A post shared on social media purportedly shows a video of the lighting of the Olympic torch in Paris. Lighting of the olympic torch, from a París church. Spectacular! pic.twitter.com/f9Okd0ZYCN — Harsh Goenka (@hvgoenka) July 26, 2024 Verdict: False The video cuts together an Easter Sunday celebration and a fireworks display at a concert. Fact Check: Gymnast […]

RIP Olympics

'I'm glad that he's off the streets'

This movie looks great

Calling all Patriots!

Column Mark as Read When It’s Time To Change Your Reading Habits Are you prone to reading ruts? Or do you crave a little more focus? what have you been waiting for? By Molly Templeton | Published on August 1, 2024 “Old Woman Reading” by Yehuda Pen, 1907 Comment 0 Share New Share “Old Woman Reading” by Yehuda Pen, 1907 It’s funny, sometimes, to step back and look at your own reading habits. They can seem thoroughly unremarkable—so much so as to be unnoticeable—until something shakes them up. Left to my own devices, I am as likely to get into reading ruts as I am to zoom all over the genre and topic map, trading fantasy for nature writing for literary fiction for an anthology of essays for a memoir about a place or a neighborhood or one moment in time. This year, though, I’ve been reading almost exclusively science fiction, which is a trip. It’s limiting and eye-opening at once, an experience that is fascinating and weird and sending me down a lot of random meandering paths about what exactly science fiction is, what it does, what it ought to more frequently encompass, and what beautifully porous boundaries it has. This project is also making me want to read so many other things. I have a contrary brain; fed a steady diet of something it loves, it insists that it wants something else, another flavor, a bit of variety. It insists, basically, that it wants to break any rules I have set for it, and smash all habits like so many old plates. Including some long-standing habits about saving things for later. I’ve written about this before, briefly: how I always save myself one Helen Oyeyemi or William Gibson book, so I know I’ve always got one more to read. How I can’t seem to read Assassin’s Fate, because then the story of FitzChivalry Farseer will be over and maybe I’ll have no choice but to go back to thirty years ago and start all over again.  It’s not just these specific examples, though. I buy books I am incredibly excited to read and then I let them gather dust on a shelf. I order things out of absolute rushes of interest and then decide it’s not the time. Inexplicably, I rarely—unless I am reading them for work purposes—read brand-new books. I think with curious fondness about books I’ve heard so much about, and then simply do not pick them up. These are the kind of reading habits I all of a sudden want to break, to snap them like little twigs underfoot. But they’re also a little puzzlings: where do they come from?  Some part of it is, I think, the simple thrill and mess and trouble of anticipation. Book people love to use the word “anticipation.” It is, on book product pages, probably the second-most beloved word, after “award-winning” or “best.” Awards are ideal. Best book of the year is a great phrase to put on your book; most anticipated is, well, next-best. It’s shorthand for “People want to read this!” which is a very useful thing to be able to say when your job—whether as publicist or marketer or author—is to get that book into the hands of more people who would like to read it. But—forgive me—what does it mean? Not on a media side; I don’t mean in the case of something like Christina Orlando’s excellent, well-researched lists, which are a tool and a marvel. What does it mean to a reader to anticipate a book? Is it as simple as the thought “I like other books by this author, ergo I will probably like this one too?” Or is it a more emotional response: Last time I read a book by this person I melted into a puddle of feelings for a week and I can’t wait to do that again. Or is it a story we tell ourselves about the kind of readers we are? I am a reader who will, absolutely, get around to reading this 800 page history of Australia. I am going to go back and finish the last book of Tad Williams’ Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn series, even though I haven’t read the first two in decades. I am going to read all of Bone, all of the Wheel of Time, all of the award-winning books of the last few years that I haven’t read yet. I am anticipating doing these things. I would like to be that reader, honestly. But I’m not organized. I cannot make a reading schedule, a plan for which book I’m going to read when, this one followed by that one followed by a logical third in the sequence. I can schedule reading time, but not reading titles. It is all moods and whims, at least when it isn’t deadlines. Lately those moods and whims are a little off. It’s August, which always feels like a slightly mournful month to me. It’s a time of real-world aches and happenings in my life and the lives of people I love. It’s another fraught election year, in which it feels both impossible to look at the news and impossible to turn away from it, even for a second, with its strange highs and devastating lows. It’s all these things, making me land on one thought, over and over again, no matter the topic: What are we waiting for? What am I waiting for? You can ask this question about a whole wide world of things, but right this second I am only thinking about books: Why don’t I just read them already? Why don’t I pick up Peaces, or Agency, or lug that massive Robin Hobb tome to the bar and let myself cry quietly into its pages? Why did I start The Once and Future King, finally, finally, and then set it aside just a chapter in? Reading doesn’t change the books. They will still be there for re-reading, for finding more in. But it might change me. Sometimes a book is too much. Too many feelings, too many associations, too many expectations, too much anticipation. I get wary of it. Sometimes it feels like a commitment I can’t bring myself to make. Sometimes I’m just not in the right space for a character, or a topic, or I’m too busy jogging down some other avenue, curiosity sending me into new genre corners. I need more time, somehow. But time feels in short supply in this fall-feeling August in this warm year on our ever-warming planet. There’s a sense of teetering, of precipices all around. This is always true, to varying degrees for different people, but sometimes the feeling creeps up more strongly than other times. What I am saying, in so many words, is read the books. Read the things you anticipated with tingling in your fingers. Read the things you were saving for a rainy day or just in case you really needed that book one day that hasn’t arrived yet. There is—this may sound like heresy, but I believe it—there is always another book. Or there is going to be another book. What have you been waiting for? What if you just started it?[end-mark] The post When It’s Time To Change Your Reading Habits appeared first on Reactor.

Trump to Kamala: 'Challenge Accepted'

If you're watching the Olympics, you may have noticed that fencers are attached to a cable, making them look somewhat like they're on a big leash. The cables are not there for the safety of the competitors, nor so that they can be yoinked backwards if they get too feisty. The cables, which are electric, are there because of how quick the sport is. Here is a clip of Egypt's Nada Hafez – competing while seven months pregnant for extra difficulty – to show you how fast the sport is.               With the sport being so fast-paced, it is difficult to determine whether there was a hit, who hit who first, and whether they were hit in a legitimate target area. The early days of fencing relied on honesty from competitors, who would shout touché after being hit, as well as judges to determine who hit first. But that wasn't ideal.In 1896, a solution was reported; a hit completing an electric circuit to alert judges when a competitor had been hit. This is where the cable comes in."They connect your weapon (your foil, sabre, or épée) to the reel system. and the scoring system in the club or venue where you're fencing," Coach Michael McTigue of the Northwest Fencing Center explained in a YouTube video. "They have a kind of hard job to do, because they need to be flexible and moving and yet out of your way; they need to be reliable and yet they need to be light."In different types of fencing, there are different requirements for competitors, depending on what the target is. Épée was the first type to use the electric scoring system, as the whole body is a target, requiring only a simple setup. "As the whole body is a target in Epee, a non-electric fencing mask is used for competition epee fencing," Fencer Tips explains. "At your local fencing club, a lot of the communal masks are likely to be non-electric masks or epee masks, regardless of your weapon of choice, as they are used for teaching purposes outside of electric fencing."But other types of fencing have areas of the body that are off target, which means that hitting them does not count as a proper hit. For this, electrically-conducive metals are woven into fabric in the target areas. In sabre fencing, fencers also wear a conductive mask."A sabre mask is completely conductive, making sure that any touches are registered on the scoring apparatus," Fencer Tips explains. "This is in line with the target area for sabre, which is the above-the-waist torso, the arms, and the head."It took a long time for the electric scoring system to be fully adopted. Electric sabre fencing, where hits from the blade as well as the tip are allowed, was not widespread until the 1992 Olympic Games in Barcelona. But now when you watch fencing, at least at a competitive level, you will see people competing with a metal tether.All “explainer” articles are confirmed by fact checkers to be correct at time of publishing. Text, images, and links may be edited, removed, or added to at a later date to keep information current.  

Sometimes in the animal world, genetics or circumstances throw something of a curveball. From dolphins with "thumbs" to whales with curved spines, these animals with slightly unusual morphology open up questions about survival and adaptations to different environments. That includes the latest addition to the gang: a giraffe with a wonky neck.On a private game reserve in South Africa, close to the border of Zimbabwe, travel blogger Lynnqwinda Scott photographed two giraffes and shared the photographs on her Facebook page. While one giraffe behaved and looked totally like you would expect, the second giraffe had the very unusual appearance of a wonky zig-zag neck. There are three main theories as to how the giraffe came to have a neck with such a pronounced difference. One theory is that the giraffe was born with a genetic mutation that resulted in the neck issue. However, given the giraffe had never been observed before, this seems unlikely. The second theory is the giraffe developed a condition known as torticollis or wryneck. This would suggest that it was born without the neck difference, but developed it as it grew."It is definitely a very twisted neck," Sara Ferguson, a veterinarian and conservation health coordinator at the non-governmental organization Giraffe Conservation Foundation, told LiveScience." Without radiographs to prove the bone has been broken, we would refer to the giraffe as having severe torticollis.”Back in the 1980s, a giraffe known as Gemina was born normally at the San Diego Wild Animal Park, but started to develop a kink in her neck in 1987 at Santa Barbara Zoo, explained the Independent. Finally, there is the theory that the giraffe broke its neck in a fight with another giraffe. The sex of the animal is unknown, but male giraffes are known to engage in aggressive fights over females and territory in which they swing their necks into each other. Unsurprisingly, this behavior is known as necking.In 2015, a giraffe was spotted in Tanzania in a similar situation, known to have broken its neck in a fight with another giraffe. Despite the severe injury, the giraffe survived at least five years after the incident.“Fighting is extremely rare because it’s extremely violent,” Jessica Granweiler, a master’s student at the University of Manchester in England, told the New York Times.  However, the photos suggest that this individual is a young giraffe, and therefore not of breeding or fighting age.          While the circumstances surrounding this particular young giraffe remain a mystery, the animal seems to be surviving well for the moment. If you can't get enough of more unusual-looking giraffes, check out this spotless giraffe calf.