Fire on the Mesa
Why did the tarantula cross the road? Because it wanted to be loved.
‘In the event of an emergency, don’t call us.’
The whole place could go up at any moment.
We moved to the Mesa yesterday, Robert and I. Today we noticed a sign had gone up at the fire department, about four miles away. It is the only building directly on the dirt road — the only road — that connects the Mesa to town. Every other place is hidden. The fire department and the tiny water towers are visible for miles. The sign, handwritten on poster board, said there was going to be a fire-safety event and BBQ for the residents this weekend.
The water towers aren’t very big. Even if a fire engine from the town is able to get up here, the water in the storage towers wouldn’t be enough to put out a fire, quantity wise.
That’s why the sign in front of the department — a rainbow-colored Half-Wheel of Danger — always keeps the moveable arrow pointing to the highest category of fire risk. After a rain, we soon learned, the sign continues to warn the whole place might go up at any moment. …
Already Gone
The Gentle Con Artistry of the Eagles Goes Hard Sell at the Sphere
Welcome to the Las Vegas Orgasmatron
With Joe Walsh as the Cryptkeeper
A dark sun waits at the desert’s edge. The Sphere’s pictures on its outer skin are visible from miles away, that’s how clear and perfect they are, how good the resolution is. As you approach, it’s like sitting before a giant digital snow-globe, 16,000 pixels by 16,000 pixels, which is far higher resolution than your home TV set, with your favorite band strumming their instruments at many hundreds of times human size while flying through space. A monstrous jukebox.
Do I hear $7,500 for a front-row ticket to see the Eagles, those who are still alive, and remain in the band — being the greatest home-grown fairgrounds attraction of the 1970s? You can charge it to your credit card, or withdraw it from the nearest ATM. Either way, your money will never leave this place. So why not be amazed? The Sphere is powered by one-hundred-and-fifty Nvidia RTX A6000 GPUs, each of which has over 10,752 cores, …
Leprosy’s Scourge
‘The 66 Star’ was America’s only newspaper by and for lepers, published at the national leprosarium in Carville, Louisiana.
Under a pseudonym, editor ‘Stanley Stein’ worked to dispel myths dating back to the Bible that led to the isolation of sufferers from Hansen’s disease.
Hansen’s disease, known in benighted times as leprosy, is not a form of uncleanliness or divine punishment for marrying a Cushite. It was treated with Promin.
The 66 Star — “Radiating the Light of Truth on Hansen’s disease” — was the patient publication of the national leprosarium in Carville, Louisiana, known as United States Public Health Service Marine Hospital 66. The 66 Star ceased publication in 1934 after its founder and publisher, “Stanley Stein,” went blind.
Stanley Stein’s real name was Sidney Maurice Levyson. He grew up in the tiny German-American town of Boerne, Texas (pronounced “Bernie”), was educated as a pharmacist, was diagnosed with leprosy at 21, and for years was secretly treated by a San Antonio physician.
At the time he contracted his condition, Hansen’s disease, or leprosy, was an incurable, almost entirely untreatable, disfiguring, hideously painful condition in which patients often lingered between life and death for decades. When the doctor treating Levyson in San Antonio died, Levyson’s condition …
