Friday, June 24, 2011
Friday, June 10, 2011
This little article from the New Yorker online archives is so random, but totally cracked me up:
I have little knowledge of, or affection for, horses (I have been kicked by them, bitten by them, stepped on by them, and thrown from the tops of them), and I would just as soon see the one hundred and thirteenth swimming of the Dugong Derby as see the Belmont, but I do like events, and I have to take what is available or stay home. (The events offered in this area on Saturday were a crafts expo, an energy fair, and a skate-a-thon.) What I learned from Larousse [“Encyclopedia of Animal Life”] was: “Horses, asses, zebras … are monodactyl, the functional digit being the middle one…. The different parts of a horse’s limbs must be clearly understood. The upper parts … down to the elbow or knee, are enclosed within the outline of the body…. The visible parts of the legs begin with what correspond to our forearms and shins. Thus, what is commonly called the knee in a horse is really the wrist, and the equivalent posterior joint, the hock, is really an ankle.”…
This means, I realized, that if a man were to race against a horse—in a fair race—he would have to “race” lying down, balanced on one knuckle of each hand and foot; that is, “running” with his wrists, forearms, shins, and ankles only. (Illustration A.) The horse would have a clear advantage in such a contest, but you have got to give the horse a lot of respect for running like that in the first place.
—James Stevenson, “Belmont Stakes,” June 22, 1981
Hahahhaaa, right!? I am just tired or is it actually that funny?!? Anyway, good stuff, NYer.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
I've only read one story so far (busted) and-- turns out-- it wasn't even fiction. It sounds like Lahiri and read the same books as kids though:
I learned what my fictional companions ate and wore, learned how they spoke, learned about the toys scattered in their rooms, how they sat by the fire on a cold day drinking hot chocolate. I learned about the vacations they took, the blueberries they picked, the jams their mothers stirred on the stove. For me, the act of reading was one of discovery in the most basic sense.
Also in this issue: