Charles Darwin
Stressed sailor, bored waitress bare all
Sailor dances in his birthday suit at Aussie football match. English waitress brightens up bowls championship in the buff.
Feb. 4, 2000
Streaking stark naked with one’s pubic zone in full public view is a fad that began in the early ’70s, when bellbottom corduroys and macrami were the rage. Cultural quirks usually fly swiftly out of style, but baring it all in front of startled multitudes seems to be a trend with long legs,
particularly in Anglo nations.
Australian sailor Peter Hassall, 29, danced in his birthday suit before 14,000 spectators during a football match in Darwin between the Essendon Bombers and the West Coast Eagles, the Australian AP reported.
The petty officer was on leave after a stressful 40-day tour in East Timor aboard the HMAS Newcastle. After boozing with buddies all afternoon, Hassall accepted a dare to gyrate buck naked on the green playing field in nothing but his Nikes.
Police escorted him out of the arena to Darwin’s courthouse, where he pleaded guilty to an indecent behavior charge that cost him $400. Magistrate Daniel Trigg grumbled, “I get a bit concerned when I see members of the armed forces behave in this manner. I’m a bit concerned about their maturity levels.”
Female streakers are apparently more appreciated at sporting events, especially pretty ones like Tracy Sergeant, 22. The waitress strolled nude in front
of 500 cheering spectators at the World Indoor Bowls Singles Championship in Hopton, Norfolk, according to the Times of London. Bowls, a game similar to bocci ball, is usually spared the type of raucous behavior reserved for football.
That was before Titillating Tracy. During the game she bounced up to champion David Gourlay and his opponent Les Saunders and planted a kiss on each. Later she explained, “Bowls has a reputation as a boring game and I wanted to liven it up.”
Was the fleeced femme punished like the poor Aussie sailor? No. Quite the opposite. Tracy made sympathetic headlines across the United Kingdom. Norfolk officials told the Glasgow Herald no charges would be filed.
Issuing a tongue-in-cheek statement, they said, “After having studied the whole unsavory incident on 43 occasions, including slow motion replay, we have decided against implementing a rule that spectators should remain clothed at all times.”
Hank Hyena is a former columnist for SF Gate, and a frequent contributor to Salon. More Hank Hyena.
The twine that binds
A Minnesota town honors the mother of all twine balls.
India has the Taj Majal. Jordan has Petra. And Minnesota has the world’s
largest ball of twine.
Locals don’t know how many visitors flock each year to the small town of Darwin (population 252) to see the 17,400-pound titan, but they do know that the man-made wonder has a
circumference of nearly 40 feet.
The mother of all twine balls was the brainchild of Francis A. Johnson, who began
creating it in 1950. Johnson spent four hours each day for 29 years working on
his invention. At one point, the ball grew too large to wrap properly, so
Johnson used a crane to lift it up, in order to keep the ball rolling.
J.A. Getzlaff's Daily Planet appears every weekday. Do you have a tip or tale for J.A.? Send it to DailyPlanet@salon.com. More J.A. Getzlaff.
Cannibal games
William Latham explains why players get to eat their enemies in his new game, Evolva.
A critic once asked William Latham, a U.K. computer artist famous for weirdly contorted, alien-
The London Times has called Latham the most innovative artist in cyberspace. A genial 38-year-old with Spock-like sideburns, Latham has exhibited his computer graphics in shows around the globe, winning numerous awards. In 1996, he released a new version of Mutator in the form of his “Organic Art” screensavers, which let individual consumers harness the power of Mutator and personally set evolution in motion. You started with a basic form, such as a cone. A few clicks later, you stared with revulsion or wonder at the mutated, gyrating microbe thing that you had created.
Ten days after Latham made “Organic Art” available on Microsoft’s Web site, the screensaver had been downloaded 100,000 times. One magazine compared him to God; a high priestess in the Arizona desert projected “Organic Art” onto the inside of her temple.
But Latham was unsatisfied with creating mere images. His newest application for Mutator is a computer game called Evolva, due to be released in early 2000. Like everything else Latham does, Evolva enacts the process of evolution — but this time, it is the game warriors themselves who evolve. In the far future, humanity has mastered the art of genetic engineering and created the ultimate Darwinian warrior — the Genohunter. Whenever a Genohunter kills an enemy, it analyses its DNA, and then mutates, stealing any useful attributes that the victim had: strength, speed,
weaponry.
Not every new game on the market makes cannibalism into one of its main selling points. But William Latham is not your everyday game designer. And his game is no ordinary game. Genohunter evolution and adaptation in the face of danger reflects our own changes as a species, and our own changes as individuals over the course of our lives. After playing Evolva, the prospect of going back to a game where the characters stay the same the whole way through is about as unappetizing as talking to a zombie. The gaming industry better take notice.
With an industrial chemist for a father and a conductor for a mother, Latham studied at Oxford University and then the Royal College of Art. While at the Royal College he frequently visited the Natural History Museum and, after gazing at ammonites and fractal ferns, developed a fascination with primitive forms. He would also hatch business schemes, to the alarm of his tutors, who told him he should open a chain of launderettes. But before setting up his company, Computer Artworks, he took one more detour — as an IBM research fellow involved in pioneering the production of speech recognition software.
Why did he leave?
“One of the things was that home PCs were just becoming phenomenally powerful and one could just see where that was going,” says Latham. “Previously I’d always relied on a big laboratory stuffed full of machines.”
He has no regrets. Now Latham talks about Evolva like a rather exotic, frightening but deep-down-loveable pet that everyone must meet. When he says the game has a life of its own, he means it.
“What tends to happen in computer games is that everything revolves around you,” says Latham. “A bit like a ghost train and you have a sense that everything is happening only because you walked through that door. Whereas to make it a truly immersive experience, you need to change that perception completely and so you have events that you just stumble across and if you were there five minutes later, you’d have missed it. And boy if you got there two minutes earlier you’d be right in the middle of it.”
Ultra-high resolution enhances the drama. Each Genohunter is made up of 7,000 polygons — you can see every ridge and scar on their flesh. Because the Genohunters evolve unpredictably, there is no such thing as a typical specimen but the general look is that of Arnold Schwarzenegger crossed with a triffid and a stegosaur.
For someone as obviously entranced with mucking around with DNA as Latham is, he still projects an ambivalent stance on genetic engineering. On the one hand, he says why not? Let’s see where it takes us — it could make the world incredibly beautiful. On the other hand , he calls it a “black art,” questioning whether we can control our attempts to make things evolve the way we want them to. Mutator, he notes, was unstable in the early stages.
“You’d hit troughs and parameter space where everything would turn inside out, back to front,” says Latham, who mistrusts any scientist who reckons he or she can control genetic engineering. “I think there’s some chaos in there.” His eyes glitter.
What was the biggest technological challenge he faced in creating Evolva? “Oh God,” he sighs, “multiple, multiple challenges. One was physics — getting true physical modeling into the game. This seems to be the Holy Grail that everyone’s chasing.”
He admits he did not entirely succeed. “The problem is that the human eye is very good at picking up things that are wrong,” he says.
The key to Evolva is that playing the game creates fear and addiction, says Latham. “That’s what you’re trying to do — create something completely addictive.” I tell him that sounds ethically questionable. He pauses, leaning over his desk like a man about to launch himself into a swimming pool, then says I shouldn’t patronize the public.
But what about his own four small children? He says he cares about what they’re exposed to, and he himself can’t watch some television shows — “Television is like prison,” he says. “The television director probably went to, you know, Oxford University — twit. And every idea he wants to put in this damn program — you’re on the receiving end.”
Computer games, even if they are as violent as Evolva, help the younger generation escape from the trap of television, says Latham.
“You make decisions, you change the plot, you’re thinking: Do I go down there? Do I talk to this thing? It’s a completely different experience,” says Latham.
But isn’t it essentially still just a shoot-’em-up? Latham disagrees. He says it tests your wits — you can’t go around just blowing everything up, left, right and center.
“The way to eventually win the game is to actually, strategically think things out,” says Latham. “There are some very neat weapons so if you can go and kill the alien that breathes fire, your Genohunter breathes fire. And then 10 minutes earlier you might have encountered an ice door that takes you through to a secret tunnel and then you think, ah yes, with the flame breath I can go and melt the ice door.”
For a moment, Latham is completely immersed in the image he has just conjured up. He’s an artist infatuated with his own creation, and his own intensity offers a warning indication of Evolva’s potential addictiveness.
David Wilson is freelance writer based in the United Kingdom. More David Wilson.
Why do men have nipples?
Great thinkers, from Aristotle to Darwin, have pondered this question.
Why do men have nipples? To prove they’re mammals, obviously. The
distinguishing features of mammals, from whales to mice, are two:
having hair and suckling their offspring. This gives us the
notorious sentence that demonstrates why our pronouns need
overhauling: “Man is an animal who suckles his young.”
Clearly, if men didn’t have nipples, to demonstrate their
theoretical membership in the La Leche League, we could only
identify them as mammals by their hairiness. And where would that
leave bald guys? What are they, reptiles?
Susan McCarthy is a San Francisco freelance writer and the author, with Jeffrey Masson, of "When Elephants Weep: The Emotional Lives of Animals." More Susan McCarthy.
Hot Flash: The end of girl talk?
Darwinian anthropologist Helen Fisher talks about polygamy, loyalty and why a bubbly young chick like Monica Lewinsky would confide in a sour stepsister like Linda Tripp.
I wake to a horrifying thought, as I contemplate the relationship between Monica Lewinsky and Linda Tripp, the big-sister confidante who betrayed her: Is this the end of girl talk? I think about the times I’ve chattered out of turn. Then I pick up the phone and call Dr. Helen Fisher, a Darwinian anthropologist — and a fellow girl — who has plenty to say about the origins of girl talk.
Fisher’s Manhattan apartment — in a quiet eastside building around the corner from Central Park — is meticulous yet cozy. In her bedroom hangs a small colorful painting by one of her former boyfriends of Fisher pulling off her blouse, naked from the waist down. Her body is neat, lean and feminine — rather like her apartment. Although she’s had many opportunities, Fisher has only been married once — for about six months — to a man she divorced “in order to continue the relationship,” she tells me. Fisher has been on the board of Planned Parenthood of New York City for over a decade because, she says, “if there is something I would lie down in front of a tank for, it’s the right of a woman to have children when she wants to.” Fisher chose not to, but she points out: “My twin sister has a child, so I passed on my genes.” A longing to perpetuate your own DNA lurks in almost every human heart, she assures me, and informs our most intimate decisions.
Continue Reading CloseTracy Quan is the author of "Diary of a Manhattan Call Girl." More Tracy Quan.
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