☞ The Mythical vs. the Everyday

File:Pieter Bruegel de Oude - De val van Icarus.jpg

What is this artwork? A seascape with a farmer in the foreground. But look closer, specifically in the water. Check out the water in the foreground of the large ship. See those legs poking out of the sea? That’s Icarus! This is the myth of Icarus, but with its importance almost as an afterthought. As per The Generalist Academy, which highlighted this painting Landscape with the Fall of Icarus:

In Landscape with the Fall of Icarus, these hierarchies are flipped around. Icarus is represented by a couple of tiny lonely legs sticking out of the ocean. None of the other figures in the painting notice – they’re all looking in other directions, busy with their own work and ignorant of his fall. In contrast to the Classical tragedy landing in the ocean, the most prominent figure is a common farmer steering a horse and plough.

Humanity continues its regular activities even in the presence of myth.

(also, I highly recommend The Generalist Academy, which is an amazing and eclectic blog. It’s a delight. )


I love how the choices we make for visualizing information affect the models for how we think about our world. A great example can be seen by taking this as literally as possible: how two-dimensional projections affect how we think about the Earth and our place in it. The best statement on this is this clip from West Wing:

But there are so many projections and each one has its positives and its negatives. So back in 1989, the United States Geological Survey released a very large manual for these called An Album of Map Projections. It has a ton of information on specific projections, as well as a “Guide to Selecting Map Projections.”

For example, here is the Peirce quincuncial projection:

Each projection is interesting and weird and mind-expanding. Enjoy this rabbit hole.


Some fun links to explore:


A podcast I recorded awhile back was recently posted, wherein I discuss complexity, the future of technology, and more.

And I am pleased to see that the half-life of facts has penetrated the sports world. From Deadspin:

Within months, memory being the faulty tool it is, he will never have been in Oakland at all, and within a few months after that, neither will the Oakland Raiders. It’s the half-life of facts gone mad.

Such naches.


Until next time. (note: I’m going to aim to send this out approximately monthly)

Enjoy this issue? Please feel free it to share it with a friend. Or even just let me know; my preferred social network is email.

☞ Free Money + Algorithmically Generated Conjectures

Here’s a bizarre arbitrage opportunity I discovered in the Legoland gift shop:

Free money! It’s next to one of those machines that extrude a penny into a souvenir, so it’s existence makes sense, but is there an opportunity here?

Alas, there are some time constraints that prevent anything close to an instant Scrooge McDuck lifestyle. When I began making some estimates, if you can cash in one hundred $5 bills each hour, you can make $10 an hour (more than minimum wage in Missouri, where this is located), but that doesn’t count spending the time sorting your change and bringing this money back to a bank to have it in normal human (i.e. non-penny) form. And of course, there is a more fundamental concern: the likelihood that the people working at the gift shop don’t just kick you out of the store.


A couple articles worth checking out:


Computational creativity is a sprawling and probably not entirely monolithic domain, encompassing everything from algorithmic art and design to computationally-generated scientific hypotheses. That being said, I am a strong proponent of a human-machine partnership in the creative fields, broadly construed.

That’s why I was intrigued to see a recent paper entitled “The Ramanujan Machine: Automatically Generated Conjectures on Fundamental Constants.” Taking a page from the mathematician Ramanujan and his phenomenal continued fraction formulas for fundamental constants like π, the authors have developed an algorithmic method for discovering equations that might converge to constants.

A fantastic line from the paper, when discussing the likelihood of the truth of the equations that their algorithm uncovers and how unlikely it is that their discovered equations work by chance: “This minuscule probability makes us believe that the new conjectures are truths awaiting a rigorous proof by the mathematical community.” Wow.

For more on this, check out the Ramanujan Machine.

(note: if this is interesting, please feel free to check out my fun and clunky attempt to evolve an equation for the fine structure constant of the universe using genetic programming from several years back.)


Until next time.

Enjoy this issue? Please feel free it to share it with a friend. Or even just let me know; my preferred social network is email.

☞ Recapturing that HyperCard Feeling

HyperCard, a Macintosh program from the late 1980’s, was my gateway into computer programming. It allowed a smooth on-ramp into the world of code, attempting to remove the boundary between users and creators when it came to software by allowing everyone to easily build their own programs. And we need to recreate these kinds of tools.

I recently wrote a piece for BBC Future about HyperCard and its specific properties, as well as a need for rekindling this kind of approach. Here’s the beginning of the piece:

Last year I set out to build a simple piece of software to let my daughter practice her “sight words” as she began to learn how to read. This was nothing fancy, just a program that flashed words for her to memorise on the screen.

I’m not an expert programmer by any means, but while this task wasn’t hard, it required some work and effort, not to mention the accreted experience of about 20 years of coding. But most people can’t do this kind of thing: there simply aren’t tools currently available for making lots of types of software without sophisticated computer programming. 

It wasn’t always this way. At least on the Macintosh, there was a time when this was possible. In my own personal retelling of computer history, even though the Macintosh was released in 1984, its potential was not truly achieved until 1987. What really confirmed the earth-shattering nature of the Mac for me was that year’s release of a piece of software called HyperCard. This one-two punch of Macintosh and HyperCard changed how I thought about computers.

Read the rest of the piece here. And if you are interested in this world of end-user programming/“no-code” tools, or are actually building tools in this space, I want to know.


In my book Overcomplicated, I explored the byzantine complexity of technology, a complexity that is increasingly approaching some aspects of biology. And one form of technology is the law, including tax codes.

So when my wife recently showed me this wild chart from the IRS, that is “An Illustration of the Modern United States Tax System”…

Taxpayer Roadmap 2019

…the first thing I thought of were the charts of biochemical pathways from Roche:

To be clear: the convergence of complexity in biology and tax law, while interesting, is not a good thing.


A few shorter bits:

  • Here’s a fantastic line about the power of spreadsheets (and programming and replicability): “you can calculate literally anything, and transmit not only the results of those calculations, but the actual environment itself, to anyone in the world, and expect that if they have a computer, they can replicate your results.”

  • From an article about the future of AI, there is this suggestion: “programming digital assistants to refuse to answer philosophical questions, especially about the bounds of reality.” Heady stuff.

  • Check out “Pipe: How the System Call That Ties Unix Together Came About”: It’s full of Unix history, but really focuses on the fundamental principle of interoperability and the importance of being able to plug tools together.

  • And, in case you missed it, here’s a short story I wrote earlier this year: Constant Decay.


Until next time.

Enjoy this issue? Please feel free it to share it with a friend. Or even just let me know; my preferred social network is email.

☞ The Magic of Small Institutions, the Moon Landing, and Heraldry

I was recently browsing the Star Trek Spaceflight Chronology, published in 1980 (not considered canon any longer, but super-interesting) and noticed that in the timeline it has some items for 2019:

If you’ve read lots of older science fiction, the gap between our expectations for the future of space travel and where we are now is certainly disappointing, but no longer a surprise. While our computers are far better than writers could have imagined, we have fallen short in the realm of outer space. There aren’t moon bases or regular missions to Mars or space colonies.

But as we approach the fiftieth anniversary of the moon landing and look at that second item in the timeline—imagine visiting the moon as tourists and seeing these historic landmarks!—I can only think about how far we still are from our dreams.

That being said, we are closer in some ways than many realize. As per this NYT article:

Attempts to classify the Apollo landing sites as American national parks failed precisely because that would violate the Outer Space Treaty. And the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization, which designates world heritage sites, usually considers nominations only by countries exercising sovereignty over their proposed site — which can therefore only be on Earth.

In July 2011, NASA issued a nonbinding set of recommendations aimed at preserving the six Apollo “heritage” sites and their associated artifacts. At the time, private teams were racing to be first on the lunar surface to claim the Google Lunar X Prize, and one of the contest’s bonus prizes would go to a spacecraft that visited an Apollo site.

We might not yet be tourists in space, but at least we’re thinking ahead.


The evolutionary biologist Andreas Wagner has a new book out called Life Finds a Way. Near the end, Wagner explores certain conditions for creativity within institutions. Looking to places like the Santa Fe Institute, he argues that these smaller institutions, when structured properly, are ideal places for cross-disciplinary interaction and creative recombination:

I love this detailed and prescriptive approach for these kinds of magical institutions, ones that are particularly well-suited for generalist-minded thinking. This pairs nicely with Patrick Collison’s collection of references about “successful industrial/applied research labs.”


I recently discovered a Wikipedia article that enumerates the technical terms for the positions of animals in heraldry, words for the pose of the animal, like if a lion is sitting or on its hind legs. The delightful number of words here is so strange and bonkers and precise, eg. pelican in her piety.

This kind of technical precision reminds me of the richness of the rules for names in astronomy, such as how “[s]atellites of Uranus are named after characters from works by William Shakespeare or Alexander Pope.” As per Clive Thompson, “Half the guys, I swear, if they weren’t mapping the stars with billion-dollar telescopes, they’d be out in California painting unicorns on the sides of vans.”

It seems to me that any field, if you go deep enough, is an amazing combination of awesome and super-weird. The world is amazing.


And check out An Animated Map of the Earth: basically watch the Earth “breathe” throughout the course of the year.


Until next time.

Enjoy this issue? Please feel free it to share it with a friend. (Also, I’m considering sending out this newsletter more frequently. Any thoughts on the ideal cadence?)

☞ Digital Humanism + Quines

Ever since I read Tim Carmody’s post in 2017 about digital humanism, I couldn’t get his ideas around preserving information out of my head:

In the metaphor of the all-in-one machine, Humanists were first and foremost scanners. They translated knowledge from one technology, and its attendant modes of thinking, into another. They took old things and made them new.

In the spirit of this (and Carmody’s whole post is well worth reading!), I recently built digitalhumanism.org, my small attempt to contribute to this idea: a little site that displays a randomly chosen page from some old computer magazines from the Internet Archive (reload the page to see more). It's pretty simple and currently only shows pages from a few older issues of MacUser, but has actually been quite delightful for me to discover these old pages and the tech that they discuss, especially as seen through the lens of only a few decades of distance.

For example, through this project, I discovered an old example of software for algorithmically generating poetry (in MacUser’s November 1985 issue):

The field of computational creativity feels new, but it obviously has a long history (at least in computer science terms). And through digital humanism, we can see this more clearly.

There’s an about page with some more philosophical thinking behind this project, as well as a list at the bottom that could act as a potential clearinghouse for other projects in this space. Please go check out digitalhumanism.org. And I would love to hear your feedback on this.


I love quines: pieces of code that, when run, output themselves. Delightfully circular and elegant. That’s why I was excited when I discovered a website that is essentially a quine: it displays its own HTML source as the page itself.

From the page, including the source:

<p>Finally, because I believe brutalist design, even when applied to truly naked brutal html quines, is about function, not about deliberate ugliness, I'd like to apply these humble styles that improve the readability of this brutiful missive.</p>

Check it out.


A few articles worth taking a look at:

Until next time.

Enjoy this issue? Please feel free it to share it with a friend.

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