Slim-k-d - Untitled

It's an open notes test and some dense motherfuckers still can't figure out the answers.

Once, in a dry season, I wrote in large letters across two pages of a notebook that innocence ends when one is stripped of the delusion that one likes oneself. Although now, some years later, I marvel that a mind on the outs with itself should have nonetheless made painstaking record of its every tremor, I recall with embarrassing clarity the flavor of those particular ashes. It was a matter of misplaced self-respect. I had not been elected to Phi Beta Kappa. This failure could scarcely have been more predictable or less ambiguous (I simply did not have the grades), but I was unnerved by it; I had somehow thought myself a kind of academic Raskolnikov, curiously exempt from the cause-effect relationships that hampered others. Although the situation must have had even then the approximate tragic stature of Scott Fitzgerald’s failure to become president of the Princeton Triangle Club, the day that I did not make Phi Beta Kappa nevertheless marked the end of something, and innocence may well be the word for it. I lost the conviction that lights would always turn green for me. Although to be driven back upon oneself is an uneasy affair at best, rather like trying to cross a border with borrowed credentials, it seems to me now the one condition necessary to the beginnings of real self-respect. Most of our platitudes notwithstanding, self-deception remains the most difficult deception. The charms that work on others count for nothing in that devastatingly well-lit back alley where one keeps assignations with oneself: no winning smiles will do here, no prettily drawn lists of good intentions.The dismal fact is that self-respect has nothing to do with the approval of others—who are, after all, deceived easily enough. To do without self-respect, on the other hand, is to be an unwilling audience of one to an interminable home movie that documents one’s failings, both real and imagined, with fresh footage spliced in for each screening. To live without self-respect is to lie awake some night, beyond the reach of warm milk, phenobarbital, and the sleeping hand on the coverlet, counting up the sins of commission and omission, the trusts betrayed, the promises subtly broken, the gifts irrevocably wasted through sloth or cowardice or carelessness. However long we postpone it, we eventually lie down alone in that notoriously un- comfortable bed, the one we make ourselves. Whether or not we sleep in it depends, of course, on whether or not we respect ourselves. There is a common superstition that “self-respect” is a kind of charm against snakes, something that keeps those who have it locked in some unblighted Eden, out of strange beds, ambivalent conversations, and trouble in general. It does not at all. It has nothing to do with the face of things, but concerns instead a separate peace, a private reconciliation. People with self-respect have the courage of their mistakes. They know the price of things. In brief, people with self-respect exhibit a certain toughness, a kind of moral nerve; they display what was once called character, a quality which, although approved in the abstract, sometimes loses ground to other, more instantly negotiable virtues. Nonetheless, character — the willingness to accept responsibility for one’s own life — is the source from which self-respect springs. To have that sense of one’s intrinsic worth which, for better or for worse, constitutes self-respect, is potentially to have everything: the ability to discriminate, to love and to remain indifferent. To lack it is to be locked within oneself, paradoxically incapable of either love or indifference. If we do not respect ourselves, we are on the one hand forced to despise those who have so few resources as to consort with us, so little perception as to remain blind to our fatal weaknesses. On the other, we are peculiarly in thrall to everyone we see, curiously determined to live out—since our self-image is untenable—their false notions of us. We flatter ourselves by thinking this compulsion to please others an attractive trait: a gift for imaginative empathy, evidence of our willingness to give. At the mercy of those we can not but hold in contempt, we play roles doomed to failure before they are begun, each defeat generating fresh despair at the necessity of divining and meeting the next demand made upon us. It is the phenomenon sometimes called alienation from self. In its advanced stages, we no longer answer the telephone, because someone might want something; that we could say no without drowning in self-reproach is an idea alien to this game. Every encounter demands too much, tears the nerves, drains the will, and the spectre of something as small as an unanswered letter arouses such disproportionate guilt that one’s sanity becomes an object of speculation among one’s acquaintances. To assign unanswered letters their proper weight, to free us from the expectations of others, to give us back to ourselves—there lies the great, the singular power of self-respect. Without it, one eventually discovers the final turn of the screw: one runs away to find oneself, and finds no one at home. In memory of the great Joan Didion: On Self-Respect.

Howard Johnson Hotel – Spring '74. The hotel at 115 E. Tropicana Ave, Las Vegas, has had nine names since opening in 1973.

Timeline

'73: Howard Johnson Motor Lodge Hotel. Corrao Construction began the work in Fall '72. Oesterle Nevada Corp opened the 340-room hotel in Fall '73. Partners include Sala & Ruthe Realty and Harley Harmon. (Ground breaking for new Howard Johnson's held. Review-Journal, 9/10/72)

'75: Paradise Hotel & Casino. New sign was built in '76.

'77: 20th Century Hotel & Casino.

'79: The Treasury Hotel & Casino. Operated by Herb Pastor.

'82: The Treasury bought by O'Donnel & Philbin, closed in Jul. 

'85: Pacifica Hotel, opens without a casino in Jul. serving gay customers. Pacific uses a stripped-down version of the Treasury sign.

'85: Polynesian Hotel, in Oct. “Officials of the Pacifica Resort near the Las Vegas Strip recently announced the name of the hotel is being changed to the Polynesian Hotel in order to divorce itself from gay clientele” - Reno Gazette Journal, 10/8/85. Polynesian closes Oct. ’86. 

'89: Hotel San Remo. Operated by Sukeaki Izumi.

'91: Second tower addition. 

2006: Hooters Hotel & Casino

2019: Oyo Hotel & Casino. 

'72 – Rendering of Howard Johnson Motor Lodge Hotel

'74 – Lounge at the Howard Johnson’s Hotel. Classiclasvegas

'75 – Paradise Hotel & Casino. Construction of a new sign is seen in this photo taken 1/15/76.

'77 – 20th Century Hotel & Casino

'79 – The Treasury Hotel. The sign was built out to this size, with various showgirl statues on the sign and around the parking area, by YESCO. Classiclasvegas

'85 – Reporters covering the opening of Pacific Hotel. Images from Tom Hawley’s Video Vault at News 3.

'85 – Polynesian. New sign by YESCO.

Dorothea Lasky, from Rome

"As one reads history, not in the expurgated editions written for school-boys and passmen, but in the original authorities of each time, one is absolutely sickened, not by the crimes that the wicked have committed, but by the punishments that the good have inflicted; and a community is infinitely more brutalised by the habitual employment of punishment, than it is by the occurrence of crime. It obviously follows that the more punishment is inflicted the more crime is produced, and most modern legislation has clearly recognised this, and has made it its task to diminish punishment as far as it thinks it can. Wherever it has really diminished it, the results have always been extremely good. The less punishment, the less crime. When there is no punishment at all, crime will either cease to exist, or, if it occurs, will be treated by physicians as a very distressing form of dementia, to be cured by care and kindness. For what are called criminals nowadays are not criminals at all. Starvation, and not sin, is the parent of modern crime."

~ Oscar Wilde, The Soul of Man Under Socialism, 1891. Just a few short years before his own imprisonment, which ultimately lead to his death.

Tens of thousands of protesters mustered in cities and towns across the country on Saturday to sound off against the Trump administration's cuts to the federal government and its polices.

Carrying homemade posters and chanting "Hands Off," the protesters came out to the more than 1,200 rallies nationwide despite rain in many cities, according to organizers.

Rep. Jamie Raskin (D-Md.), spoke at the Washington DC rally, "Their tariffs are not only imbecilic — they're illegal, they're unconstitutional, and we're going to turn this around."

Paul Osadebe, a lawyer for the Department of Housing and Urban Development, spoke during the rally in Washington, saying the oligarchs do not "value you, or your life, or your community. ...We're seeing that they don't care who they have to destroy or who they have to hurt to get what they want."

Multiple protests rallied in all 50 states — major themes included, 'Hands Off': our Bodily Autonomy, our Schools, our LGBTQ Rights, our Freedom of Speech, our Social Security, Medicaid and Medicare, our Wallets, our Jobs, our Civil Rights, our Clean Energy, our Democracy.

And, importantly, there were no reports of any major disturbances or arrests at any of the over 1,200 rallies.

This is the living embodiment of a government that is "of the People, by the People, and for the People."

Democracy is a beautiful thing.

Have you ever looked closely at a car windshield?

The edge of the glass is painted where it is glued to the car but it has these small dots between the clear and painted glass.

These are there for a reason. When the sun hits the glass the painted areas and the clear areas will absorb heat at different rates. This causes the glass to expand and contract differently putting stress on the glass.

These dots help the glass to warm up more evenly over a larger area so the glass does not suffer stress that could cause it to spontaneously explode.

Fun fact: the Tesla cybertruck doesn’t have these.

Yes, the glass will spontaneously crack or explode in the sun.