Final Thought On Gravity/Newton/Apples/Truth Before Moving On

The #1, numero uno, reason it is silly to continue repeating the account of the falling apple is that it is incomplete! It is, forget anything about who witnessed said apple, incomplete to say, “An apple falls due to the force of gravity.” Better, maybe not perfect, would be to say, “That an apple falls taken together with that the earth pulls the apple is an example of the relationship which conventionally has been termed, in abbreviation, gravity.” To reduce that sentence/concept by words or meaning is to lose any meaning/truth.

(These are for you, H-. If you’re still alive.)

Vindicated!

I was not wrong.

Newton never wrote about any apple. The story is attributed to a biographer friend and the details (timing) essentially don’t make sense.

With certainty, then, Isaac Newton never wrote that he was hit in the head by an apple, nor that witnessing the fall of an apple from a tree caused him to do anything ever, let alone anticipated an “Eureka” moment relating to gravitational force.

As always, read the actual writings of the actual geniuses!! And don’t lie or repeat baseless claims. (This goes for this Forsyth too.)

Nervous to Be Wrong

I’m about to read an essay by Andrew Russell Forsyth which is billed as, “Much of it is devoted to a description of the mental processes which led Newton from the observation of the [Eek! No!!] falling apple to the theory if universal gravitation.” [Italics mine.]

Wish me luck. (And never forget the Newton:sling shot.)

On Reading “The Divine Comedy”

Oh sweet Book, thou mantlest thyself with a smile, by what ardentcy dost thou require my time whose arrow, aimed right or left, loosed evermore sheathgone, anon to crawl, broken mirror upon, ever opening virgin wounds ere disconsidered more believable than metamorphastication of hell’s lord to heaven’s Supreme Good, be collected!

On Cold Showers

It’s been a year and a half and only lately have I not held myself to perfection. I have to admit that I lost a little motivation when Wim made the news for allegedly disturbing behavior vis-a-vis his first marriage. But I still enjoy the challenge.

In the end, if I’m feeling like a warm shower, I take one. But if I am feeling like “not a cold shower!”, then I force myself to take a cold one. And cold showers all other days too.

Oh, the dread.

At the “work house” I have pleasantly avoided the dread twice now, in two distinct ways. The first time was like this. I didn’t check the faucet selector valve and so was shocked that the water came from overhead immediately. Normally there is a slight delay from “cold water – on” to “feet cold – confirm” to “here goes” to “water traveling up” to “AAAAHHHHH! FREEZING!” And this is followed by a song, often a broadway hit. So the day of this first dreadless experience, I skipped all the middle steps and went directly from “cold water – on” to “AAAAHHHH! FREEZING!” and song.

The second time happened just tonight. While I had learned a valuable lesson from that first mistake, I apparently have not worked out all possible kinks—again the work house with its rotating occupants is tricky. Tonight I didn’t think to check where the shower head was pointed and so in the aforementioned sequence went from “feet cold – confirm” to “GAPING CHEST WOUND! FREEZING” as I immediately and simultaneously shrank down to take the brunt of the impact on my skull (the preferred option) as I reached to adjust the angle of the cold demon’s barrel.

Crisis averted.

And a VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS! to you, faithful reader.

God Bless the Master of this House

And Its Good Mistress too

And All the Little Children who round the table goo

And all your Kin and Kindred who dwell both far and near

We wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

The Drones Are Operated By Trolls

Sometimes my wife doesn’t even have to say a word to “warm me” in the 19th century adventures-for-boys books’ sense. Anyone know what I mean?

The other night I came home from my week at work as a professional pilot and found her watching news clips on the drones. Now, any mortal’s wife who watches news clips on drones is just behaving like a woman. But a pilot’s wife who gets caught up in the story without asking her divine husband about it? That’s worse than calling a fella a liar to his face.

As I said, it warms me. No words necessary. No tumbling around necessary.

It isn’t just the disrespect which accompanies the fact that I would have some insight because it’s my job, that gets me going. It isn’t just that the people talking to the news reporters she is watching are less qualified to know anything about aviation in 2024 than I am. It isn’t just that she is the same woman who would blame my job’s schedule for most of the current and constant marital discord and yet cannot seem to piece together that “I have someone I can ask”, no. It’s that even after all the fake news and bad reporting of the last, I don’t know, 10 years, she is still willing to consider that “they don’t know what they are.”

Well, honey, they’re drones operated by trolls. And at this point I would drive out there and have a little fun with the morons, if only I had a drone.

As far as national security is related, I will tell you confidently, and not confidentially, that the only threat to national security these drones possess is revealing to the occupants of the universe that the USA is populated by morons. Unfortunately, or fortunately, we’re tops at the moment. So the threat isn’t grave. Carry on.

“Comedy in the Old Sense”, A Review of Joker: Folie à Deux, Directed by Todd Phillips

Everyone knows what a tragedy is. The word has kept its meaning through the years. The meaning of comedy, however, has not held constant. In a sense, this change is no different from how the concept of heat as substance was discarded in favor of heat as motion upon experimental data which confirmed there was a difference between temperature (strength) and heat (quantity).

Anyone know in what sense comedy was used in the past, say for such a work as Dante’s Divine Comedy? That’s right, “a happy ending.” That story has a happy ending. (Spoiler: It ends in Heaven.)

That is the sense that I mean when I chose to title this review, “Comedy in the Old Sense.” I do not mean that the film is funny.

As a family man, I do not get to the movie theater much these days, so I had to wait, like the rest of you, to watch the movie on a streaming service (co-worker’s account). So I was more than well-versed in the terrible reception of the highly anticipated film. While I would like to believe my critical eye is objective, I offer some backstory to the tardy review because I cannot deny that I came into the movie with a different mindset and much lower expectations than the World before me. Truth be told, by the time I watched it, I needed to prove everyone wrong. I needed to see the genius.

And so here it is.

The movie, unlike its predecessor, is pure comedy. As no one wanted to see that, because no one expected that, everyone missed it. Regardless of its initial reception, like the Divine Comedy, literally for the exact same reasons, I offer that this comedic work is an instant classic and will stand the test of time even more-so than Joker. Because we do like our happy endings.

Time for a proper [SPOILER ALERT]. (But I’d keep reading because the movie is better when not a mystery.)

Joker is the bad guy. And the bad guy dies.

That’s right. Good guys win; bad guys lose. That’s a happy ending, right? Well, the final scene in Joker is that a fanboy fellow asylum-mate unexpectedly (perhaps only to Arthur Fleck) kills Arthur.

Get it? From this old perspective, the first movie is a tragedy, because Joker, while arrested, clearly wins. But in the sequel, the continuation of the story, he dies. The bad guy loses—which is what happy endings require. So it’s a comedy.

If the film misses any mark, it is that the “good guy” remains nebulous. Is it Batman (meaning merely our awareness of the character since he is not in the film)? Is it rule of law in general? A jury trial in particular? Is it truth-telling in the face of fear? Is it truth in general? We aren’t really told, so it’s anyone’s guess.

That’s the broad strokes. But I want to hit some minutia for posterity’s sake.

Hollywood is messing up on casting right now (GLADIIATOR being the other major instance). Certain actors are too talented for small roles. In Joker: Folie à Deux, the problem is Gleeson. His character was fairly important to the story, but his past credits are too distinguished. The polish he brought resulted in him standing out like a sore thumb. It was all tease, no climax. Let’s not do that again.

In America’s on-going battle of the blondes, Hollywood thinks Margot Robbie could only be topped by Lady Gaga. (This isn’t criticism, just acknowledging who’s hot and who’s not—according to our betters.) This is interesting. Gaga did a perfectly fine job in the film. We probably can just admit she did a perfect job. But I’d say she risked more than she needed to on this role—even as she should be flattered beyond belief.

I recently watched Alien: Romulus as well. I am not sure why I didn’t review it—it is good. But I am very sure that the first time I saw the xenomorph appear I thought, “Man. That is so beautiful. Probably the best looking bad guy ever.” Update: after watching Joaquin Phoenix with the makeup on and hair green and charisma maxed out, I’d say it’s a tie. Joker is just beautiful. I’m telling you, keep an eye on how this movie is received down the years. We like beauty, as a species.

Let’s end on a philosophical note.

In the film Red Belt, the martial art’s instructor goes through a list of, “If you stand here, can I strike you? If you stand here, can I strike you?” Etc. This continues, of course, until he positions his student outside of striking distance and concludes, “So don’t stand here (anywhere close).”

Joker is killed by the nicest-to-him inmate (not Batman or the police or the law), precisely when/because his guard is down. I just can’t help but wonder, “WTF, over?”

Why do we hurt each other?

Been Reading Some Einstein (and Infeld)

Until you do too, or until you read Newton himself, you just need to trust me. Any chance you get, any time you hear someone associate Newton with an apple falling from a tree, stamp it out—fiercely, ferociously if necessary, but effectively in any case. Newton should be forever tied to a David-esque slingshot. In all honesty, Newton’s influence on life on Earth is probably more profound than the “man after God’s own heart.” But however your rank order of the two concludes, they are both whirling a rock around on a rope—no apples in sight. Just stop it!