No man but a blockhead ever wrote, except for money.
Today marks the end of a second full year of the Logarithmic History blog and twitter account. I plan to continue blogging and tweeting into another year, 2017, beginning on New Year’s Day with the Big Bang. Next year, like this year, most of my material will be recycled. However I’ll continue to add new stuff (word on the street is that there will be news about the Bell Beaker folk), and revise old stuff. I’ll also post occasionally about my academic work, even when it falls outside the bounds of “logarithmic history” strictly speaking; expect future posts on kinship and cognition, kin selection, and ethnic nepotism. I may also try to dragoon friends and colleagues into doing some guest posts as well. So this is a merry-go-round: I expect to see some old followers dropping off, and new people jumping on.
“Logarithmic History,” like so much else the internet, is the work of a blockhead, at least according to Doctor Johnson. It is a labor of love, provided free of charge. But I do make this request:
If you’ve enjoyed the blog and/or twitter account, whether you decide to stay or to go, please tell other people about it, and suggest that they might sign up.
And for New Year’s Eve, with the universe about to start up again tomorrow, this quotation from science fiction writer Jack Vance, which I used back when beer was invented (seven thousand years ago, on September 15), is appropriate again:
The waiter departed to fill the orders. He presently returned with four tankards, deftly served them around the table, then withdrew.
Maloof took up his tankard. “For want of a better toast, I salute the ten thousand generations of brewmasters who, through their unflagging genius, have in effect made this moment possible!”
“A noble toast,” cried Wingo. “Allow me to add an epilogue. At the last moments of the universe, with eternal darkness converging from all sides, surely someone will arise and cry out: ‘Hold back the end for a final moment, while I pay tribute to the gallant brewmasters who have provided us a pathway of golden glory down the fading corridors of time!’ And then, is it not possible that a bright gap will appear in the dark, through which the brewmasters are allowed to proceed, to build a finer universe?”
“It is as reasonable as any other conjecture,” said Schwatzendale. “But now.” The four saluted each other, tilted their tankards, and drank deep draughts.
Jack Vance Lurulu p. 181
Happy New Year!