Futility Closet - 352-A Victorian Hippopotamus
Episode Date: July 26, 2021In 1850, England received a distinguished guest: A baby hippopotamus arrived at the London Zoo. Obaysch was an instant celebrity, attracting throngs of visitors while confounding his inexperienced ke...epers. In this week's episode of the Futility Closet podcast we'll describe his long tenure at the zoo, more than 4,000 miles from his Egyptian home. We'll also remark on a disappearing signature and puzzle over a hazardous hand sign. Intro: In 1969 Rolling Stone invented a fake album with a real fanbase. In 1990 Terence King invented hand-holding gloves. Sources for our feature on Obaysch: John Simons, Obaysch: A Hippopotamus in Victorian London, 2019. Edgar Williams, Hippopotamus, 2017. Takashi Ito, London Zoo and the Victorians, 1828-1859, 2014. Helen Cowie, Exhibiting Animals in Nineteenth-Century Britain: Empathy, Education, Entertainment, 2014. Hannah Velten, Beastly London: A History of Animals in the City, 2013. John Toman, Kilvert's World of Wonders: Growing up in Mid-Victorian England, 2013. Peter Loriol, Famous and Infamous Londoners, 2004. Wilfrid Blunt, The Ark in the Park, 1976. Abraham Dee Bartlett, Wild Animals in Captivity: Being an Account of the Habits, Food, Management and Treatment of the Beasts and Birds at the 'Zoo,' with Reminiscences and Anecdotes, 1898. George C. Bompas, Life of Frank Buckland, 1885. Clara L. Matéaux, Rambles Round London Town, 1884. Charles Knight, ed., The English Cyclopaedia, 1867. Zoological Society of London, The Zoological Gardens: A Description of the Gardens and Menageries of the Royal Zoological Society, 1853. David William Mitchell, A Popular Guide to the Gardens of the Zoological Society of London, 1852. Wendy Woodward, "John Simons. Obaysch: A Hippopotamus in Victorian London [review]," Animal Studies Journal 9:1 (2020), 221-223. Ronald D. Morrison, "Dickens, London Zoo, and 'Household Words,'" Nineteenth-Century Prose 46:1 (Spring 2019), 75-96. Andrew J. P. Flack, "'The Illustrious Stranger': Hippomania and the Nature of the Exotic," Anthrozoös, 26:1 (2013), 43-59. S. Mary P. Benbow, "Death and Dying at the Zoo," Journal of Popular Culture 37:3 (February 2004), 379-398. David M. Schwartz, "Snatching Scientific Secrets From the Hippo's Gaping Jaws," Smithsonian 26:12 (March 1996), 90-102. Nina J. Root, "Victorian England's Hippomania," Natural History 102:2 (February 1993), 34. "Madam Hippo's Way," Youth's Companion 73:31 (Aug. 3, 1890). James Bradley, "The Lessons to Learn Today From a Hippopotamus in the 19th Century," Sydney Morning Herald, June 7, 2019. "What Are the World's Deadliest Animals?" BBC News, June 15, 2016. "Rhino Escapes and Bonnets-Stealing Elephants: The Amateurish Early Days of London Zoo Revealed," Telegraph, Jan. 13, 2017. "At the Zoo," Australian Star, Nov. 28, 1903. "Wild Animals Captivity," [London] Morning Post, March 14, 1899. "An Eminent Naturalist," [London] Standard, Feb. 11, 1899. "A Life in the Zoo," [London] Daily News, May 10, 1897. "The Hippo and His Habits," Westminster Budget, June 21, 1895. "Hippo's Farewell," Punch 74 (March 23, 1878), 132. "Public Amusements," Lloyd's Illustrated Newspaper, March 17, 1878. "The Old Hippopotamus at the Zoological Society's Gardens Died on Monday Night," Illustrated London News 72:2020, March 16, 1878. "Death of a Hippopotamus at the Zoological Gardens," Yorkshire Herald, March 14, 1878. Listener mail: Livia Gershon, "Maori May Have Reached Antarctica 1,000 Years Before Europeans," Smithsonian, June 14, 2021. Priscilla M. Wehi et al., "A Short Scan of Maori Journeys to Antarctica," Journal of the Royal Society of New Zealand, June 6, 2021. Tess McClure, "New Zealand Maori May Have Been First to Discover Antarctica, Study Suggests," Guardian, June 11, 2021. "Polynesian History & Origin," Wayfinders: A Pacific Odyssey, PBS (accessed July 15, 2021). Faye Fiore, "Getting Treated Like Royalty: Fans of Former Prime Minister Thatcher Flock to Her Book Signing," Los Angeles Times, Nov. 13, 1993. This week's lateral thinking puzzle was contributed by listener Marie Nearing. Here's a corroborating link (warning -- this spoils the puzzle). You can listen using the player above, download this episode directly, or subscribe on Google Podcasts, on Apple Podcasts, or via the RSS feed at https://futilitycloset.libsyn.com/rss. Please consider becoming a patron of Futility Closet -- you can choose the amount you want to pledge, and we've set up some rewards to help thank you for your support. You can also make a one-time donation on the Support Us page of the Futility Closet website. Many thanks to Doug Ross for the music in this episode. If you have any questions or comments you can reach us at podcast@futilitycloset.com. Thanks for listening!
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Welcome to the Futility Closet podcast, forgotten stories from the pages of history.
Visit us online to sample more than 11,000 quirky curiosities from a phony supergroup
to romantic gloves.
This is episode 352.
I'm Greg Ross.
And I'm Sharon Ross. In 1850,
England received a distinguished guest. A baby hippopotamus arrived at the London Zoo.
Aubeich was an instant celebrity, attracting throngs of visitors while confounding his
inexperienced keepers. In today's show, we'll describe his long tenure at the zoo,
more than 4,000 miles from his
Egyptian home. We'll also remark on a disappearing signature and puzzle over a hazardous hand
sign.
And just a quick programming note, we'll be off next week, so we'll be back with a
new episode on August 9th.
note, we'll be off next week, so we'll be back with a new episode on August 9th.
By the middle of the 19th century, natural history had become a popular craze in England.
People collected butterflies, pressed flowers, hunted for shells along the seashore,
and visited woods and fields on birdwatching tours. Studying God's creations was considered morally uplifting and accorded with Victorian ideas of respectability.
English parlors abounded with fern collections, aquariums, seaweed albums, and butterfly cases,
and zoos and botanical parks attracted thousands of patrons who flocked to see rare and exotic species
that had been gathered from the corners of the empire.
The nation had not seen a hippopotamus since Roman times,
and the Zoological Society of London had been seeking to acquire one for a number of years.
An expedition had been planned in 1847, but couldn't find a suitable guide. Now, the British
consul general in Cairo, Sir Charles Adolphus Murray, was asked whether the Egyptian authorities
might be persuaded to capture a hippo that could be shipped to London. As it happened, the pasha loved horses, and he agreed to trade a hippo and some other
animals for the loan of a horse trainer, as well as some greyhounds and deerhounds. Accordingly,
when hunters killed a female hippo in early August 1849 on the island of Abaysh, south of Khartoum,
her one-year-old son was loaded aboard a specially designed boat and
conducted 1,400 miles down the Nile to Cairo, attended by 10 Nubian soldiers and fed on cow's
milk and dates. Six months later, Murray was able to write to the Zoological Society,
It is with the greatest satisfaction that I communicate to you the intelligence that I have
succeeded in obtaining for the Society, a live hippopotamus Murray, had a bath installed in the yard that could be warmed gently if necessary during the winter,
and he hired an experienced keeper named Hamet Safi Kanana. The hippo, which was named Abaish
after the island on which he was captured, spent six months apparently happily there.
Murray wrote, the hippopotamus is quite well and the delight of everyone who sees him. He is tame
and playful as a Newfoundland puppy, knows his keepers and follows them all over the courtyard. In May, arrangements were made to ship the hippo to Alexandria, from which he could take a steamer to England.
were made to ship the hippo to Alexandria, from which he could take a steamer to England.
Hamet had a padded cart constructed, and this carried Abaysh approximately 130 miles to the city, where 10,000 people turned out to see him, as hippos were rarely seen this far north.
Troops were called out to control the crowd and escort the hippo safely to the port.
On May 8th or 9th, Abaysh was loaded aboard the SS Rippon, which had been fitted with a
specially built hippopotamus house. Hamet and Abaysh both slept there during the journey,
and Abaysh bathed three or four times a day in its 400-gallon iron water tank.
A small herd of goats and cows was kept on board to provide milk. Hamet would drench his arm and
hand and offer it to Abaysh to suckle. This seems to have worked well.
The hippo was in good health when they arrived in Southampton on May 25th,
after a journey of 16 days.
There, the house and the tank were lifted together by crane,
with Abaysh and Hamed inside, onto a railway truck,
and the train set off for the capital.
Crowds appeared at every station, hoping for a glimpse of the hippo,
but they saw only Hamed, who would occasionally put his head out through the roof to get air. set off for the capital. Crowds appeared at every station hoping for a glimpse of the hippo, but
they saw only Hamet, who would occasionally put his head out through the roof to get air.
At the zoo, Hamet used a bag of dates to entice Abaysh into his new pen, which had its own pool
and a sleeping room decked with straw, with a stuffed sack for a pillow. As in the ship, Hamet
slept there with him. The hippo made his first public appearance the next day and was an immediate sensation.
When he plunged into his pool, onlookers compared him to a porpoise, an otter, and a seal,
and the Illustrated London News observed that
the beautiful adaptation of structure to peculiar habits is in no animal more beautifully conspicuous than in the hippopotamus.
Visitors stood in line for nearly an hour to see
him. Among them were Charlotte Bronte, Charles Dickens, and a ten-year-old Francis Kilvert,
who asked where the hippo's bath towel was. Thomas Macaulay wrote to a friend,
I have seen the hippopotamus, both asleep and awake, and I can assure you that,
asleep or awake, he is the ugliest of the works of God. Queen Victoria made her first visit on July 18th with her daughters.
She wrote,
We had an excellent sight of this truly extraordinary animal.
Its eyes are very intelligent.
It was in the water, rolling about like a porpoise, occasionally disappearing entirely.
Altogether, nearly 1% of the British population saw Abaish in his first few weeks of residence.
Attendance at the zoo
more than doubled from 168,000 people in 1849 to 360,000 in 1850, and visitors paid an extra
shilling to see Abbaish so that after 14 weeks, the zoo had amassed an extra 11,000 pounds,
more than a million pounds today. Punch referred to Abbaish as HRH for his rolling hulk, and an
enterprising musician published a hippopotamus polka, whose sheet music featured an elegant lady
dancing with a hippo in evening clothes. Typically, Abaish would rise at six, eat a bucket full of
maize porridge, sleep again until ten, then go into the yard adjoining his pen to greet his public.
There he would fall asleep again
for most of the rest of the day, like an immense ball of India rubber, in the words of one observer.
In the afternoon he'd spent two or three hours in the pool, and at six he'd go back into his pen,
where he'd eat another bucket full of porridge and go to sleep. On a good day he could be a
spectacle, especially after July, when his enclosure was extended and he got
a larger pool. An American traveler wrote in 1852, at first nothing was to be seen but a slight
rustling in the water, and then a huge proboscis was thrust up as if to sniff the summer air, and
then hidden again. By and by there was a great plunging, and sleek and shiny, our young friend
appeared upon the surface, swimming like a gallant cruiser in
his own confined ocean. Then he went down again, and then made up his mind to land, for, putting
one great paw upon the stone steps that ascended from his bath, out he came with a snort, all
dripping wet, and went about his paddock as if greatly refreshed. Abaish was now eating a hundred
pounds of food a day, and had settled into a routine at the zoo.
But as his novelty began to wear off, spectators could feel disappointed.
A year later, one zoo guide says that Abay will generally be found lazily reposing by the side of a pond,
in which, being amphibious, he finds it is requisite every now and then to lave his huge and somewhat ungainly carcass.
The hippopotamus is at present the pet of the gardens,
and, what is worse, he seems to know it.
Nothing can exceed his heavy, contented, stupid-looking face.
His eye is prominent, his cheeks are blown, his movements lazy,
and he is prone to indulge in a siesta or plethora after eating,
utterly heedless of the looks and curiosity of all around.
One reason for his sluggishness is that hippos are naturally nocturnal,
an important fact his Victorian keepers probably didn't know.
To satisfy the visitors, Hamet would try to keep him active,
but he was naturally torbid during the day,
which earned him a reputation for being lazy or stupid.
That's really sad that they were trying to force him into an unnatural routine for him.
And didn't know
it that comes to light more and more in this story is that he was the first hippopotamus in almost
2 000 years in england so i guess they can be forgiven for not knowing much about hippos but
there was a lot they didn't know and yeah it just led to a lot of trouble for him he had no way
obviously of complaining about that but you can sort of see reading between the lines today. In time, the patron's attention was captured by a new elephant
and her calf, and a great anteater from South America. In 1853, Punch published a verse in which
Aubeich lamented his lost popularity. I'm a hippish hippopotamus and don't know what to do,
for the public is inconstant and a fickle one, too.
It smiled once upon me, and now I'm quite forgot, neglected in my bath and left to go to pot.
But his life changed again the following July, when the pasha sent a female companion.
The keepers dubbed her Adela, put her in Abaish's old pen, and set about building a large house for the two of them.
This needed to be strong,
as the zoo had learned that hippos can be surprisingly aggressive. Superintendent Abraham
Bartlett recalled of Abaish, docile I used to ride on his back. In 1852 I was engaged in mounting a specimen hippo for the
Crystal Palace and went into Abash's den to take some measurements. Thinking no evil, I was busy
with my tape when it suddenly slipped and the brute turned round on me with a furious snort,
gnashing his jaws fiercely. I rushed for my life and escaped through the rails, the keeper who was
with me doing the same. It was a very near thing, indeed, for both of us.
Dr. Andrew Winter wrote in 1855, of his apartment, returning again and again to the charge and making the solid beams quiver as
though they were only of inch deal, can understand the dangerous fits which now and then are exhibited
by the creature who was so gentle when he made his debut that he could not go to sleep without
having his Arab keeper's feet to lay his neck upon. The enormously strong railings in front of
his apartments are essential to guard against the rushes he sometimes makes at people he does not like. That's another detail that's just hard to make, it's hard to divine, really, here. People,
hippos generally have a kind of docile reputation because they look harmless, but they're very
aggressive, actually. They're the world's deadliest large land mammal among the most dangerous animals
in the world. So it's not unnatural for a hippo to act aggressively toward
humans. And in fact, they kill hundreds of them every year. So the fact that Abayash was behaving
in this way isn't necessarily in itself, as I understand it, a sign of a problem. But it could
have, I think, have been exacerbated if he was frustrated at the confinement or in pain. You
know, there are a lot of conditions he could have been living under that we just don't know about, and the keepers didn't at the time.
That might have been provoking him. Yeah, it's just hard to tell. Yeah. For her part, Adela once
attacked a person standing beyond the bars of her pen and bit so hard that she snapped off one of
her teeth. Fortunately, the hippos never succeeded in harming a human, but there were some close calls. In 1860,
zookeeper Henry Hunt burst into Bartlett's office to say, Abish is out. The door of the hippo's pen
had been discovered to be defective, and while the keeper had gone for a carpenter, Abish had
dislodged it and was now trotting down the walk with his huge mouth curled into a ghastly smile,
according to one account. Bartlett warned everyone to keep out of the way and tried
to lure Aubeich back with sweet hay. He ate the hay gratefully but showed no signs of returning
to his pen. Finally, Bartlett remembered that Aubeich disliked the elephant keeper, Matthew
Scott, so he got Scott to act as a decoy. Scott showed himself at the end of the path, called
Aubeich, and ran for the paddock. A hippo can outrun a man over a short distance, but Scott
reached the pen and threw himself over the palings. Other keepers closed the gate behind Aubeich and
the crisis was over. According to naturalist Frank Buckland, at that moment a newspaper reporter
drove up and said, I hear the hippopotamus is loose, and Bartlett said, oh dear no, he is safe
in his den, come and see. On another occasion, Hunt returned from a pub one August night and decided to have a
swim in Aubeich's pool.
When he dove in, he discovered a hippopotamus standing on the bottom.
The heat had been making Aubeich restless, and Bartlett had released him into the yard.
Hunt leapt out of the pool, Bartlett wrote later.
Had the brute got at him, only his mangled remains would have been found to tell the
tale.
Had the brute got at him, only his mangled remains would have been found to tell the tale.
Abaysh and Adela might normally have been expected to mate in 1858 or 1859,
but their keepers probably didn't know that hippos normally mate in water,
and there was barely room in the hippo pool.
They managed to have two babies over the years, but both died, so it was a cause for rejoicing when, on November 5, 1872,
Adela gave birth to a third baby that
survived. They named it Guy Fawkes after the day of its birth and quickly found it had more to
teach them. Frank Buckland wrote in the Times,
A few days after the birth of the young one, Mr. Bartlett was watching it swimming about the tank.
It then suddenly dived but did not reappear for such a long time that he thought it had a fit
and was lying drowned at the bottom of the tank. He therefore made arrangements to have the large plug pulled out, this plug had been
fixed expressly for this purpose, and to run off the tank quickly so as to resuscitate the little
beast if possible. They were just going to do this when Master Guy Fawkes suddenly reappeared,
shaking his funny little horse-like ears with a hippopotamic grin on his face, as much as to say, don't be frightened, I am all right, you don't know all about me yet.
Indeed, they didn't.
Almost a year would pass before the keepers discovered that Guy Fawkes was female.
Hippos are hard to sex.
By that time, it was too late to change the name, so she became Miss Guy Fawkes.
After the baby's birth, Aubeich was generally kept in a neighboring pen,
where he lapsed into a sort
of retirement. At age 23, he was already being described as old, though in fact he was less than
halfway through a typical hippo lifespan. His health gradually dwindled, and he died on March
11, 1878, something less than 30 years old. A post-mortem found no organic illness, and he had
never reached anything like normal adult size, but the exact reasons for this just aren't clear.
I wonder if he was being fed properly.
Yeah, that's—
You know?
I mean, it's not clear to me how they would know if he wasn't.
Hmm.
And it was—this is a very different climate.
I mean, it's altogether different, obviously, than a hippo wouldn't—conditions a hippo wouldn't normally live in.
So it's just hard to know what really accounts for that.
or the conditions that hippos normally live in.
So it's just hard to know what really accounts for that.
Abay is practically forgotten today,
but he achieved a kind of distinction that deserves to be commemorated.
For three years, he was the only hippopotamus in Europe living in confinement in a cold climate thousands of miles from his natural home.
With the exception of Jumbo the elephant,
no other captive animal of the Victorian era led a life so thoroughly recorded and popularized,
but his own experience of it is essentially unknowable. Today, his biographical materials
reside in the Library of the Zoological Society of London, where visitors are greeted by a statue
of Abbaish made of baked Nile mud. Thank you. If you'd like to help support our celebration of the quirky and the curious, you can find a donate button in the support a section of the website at futilitycloset.com.
Or if you'd like to make a more ongoing donation to the show, you can join our Patreon campaign,
where you can also get bonus material like more discussions on some of the stories,
extra lateral thinking puzzles, outtakes, and peeks into what goes on behind the scenes of the show.
You can learn more at our Patreon page at patreon.com slash futilitycloset, or see the support us section of
our website for the link. And thanks again to everyone who helps keep Futility Closet going.
The main story in episode 346 was about a scientific expedition to Antarctica in 1898.
And in the story, Greg said that Antarctica had first been spotted in 1820.
Just a day or two after we recorded that, various media outlets started reporting that
that widely recognized fact might not be correct after all.
And I also want to thank Stephanie J. Leahy for making sure that we'd heard about this.
An article published in the Journal of the Royal Society of New Zealand in June
makes the case that the Maori, the indigenous people of New Zealand,
may have cited Antarctica as far back as the 7th century.
The new research pulls together various sources often overlooked
by traditional academic research, including Maori oral narratives and records depicted in carvings
and weavings. Lead author Priscilla Wehi is quoted as saying, when you put it together,
it's really clear there's a very long history of connection to Antarctica. We found connection to
Antarctica and its waters has been
occurring since the earliest traditional voyaging. People in Polynesia began traveling between some
of the different islands by canoe around 1500 BC. Over time, improvements in both their canoes and
navigational techniques allowed for increasingly longer journeys, so that by around 1000 AD they were able to cross the
thousands of miles of open ocean to be able to colonize the different far-flung islands in the
area that today we call the Polynesian Triangle, outlined by Hawaii in the north, New Zealand in
the southwest, and Easter Island in the southeast. Oral Maori histories recorded in 1899 told of Hui Te Raniora, a 7th century
Polynesian explorer who saw, for example, a foggy, misty, and dark place not seen by the sun
with rocks that grow out of the sea, whose summits pierce the skies, they are completely bare and
without vegetation on them, which are believed
to be descriptions of icebergs, while other descriptions are suggestive of southern ocean
seaweed and marine mammals. I found all of this really interesting, but it seems like the kind
of thing that might be hard to ever know for sure. Unfortunately, a number of things in history seem
to fall into that category, and at this remove in time, it's hard to imagine
how we would ever know for sure just how far south some of the early Polynesian explorers went.
I guess if they found artifacts of some kind down in the Southern Ocean, that would
be pretty good proof. Yeah, unfortunately, they're not saying that any of them actually made it onto
Antarctica, like set foot on it, and I guess nothing would
stay in the ocean after all this time. But it just seems like there's a lot of indications that
they probably got into the Southern Ocean, but it's unclear even exactly when, like to specify
specific dates or even, or to be sure how far south they got. But given how seafaring they were and how far they could travel,
it does seem really likely that probably the Polynesians saw Antarctica before the Europeans.
Also in episode 346, I talked about how author John Green had been signing hundreds of thousands of copies of his recent books when they're printed,
and how his brother Hank joked that that was making unsigned copies more rare and thus more valuable.
Brian Ford wrote,
Hi Sharon and Greg.
When former UK Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher published her first book,
she did a signing tour and broke all records for numbers of books signed.
Apparently she could sign six in a minute, no dedication, and the signature never altered.
My father was an antiquarian book dealer and told me he saw one of her books advertised for sale in
the trade as a rare unsigned copy. Best wishes. So I found an article in the Los Angeles Times
from November 1993 about Thatcher's book signing in that city of her memoirs, The Downing Street Years.
Apparently, people came from some distance and waited in line for hours to get Thatcher to sign
their copies of her book. Sheets of rules were handed out to those waiting to meet the ex-prime
minister, instructing that she'd be signing her name only with no personal inscriptions,
that no photographs would be allowed, and that she should be addressed as Lady Thatcher. And, as Brian mentioned, the LA Times reported that Thatcher
signed an average of six books a minute, writing her name hundreds of times in a single sitting,
and that her flamboyant signature never faltered, which is rather impressive to me. I wonder if you
get better at that kind of thing with more practice, because I can't imagine doing it. My own signature changes every time.
I can't imagine doing it that fast and consistently.
It must be practice. That's all I can think. In episode 346, Greg questioned why a signature has
any value anyway. And Stacey Willoughby, co-owner of Spectator Books in Oakland, California, wrote,
Hi, Sharon and Greg.
Indie bookstore owner here.
We survived the pandemic.
Hooray!
A true feat that took a village.
It's my two cents that the true value of an author's signature is often just knowing that the author once physically handled the volume you've read.
For books that mean a lot to us, where we feel an intimacy with an author we've
spent time with through their book, it can feel as if the bond is sealed or slightly more mutual
somehow when that signature is there. It provides a personal connection to go with the abstract one.
I've often thought about this regarding meeting celebrities for the sake of meeting celebrities.
What is the point? How meaningful can the brief, constricted interaction
really be? But, just as seeing a painting in real life is a much different experience than seeing it
as a reproduction, so too, I think, is meeting someone with whom you've only previously had a
one-way connection. It is proof of realness and of reciprocity, however brief. I think that when
all is said and done, collectability will always be at least as much about the human desire for connection and proximity to markers of shared significance as it is about amassing monetary wealth.
So that's a good explanation, I thought.
It does sort of feel like if you have someone's signature, then it's like you have a little piece of them somehow, like a little connection to them.
Yeah, I think that's well said.
It's more emotional than rational, strictly. Yeah. And Stacey added a PS.
Speaking of signatures that are less valuable on than off, I worked at another bookstore before,
and high on the wall was a framed signed photograph of the author and psychonaut Robert
Anton Wilson, RIP, gifted by the man himself, who was a local, I believe. The day he died, we noticed the
signature had disappeared. The photo was the same. The frame did not appear to have been touched.
There were so many realistic explanations for what happened here. Someone stole it and replaced it
with something else very skillfully, though I think it would have had to have been an employee
to pull off getting it down without notice, or perhaps the signature merely faded exceptionally
well and it wasn't noticed for a while. Maybe there is another explanation I can't imagine to pull off getting it down without notice, or perhaps the signature merely faded exceptionally well
and it wasn't noticed for a while.
Maybe there is another explanation I can't imagine
that fits within the bounds of accepted science.
But those familiar with R.A.W. called this a prank just like him,
accepting fairly quickly that he had somehow taken his signature with him
beyond the grave, just to show us all that time and space
are in sense playthings.
I suppose we
will never know for sure, and in the days of Google, it is nice to have a harmless mystery
to wonder at. So far, anyone hearing this has agreed the piece is worth more without the
signature, but with the story. That's a fantastic story. I've read, he's most famous for something
called the Illuminatus Trilogy that I think he wrote with Robert Shea back in the 70s,
which is almost impossible to describe, but it deals a lot with secret societies and conspiracy theories. So to
anyone who knows who he is, he's one of the best authors for that to happen.
We have talked a couple of times about how you can get rather interesting results when computer
programs equate a missing value with the actual
word null, most recently in episode 265. And it sounds like at least some programmers still
haven't worked out a good way to handle this issue yet. Asa Van Cleave wrote,
I would like to continue the conversation about empty fields on online forums, especially in
names. I am working through an online driver's education program. When I started, I entered my I like how it doesn't outright break. It just
gamely puts up the wrong lesson. Thank you so much to everyone who writes to us. We really
appreciate getting your follow-ups, comments, and feedback. So if you have any that you'd
like to share, please send that to podcast at futilitycloset.com.
It's Greg's turn to try to solve a lateral thinking puzzle.
I am going to give him an interesting sounding situation, and we're going to see if he can figure out what's going on by asking yes or no questions.
This puzzle comes from Marie Nearing.
The Japanese government warns its citizens to stop making peace signs in pictures.
Why?
Is this recent?
Fairly recently, yeah.
Stop making peace signs?
Yeah.
And this applies to citizens like every Japanese citizen?
Yes.
Okay, that's a good puzzle.
Okay. okay it's a good puzzle um okay is that because the signs would be misinterpreted no
really really is this in all photos like it's not some subset or in some particular situation
um i think they were saying in all photos, possibly. I think photos in particular
situations might be even more relevant to the puzzle. Okay, would you say this is topical in
some reason? Like it has a particular meaning at this particular point in time when it was done?
No, not like it needed to be at a specific day or year or something. Yeah, because of some other event.
No, no.
Yeah, it doesn't align up with any events.
It would need to be fairly recent for this to make sense,
but not because of any specific events.
Okay, let's say they did this.
Let's say they ignored that request.
Okay.
And kept making peace signs.
Okay.
Something bad would happen.
Potentially.
Potentially. Potentially. signs okay something bad would happen potentially potentially all right let's say let's say someone in japan does that okay say one person in japan does that okay everyone else agrees and follows the directive that person makes peace sign in
photo okay and other people see that peace sign being made. Other Japanese people?
Not necessarily.
See the peace sign being made?
See the photo with the person making a peace sign.
Okay.
Let's say that happens. Let's say other people see the photo, yes.
And whatever the government was trying to avert happens.
Okay.
Let's say the person who sees the photo is Japanese.
Okay.
Is that all right?
Yeah.
So it might happen then.
Yes.
You've said it's not because that person misunderstands what they're seeing or misinterprets what the intent of the sign was.
No misinterpretation.
Or anything even along those lines.
But something bad could happen potentially to the person who was in the photo making the peace sign.
Is that a crime?
No.
Could happen.
Does this have to do with like gang signs or something like that?
No.
By peace sign, you mean holding up two fingers the way I think like Churchill did?
Yeah.
Like this?
Yeah.
Or it's a victory sign, I guess.
Okay.
So another person sees this person making a peace sign.
In a photo.
In a photo.
So it's something bad.
Let's say that bad thing happens then to the person who made the peace sign in the photo.
Okay.
The bad thing happens.
Does the person who see the photo, is that the person who would commit the bad thing,
whatever it is?
Yes.
Okay.
Would that person be, all right, is it an act of violence?
No.
Does it have something to do with identity?
Yes.
Okay, if I make a peace sign to you like this, I'd be astounded, but my fingerprints are exposed to you.
Yes, and that's exactly it.
Really? Marie says, researchers in Japan were able to reproduce fingerprints from photos of people
making peace signs from up to nine feet away.
They warned that this could lead to identity theft.
Wow.
And I found a 2017 article in Engadget that says that making the peace sign in photos
is particularly popular in East Asia, but a study conducted at Japan's National Institute
of Informatics found that under the right conditions, they could reproduce fingerprints from photos shot up to three meters or almost 10 feet away.
Still, the article said there's probably little cause for concern because someone would have to take considerable effort to create an accurate fingerprint from the photo and then make a good mold of the fingerprint.
And then, for example, gain physical access to your smartphone to use
the mold to unlock it. But you know, for certain people, that would be worth the effort.
Yeah, yeah. So I mean, probably for the average person, it probably wouldn't happen. But in some
specific cases, that could potentially be a problem. So thanks so much to Marie for that
puzzle. And if anyone else has a puzzle for us to try, please send that to podcast at futilitycloset.com.
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