[You might have thought that I would come back from Down Under with something of actual human interest to blog about. You would be wrong … well, at least for now. – JPS]
As an accomplished master of the obvious, let me point out that we live on a the surface of a sphere. However, for most practical purposes we might as well live on a big flat world with a rectilinear North-South/East-West grid (and a big mongo Greenland to boot – you know, so we have more ice to raise the sea level with ….) Very long distance travel is an exception, and especially so when it takes you close to the antipodes of your usual haunts. I just returned from Perth in Western Australia, which is the closest antipodal city to the Eastern U.S. *(I also got down even further south to the fabulous Augusta/Cape Leeuwin area at the extreme SW of Australia, which is even closer to being the anti-NE U.S.) It got me thinking about some of the interesting and somewhat counter-intuitive aspects of antipodes. [Quick question (verbal and visual answers down below somewhere ) – If you go northwest from your current position, which way does your antipode go? (assuming you are not at one of the poles.) ]
[Update 2/21: Any question as to why I included “Dean” Broder in this parade of the wankers, can be dispelled by reading Glenn Greenwald’s two excellent recent posts on Broder and his role in propping up the administration. Here and especially here.]
Watching the piteous national political media at play in so many different fields of the Lord this past week (bloggers, planes, leaks, and my fave: Gosh, there was corruption early in the occupation of Iraq! Why weren’t we told?) brought to mind a somewhat tangential (but apocalyptic!) diary I had posted at DailyKos a few months back.
The Four Postmen of the Apocalypse
First, after Grantland Rice ( the “Dean of American Sportswriters”, back when being the Dean meant having a clue.)
Outlined against the troubles of a nation, the Four Writers wrote again. In Internet lore they are known as arrogance, pomposity, cluelessness and idiocy. These are only aliases. Their real names are: Broder, Woodward, Howell and Hiatt. They formed the crest of the cyclone before which the reputation of the Washington Post was swept over the precipice these past ten years as a million readers peered at the bewildering panorama spread out on their breakfast tables and computer screens.
And thence on to more Ancient Sources