Pie in the Sky

I was delighted to tell this couple the print they had picked up for less than the price of a pizza was the work of the most celebrated figurative artist of the 20th century.

— Will Gilding

A British couple bought an £18,000 print for £12, only because they liked the frame that came with it.

The print is one of an edition of 46 signed and numbered in 1998 by Britain's greatest 20th-century figurative artist, Lucian Freud.

The couple began bidding in auctions for fun last spring, during a Covid-19 lockdown. 

They bought a lot of two picture frames for £12 one day, and were given the print, attached to two pieces of cardboard, because it was part of the lot.

The husband decided to use the cardboard as a drip-pan while he worked on his motorcycle, and tossed the print aside. 

But it suddenly appeared one afternoon on the BBC show Secrets of the Museum.

The gleeful couple contacted auctioneer Will Gilding, who verified the print's authenticity and set its price at £18,000—a lot of dough for the price of a pizza.

The original etching would cost millions, Gilding says.

The lucky couple's print goes on auction in November.

Lucian Freud, grandson of Sigmund, is best known for fiercely realistic portraits of friends and family members, who often sat months on end for the finicky artist.

The couple's print depicts Freud's assistant, the artist David Dawson.

NOTE: £18,000 equals US$24,800.

Leg Up

Eighty-two years ago today, nylons went on sale to the public for the first time.

Inventor DuPont had chosen Braunstein's, a women's fashion store in Wilmington, Delaware, as the test site for sales of its new "miracle yarn." 

Four thousand pairs of nylons sold the first hour. 

"Women went nuts," storeowner David Braunstein told the local paper. 

They climbed over the counters, nearly crushing the clerks, to get their hands on the product, then fled the store with their purchases to try them on.

The curbs were lined all day with frenzied women slipping on their new hosiery.

We scoff at it today, but in 1939 Dupont's Nylon, the first commercially viable artificial fiber, was a "modern wonder" and a breakthrough in textile manufacturing. 

The first successful synthetic polymer, it was also a breakthrough in chemical engineering.

Nylon only came about because DuPont's executives a decade earlier had decided to forego profits and, like Bell Telephone, invest in "pure science." (DuPont's previous efforts at "applied" science had produced only Rayon, a cellulose fiber that flopped, because it sagged and crumbled.)

Although disdained by academics, DuPont's executives managed to attract Harvard chemist Wallace Carothers to lead the company's research team.

Within four years, working without constraints, Carothers' researchers synthesized the first polymer by linking short resins into long chains of molecules. 

Eight years later, they created a silky "artificial yarn" they derived from coal tar.

DuPont dubbed the creation "Nylon" and produced over two million pounds of the stuff that same year, turning all of it into women's stockings.

The company captured nearly a third of the US hosiery market within 12 months.

You could say pure science gave DuPont a leg up on the competition.

NOTE: Learn how Nylon and Braunstein's fought World War II.

Ship of Fools

No one is entitled to be ignorant.

— Harlan Ellison

Investigators this week found that a $2 billion warship burned because no one aboard turned on the fire-suppression system, according to US Naval Institute News.

The USS Bonhomme Richard burned last summer because its crew didn't know how to fight a fire, investigators concluded.

The fire-suppression system could have been activated, and the warship saved, by the push of a single button.

"It is surprising that nobody on the scene knew how to activate the system," a defense expert said.

A number of other missteps, including delays in reporting the fire, a disorganized command response, and a failure to seal off the area where the fire began, only worsened the situation.

The Navy blamed 36 individuals, including five admirals, for the ship's loss.

The incident is the second of its kind in eight years.

The USS Miami, a $ 1.6 billion submarine, burned in 2012.

The fatalist in me says catastrophes like the one aboard the Bonhomme Richard are overdetermined—brought about not by one, but by a "cascade of failures."

You could chalk the disaster up to hubris; but I'm more apt to blame sheer ignorance.

Americans have a romance with ignorance. It's at the bottom of most the errors and bad decisions we make, from investing in subprime mortgages to electing Donald Trump.

Our unfathomable ignorance is inexcusable, given how easy it is to become moderately informed about almost any topic. (Google it.)

Our widespread ignorance is willful, woeful, and thoroughly unconscionable.

We get what we deserve.

POSTSCRIPT: I felt a bit crabby when I penned this post. But less than 24 hours later, Maria Shriver wrote "most people don't want the truth," citing Trump's launch of his new social media platform TRUTH. She's right, by gum.   

Becoming Unamerican

Americanism in all its forms seems trashy
and wasteful and crude.

— Christopher Hitchens

Shockwaves coursed through the superhero universe this weekend following the announcement by DC Comics that the slogan of Superman, its 83-year-old Man of Steel, would be revised.

"Truth, Justice and A Better Tomorrow" will replace Superman's former slogan, "Truth, Justice and the American Way."

While Superman was unavailable for comment, Goodly reached seven other superheroes for their reaction to the news.

"Holy defamation!" said Robin, Boy Wonder and sidekick to Batman. "This upsets an 80-year tradition of honoring Superman's adopted country. It feels like Buddy Holly has died all over."

"Trump's chickens have come home"

Wonder Woman expressed no surprise at the announcement, citing various foreign-policy positions taken by former president Donald Trump. 

"All of Trump's chickens have come home to roost," she told Goodly. 

"America's image globally is in the toilet thanks to him. It's like facing Kryptonite to tell someone overseas you're an American. I can't fault DC Comics for its decision to distance Superman from this country."

Referring obscenely to the company's management, the Incredible Hulk asked, "What are they smoking over there? Sure, I support diversity and inclusivity as much as the next guy, but this takes things too far. It's not patriotic. Next, they'll announce Superman's gay."

DC Comics in fact announced that the "new" Superman, Jon Kent, introduced in July as the son of Clark Kent, is gay and will date a gay refugee reporter in a forthcoming issue of the comic book.

Jon Kent and BFF

The announcement of Clark Kent Superman's new slogan particularly offended the ears of Captain America. 

"I guess they'll have to change my name too now," he lamented. "I'll never get used to 'Captain Tomorrow.' Sounds like a brand of laxative. I'd rather just be called 'Steve.'"

But Supergirl was sanguine about her cousin Superman's new slogan.

"Does it really matter?" she asked philosophically. "People got upset when Avis dropped 'We Try Harder.' They're still in business, last time I checked."

Whether a rebranded Superman will remain in business another 80 years is anyone's guess, however.

"'A Better Tomorrow' isn't a slogan, it's an aspiration," said Ironman. "It sets a higher bar for the Man of Steel. All Americans can benefit from a higher bar."

"I think 'A Better Tomorrow' sounds quite timely, given the immanence of climate change," said Conan the Barbarian, adding, "We don't all agree about America's role on the world stage in the future, but we can all agree about one thing—that the day after today will be tomorrow."

UPDATE: Hyperallegic reports that several right-wing media outlets have lashed out at Jon Kent's sexual orientation. No superheroes were available for comment.

Get the Name of the Dog

My task is, by the power of the written word, 

to make you hear, to make you feel—it is, 

before all, to make you see.

— Joseph Conrad

In The Elements of Style, Strunk and White pooh-pooh lazy writers—the majority—because they're so often satisfied with imprecision.

You see their slothfulness on display every day:

• "The Searchers is the greatest Western ever made."
  
  
• "The number of Americans diagnosed with 'broken heart' syndrome has steadily risen in the past 15 years."
  
  
• "Some records from The British Invasion in the mid-'60s can be very valuable."

By saying so little, sentences like these tax readers' minds. They squander readers' energy in guessing what the writer means to say.

Good writing avoids imprecision by drawing word-pictures.

Word-pictures comprise concrete details—specifics—that allow readers easily to imagine the world the writer seeks to depict. 

Anything less is filler. Eyewash. Baloney. Horse hockey.

• "The Searchers is the greatest Western ever made" merely tells you the writer likes this cowboy movie.

• "The number of Americans diagnosed with 'broken heart' syndrome has steadily risen in the past 15 years" merely tells you that incidents of a weird disease have increased.

• "Some records from The British Invasion in the mid-'60s can be very valuable" merely tells you there's demand for vinyl recordings by bands like Peter & Gordon.

Precision, on the other hand, would have told you, among other things, what distinguishes The Searchers from all the other hundreds of Westerns; how fast cases of "broken heart" are accelerating—and whether the disease affects a lot of people, or only a few; and which mop-top bands' records are hot.

Lazy writers favor the generic, as Victorian sociologist Herbert Spencer said in The Philosophy of Style; and, because they do, they always leave readers guessing. They should, instead, aim to produce "vivid impressions" with their words.

Writers should avoid, Spencer said, abstract sentences like "When the manners, customs, and amusements of a nation are cruel and barbarous, the penal code will be severe." They should write instead "When men delight in battles, bullfights, and gladiatorial combat, they will punish by hanging, burning, and the rack."

Spencer calls the use of vivid word-pictures a "thorough maxim of composition."

Writing coach Peter Roy Clark calls Spencer's maxim "Get the name of the dog" (or the "Fido Theorem").

"Such was my affection for this writing strategy," Clark once told an interviewer, "I wanted to use it as a book title. 

"Anticipating the literalism of SEO, my publisher decided the title should reflect what the book was really about. In the end, Get the Name of the Dog became Writing Tools: 50 Essential Strategies for Every Writer. 

"Get the name of the dog" does appear in Clark's Writing Tools as Tool Number 14. But it's much more important.

"It ranks as Number 1 in my heart," Clark said. "Every strategic move I’ve shared over 30 years derives its existence from the Fido Theorem. 

"'Get the name of the dog' stands, for me, for the whole. In other words, if the writer remembers to get the dog’s name, he or she will be curious enough and attentive enough to gather all the relevant details in their epiphanic particularity."

Got an email to write? A memo? A report? 

Get the name of the dog.