“You’ve got to mix with people with money if you want to make money.”
Max Malini. Magician.
Magicians can spout solid career advice. They’re entrepreneurs and showmen all-in-one.
That from the underrated book – David Copperfields History of Magic.
An online commonplace book
“You’ve got to mix with people with money if you want to make money.”
Max Malini. Magician.
Magicians can spout solid career advice. They’re entrepreneurs and showmen all-in-one.
That from the underrated book – David Copperfields History of Magic.
We’ve covered how Thomas Jeffs was interested in everything. And we mean everything. But we were still surprised to discover Jefferson’s mammoth obsession. One doesn’t immediately think, founding father and mammoth. But one must remember TJeffs was a cut of different fabric.
As American paleontologist, professor, and author, Steve Brusatte writes:
One American colonist became obsessed with mammoths.
This is one of my favorite sentences ever written. The content — An American colonist’s bizarre obsession. And that Steven Brusatte resists announcing it’s Thomas Jefferson, hiding him behind the noun “colonist”. Let’s continue:
One American colonist became obsessed with mammoths. During the late 1700s, there was a lot on Thomas Jefferson’s mind-writing the Declaration of Independence, winning a Revolutionary War, preventing his new country from falling apart, running two of the most contentious presidential campaigns in American history, and raising (or at least producing) two families. Through it all, he kept thinking about mammoths. And writing about mammoths, begging people to send him mammoth bones, ordering generals to procure mammoth skeletons. In part, this was escapism. Jefferson loved nature, and, in his words, preferred “the tranquil pursuits of science” to the pugilism of politics.
Brusatte, Steven. The Rise and Reign of the Mammals: A New History, from the Shadow of the Dinosaurs to Us. Boston: Mariner Books, 2022. (see page 326)
Most would escape into drink or theater. Thomas Jefferson escaped into mammoths. And this wasn’t a side hobby, this man was ordering generals to hunt down mammoth skeletons.
But Steven Brusatte reveals, this obsession did have other motivations. Mainly debunking Comte de Buffon’s theory that North American climates spawned weak animal species and cold people. Thomas Jefferson wasn’t letting that shit stand! He fought back with mammoths:
But he had grander reasons, too. In a bestselling book, the noble French naturalist Comte de Buffon had presented his “Theory of American Degeneracy,” which held that the cool and wet climates of North America caused its animals to be “feeble” and its people to be “cold,” compared to the grandeur of the Old World. Hyper with patriotism, Jefferson saw the mammoth — an elephant larger than those of Africa and Asia! — as his ultimate comeback. It was proof that America was not a backwater, but a land of vitality, with a bright and industrious future.
Brusatte, Steven. The Rise and Reign of the Mammals: A New History, from the Shadow of the Dinosaurs to Us. Boston: Mariner Books, 2022. (see page 326)
Could you imagine today, a mammoth, a prehistoric creature of any kind, being used as a smack-talk comeback for international rhetoric?
Or a mammoth being a symbol of vitality?
Or having a president that cared at all about mammoths?
MZS: How do you work out ideas for costumes before they’re sewn? Do you draw rough versions of them in a sketchbook and then have somebody do more elaborate illustrations when the ideas have settled a bit?
MC: On the other two movies I did with Wes, The Life Aquatic and the Darjeeling Limited, I applied traditional sketching methods to design the look of the characters. On this one, our illustrators used both Photoshop and traditional sketching to incorporate Wes’s and my own ideas. With Photoshop we could get very close to the actors’ likenesses, and then easily do variations and send them to Wes via e-mail. The actors were very pleased because they could relate easily to how their character would look. Having worked on two of Wes’s other movies, I had already worked with some of his “ensemble” actors and it was interesting to change them again to these other characters. Wes had decided that all the men in the movie would have moustaches or beards, save for Jopling and the nasty sergeant in the train. I loved this idea, and it is curios that hardly anyone notices this detail–but it gives a style to the men’s looks.
Zoller Seitz, Matt. The Wes Anderson Collection: The Grand Budapest Hotel. New York: Abrams, 2015 (see page 89)
Costume design is an overlooked art form. When done well it’s hardly noticed, but adds to the world as a character. The 2017 American film Lady Bird is an excellent example. Anyone who grew up in 90s suburban America will recognize that movie and say yes! Yes! That’s exactly how a pre-teen leaving mass would dress 30 years ago.
University of Toronto professor Alexandra Ghostafson shares her tips for reading philosophy. They’re superb tips for reading anything really.
Download the pdf here.
Starting out, read twice. Read once quickly to get the gist of the paper, and once more slowly to get the details. This can be time consuming, but it still takes less time than trying to both orient yourself and get all the details in the first pass!
Take reading notes. During the first pass, make notes for yourself in the margin of the paper. Point out places you want to pay closer attention to on the second go, and highlight sections that seem especially important. After this first pass, you might want to write down initial impression or questions for yourself to answer after your second read–these might be about what the author is doing in a certain section, what a certain term means, etc.
Find the argument. On the second pass, you might start with finding the author’s conclusion, or what it is they are arguing for. Once you’ve found what they are arguing for, read the paper from start to finish looking for premises—these are reasons that the author gives for accepting their conclusion. Make note of where they are in the paper, writing down page numbers. The premises together with the conclusion make up the author’s argument.
Rewrite the argument. Once you’ve reread the paper and have found the author’s argument, try to paraphrase it. Writing it down in your own words will help you think about what the author is saying and whether it seems plausible to you.
Write down your thoughts. If you are able to answer any of the questions you wrote for yourself after your first reading, do so. Do you have any new questions? Write them down! These questions might have more depth to them than before-for instance, are there any premises that seem especially convincing or unconvincing? Why? Are there any background presuppositions that the author seems to be committed to? What are they and why does the author hold them? Your questions also might not be philosophical, but methodological: why does the author do what she does in section X? Not all your questions have to be ‘deep’, however-it’s perfectly fine to ask what an author’s conclusion is if you can’t find it, or what the purpose of reading this paper is! Whatever your questions or impressions, write them down.
Bring the material and your notes to class. Bring the paper and what you wrote down about it with you to class! Asking a question that you wrote down when you read the material helps take off some of the pressure of coming up with a question on the spot. Plus, if someone else has your same question, class discussion may help you answer it! And again, bring the paper with you, too-having the paper to refer to will help facilitate class discussion and your own understanding.
Revisit the paper. After class, you might want to revisit the paper or the question you wrote down about it. Has your impression remained the same? Have you answered all your questions? Do you have new ones? Keep going!
Rewriting the argument in your own words is a powerful practice. In his book, How to Take Smart Notes, Sönke Ahren’s also highlights the value of “translating” a text into your own words:
We tend to think we understand what we read – until we try to rewrite it in our own words. By doing this, we not only get a better sense of our ability to understand, but also increase our ability to clearly and concisely express our understanding – which in return helps to grasp ideas more quickly.
Ahren, Sönke. How to Take Smart Notes: One Simple Technique to Boost Writing, Learning and Thinking – for Students, Academics and Nonfiction Book Writers. Sönke Ahren, 2017. (see page 54)
“I had not before encountered this sort of ambition, unabashed frankly egotistical, communicating it’s excitement, and extorting sympathy.
It was not that he was without the faculty of self-criticism. He could laugh of his dreams of glory and he had an impish fun.”
Unnamed journalist from the Manchester Guardian. The Rest is History podcast episode 241, Young Churchill: Prisoner and Fugitive
That from The Rest is History podcast, with Tom Holland and Dominic Sandbrook. The backstory here is young Churchill is traveling on a ship with a journalist from the Manchester Guardian. After spending a few days observing young Winnie this was his brilliant description.
Ambition combined with the ability to laugh at one’s self. Potent mix, that.
Listen to more exquisite Rest of History pods below:
Twitter isn’t all terrible. Recently rabbi, poet, and podcaster, Zohar Atkins posted a thread of his reflections on the Great Books.
He begins with the question: “What makes for a Great Book? And how should you approach one?”



A great list of the Great Books can be found on the St. John’s College Great Books curriculum page. Many of the titles are intimidating. Like Herodotus’ Histories, and Antoine Lavoisier’s Elements of Chemistry. But one shouldn’t avoid the intimidating.
There are surprises too. Works like Benjamin Franklin’s Excerpt from several letters to Peter Collinson on the nature of electricity” and Alfred Hitchcock, Selected movies.
Reading one intimidating text, and one surprising text, could be an optimal entry point.
He wrote of Brasília the way some write of Paris or New York. With reverence and adoration. Three exclamation points and an all caps shout-out? That’s love right there.
Up into the sky! To the broad heavens! High above the earth: the white city, the Venus city: BRASÍLIA!
Representative Marco opens every door to me. But Brasília has no doors: it is bright space, an extension of the mind, radiance become architecture. The public areas throb with children, the palaces lend implicit dignity to their institutions. The architect Italo, a friend of Niemayer’s, has been ten years in Brasília, and takes us on a tour of the new Itamaraty, the Congress, the still-unfinished theater, and the Cathedral, a rose of iron whose great petals open toward infinity.
Brasília, isolated in its human miracle, in the midst of Brazilian space, testimony to man’s supreme creative will. From this city one would feel worthy of flying to the stars. Niemayer is the terminus of a parabola that begins with Leonardo: the utility of constructive thought; creation as social obligation; spatial satisfaction of intelligence.
Neruda, Pablo. Passions and Impressions. Trans. Margaret Sayers Peden. Ed. Matilde Neruda and Miguel Otero Silva. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1983. (see pages 193,194)
But why Neruda’s adoration of Brasília? Over Sao Palo? Over Rio? Timing I suspect.
When Passions and Impressions was printed in 1978, Brasília was a bebê. An infant city of eighteen years. The Cathedral of Brasília had only been completed eight years previously. And the intent of Brasília’s creation was to be a global city of progress. The E.P.C.O.T. or World City of South America.
Brasília was an ambitious project. Not only in design and scope, but in time. A city built from scratch in only five years? It deserves a spot on Patrick Collision’s “Fast” list.
That’s my theory of his overarching message.
In his latest post Bryan details why, despite the potential blow back, he only writes controversial books:
– Bryan Caplan
- I want to advance human knowledge. While I have many conventional views, multiple books ably defending these conventional views almost always already exist.
- I want to excel in my writing. My greatest intellectual strengths – imagination and iconoclasm – help me create high-quality controversial works. They wouldn’t help me craft conventional works. Probably the opposite, really.
- I want to enjoy my work. While I have many conventional views, they rarely excite me. Controversy is fun.
- The world is wrong, in the spell of an array of bizarre political religions. As a result, the controversial position is often true despite its unpopularity.
But it’s not only Bryan’s words, but actions.
This past spring he completed a speaking tour of Eastern Europe during Russia’s invasion.
In the summer he did standup at the Comedy Cellar.
After years of running his own blog, he moved to Substack. And encouraged every other blogger to do so as well.
It all comes back to the same message. Be brave! Learn more!
Stumble around with a new hobby. Move to a new state. Explore a world view you may disagree with. Have more kids!
No risk. No knowledge.
What you’ll learn by being brave will almost always out weigh the fear.
Looking up iconoclasm now…
About four days from the enchanted stream they came to a part where most of the trees were beeches. They were at first inclined to be cheered by the change, for here there was no undergrowth and the shadow was not so deep. There was a greenish light about them, and in places they could see some distance to either side of the path. Yet the light only showed them endless lines of straight grey trunks like the pillars of some huge twilight hall. There was a breath of air and a noise of wind, but had a sad sound. A few leaves came rustling down to remind them that outside was coming on. Their feet ruffled among the dead leaves of countless other autumns that drifted over the banks of the path from the deep red carpets of the forest.
Tolkien, J.R.R.. The Hobbit or There and Back Again. New York: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1997. (See pages 128,129)
We’ll let Mr. Baggins, Beorn, Thorin, Fili, Balin, Ori, Nori, Bifur, Bofur, Gloin, Dori, and bumbling Bombur usher us into fall.
McPhee has built a career on…small detonations of knowledge. His mind is pure curiosity: It aspires to flow into every last corner of the world, especially the places most of us overlook…McPhee’s work is not melancholy, macabre, sad or defeatist. It is full of life. Learning, for him, is a way of loving the world, savoring it, before it’s gone. In the grand cosmology of John McPhee, all the earth’s facts touch one another-all its regions, creatures, and eras. It’s absences and presences. Fish, trucks, atoms, bears, whiskey, grass, rocks, lacrosse, weird prehistoric oysters, grandchildren and Pangea. Every part of time touches every other part of time.
– Sam Anderson
McPhee, John. The Patch. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2018 (see back cover blurb, hardcover edition)
I wanted to capture this passage for the language: Words like macabre and detonations stoke the linguistic fires. And nudge me towards the dictionary.
But also, it’s a returning theme in this commonplace book – curiosity.
The people that fascinate me; the Thomas Jeffersons, the Paul Otlets, the Temple Grandins, the Benjamin Rushes, are eternally curious. And curious about an eternal amount of subjects.
Sam Anderson is spot on. Learning is a way to love and savor our world.