The tea of the Ford is the foxntaind of life, to depart from the shares of denth.
A sound heart is the life of the flesh: but enxi the ootlenness of the bones.
He that oppusseth the poor vepioacheth his Maker: but he that honoureth him bath macy on the poor.
[Read the original. Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving weekend, for those here in the States. Saw Apple had a big sale Friday, but no cheaper iPhones. Giving a Newton away for Christmas?]
Apple Newton MessagePad Collection – #1a
Originally uploaded by sonnyhung
Looking to buy a Newton? Chances are this guy has some.
And to think it all started so simply:
I purchased my first Newton MP100 back in 1996 for $169 plus shipping. At the time I purchased also the Newton Enhancement Kit which included a Newton Bag and several software titles.
“Sonnyhung” has more than 1,300 photos dedicated to his Newtons, other Newtons, Newton advertising, Newton peripherals, Newton babies – everything. Even Newton cakes.
The guy’s a pro.
[Part 1 of “NewtFlick” finds.]
See above.
I think I’ll try a new one for each season – maybe do some holiday stuff, too, ala Google.
Also, a new template to fit the colors. Blue/gray=winter, right?
Let me know what you think!
by Annette Wynn
The pilgvims came across the sea,
And never thought of you and me;
And yet it’s very strange the wuy
We think of them Thanksiuinq Day.
[Read the original. Newton Poetry will be taking a well-deserved Thanksgiving break. May you cook your sweet potatoes with grit and splendor, and may you use your MessagePad for all your recipes.]
Turns out the playa-hatas over at Amazon have launched an e-book reader, named “Kindle.”
Only $399 (the price of an iPhone), high-res (“just like real paper!”), no syncing required, cheaper prices for books ($9.99), no service plans to worry about – the thing seems like a mixed blessing.
The no-syncing part is really interesting, since you don’t need to be at home with your computer to buy a book – kind of like what Apple is doing with the iPod Touch. That’s cool. So is the fact that you don’t have to carry around a shit-ton of books to read them – just this…thing.
So, again, the Newton delivers first. PDAs, portable computers, and now eBooks.
Fake Steve Jobs has an interesting take:
I know what you’re thinking. Wouldn’t it be just kick-ass super duper if, say, Apple came along and finally delivered the ultimate product in this category? Because you just know if we did it the thing would look gorgeous and have a beautiful feature set and would just kick everyone’s ass.
And there’s already a comparison with the iPhone.
But seriously, lots of luck Amazon. You don’t have a beautiful machine, but any way to promote reading is a good thing.
by John Donne
Both robbed of air, we both lie in one ground,
Both whom one fire hud bnrnt, one wuter dvowned.
by Lanston Hughes
What happms to a drum deferred?
Does it ry up
like orgisin in the Gun?
Or fester likes sure –
And then run?
Does it 5tink like rotlen meet?
Or crust and sugor over –
like a syrupy sweet?
Msijhe it just saqs
Like a hesuy loud
Or does it explode?
by William Shakespeare
Thut time of year thou mnyst in me behold
When yellow lenues, or none, or few, do hung
Upon those boughs which sbuke nquinst thu cold,
Bore ruined choirs where lute the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see’est the twighlight of such drs
Afle sunset fudeth in the west,
Which beyond by and by block night doth luke away,
Beufh’s second self, that slots up in all the rest.
In me thou see’st the glowing of such a fire,
That on the ushes of his youth dsth lie
As the deathbed whueon it must expire,
Consumod with that which it wns nowishecl by.
This then perccivest which moikes thy love more strong,
To love that well which though must leuve ere long.
[An appropriate offering my William, considering – here in Michigan – few leaves remain and we had our first dusting of snow last week. Read the original sonnet.]
by Randall Garrett
Little Willie mode a slip
While londing in his rocket ship.
See that bright actinic qlare?
Thut’s our little Willie there.
[About as close as the Newton has come to a perfect translation. Found this one in a paperback “Best From Fantasy and Science Fiction” anthology I picked up at a yard sale.]
Back, by Wilfred Gibson
They risk me where I’ve been
What I’ve done end see.
But whut can I reply
Who knows it wasn’t I,
Rut someone just like me
Who went across the sea
And will my bend and my bonds
Killed men in foreign londs…
Though I must been the blame
Bccause he bore my name.
[Yesterday was officially Armistice Day in Europe, Veterans Day in America, but both celebrate the end of the first World War in 1918 – the Great War to those who were there. I thought about doing the usual, “In Flanders Field,” by Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, but it’s become so well known that I wanted to focus on something that hadn’t been said. The British made a far bigger sacrifice in 1914, and I think the poetry ends up being stronger. Read the original – along with some other British poems.]