Just don’t tell my father….

Kevin Drum is nonplussed by something he read in the WSJ: a Canadian named James Stewart who got freakishly rich by writing calculus textbooks. As Kevin says, “You can earn millions writing calculus textbooks? Seriously?”

Well, this isn’t much of a stretch, is it? Here’s the guy’s website — he has written a number of texts, which seem to have each gone to multiple editions, which implies that his textbooks have been adopted by more than a few math programs around. Calculus is, I assume, one of the more frequently taken courses in colleges throughout North America. Many kids take Calc I just to get their math requirement out of the way, and many, if not most, of the science majors require Calc as part of the major. And you can probably throw in high schools that offer their own Calc course for seniors.

So if this guy has written a text that gets used in, oh, just ten percent of the undergraduate programs in the US and Canada, that’s a hell of a lot of copies of his book being moved every year. And I’ll bet his text gets used a lot more than that. One of Kevin’s commenters notes that Stewart’s book is used at Penn State University. That’s a big campus, right? I’ll bet the number of kids who have to buy that book every year at Penn State is in the hundreds. And I remember how awfully expensive textbooks were when I was in college, nearly twenty years ago; I wonder how much they are now? Shudder!

Maybe this doesn’t seem at first glance like a field one should be able to get filthy rich in, and one probably can’t these days, since Stewart may be dominating the market with his books. But this certainly seems to fall into the category of “Nice work if you can get it.”

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Yee-oww!!!

Well, it finally happened the other day: my first power-tool related injury. Yay, me!

No, I didn’t lose any digits or suffer significant blood loss. But the middle finger of my left hand has seen better days, let me tell you! What happened was this: I was cutting a small piece of wood on the miter saw. Unfortunately, I failed to note the presence of a nail in the piece I was cutting, which was my major mistake on this procedure. Of course, the whirling blade of the saw hit the nail, causing the tiny piece of wood to buck. One piece, on the opposite side of the saw from me, shot off in a straight line, while the other attempted to shoot off in the exact opposite direction. Its trajectory was blocked, however, by the tip of my middle finger.

The impact actually caused my fingernail to split right down the middle about a quarter of an inch, and of course there was some bleeding. It didn’t hurt much, though — it went straight from normal to “really numb”. I quickly ascertained that nothing was broken inside there, as I was able to wiggle the finger without any pain, but I could already see the large bruise forming underneath the nail, and within an hour, the whole tip of that finger was starting to swell. I cleaned it out nicely, bandaged it, and went about my business. And I still had to get that wood cut down to what I needed for a job, so it was right back to the saw. Hey, if the horse throws you, you get right back on, no?

Over the next day or two, my finger proceeded to do this really neat thing where it slowly shifted colors from normal to red to blue to purple to black-and-blue and then started to fade back toward normal again. It was like having part of my body acting as a mood-ring, but where all of the colors stood for “Ouch”. By the second morning after the mishap, the finger had started to revert to normal size after some pretty impressive swelling, and now it pretty much feels normal except for the front part of the nail, which is still split, of course. Nothing to do about that except wait for that part of the nail to grow out. If the nail weren’t split, I probably wouldn’t even be wearing a bandage on the finger at all, but I discovered that the problem with having a nail split like this is that if it’s not bandaged, the jaggy split in the middle tends to snag on stuff, which is exactly as unpleasant a sensation as it sounds.

The upshot is that having this bandage on my finger makes typing a bit more of an adventure than it usually is. I’m hitting ‘backspace’ more often than usual. (For instance, in the just-concluded sentence, I originally had an ‘r’ in ‘often’.) Oh well, it’s the perils of the job, no?

But hey, I got the job done. Because, hurt finger or no, I’m a pro.

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Where I chickened out


Rainbow , originally uploaded by Four20moon.

Just saw this on Flickr. Last time I geared up to do some tie-dying, I briefly considered doing this, and then decided it would be too weird even for me. I’m glad that someone’s willing to go where I fear to tread, though!!!

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My so-called high school life

I snagged this from Roger:

1. Did you date someone from your school senior year?

No. I went on exactly one date in high school, a few months before graduation, with a girl from a different school. I was evidently unimpressive as a date, since my three or four calls for a subsequent date were blown off with the “I’m busy” excuse.

2. Did you marry someone from your high school?

No.

3. Did you car pool to school?

No. I rode with parents until I got my license, after which time I drove myself.

4. What kind of car did you drive?

Volkswagen Rabbit.

5. What kind of car do you have now?

A Plymouth Acclaim.

6. It’s Friday night…where were you (in high school)?

Sitting at home, watching a movie or listening to classical music.

7. It is Friday night…where are you(now)?

Maybe out to dinner with the family, or watching a movie with the family, or something else. With the family.

8. What kind of job did you have in high school?

I didn’t have any jobs until after senior year, when I worked in Technical Services at the St. Bonaventure Library.

9. What kind of job do you do now?

Maintenance for a large grocery store.

10. Were you a party animal?

No.

11. Were you considered a flirt?

I have no idea. Maybe? Hmmmm….

12. Were you in band, orchestra, or choir?

Band. (Trumpet.)

13. Were you a nerd?

Maybe? Probably? Hmmmm….

14. Did you get suspended or expelled?

No, just detention a couple of times for cutting class and using the back stairwell. (Yes, that was a thing. Our principal declared that stairwell off-limits for some reason.)

15. Can you sing the fight song?

Did we have one? I remember the first line of the “Alma Mater” song: Mid the hills of Cattaraugus stands a high school fair…. (Hey, I didn’t write it.)

16. Who was/were your favorite teacher(s)?

I liked my 11th and 12th grade English teachers a great deal. Funny thing about the 12th grade teacher: she’d also been my 8th grade teacher, and she hadn’t been very good at that. But she was quite good for 12th grade. I also liked all of my history teachers, particularly the 11th grade one.

17. Where did you sit during lunch?

Wherever my friends sat. We weren’t creatures of habit on that score.

18. What was your school’s full name?

Allegany Central School. It has since then merged with a town called “Limestone” to become “Allegany-Limestone”.

19. When did you graduate?

1989.

20. What was your school mascot?

We were the Blue Devils. (Now they’re the Gators, which is just plain wrong.)

21. If you could go back and do it again, would you?

Doubtful. It wasn’t awful, but it wasn’t Teh Awesome, either.

22. Did you have fun at Prom?

Didn’t go.

23. Do you still talk to your prom date?

Didn’t go!!!

24. Who was your best friend?

Mr. Jones, before he moved away.

25. What did you want to be when you grew up?

At that time, an orchestra conductor.

26. Any regrets?

Well, I spent most of 11th grade chickening out of asking one particular girl out. Not that she’d have said yes, and certainly not that we’re lost soulmates or anything, but it would have been nice to have been a tad less gutless. (In my defense, I’d been rejected in fairly definitive fashion the year before, which made me pretty gun-shy on that point.)

27. Biggest fashion mistake?

I dunno. It was the 80s. There were kids who made fun of me for not having the right brand of jeans, but I didn’t much care.

28. Favorite fashion trend?

Well, it was the 80s, so…I guess “Big Hair”. Girls who had long hair with nicely poofy bangs. I also liked the whole “acid washed jeans” thing.

29. Are you going to your next reunion?

No idea…haven’t been to one yet, but this will be 20 years. (I can’t believe I just typed that.)

30. Who did you have a secret crush on?

Secret crushes are a waste of time. I wore my crushes on my sleeve.

31. Did you go on spring break?

No.

And I guess that’s it.

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Gadgets and Gizmos

It’s been a bit eventful here at Casa Jaquandor; we’ve done our part to stimulate the economy by purchasing stuff. We’re just about done, but we now have:

:: A 32-inch flatscreen teevee. This is wonderful. Just wonderful. This week, we will celebrate our first Family Movie Night with the new teevee by watching something that looks cool on a big teevee. I’m thinking, something with rocket ships and space princesses. Yay!!!

:: We had to get a new digital camera to replace the other one, which has gone fritzy, unfortunately. That old Kodak EasyShare served us well for more than two years, and we got more than our money’s worth out of it, since we paid about eighty bucks for it two years ago. It amazes me how electronics prices evolve: the replacement camera (same brand) was the same price, basically, as the old one, and it has twice the megapixels and twice the storage capacity.

:: We have a replacement computer monitor on the way. The old one died, and we’ve been using this awful dinosaur of a monitor for a few months.

:: Finally, I got an MP3 player. It’s a small one, only 4GB of storage, but I don’t need a lot of space on it. It’s cheap and basic, but that’s all I really need: just something to hold and play a few hours of music when I’m on the go. Fun!

And that’s about it. As I noted, it’s now up to someone else to get the economy moving. We’ve done our part. (And frankly, given how we were able to afford some of this stuff, I think we’d much rather have not come into a small bit of money in quite this way. In other words, thanks, Mom-in-Law.)

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Graphically Reading

Want a foolproof way to get some good graphic novels to read? Grab any edition of The Year’s Best Fantasy and Horror – the ones edited by Terri Windling and Ellen Datlow (at least until a couple of years ago, when Windling stepped down and was succeeded by Kelly Link and Gavin J. Grant), look in the introductory essays for the one on the year’s best graphic novels, and make a reading list from that essay’s recommendations. You won’t go wrong, and you’ll find a lot of amazing stuff across all genres. (And now you’ll have plenty of time to catch up, as the YBFH series has apparently been discontinued, damn it all.)

A case in point is Bookhunter, by Jason Shiga. A rare book is stolen from the Oakland Public Library, and the Library Police are dispatched to investigate the theft. Who are the Library Police? They’re a crack squad of law enforcement professionals who are charged with protecting American access to information via the libraries, and they investigate the theft of the rare book with meticulous attention to detail and good old fashioned gumshoeing.

The story is set in the 1970s, so the overall tone is kind of like CSI meets Kojak. The book is full of fun information about books, and about libraries and library procedures; and of course, the entire conceit is hilarious, right down to the last fight where the villain is able to jump-start his final getaway attempt by using the drawers of the card catalog to his advantage. This is a wildly fun and entertaining book.

Not wildly fun is Shaun Tan’s The Arrival; this book is stunningly beautiful instead, a true work of art that puts the very best of comics on display for anyone who may still be skeptical as to whether comics are a viable medium for deep storytelling. This tale of immigration is told through illustrations only; there isn’t a single word anywhere in the book. But what illustrations they are: evocative, haunting, and all of them beautiful. This book reminds me of the work of David Wiesner in its sophisticated use of nothing but image to tell an involving story. A man comes to a new country, where he’s immediately baffled by the customs he finds and the sprawling cityscape in which he must live. But he manages, through the help of new friends, some of whom aren’t human or any recognizable species at all. The way this book uses the fantastic to make statements about the universal experience of people who voyage to a new homeland is nothing short of amazing. This is a gorgeously wonderful book.

I also note the anthology series Flight, whose fifth installment came out last year. For some reason I’d had the impression that the Flight books present excerpts from long-form works, but that’s incorrect; the pieces in each volume of Flight are complete, and the books are basically collections of short fiction, just in the comics medium. I’m not going to cite specific examples of effective stories here, but each volume thus far contains some absolute gems. Give Flight a look.

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“I like to think you killed a man. It’s the romantic in me.”

A while back, I watched Casablanca for the first time in several years. Why did I allow so long a time to elapse between viewings of this, a movie that’s been in my personal Top Ten ever since I first saw it? Who knows, really…time was when I wouldn’t go much more than a month without watching it, and in my sophomore year of college, I went through a six or seven week period when I watched it every single Sunday, after the early football game. Why so long this time? I genuinely can’t say. Hopefully I won’t wait until 2011 to watch it again.

A few random thoughts on the movie that occurred to me whilst viewing it:

:: Sam’s role isn’t as big as it seems. He’s all over the first half of the movie, but we only see him once or twice after the Paris flashback.

:: The actors are helped by a screenplay that’s full of some of the best dialog ever written, but they come to the aid of the script a couple of times. It takes great acting and directing to make a line like “Is that cannonfire, or my heart pounding?” come off as anything other than pure sap.

:: If there has ever been a better long closeup than Ingrid Bergman’s when she first listens to Sam singing “As Time Goes By”, I haven’t seen it. It’s an amazing closeup, that lasts for what feels like more than thirty seconds, and in that span, Bergman is able to convey a whole bunch of emotions, without changing her facial expression much at all: she shows resignation at being confronted with her past, fear that she’s going to have to face Rick again, rueful remembrance for the last days she was truly happy, regret for the way she had to hurt the great love of her life, all with no words and just a camera focused tight on her features as she listens to a song.

:: Something hit me about the movie’s timing – the timing of the story, that is. When does it take place? Well, Rick pegs it pretty specifically when he’s getting drunk by himself; he says, “It’s December 1941 in Casablanca. What are they doing in America? I’ll bet they’re asleep.” December 1941. But the rest of the movie seems to imply that the story is taking place before America enters the war, doesn’t it? Nothing is ever said specifically, but if a state of war existed between Germany and the United States, as it would beginning on December 8 of that year, surely Major Strasser’s attitude toward Rick and “blundering Americans” would be different than what he shows. If Germany and America were at war, Strasser would probably treat Rick Blaine as an enemy rather than as a potential annoyance.

That being the case, the question that comes up for me is this: What does Victor Laszlo plan to do once he gets to America, anyway? There’s no resistance effort to lead in America, so is he planning to try to raise money? Lick his wounds for a bit and rally some support before returning to Europe? Work for the Americans? I wonder, especially since, in light of what seems to be the fact that the movie takes place in the first week of December 1941, within a day or two of Victor and Ilsa’s arrival in America, that country will be entering the war.

(No, I don’t want the movie to have answered these questions, nor am I suggesting that the movie’s “failure” to answer them is a “failure” at all.)

:: It interests me that Rick’s Cafe has significantly higher ceilings than just about every other interior in the movie.

:: More love for Ingrid Bergman and Humphrey Bogart: there are times when they make hand gestures while talking in a very real way, the way people actually would while talking, even though the gestures in a couple of cases cause their lines to come out a bit muffled. (Not that you can’t understand them, though.) Bogart’s got an example when he meets Louis in his office after Victor’s arrest; he rubs his cheeks and mouth while saying something. And earlier, when Ilsa is with Rick in his room above the Cafe Americain, she runs her hands through her hair in that way that some women do when they’re talking about heavy stuff after having been awake for a long time. Tiny things, those, but it’s those tiny things that add up to convincing portrayals.

:: I never noticed before how much Ugarte is sweating in his scene with Rick early in the film. Rick’s not sweating at all, but Ugarte’s face glistens all over with sweat. I wonder if that was intentional, depicting Ugarte’s tension at trying to get away with murder, or if Peter Lorre was just a lot hotter than Bogart on the set.

:: I can’t remember where I saw it, but I read within the last year somewhere a suggestion that Louis is gay. Sorry, but I’m just not seeing it.

:: On some level I’m willing to grant the point to people who know more than I do, but I’m sorry, experts: I still hear Peter Lorre as saying “De Gaulle” instead of “Weygand”.

Well, that’s all for now. I’ll return to Casablanca sometime sooner than a few years, though.

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A modest suggestion

Next time the three men go into their little room so they can privately plan how to screw New York State, why don’t we just bar the doors and set the place afire?

I said this on Facebook the other day, but frankly: forget these nice and pleasant “tea parties”. What’s needed now is, frankly, a storming of the Bastille. Maybe the sight of a working guillotine in front of the Capitol in Albany will jerk these people into taking governance seriously.

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The official site of Kelly Sedinger: Reader, writer, photographer, and dreamer

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