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If You're Wondering Who We Are...
May. 25th, 2004 04:33 amI'm in a morbid mood tonight for some reason. Actually, I probably know why. I've got one friend with cancer and another having gradual heart failure. My mother's health doesn't seem to be the best, either. I just found out today too that one other good friend is being kicked out of her house by her former mate, although she's got offers for places to live, at least.
*****
This weekend I got to watch Monaco for the first time in years. For some reason they finally moved it off of memorial Day, so I can see it again. Like Ecclestone said in his interview, it's really not much of a track, and seldom much of a race, but it /is/ Monaco.
Takuma Sato continues to make an impression. He started eighth here, and ended up fourth by the first corner. Michael Schumacher tried to intimidate him by closing the line on him at the start, but Sato was having none of it, and banged wheels with Schumacher as he passed him. He came very close to having second place at Ste. Devote, but lost out in a three way tussle with two more experienced drivers and had to settle for fourth. Sadly, his engine began to smoke almost immediately, and exploded three laps later. This caused a horrible looking accident at the New Chicane with Fisichella ending up flipped over, but no-one was hurt. David Hobbes said what was on a lot of minds when he remarked on how eerily similar the scene was to Bandini's crash at the same place so many years ago, with the cloud of white smoke drifting up from the harbor straight.
There's always something evocative and chilling about being at the race track and seeing a big cloud of smoke or dust rising over another part of the track. There's a terrible deja-vu in all those moments, when you hear an engine suddenly rise in pitch and cut out, and then see the dust billowing.
*****
On the bright side, someone has an unusually nice souvenir of the race. Some doofus decided that it'd be a good promotional gimmick for his jewelry store to mount uber-expensive diamonds (like $250k or so) on the nosecones of the Jaguars. Christian Klien lost control and pounded the nose of his car to fragments the first time by the Loew's hairpin. The track marshals quite properly wouldn't allow access to the debris until the race had ended. The diamond, of course, couldn't be found. Now there's much crying and gnashing of teeth from the diamond merchant :) They didn't get the thing insured, because that would have been 'prohibitively expensive'. There's probably a reason why that is.
*****
Monaco has the bravest marshals of any venue, I think. There's no safety zone at all on that track, it's so narrow. It's like stepping back in time to between the Wars. The whole world used to be like that, without any kind of safety margin.
In 1933 Sir Henry Birkin, a famous race driver, died from septicemia. Most people think this was brought about as a result of burning his arm on the exhaust pipe, although some say it came from a mosquito bite. It's frightening, the stuff that people used to die from. It's hard to imagine a world where any break in your skin could kill you.
*****
I've heard it positted that the fear of a general, worldwide famine was one of the driving forces behind the 1930s obsession with the concept of 'food as fuel', rather than as something to be enjoyed. It was an enduring, if annoying meme, the idea of one's body as a machine that needed to be fueled. It kept popping up in our health books into the early 70s, IIRC. I'm guessing that the people who wrote those probably came of age in the 30s.
It was always clear from the way the idea was presented that it was something that seemed appealing to the author, too. I think that there was an expectation that this idea would immediately capture children's imaginations, and make us *want* to view ourselves this way. For my part I found it a painfully stretched and simplistic analogy, and an ugly one at that, although in the 4th or 5th grade I limited myself to describing the concept as 'retarded', without really being quite so introspective as to be able to say *why* I found it so distasteful. Those of my classmates who were actually alive enough to form opinions (among children as among adults, the majority seem incapable of thinking anything that they've not been told to think) seemed to agree.
I thought of myself most emphatically as Animal. I still do. I'm certainly no Rifkinite - I love my machines and technology, and I'd not be averse to having myself blended with them to some degree. Neither am I a Futurist, though, as much as I enjoy their art. Technology is here to serve me, not I it. I feel comfortable with technology. These two things distinguish me from the Futurists and the Rifkinites.
At some point during the late 40s or early 50s the Futurist nightmare died, and technology again became something to be used for one's gain, rather than something to be uneasily accomodated. I think this is where the modern Furry was born, at the moment when an admission of one's animal nature no longer carried that crippling fear of not being able to keep up with the machines.
*****
Porsupah posted a nice analogy of how cybernetics co-evolve with humans, with our survival becoming the mechanism of theirs, much as the drones in a beehive depend upon the queen to pass on their genetic heritage. It's a strange but sensible meme.
My can opener advances my cause, because I advance my can opener's cause.
*****
This weekend I got to watch Monaco for the first time in years. For some reason they finally moved it off of memorial Day, so I can see it again. Like Ecclestone said in his interview, it's really not much of a track, and seldom much of a race, but it /is/ Monaco.
Takuma Sato continues to make an impression. He started eighth here, and ended up fourth by the first corner. Michael Schumacher tried to intimidate him by closing the line on him at the start, but Sato was having none of it, and banged wheels with Schumacher as he passed him. He came very close to having second place at Ste. Devote, but lost out in a three way tussle with two more experienced drivers and had to settle for fourth. Sadly, his engine began to smoke almost immediately, and exploded three laps later. This caused a horrible looking accident at the New Chicane with Fisichella ending up flipped over, but no-one was hurt. David Hobbes said what was on a lot of minds when he remarked on how eerily similar the scene was to Bandini's crash at the same place so many years ago, with the cloud of white smoke drifting up from the harbor straight.
There's always something evocative and chilling about being at the race track and seeing a big cloud of smoke or dust rising over another part of the track. There's a terrible deja-vu in all those moments, when you hear an engine suddenly rise in pitch and cut out, and then see the dust billowing.
*****
On the bright side, someone has an unusually nice souvenir of the race. Some doofus decided that it'd be a good promotional gimmick for his jewelry store to mount uber-expensive diamonds (like $250k or so) on the nosecones of the Jaguars. Christian Klien lost control and pounded the nose of his car to fragments the first time by the Loew's hairpin. The track marshals quite properly wouldn't allow access to the debris until the race had ended. The diamond, of course, couldn't be found. Now there's much crying and gnashing of teeth from the diamond merchant :) They didn't get the thing insured, because that would have been 'prohibitively expensive'. There's probably a reason why that is.
*****
Monaco has the bravest marshals of any venue, I think. There's no safety zone at all on that track, it's so narrow. It's like stepping back in time to between the Wars. The whole world used to be like that, without any kind of safety margin.
In 1933 Sir Henry Birkin, a famous race driver, died from septicemia. Most people think this was brought about as a result of burning his arm on the exhaust pipe, although some say it came from a mosquito bite. It's frightening, the stuff that people used to die from. It's hard to imagine a world where any break in your skin could kill you.
*****
I've heard it positted that the fear of a general, worldwide famine was one of the driving forces behind the 1930s obsession with the concept of 'food as fuel', rather than as something to be enjoyed. It was an enduring, if annoying meme, the idea of one's body as a machine that needed to be fueled. It kept popping up in our health books into the early 70s, IIRC. I'm guessing that the people who wrote those probably came of age in the 30s.
It was always clear from the way the idea was presented that it was something that seemed appealing to the author, too. I think that there was an expectation that this idea would immediately capture children's imaginations, and make us *want* to view ourselves this way. For my part I found it a painfully stretched and simplistic analogy, and an ugly one at that, although in the 4th or 5th grade I limited myself to describing the concept as 'retarded', without really being quite so introspective as to be able to say *why* I found it so distasteful. Those of my classmates who were actually alive enough to form opinions (among children as among adults, the majority seem incapable of thinking anything that they've not been told to think) seemed to agree.
I thought of myself most emphatically as Animal. I still do. I'm certainly no Rifkinite - I love my machines and technology, and I'd not be averse to having myself blended with them to some degree. Neither am I a Futurist, though, as much as I enjoy their art. Technology is here to serve me, not I it. I feel comfortable with technology. These two things distinguish me from the Futurists and the Rifkinites.
At some point during the late 40s or early 50s the Futurist nightmare died, and technology again became something to be used for one's gain, rather than something to be uneasily accomodated. I think this is where the modern Furry was born, at the moment when an admission of one's animal nature no longer carried that crippling fear of not being able to keep up with the machines.
*****
Porsupah posted a nice analogy of how cybernetics co-evolve with humans, with our survival becoming the mechanism of theirs, much as the drones in a beehive depend upon the queen to pass on their genetic heritage. It's a strange but sensible meme.
My can opener advances my cause, because I advance my can opener's cause.
