The Best Things I Read: Longevity Freaks, A Word Bible, New Space Travelers, and The Mafia Comes to Dinner.
Here’s some good writing and a book about “writing good” …
The Bulletproof Coffee guy is hopeful, nuts.
Let’s just start with this:
Asprey, who is 45, has made the widely publicized claim that he expects to live to 180. To that end, he plans to get his own stem cells injected into him every six months, take 100 supplements a day, follow a strict diet, bathe in infrared light, hang out in a hyperbaric oxygen chamber, and wear goofy yellow-lensed glasses every time he gets on an airplane. So far, Asprey says he’s spent at least a million dollars hacking his own biology, and making it to 2153 will certainly take several million more.
That’s from Rachel Monroe’s profile of Dave Asprey, the godfather of biohacking. The guys is indeed as fascinating as he is bizarre (just wait until you read the story’s first paragraph, which explains all the different places Asprey injects his stem cells).
That Asprey believes he can be saved by science reminded me of a piece by my friend Dr. Doug Kechijian, who wrote:
Before “biohacking” was a thing, “anti-aging” was already alive and well in the medical community. Like organized religion, science is a vehicle for hope. Religion comforts us about the spiritual world, including what happens after we die, and science comforts us about the physical world by rendering everything seemingly knowable. Both domains ultimately provide hope and guidance in the face of uncertainty.
In the words of David Foster Wallace: “Here’s something else that’s weird but true: in the day-to-day trenches of adult life, there is actually no such thing as atheism. There is no such thing as not worshipping. Everybody worships. The only choice we get is what to worship.”
A book for word nerds.
Speaking of the man, I recently found myself in a David Foster Wallace YouTube rabbit hole, which eventually led me into this weird interview, where a man called Bryan A. Garner, a usage expert and professor of law, interviews Wallace about the art of writing, specifically on the usage of “prior to.” The guy intrigued me.
Wallace believed Garner was “a genius” of words, and had written a lengthy piece about his work in a 2001 issue of Harpers. So I bought a copy of A Dictionary of Modern American Usage, Garner’s opus.
The thing’s a tome. We’re talking 1,120 pages on words and how to use them. Which sounds intimidating. But the book draws you in with wit and wisdom and an approach to language that’s laid back and interesting.
For example, you’ll learn why writing should be grammatical but relaxed, refined but natural, correct but unpedantic (and how to make it so). You’ll also learn, quite literally, the optimal way to use any word or phrase you could ever think of.
Buy it if you write.
The best space travelers are the least fit.
“Fitness” is the ability to perform a task. In the gym: Lift some weight or run some distance. In the office: Make the company money. Fitness in outer space? The ultimate goal is to collect data. But doing that is complicated. It requires performing everyday task in a totally new, awkward world: going to the bathroom in an odd toilet, using odd machines to move around in zero G, not becoming motion sick when the shuttle is hurtling 17,500 miles per hour through space, and more.
To that end, NASA has developed absolutely insane training programs for astronauts. But, as Rose Eveleth writes in Wired, the space program may be overlooking the best candidates: people who do this kind of “training”—negotiating a world not built for them—daily.
The assumption has long been that this training is a necessity—traveling to space is a mentally and physically grueling endeavor. We need the strongest, smartest, most adaptable among us to go. But strength comes in many forms, as do smarts. And if you want to find people who are the very best at adapting to worlds not suited for them, you’ll have the best luck looking at people with disabilities, who navigate such a world every single day. Which has led disability advocates to raise the question: What actually is the right stuff?
Leave the gun. Take the cannoli.
Have you ever eaten olives, olive oil, parmesan, or cured meat? Then your meal has likely been influenced by the mafia, according to this epic piece in the Financial Times:
Siphoning off farm subsidies does not carry the same dubious “glamour” as the racketeering or drug running usually associated with the Mafia. But it has become a highly lucrative income stream for Italy’s organized-crime syndicates. Their forays into farming do not end there: in recent years, they have infiltrated the entire food chain, according to a Rome-based think-tank, the Observatory of Crime in Agriculture and the Food Chain.
As in all good mob tales, this one has wise guys, death threats, hits, Omerta, and, of course, copious amounts of Italian food. |