Teaching Shakespeare

David Warren’s teacher meant well. Fortunately, she was too late:

“…by that point in my life (age fourteen) I was already a Shakespeare votary, and no high school teacher could kill my enthusiasm for him, much as she might (unwittingly) kill it in everyone else, by making a drudgery of the subject. The basic clew was missing among the pedagogues, as it still is: that this subject teaches itself. It needs only a stage, only to be pronounced, for the “music” in verse and prose to begin explaining all the words.”

This must be a common experience.

Scimitars and bayonets

Nikolas Lloyd in The Scimitar suggests how it might have been used in battle. It is partly speculative, but a compelling idea. I’ll assume you’ve read the linked article or watched the video, which is certainly worth the two and a half minutes:

The anecdote Lloyd presents supports his point about the bayonet, which is basically that bayonets are good:

If the British soldiers he tells about had been armed with bayonets on their rifles, the guys with the scimitars either would not have attacked, or would have been dispatched instantly. The British soldiers would not have had to worry about shooting into a crowd of by-standers.

My father also maintained that bayonets were good, especially for crowd control. As the second world war was ending, he was sent to the Pacific. Because the Japanese finally surrendered after President Truman dropped a second atom bomb on them, my father was part of the occupation force instead of part of an assault force, and he was assigned to crowd control (and I’m here to tell you about it.) Dad told me the bayonet was great for crowd control, not because he wanted to kill Japanese civilians, but because he didn’t. If there was civil unrest, all his infantry company needed to do was form up, point their bayonets at the crowd at head height, and march forward in line toward the crowd. The crowd departed. My father was a machine gunner, and he regarded it as sub-optimal to fire his .30 caliber machine gun into a crowd of hungry civilians outside the food warehouse. Fortunately, the bayonets always worked.

Later when I was in the army, a sergeant who had done crowd control in the early 70s explained why he disliked the M-16 (9 pounds, 40 inches, plastic stock). It was too light, too small, and insufficiently threatening, even with it’s short bayonet fixed. The only thing you could do if worse came to worst was shoot. The older M-14 (11 pounds, 44 inches, hardwood stock) looked like a serious weapon for grown-ups. It was much more intimidating to the crowd; and if that wasn’t enough you could butt-stroke the loud mouth at the front, and the smelly hippies would get the message without anyone dying.

Drafting technology

From Instapundit, video of a factory. It looks like the late 50s or early 60s. Around 30 seconds in there’s a man using a drafting machine. After learning mechanical drawing with T-square and triangles, I took a summer job where I got to use one of these, and I thought it was fantastic – amazingly faster and better than the old way. Until the late 90s I used drafting machines occasionally, and then took a job using Autocad. After drawing with pencils and pens and using things like this polar planimeter, using a real CAD package was amazingly faster and better than the old way. What’s next – a holodeck? Whatever it is, no doubt it will be amazingly faster and better than those primitive CAD packages from the turn of the century.

Vectra and Herculon

Wonder twins of synthetic fiber

Vectra, amazingly, was used for ladies stockings before it “began showing up in carpeting and upholstery in the 1960s, then faded from view.” Those must have been some rugged stockings. At least one chair, reupholstered with Vectra around 1968, stubbornly refuses to fade away. The Herculon on a non-matching couch is still in good shape too. The fabric on both these pieces of furniture is bound to outlast the frames, springs, and cushioning.

Furniture

Dominating the conversation pit

“The tripod was certainly important in pagan antiquity; but I cannot help thinking that its modern representative, the three-legged stool, has rather come down in the world. Evolution and the Struggle for Life (if I may mention such holy things in so light a connection) seem to have gone rather against the tripod; and even the three-legged stool is not so common as it was. Victory has gone to the quadrupeds of furniture: to the huge, ruthless sofas, the rampant and swaggering armchairs.” — The Number Three, by G.K. Chesterton

My own sofa is modest and aged, but tough:

Army wristwatches

My army unit had a dozen of these tritium-lit U.S. military wrist watches. They really were very nice. Tritium has a half-life of about 12 years. As I recall, the watches had a wear-out date after which we had to turn them in so they could give us new ones. We kept them locked up in a safe with the fancy knives, a couple of compasses, some kind of beryllium gizmo, and the pistol lanyards. Once a month the Property Book Officer (me) and a witness opened the safe and counted the watches and other stuff. Once a year for the big inspection a Major came down from headquarters and counted them. Because, you see, those watches are radioactive and expensive.

We could have, in theory, issued them to soldiers in the unit. But watches get lost, or they break, or they get stolen (or “stolen”) and turn up in a pawn shop in Phenix City leaking tritium. With these there would have been a pile of paperwork to fill out because of the radioactive material; and the soldier would have been billed an enormous sum for the watch.

If you haven’t been in the military, you might think we could just not have them; return the watches to the supplier and get the taxpayer some money back. No such thing was remotely possible. We had to possess them to pass the annual inspection. Well, I did my job. The inspections went smoothly when I was there, except once when an extra pistol lanyard appeared somehow. Fortunately, a resourceful Specialist made it disappear again. The watches were in the safe when I left.