In its Apr 20, 1972 issue, New Scientist magazine drew attention to Mildred Olsen's unusual invention (Patent No. 3,501,849):
The Olsen invention is intended to help illiterates learn typing. (Why we need illiterate typists the patent doesn't explain.) It divides the keys of a typewriter keyboard into eight sectors, each including several individual keys. Each sector has a different colour. The would-be typist wears coloured rings on her fingers and watches a visual indicator, which shows a colour either with or without an arrow. Where there is no arrow, the typist presses her finger with the associated colour directly downwards. Where there is an arrow, the typist first moves the correct colour finger up, down or along one key in the direction of the arrow.
I think New Scientist was being overly harsh. In the patent itself, Olsen explained that she believed her invention could help students learn to read, as they simultaneously grew familiar with using a typewriter. I can't find any more info about her invention, but I'd be curious to know how students responded to it.
Technical Sergeant Valentine Browne Lawless was shot down over Linz, Austria in October 1944. He left behind a will revealing that, as his first name suggested, he had a romantic streak.
He left the bulk of his small estate (worth $3600, or around $50,000 in today's money) to one of his brothers for a "special purpose." He detailed that special purpose in a separate latter. He wanted his brother to arrange to have "one perfect rose" anonymously sent every Saturday to Mildred Fitzpatrick, until the money ran out.
Valentine had worked with Mildred before the war, but the two had never dated. In fact, she barely knew who he was. He had fallen in love with her from afar, and because he was extremely shy he had never told her about his feelings. Valentine explained to his brother:
My idea is to furnish the girl with the pleasure of receiving a rose, not have her think a lot of me because I sent it to her...
I love her very much and would like to be the type of person that could make her love me and marry me and be able to support and provide her with those things which it is such a pleasure to give to anyone you love.
But as I am not a personality that is likely to be successful socially or financially, I must make this request.
Unfortunately, Valentine's romantic gesture turned out to be in vain. A few roses were sent, but the deliveries soon stopped, for two reasons.
First, Valentine's other siblings successfully challenged the will, on the grounds that the rose deliveries were detailed in a separate letter, not in the will itself. Therefore, the will had failed to specify the "special purpose". The case became known as the "perfect rose case," and the court ended up splitting Valentine's estate between his sister, two brothers, five nephews, and a niece.
Second, Mildred didn't want the roses. She really didn't want them. She was married, with a daughter, and found the publicity deeply embarrassing. She ended up suing the Hearst Corporation for publicizing the case and for describing Valentine as her "suitor" even though she barely knew him. She lost the case, but her feelings were clear. So, no more roses.
The image below shows a cow, but most people struggle to see it without help from an explanatory image (which is below in extended). Once you see it, it's clear as day.
Rodent tape is tape that's been coated with capsaicin (the active component in chili peppers) so that rodents won't want to chew through it.
If you have to park your car in a place where there are rodents (the countryside, or a rat-infested garage), you can use it to wrap the cables in your car. I can definitely see the utility of that, but it still strikes me as an odd product.
It smelled like a Band-Aid-flavored Rockstar Energy drink. It tasted like… heat. The capsaicin was subtler than I expected: nothing abrasive or punishing, just a blushing, ambient warmth like a string of white Christmas lights. There was almost a numbing, mala element, in the vein of a Sichuan peppercorn.
The Authors Guild is now offering a certificate that an author can display on their book "to certify that their book is created by a human."
More specifically:
"Human Authored" means that the text of the book was written by a human and not generated by AI, with the exception of minimal, trivial uses, such as AI applications that check spelling and grammar or for brainstorming or research.
I wonder if an author will first have to pass a Voight-Kampff test to prove they're human and not a replicant.