find a mis­sive home from Kurt Von­negut, a notable let­ter-writer if ever there was one. Ded­i­cat­ed Von­negut read­ers will rec­og­nize the tone of the nov­el­ist, although here, at the age of 22, he had yet to become one. A Pri­vate in the Sec­ond World War, he was tak­en pris­on­er on Decem­ber 19, 1944, dur­ing the Bat­tle of the Bulge. Hav­ing then done time in an under­ground sec­tion of a Dres­den work camp known, yes, as “Slaugh­ter­house Five,” he sur­vived the sub­se­quent bomb­ing of the city and wound up in a repa­tri­a­tion camp by May 1945. There, he wrote what fol­lows:

Dear peo­ple:

I’m told that you were prob­a­bly nev­er informed that I was any­thing oth­er than “miss­ing in action.” Chances are that you also failed to receive any of the let­ters I wrote from Ger­many. That leaves me a lot of explain­ing to do — in pre­cis:

I’ve been a pris­on­er of war since Decem­ber 19th, 1944, when our divi­sion was cut to rib­bons by Hitler’s last des­per­ate thrust through Lux­em­burg and Bel­gium. Sev­en Fanat­i­cal Panz­er Divi­sions hit us and cut us off from the rest of Hodges’ First Army. The oth­er Amer­i­can Divi­sions on our flanks man­aged to pull out: We were oblig­ed to stay and fight. Bay­o­nets aren’t much good against tanks: Our ammu­ni­tion, food and med­ical sup­plies gave out and our casu­al­ties out-num­bered those who could still fight — so we gave up. The 106th got a Pres­i­den­tial Cita­tion and some British Dec­o­ra­tion from Mont­gomery for it, I’m told, but I’ll be damned if it was worth it. I was one of the few who weren’t wound­ed. For that much thank God.

Well, the super­men marched us, with­out food, water or sleep to Lim­berg, a dis­tance of about six­ty miles, I think, where we were loaded and locked up, six­ty men to each small, unven­ti­lat­ed, unheat­ed box car. There were no san­i­tary accom­mo­da­tions — the floors were cov­ered with fresh cow dung. There was­n’t room for all of us to lie down. Half slept while the oth­er half stood. We spent sev­er­al days, includ­ing Christ­mas, on that Lim­berg sid­ing. On Christ­mas eve the Roy­al Air Force bombed and strafed our unmarked train. They killed about one-hun­dred-and-fifty of us. We got a lit­tle water Christ­mas Day and moved slow­ly across Ger­many to a large P.O.W. Camp in Muhlburg, South of Berlin. We were released from the box cars on New Year’s Day. The Ger­mans herd­ed us through scald­ing delous­ing show­ers. Many men died from shock in the show­ers after ten days of star­va­tion, thirst and expo­sure. But I did­n’t.

Under the Gene­va Con­ven­tion, Offi­cers and Non-com­mis­sioned Offi­cers are not oblig­ed to work when tak­en pris­on­er. I am, as you know, a Pri­vate. One-hun­dred-and-fifty such minor beings were shipped to a Dres­den work camp on Jan­u­ary 10th. I was their leader by virtue of the lit­tle Ger­man I spoke. It was our mis­for­tune to have sadis­tic and fanat­i­cal guards. We were refused med­ical atten­tion and cloth­ing: We were giv­en long hours at extreme­ly hard labor. Our food ration was two-hun­dred-and-fifty grams of black bread and one pint of unsea­soned pota­to soup each day. After des­per­ate­ly try­ing to improve our sit­u­a­tion for two months and hav­ing been met with bland smiles I told the guards just what I was going to do to them when the Rus­sians came. They beat me up a lit­tle. I was fired as group leader. Beat­ings were very small time: — one boy starved to death and the SS Troops shot two for steal­ing food.

On about Feb­ru­ary 14th the Amer­i­cans came over, fol­lowed by the R.A.F. their com­bined labors killed 250,000 peo­ple in twen­ty-four hours and destroyed all of Dres­den — pos­si­bly the world’s most beau­ti­ful city. But not me.

After that we were put to work car­ry­ing corpses from Air-Raid shel­ters; women, chil­dren, old men; dead from con­cus­sion, fire or suf­fo­ca­tion. Civil­ians cursed us and threw rocks as we car­ried bod­ies to huge funer­al pyres in the city.

When Gen­er­al Pat­ton took Leipzig we were evac­u­at­ed on foot to (‘the Sax­ony-Czecho­slo­va­kian bor­der’?). There we remained until the war end­ed. Our guards desert­ed us. On that hap­py day the Rus­sians were intent on mop­ping up iso­lat­ed out­law resis­tance in our sec­tor. Their planes (P‑39’s) strafed and bombed us, killing four­teen, but not me.

Eight of us stole a team and wag­on. We trav­eled and loot­ed our way through Sude­ten­land and Sax­ony for eight days, liv­ing like kings. The Rus­sians are crazy about Amer­i­cans. The Rus­sians picked us up in Dres­den. We rode from there to the Amer­i­can lines at Halle in Lend-Lease Ford trucks. We’ve since been flown to Le Havre.

I’m writ­ing from a Red Cross Club in the Le Havre P.O.W. Repa­tri­a­tion Camp. I’m being won­der­ful­ly well feed and enter­tained. The state-bound ships are jammed, nat­u­ral­ly, so I’ll have to be patient. I hope to be home in a month. Once home I’ll be giv­en twen­ty-one days recu­per­a­tion at Atter­bury, about $600 back pay and — get this — six­ty (60) days fur­lough.

I’ve too damned much to say, the rest will have to wait, I can’t receive mail here so don’t write.

May 29, 1945

Love,

Kurt — Jr.

 As always, Let­ters of Note offers scans of the orig­i­nal let­ter for your direct inspec­tion.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Kurt Von­negut Reads from Slaugh­ter­house-Five

Kurt Vonnegut’s Eight Tips on How to Write a Good Short Sto­ry

Kurt Von­negut: “How To Get A Job Like Mine” (2002)

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

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The Evolution of the Moon: 4.5 Billions Years in 2.6 Minutes (and More Culture From Around the Web)

Here it is. A short his­to­ry of the Moon. 4.5 bil­lion years cov­ered in a slick 2.6 min­utes, all thanks to NASA’s God­dard Space Flight Cen­ter. The video, mov­ing from the Moon’s hot cre­ation to its pock­marked present, can be down­loaded via NASA’s web site.

Now More Cul­ture from Around the Web (all pre­vi­ous­ly aired on our Twit­ter Stream):

BBC’s Col­lec­tion of Famous Authors Read­ing From Their Works

Five Key TED Talks, Accord­ing to The New York­er

“Oh my ass burns like fire! ” Mozart Writes a Let­ter to His Cousin, 1777

Sylvia Plath’s Draw­ings (Pre­sent­ed at London’s May­or Gallery)

Van Gogh’s ‘Star­ry Night’ Recre­at­ed in 7,000 Domi­noes

Drunk Texts from Famous Authors, Cour­tesy of The Paris Review

An Abridged His­to­ry of Video Games in Under Three Min­utes

Matt Taib­bi Looks Back at Hunter S. Thomp­son’s “Fear and Loathing on the Cam­paign Trail” 

How William Faulkn­er Tack­led Race — and Freed the South From Itself

Colum McCann Reads His Sto­ry “Transat­lantic.” Added to our col­lec­tion of Free Audio Books

Anne Frank’s Diary Was Almost Nev­er Pub­lished. Francine Prose Tells the Sto­ry

Dar­win & Design (MIT). Added to our List of 500 Free Cours­es (under Lit­er­a­ture)

Famed Har­vard Biol­o­gist E.O. Wil­son Gives Advice to Young Sci­en­tists at TEDMed

Author Rohin­ton Mis­try Offers Words of Wis­dom to Grad­u­at­ing Class at Ryer­son Uni­ver­si­ty

Dou­ble Indem­ni­ty, the Clas­sic Film by Bil­ly Wilder on YouTube

 

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The Complete History of the World (and Human Creativity) in 100 Objects

While we’re catch­ing up with his­tor­i­cal pod­casts, note that BBC Radio 4’s The His­to­ry of the World in 100 Objects (iTunes – RSS Feed – Web Site) has wrapped up and cov­ered all 100 objects. And not, mind you, just any old objects: these objects come straight from the col­lec­tion of the British Muse­um, and thus almost cer­tain­ly reveal the sto­ry of mankind more effec­tive­ly than most. For that has con­sti­tut­ed the pro­gram’s project since its incep­tion: to tell, for just under fif­teen min­utes at a stretch, one chap­ter of human his­to­ry as the trained eye can read it in an object like an ear­ly writ­ing tablet, a Chi­nese bronze bell, or an Egypt­ian clay mod­el of cat­tle. Don’t let the seem­ing plain­ness of these arti­facts fool you; the show approach­es them with all the most advanced audio pro­duc­tion tech­niques. And after you’ve lis­tened, you’ll real­ize that, looked at from a suit­ably his­tor­i­cal per­spec­tive, there’s not a plain object in this bunch.

Since A His­to­ry of the World in 100 Objects has fin­ished its jour­ney to the present day, the new lis­ten­er has no oblig­a­tion to begin in the ancient world and work their way for­ward. You might well pre­fer to begin at the end, as it were, and draw insights from one of our every­day objects like a cred­it card (albeit, in this broad­cast, one that con­forms to Shar­i’a law), or a slight­ly futur­is­tic object now enter­ing our every­day lives like a solar-pow­ered lamp. From there, you can delve deep­er and deep­er into our cul­ture and tech­nol­o­gy’s past: the nifty lamp gives way to the cred­it card which gives way to a David Hock­ney paint­ing, which gives way to the HMS Bea­gle’s chronome­ter to the mechan­i­cal galleon and a Kore­an roof tile until you’re back at the Mum­my of Horned­jitef. If you get back that far and still find your­self long­ing for more from host Neil Mac­Gre­gor, be aware that he’s got a new, 20-part his­tor­i­cal series going called Shake­speare’s Rest­less World. The range of source mate­r­i­al may have nar­rowed, but the depth remains.

Relat­ed con­tent:

The His­to­ry of Rome in 179 Pod­casts

The His­to­ry of Phi­los­o­phy With­out Any Gaps – Peter Adamson’s Pod­cast Still Going Strong

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

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The History of Philosophy Without Any Gaps — Peter Adamson’s Podcast Still Going Strong

Last August, we fea­tured Peter Adam­son’s pod­cast The His­to­ry of Phi­los­o­phy With­out Any Gaps (iTunes – RSS Feed – Web Site), a chrono­log­i­cal­ly unin­ter­rupt­ed “look at the ideas and lives of the major philoso­phers (even­tu­al­ly cov­er­ing in detail such giants as Pla­to, Aris­to­tle, Aquinas, Descartes, and Kant) as well as the less­er-known fig­ures of the tra­di­tion.” Con­tin­u­ing at the rate of one episode a week, Adam­son and his guest philo­soph­i­cal experts have since cov­ered names like Lucretius, Seneca, and Plutarch. They’ve most recent­ly reached Alexan­der of Aphro­disias, an espe­cial­ly astute ancient com­men­ta­tor on Aris­to­tle and oppo­nent of Sto­ic atti­tudes toward fate; Quin­til­ian, Lucian, Themistius, and the inter­play between rhetoric and phi­los­o­phy in the Roman Empire; and the emer­gence of astron­o­my, ush­ered in by Ptole­my dur­ing a time when observers still had much to say about astrol­o­gy.

Don’t miss the episodes where Adam­son brings in spe­cial­ists on the par­tic­u­lar philoso­pher, philo­soph­i­cal sub­field, or quirk in philo­soph­i­cal his­to­ry to which his pod­cast­ing jour­ney brings him. Since our last post on the show, we’ve heard Richard Sorab­ji talk about time and eter­ni­ty in Aris­to­tle, James War­ren on Epi­cure­anism, and Raphael Wolf on Cicero, to name but a few. Such is Adamson’s atten­tion to detail — and ded­i­ca­tion to the Zeno’s Para­dox-rem­i­nis­cent cause of pure con­ti­nu­ity — that, after putting out 85 episodes, he remains in the ancient world. Imag­ine the boun­ty of dis­cus­sion when he reach­es, say, the eigh­teenth cen­tu­ry, let alone the twen­ti­eth. To pre­pare your­self for that, you’d bet­ter start lis­ten­ing now; a show express­ly cre­at­ed with­out gaps must, it seems only nat­ur­al, be expe­ri­enced with­out them.

Relat­ed con­tent:

The Par­tial­ly Exam­ined Life: A Phi­los­o­phy Pod­cast

Phi­los­o­phy Bites: Pod­cast­ing Ideas From Pla­to to Sin­gu­lar­i­ty Since 2007

55 Free Phi­los­o­phy Cours­es

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

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Udacity to Launch 5 New Courses, from Statistics to Physics. Shooting for Largest Online Class Ever.

This week­end, the Wall Street Jour­nal pub­lished a gush­ing lit­tle pro­file on Sebas­t­ian Thrun. By now, you prob­a­bly know his bio. Thrun helped invent the self-dri­ving car at Google and taught arti­fi­cial intel­li­gence at Stan­ford, before ditch­ing his tenured teach­ing posi­tion and launch­ing Udac­i­ty, a new ven­ture that offers MOOCs (Mas­sive Open Online Cours­es) to stu­dents every­where.

Also this week­end, Thrun kicked off an effort to “break the stu­dent record for the largest online class ever taught” with his new class, Intro­duc­tion to Sta­tis­tics: Mak­ing Deci­sions Based on Data. It starts June 25, and above you can watch Thrun give a short (Hans Rosling-like) intro­duc­tion to the class.  The course is entire­ly free and open to stu­dents every­where. Stu­dents will receive dynam­ic feed­back along the way, and dili­gent stu­dents will get a cer­tifi­cate of com­ple­tion at the end. So what’s stop­ping you? Cer­tain­ly not mon­ey or geog­ra­phy. Oth­er cours­es start­ing on June 25 include:

Intro to Physics: Land­marks in Physics

Algo­rithms: Crunch­ing Social Net­works

Log­ic & Dis­crete Math­e­mat­ics: Foun­da­tions of Com­put­ing

Soft­ware Test­ing: How to Make Soft­ware Fail

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Cours­era Adds Human­i­ties Cours­es, Rais­es $16 Mil­lion, Strikes Deal with 3 Uni­ver­si­ties

Har­vard and MIT Cre­ate EDX to Offer Free Online Cours­es World­wide

Why the Uni­ver­si­ty Sys­tem, as We Know It, Won’t Last …. and What’s Com­ing Next

Free Online Cer­tifi­cate Cours­es from Great Uni­ver­si­ties: A Com­plete List

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The Art of Making the Hofner Beatles Bass Guitar


Karl Höfn­er began mak­ing stringed instru­ments in 1887, in the lit­tle town of Schön­bach. His com­pa­ny flour­ished into the 20th cen­tu­ry and real­ly took off one for­tu­itous day in 1961, when Paul McCart­ney ambled into a Stein­way shop in Ham­burg, Ger­many and saw a Hofn­er bass, oth­er­wise known as the “vio­lin bass.”  McCart­ney lat­er recalled:

Fend­ers even then seemed to be around £100. All I could afford real­ly was about £30. Always tee­ter­ing on the edge of not hav­ing much — so I did­n’t real­ly want to spend that much. So… I found this Hofn­er vio­lin bass. And to me it seemed like, because I was left-hand­ed, it looked less daft because it was sym­met­ri­cal. So I got into that. That became my main bass.

As The Bea­t­les Online notes, “The Hofn­er 500/1 bass became McCart­ney’s sig­na­ture instru­ment,” and was even­tu­al­ly rechris­tened “the Hofn­er Bea­t­le Bass.” 50 years lat­er, they’re still mak­ing the icon­ic gui­tar, and you can watch the whole process unfold in just 16 min­utes. It’s not a very styled video, a far cry from oth­er gui­tar-mak­ing videos we’ve fea­tured here before, but it’s worth the watch.

The Art of Mak­ing a Fla­men­co Gui­tar: 299 Hours of Blood, Sweat & Tears Expe­ri­enced in 3 Min­utes

Mak­ing Fend­er Gui­tars, Then (1959) and Now (2012)

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Ray Bradbury Reads Moving Poem, “If Only We Had Taller Been,” on the Eve of NASA’s 1971 Mars Mission

Pow­er­ful. Sim­ply pow­er­ful. In Novem­ber, 1971, the Mariner 9 space orbiter was about to make his­to­ry. It was rapid­ly approach­ing Mars, mak­ing it the first space­craft to orbit anoth­er plan­et. There, it would pro­duce a glob­al map­ping of the Mar­t­ian sur­face and cap­ture “the first detailed views of the mar­t­ian vol­ca­noes, Valles Mariner­is, the polar caps, and the satel­lites Pho­bos and Deimos.” This marked a major mile­stone in the great era of space explo­ration. The excite­ment lead­ing up to the moment was pal­pa­ble.


Just days before the Mariner 9 reached Mars, two of our great­est sci-fi writ­ers, the dear­ly depart­ed Ray Brad­bury and Arthur C. Clarke, shared the stage with two emi­nent sci­en­tists, Carl Sagan and Bruce Mur­ray, at a sym­po­sium held at Cal­tech. At one point, Brad­bury cap­ti­vat­ed the audi­ence when he read his poem, “If Only We Had Taller Been,” and gave an almost spir­i­tu­al inflec­tion to the Mariner 9 mis­sion, remind­ing us of some­thing that Neil deGrasse Tyson once said: the line sep­a­rat­ing reli­gious epiphany and feel­ings cre­at­ed by space explo­ration is awful­ly, awful­ly thin.

The video, which comes to us via Boing­Bo­ing, was put online by NASA’s Jet Propul­sion Lab­o­ra­to­ry.

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