Change the Margins

Change the Margins is an online effort to conserve resources by encouraging people to print with narrower margins. The goal: .75″ on all sides. One study that Change the Margins cites claims that changing to .75″ margins (it's not clear from what: 1″? 1.25″?) results in a 4.75% reduction in paper use.

I like various paper-saving strategies: I routinely save a page or more on my syllabi by switching to landscape view and putting text in three columns (which not only saves paper but also makes it easy to find things). And I always like tinkering with fonts and margins to make text fit. Why have a few runover lines if you can make everything fit on one page?

If you're using Microsoft Word, changing the default margin settings is a good way to start saving paper. (No 1.25″ margins, ever!) Change the Margins explains.

Jack Paar and Oscar Levant

As seen and heard on PBS's Pioneers of Television:

"What do you do for exercise?" "I stumble, and then I fall into a coma."

Oscar Levant on Jack Paar (YouTube)

A pocket notebook in The Palm Beach Story

[Written and directed by Preston Sturges, 1942.]

John D. Hackensacker III (Rudy Vallee) is buying clothes for Geraldine "Gerry" Jeffers (Claudette Colbert). Why? Because Gerry has no clothes, because she left her suitcase, or so she says, in the Ale and Quail Club's car, which was uncoupled from the rest of the train after the club's members shot up the lounge car. What John D. doesn't know is that there was no suitcase in the Ale and Quail Club's car. Gerry had to abandon her suitcase in a confrontation with her husband Tom (Joel McCrea) as she boarded a taxi to Penn Station so as to get on a train to Palm Beach and get a divorce.

But all that aside: John D. Hackensacker III is keeping track of his purchases in a pocket notebook.



More notebooks on screen
Les Dames du Bois de Boulogne
Moleskine sighting (in Extras)
Notebook sighting in Pickpocket
Pocket notebook sighting (in Diary of a Country Priest)
Pocket notebook sightings in Rififi
Red-headed woman with reporter's notebook

Three words

"Yes, we can!"

Overheard

Someone dispensing advice by phone:

"It's always better to make it look like it's business-related."

All "Overheard" posts (via Pinboard)

Illinoism

The American Heritage Dictionary offers this regional note:

When need is used as the main verb, it can be followed by a present participle, as in The car needs washing, or by to be plus a past participle, as in The car needs to be washed. However, in some areas of the United States, especially western Pennsylvania and eastern Ohio, many speakers omit to be and use just the past participle form, as in The car needs washed. This use of need with past participles is slightly more common in the British Isles, being particularly prevalent in Scotland.

This use is also prevalent in downstate-Illinois speech. The sentence above, from an ad in the local newspaper, has the first "need + past participle" I've seen in print.

A related post
Need worked

Super Minimalist Micro Calendar Reduced

It's the little calendar with the great big name!

It's difficult to imagine a scenario in which this calendar would offer a compelling alternative to a pocket calendar, but the 2008 Super Minimalist Micro Calendar Reduced appeals to my inner ten-year-old, who read and reread Alvin's Secret Code and kept cipher keys on little rolled-up pieces of paper inserted in bits of paper straws. Why? To protect those ciphers from enemy agents.

An explanation of this calendar is available from the link:

Micro Calendar (.pdf download, found via Lifehacker)

Related post
Calendar downloads

9 W

From an interview with novelist Harry Mathews in the Paris Review (Spring 2007):

Can I tell you a joke? What is the question to which the answer is 9 W?

If you give up, you can see the question by highlighting the seemingly empty space that follows these words:

Mr. Wagner, do you write your name with a V?

New York and New Jersey commuters can think of other questions whose answer is 9W.

Two tales of tech support

I
Mozy is an online backup service. I've had a free Mozy account for several years, first with a Windows computer and now with a Mac. I recently ran into a minor problem after backing up my hard drive — I'll omit the details — and e-mailed Mozy tech support early on New Year's Eve. Twenty-five minutes later — on New Year's Eve! — I had a reply with two ways to solve the problem.

II
Technorati is an online service that tracks blog content via tags, making posts available to interested readers. Alas, Technorati's ability to index posts is often spotty. A glance at the user forum suggests that Technorati tech support is also spotty, with numerous requests for help unanswered or given a form response. My Technorati problems are ongoing and show no sign of being resolved. One persevering blogger has been asking for help almost daily since September 2007, with no reply.

Which company do you think has the brighter future?

[An aside: If you'd like to try Mozy, with a free 2GB account or a larger paying account, e-mail me, and I'll send you my referral code, which will give each of us an extra 256MB for free. If you'd like to try Technorati, good luck.]

"Extra credit?"

I find it difficult to take "extra credit" seriously. In my high school, there was none, at least none that I knew of. When I failed my algebra midterm, there was no "extra credit" to boost my grade. There was though "extra help," offered 45 minutes or so before the school day began. I went in for that help morning after morning, learned some algebra, and ended up with a B or B- for the semester. (Thank you, Mrs. Waibel.) In college, my only extra-credit memory involves an intro poetry course in which we could memorize and write out poems or partial poems on several occasions throughout the semester. We were paid by the line.

While I have trouble saying "extra credit" with a straight face, I'm not completely opposed. I sometimes add a simple bonus question to a quiz (for some reason that happens only on Fridays, so some students never know about it), and I sometimes add a question that can be answered only by someone who's shown admirable diligence in reading. I once offered an enormous amount of quiz extra credit for anyone who had looked up verst, a word that comes up in passing in Vladimir Nabokov's Pnin. One student had the definition, and I was happy to make good on the offer.¹ I suppose that I see extra credit as something like a surprise party, to which I bring the goodies, of my own generosity, on a whim.

I'm opposed though to extra credit as it usually functions in college life. Sometimes extra credit amounts to a private arrangement between student and professor, typically a student who has already struck out and now seeks another chance at bat: "Do you give extra credit?" Such arrangements are ethically indefensible, violating the grading policies of a course syllabus and cheating every student who takes the grade he or she has earned with no attempt at negotiation.

And sometimes the offer of extra credit is made to all, usually for showing up. E-mails announcing fiction- and poetry-readings often include a sentence or two encouraging faculty to offer students extra "points" for going. Having gone to many readings with largely captive audiences, I wonder about the effect on readers' morale. I remember going to a reading by Alice Munro, many years ago, and watching as a professor took a count of her students while Munro waited to begin. You can always spot the extra-credit seekers at the end of a reading: they're the ones who are up and out before the questions-and-answers start.

The tipping point for me came when I was teaching an intro lit course focusing on themes of faith, survival, and progress. It was a good class, with a reading list that included the Book of Job, Samuel Beckett's Waiting for Godot, Bertolt Brecht's Mother Courage and Her Children, and Art Spiegelman's Maus. Eva Kor, a Mengele twin and Auschwitz survivor, was giving a talk on campus that semester, and I encouraged my students to go hear her. What could be more relevant? "Extra credit?" someone asked. The question made me crazy with exasperation. Here's a woman who survived the Nazis, I said, and you want me to turn her life into points to add to your grade? I couldn't do that. The best kind of extra credit, as I told those students and still tell my students, is the kind you give yourself: by working harder on an essay, by doing some extra reading, by taking in an exhibit or lecture for its own sake, because you might find it interesting, because you might learn something.

I was curious about the history of the term extra credit and did a little snooping before writing this post. The Oxford English Dictionary, I am happy to report, offers no extra credit.

¹ There was a point, by the way, to the verst question: the word is an early hint that the novel's narrator is a Russian émigré.