Category «Classic»

Schwei-Gwo Syau-Jye: Another View of China

t was 1975, just after the fall of Saigon, and I was in Taipei, studying Chinese and waiting for the next war, which didn’t come. I abode downtown in the winding labyrinth of backstreets inhabited mostly by workers since I was pretty broke. My roommates were a Chinese teenager, Dingwo, who wanted to be a …

A Bicephalous Monoparty and Sufficient Totalitarianism

The genius of America’s totalitarian system of government is that it is not totally total, and sometimes not very totalitarian at all. It is just total enough. Truly total government–“Your papers, citizen,” stop-and-frisk, permission needed to travel from city to city–might spark revolt. By contrast, a sufficiency of totalitarianism, but not an excess, keeps the …

Geogenetic Analysis of Maya Origins: Parsing Errors in RNA Polymorphide Methylation Editing Found

Controversy has raged for decades in academia as to whether the Maya of ancient Mesoamerica independently invented writing and a sophisticated number system, with many arguing that European influence must have been involved. The recent discovery of carvings, such as the one above, in the hitherto unexplored recesses of the Chac Mool Cenote (a water-filled cave) in …

Kathmandu! Dogwomandon’t. In the Himalayas with Offshoot

Mountings. Large ones. Fog, too. We caught the seven-o’clock goat-and-chicken out of Kat, my daughter Macon and I, two porters, and our trusty guide Karna. A Nepalese rural bus is not the Stork Club. It is much better, depending on your nerves. For eight hours we bounced higher into the Himalayas with the tires a …

How I Was a Big-Time Drag Racer

In high school I was a nationally ranked drag racer, almost, and nearly went to Bakersfield in California, to race against Don Garlits and Swamp Rat II. Garlits was then the king of high-revvin’ screaming, blown, nitro-fueled, bored-and-stroked, ported, polished, and wildly over-cammed rocket sleds running on exotic chemicals, big rubber, and the bare fringes …

Eternity and Pickle Tops

On that far-off night in August of 1962, the moon floated huge and yellow over dark Virginia forests that stretched away and away to the glittering broad Potomac River. Chip Thompson and I trudged along the shoulder of US Route 301 from the Circle toward Dahlgren. We were sixteen. The county—King George County in the …

Aboard the M1 Abrams, Maserati of Tanks

To an observer on one of Fort Hood’s flattened prominences, the Abrams M1 tank would seem a dark mote below a high plume of dust, a glint of periscopes, a small furor lost in the vastness and pastels of central Texas. Not even the grandest of tanks can intimidate a landscape. By day and night …