Locklin on science

The Kaufmann Protocol Sandra Kaufmann. I saw this lady on youtube somewhere, and she seemed half nuts, so I bought her book. Mostly it’s a rough explanation of some of the human biological system and a list of supplements that good for stuff that breaks down as you get older. It listed some things I didn’t know about, but weren’t very convincing anyway. Astaxanthin, carnosine, curcumin, green tea (EGCG) are all familiar and things I put in my gob on a regular basis. Apigenin, aka Chamomile tea perhaps was the most interesting thing she was touting. Quercetin: great for when you have a cold. Alpha lipoic acid is something I used to take regularly when I was bulking to avoid getting too fat: might be worth tossing in the supplement stack on occasion. A lot of longevity nuts take metformin, and ALA has similar effects without the side effects. I am not a fan of resveratrol; remember how this was a big thing a couple of years ago, then it went away? Pepperidge farms remembers. Anyway she’s big on this and I am not, so this made a lot of the other suggestions rather less interesting.

Plutarch’s Lives v2 (Dryden translation). I think I mentioned reading volume 1, but think I just said “read this book.” Either way I regret not writing notes about the individual lives. If you read Homer’s Competition you’ll get an idea of why you should, but you should probably just read Plutarch. Because I’m a foppish literary man, I have an ancient leather bound 3 volume set, the translation of which dates from 1683. I think Dryden has its charms, but probably you should read something else. Clough came maybe 70 years later and has a decent reputation. North was a generation earlier: Shakespeare’s Plutarch: probably best avoided as it was a translation of a bad French translation. People go into transports about the recent Penguin and Oxford translations. I’ve sampled the Penguin edition, which is incomplete. Both of these are broken down by Greek and Latin and leaves out the comparison passages, and the contrast of having the parallel lives one after the other, which kind of defeats the purpose of the book, though they contain extensive footnotes. Anyway, Pyrrhus: a very ferocious man, though a bit of a cypher. He was almost the next Alexander. He’s compared to Caius Marius, who was a very strange man from Rome. Plutarch’s reading of his life doesn’t differ much from Sallust’s accounts. He was very political; elected to the Consul position 7 times -more than anyone else up until then (I assume the Caesars may have beat him). He was also kind of a communist who ruined the country by allowing poor men into the army (BTW the Wiki page on Marian reforms claiming it never happened is horse shit: Plutarch talks about it for chrissakes). I don’t know why Plutarch compared these two men, as his comparison text didn’t make it to current year. Lysander was a great general of Sparta during the Peloponnesian war, probably most responsible for Spartan victory. He was master of the world, outside of Sparta, where jealous and lesser men who were kings treated him like a manservant. He set up fierce and nightmarish oligarchies of his friends in conquered cities; kept no war booty for himself -a man both corrupt and extremely honest and honorable. Sulla, rival of Marius was compared to him. Sulla’s the guy who broke the republic, using the weapon of poorfag soldiers loyal only to their commanders against Marius himself. Kind of funny he was on the Optimate side, but used Populares against themselves; poorfag Romans were apparently retards. It’s a bit of a chaotic history as Sulla was also fighting various foreign wars; Mithridates, Jugertha, etc. When he marched on Rome, he bathed it in rivers of blood, then retired to hang out with his actor and cross dresser frens, before dying of a horrible disease. They were compared by Plutarch as they were both self made men. Cimon of Athens; reputed to be a degenerate when he was younger, he grew to be a leader of high virtue and generosity, donating much of his wealth to the good of the state and dying relatively young in its service. Lucullus started out sober and later became more lavish in his indulgences as he got older, but also a skilled general and tireless worker for the good of Rome. Both men fought in the orient, and left their conquests unfinished, though for different reasons.

The Young Girls by Henry de Montherlant. Montherlant was in Ernst Junger’s circles during the Paris occupation; his pappy was so conservative he wouldn’t allow a telephone in the house. I basically picked the book because of this, and because wakipedia said it was the world’s most offensively misogynistic series of novels (all four novels were in this book). I was disappointed in this; it’s more like Dangerous Liaisons for sleazy 1920s novelists, except more psychologically astute for modern people. The protagonist is a womanizing writer, so many assume it is a stand-in for the author (it seems unlikely). There are four major “girls” in the story. One is an aging blue stocking from the provinces who writes insane obsessive letters to the protagonist, despite his insistence he just wants to be friends. Almost certainly an example taken in part from life; I’ve known women like this. Another is a religious woman from the provinces who seemingly confuses her religious ecstasies with an obsession with the protagonist (who politely suggests she join a nunnery, despite his being mostly atheistic in temperament). Their interaction with the protagonist is mostly epistolary; hence the comparison to Dangerous Liaisons. The other two: an empty headed beautiful bourgeois woman who takes up most of the drama, and his Moroccan mistress. This is a painful book in that a lot of it is ridiculously awkward and realistic, including the internal dialog of the protagonist. The protagonist is a cad, in a way any man who has had a sex life can uncomfortably relate to. He’s also kind of a narcissistic imbecile, but at least is hilariously misanthropic, which is more amusing in the scenes where he takes his women out on “dates” -his takes on the normies around him are hilarious. It’s a very impressive novel for its psychological depth and as a result, somewhat painful reading. I went and looked at what the dimwit Simone de Beauvoir said about all this in her Second Sex book; I thought she’d be triggered by the psychological nudism, but she simply didn’t get it. The entire essay is just her making hen-like outraged noises, and showing that she had at least thumbed through his books enough to name some of the characters (I don’t think she read any of his books to completion). Orange man bad! While the women don’t come off well in the thing, the male protagonist is … far from a hero or stand in for the author. Montherlant is obviously an aristocratic misanthrope. Everyone in it is vile, and everyone in it is a believable and ordinary human character: quite a neat trick to draw me through 650 pages of people being cringe.

A History of Venice by John Julius Norwich. I read this book about 30 years ago after my first visit to the Lagoon. I read it again at least once since then; it’s an eminently readable history book; like reading a novel or watching an engaging documentary. Anyway, it’s been 30 years and I visited again, so I figured I’d give it another go-through. La Serinissima had its origins in the Visigoth invasions of Italy: in many ways it was as much a continuation of the Roman Empire as Byzantium was. By 800 or so it was a regional power. Its story is a long litany of ambition and trade: one of the great things about the Venetians was their ability to combine trade with cunning and conquest. It was the archetype of the seagoing Merchant Republic, longer lived than Athens, and their system of government is probably the largest influence on the American system. This is a book that rewards the re-reads; I remember the problems with the council of 10 and various ad-hoc councils and their secret police during covid times. This read I was particularly struck at how quickly the decline of Venice happened. While they began the economic slide down with the Portuguese discovery of the Southern Passage around 1500, they were still conquering territory very late in the game in the 17th century in the Captain-General and Dogeship of Francesco Morosini (ending in 1694). This despite out of date naval technology, poor economic prospects compared to their glory days, but still punching well above their weight with skilled leadership and diplomacy, though their final leadership was completely worthless. For centuries they had been renting foreign shipping rather than developing modern armed merchant ships in the Arsenal as a thriving power would have. The leadership figured, after all, they were still making money (shades of the 90s deindustrialization of America) and enjoying the partying which became the national passtime. The leadership class at the end were almost as clown like as current year American leadership. Silvestro Valier who followed Morosini was still a wartime Doge, but he was elected mostly because he was rich and knew how to throw a good party. Others who followed him presided over territorial loss, scandals, and Mosque building in the city. One of the late Doges was a scholar-poet and fellow of the Royal Society and friend to Isaac Newton: admirable qualities, but not leadership qualities. This was the era of Casanova who probably embodied the degenerate morals of the era; adventures, scams, womanizing and partying preferred to mercantile conquest. The penultimate Doge was moderately competent and an actual noble, was married to a ridiculous Greek acrobat he met on a trade mission to Istanbul: something unimaginable in previous eras. The final Doge was a peasant (nobleman on paper through bribery in the previous century), and while not married to an acrobat (his wife was of appropriate station, though literally insane) and a reasonably competent administrator, he had the leadership skills of fermenting cabbage, and so when Bonaparte showed up in the 1790s, it was all over.

Armor Building Formula II by Dan John. He wrote another one while I was finishing the last one. Mostly this one is answering the numerous questions which come up on his podcast and in his coaching practice. Lots of good ideas for things to mix up with the ABC complex, also various ways of getting through it, programming it with other workouts, assistance workouts, using it for fat loss, using it 5x a week instead of 3x a week and so on. Also some interesting charts for what your max should be at various press weights; useful for buying a new kettlebell without too much guesswork. Worth it if you’re doing ABC complex training; dude gives a lot to the community, give him a few bucks. He rambles on a bit, but all of his insights are worthwhile.

The Victorian Amateur Astronomer by Alan Chapman. I know it’s hard to believe, but there was a time when science was not an elaborate welfare scheme for PhDs looking for government baksheesh. Oddly enough, people made a hell of a lot more technological and scientific progress when the government wasn’t paying for it. Chapman takes us from around 1820 to 1920 in Great Britain, where an odd assembly of landed gentlemen, beer brewers, street lecturers, gentleman astronomer’s gentlemen, iron mongers, blacksmiths and even humble working class people (and in one case a homeless bum who was pals with George Orwell) did a ton of important astronomical research and discovery, including innovations in optics. This was in the UK mind you, where it is cloudy and rainy most of the time, but the gentlemen amateurs still thought it was an activity worthy of devoting a lot of time and money to. FWIIW there were a few professional astronomers during this era; for example George Airy. Most of these guys relied on other incomes as well, also donations from well to do enthusiasts. The UK used to run a tight ship. Professional astronomy was also oriented towards navigation rather than discovery. The amateurs were generally the great discoverers of the era. It’s an interesting group of people; most interesting, almost unbelievable, were the working class people doing it as a hobby. British of the 19th century were a different species from the present inhabitants.

Titus Andronicus Shakespeare. I’ve seen the Anthony Hopkins movie like 10 times; very fun movie with excellent aesthetics. Everyone hates on this play, down to denying Shakespeare actually wrote such a stinker, mostly because it is ridiculously bloody and violent. This was a common and crowd pleasing genre of the time; more or less a Senecan tragedy. I found it a fun read, I think the right way to think about it is it’s like an Arnold action movie from the 80s. Popcorn Shakespeare. Better than most of the comedies anyway. Apparently he got the story from an old Latin collection of tall tales, the Gesta Romanorum which makes me curious about obtaining the book. Existing translations are a bit steep at 100 bucks where I live, so maybe I’ll hold off for learning Latin or digging up a used copy. Seems like Decameron or Arabian Knights collection of stories. Such things are often useful in decoding more recent cultural production (which often copies such old ideas wholesale).

A Short History of Naval and Marine Engineering by Eng. Capt. Edgar C. Smith, O.B.E., R.N. More or less a history of powered ships from their inception of steam ships to the 1920s or so. A lot of engineering autism involving boiler design, various kinds of prime movers, how they were supposed to be operated, substances used to lubricate them, coaling techniques, armor, tables of ship capabilities, cutaway diagrams. Lots of great diagrams. You can find it online somewhere: I did.

Letters from a Stoic Seneca. Reading this in preparation for reading a couple of Seneca’s plays, which heavily influenced Elizabethan playwrights. I’m broadly sympathetic to the stoicism of the ancients, but confess I find Seneca to be a moralizing twatwaffle about half the time. I haven’t actually finished, as a lot of it is so painful as to negate any of the good stuff.