Jargon

From Surely You're Joking, Mr. Feynman!:

I don’t know why, but I’m always very careless, when I go on a trip, about the address or telephone number or anything of the people who invited me. I figure I’ll be met, or somebody else will know where we’re going; it’ll get straightened out somehow.
One time, in 1957, I went to a gravity conference at the University of North Carolina. I was supposed to be an expert in a different field who looks at gravity.
I landed at the airport a day late for the conference (I couldn’t make it the first day), and I went out to where the taxis were. I said to the dispatcher, “I’d like to go to the University of North Carolina.”
“Which do you mean,” he said, “the State University of North Carolina at Raleigh, or the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill?”
Needless to say, I hadn’t the slightest idea. “Where are they?” I asked, figuring that one must be near the other.
“One’s north of here, and the other is south of here, about the same distance.”
I had nothing with me that showed which one it was, and there was nobody else going to the conference a day late like I was.
That gave me an idea. “Listen,” I said to the dispatcher. “The main meeting began yesterday, so there were a whole lot of guys going to the meeting who must have come through here yesterday. Let me describe them to you: They would have their heads kind of in the air, and they would be talking to each other, not paying attention to where they were going, saying things to each other, like ‘G-mu-nu. G-mu-nu.’ ”
His face lit up. “Ah, yes,” he said. “You mean Chapel Hill!” He called the next taxi waiting in line. “Take this man to the university at Chapel Hill.”
“Thank you,” I said, and I went to the conference.

Bob

Reduce poverty, bring metal bands to poor countries

This is a map of number of metal bands per capita

Do you know what it closely correlates to? ThisL

That is the map of Human Development Index.

We have created an accurate, significantly cheaper method of tracking development. Done.

From reddit.

All you need is a flat surface and a pen

Good stuff starts at about 1:00 minute mark.

Spending money

While the talk is somewhat dry, this line was pretty good:

"… people are being persuaded to spend money we don’t have, on things we don’t need, to create impressions that won’t last, on people we don’t care about"

Thoughts that grab your attention: nostalgia

Always original Bill James on baseball, internet, prisons and more

Ah, those were the days; syphilis could be cured and AIDS hadn't started yet. Boobies could be assumed to be natural, and condoms were only sold in the bathrooms of service stations. You could walk up to the gate of Fenway Park 10 minutes before game time and buy a ticket behind the dugout, where you were guaranteed to be seated next to some loud, drunken idiot screaming at Carlton Fisk about his mother. You think I'm exaggerating, but I'm not; I went to 40 major league games in 1982, and I was seated within 15 feet of a loud, drunken fan every game

The difference between

“The difference between stupid and intelligent people – and this is true whether or not they are well-educated – is that intelligent people can handle subtlety. ”

Neal Stephenson, The Diamond Age

Well done ad

Fake doughnuts

Mountain biking

From reddit:

Last year, Visited Wisconsin to see my mountain biking uncle. He was about to compete in the Subaru cup (Part of the Wisconsin off road series), and he said there was a kids division (I was 16). I volunteered to do it, because how hard can biking 10 miles be?
He registered me, but for the adult division. 

The next day he brought me to the race grounds to do a practice lap, which was 5 miles long. He said there were no worries, I could go at any pace that I wanted, it should be a piece of cake. It was virtually fucking identical to that. Except in a forest. And I'm not talented, just fat. Three hours later, I finish the course and go home, ass aching to no end. 

I didn't have the nerve to tell my uncle that I wanted to quit, because he payed 50 bucks to register me for the race. I just fucking did it. Professional-ass bikers speeding past me on a mountain. A fucking mountain. So much falling into bushes and rocks and off of cliffs. I fell off of cliffs. Fucking Cliffs. 

I finished dead last. Except for one guy. He was disqualified because his bike broke. His bike broke when I fell ontop of him. Off of a cliff.