Britons asked to label the American states...

... produce results like this:



Lots more here — including more references to "Breaking Bad." And it was almost true that everyone still got Texas and California, but there's one where California is left blank, Texas is called Nevada, and Nevada is called L.A.

AND: As long as I'm at Buzzfeed, I like this list, especially #9.

The paleotectonic evolution of North America.

"The first map shows the land 510 million years ago, progressing from there... through the accretion and dissolution of Pangaea into the most recent Ice Age and, in the final image, North America in its present-day configuration."

Superimposing the familiar shapes of American states adds drama:



Oh, California! At the top of the link, you can see further back in time — 85 million years earlier than that to a nearly nonexistent pre-California. Looking at the series of maps, you're pushed to imagine what shapes lie ahead. Caged in our human-sized time frame, we like to think the drastic reconfigurations of the coastlines could be controlled if only we would live more virtuous lives, but in the larger scheme, change grinds on.

(Much more at the link.)

"40 Maps That Will Help You Make Sense of the World."

Please check these out. Spend as much time as you like. Then, I'd like to ask you a question. Don't click "more" until you've looked at the maps.

Which map did you spend the most time with? Which maps drew you in? Looking back at my experience with these maps, it occurred to me that this functioned as a sort of a personality test, though I'm not ready to spell out what your results are. I'll just say where I became absorbed:

By far, I spent the most time with "4. Map of ‘Pangea’ with Current International Borders." The other 2 that absorbed me were "23. If the World’s Population Lived in One City" and "38. The Longest Straight Line You Can Sail on Earth."

Some of them I skipped right over because they gave me that feeling that an annoying ideologue was urging me to get outraged about something.

The oldest globe that includes the Americas.

"Dated to the early 1500s, the globe was likely crafted in Florence, Italy, from the lower halves of two ostrich eggs."

It is engraved with then-new and vague details about the Americas garnered from European explorers like Christopher Columbus and Amerigo Vespucci. It is also decorated with monsters, intertwining waves and even a shipwrecked sailor, according to the Washington Map Society, which published a study of the artifact in its journal The Portolan.

I love that they made it out of ostrich eggs.

Picturing Antarctica.

From the Tumblr Maps on the Web (via Business Insider)...

Antarctica without all the ice:



Antarctica and the U.S.A.:

"A Self is interesting to oneself and others, it acts as a sort of rudder in all the vicissitudes of life..."

"... and it thereby defines what used to be known as a career," wrote Jacques Barzun to his grandson, the lawprof, Charles Barzun, quoted by my son Jaltcoh here. The grandson had asked for help with what he called "a genuine crisis of identity... "brought on by the events of 9/11 and partly by my own discovery that I could not have cared less about my job." The grandfather assured him that he would find his way, which would look "like a path marked on a map" and "you will have made a Self, which is indeed a desirable possession."

The elder Barzun likens identity to a path and then to a rudder. Life is a journey. That's a very widely used metaphor. All these people who think of life as a journey: What are they picturing? Do they see a wilderness where you can find — or break — a path? Or do they see a map where you can mark a path? Or is it a journey over the ocean, in which your body is a ship, and what you want is a rudder?



The seafaring image implicit in Barzun's "rudder" made me think of that popular old poem that ends "I am the master of my fate/I am the captain of my soul." I haven't heard that poem — "Invictus" — quoted in a long time, perhaps because it was overquoted to the point of triteness and nowadays people don't read poetry — other than in children's books. They'll listen to poetry, including the endless doggerel of rap (which is, perhaps, inspired by many childhood readings of Dr. Seuss books). But there was a time when lots of ordinary people knew the last verse of "Invictus" by heart.

I'm reading the Wikipedia page for "Invictus," scanning the long list of items under the heading "Influence." It begins with "Casablanca" (where "I am the master of my fate" is used ironically). The next item features Ronald Reagan:

In the 1945 film Kings Row, Parris Mitchell, a psychiatrist played by Robert Cummings, recites the first two stanzas of "Invictus" to his friend Drake McHugh, played by Ronald Reagan, before revealing to Drake that his legs were unnecessarily amputated by a cruel doctor.

Next, another President, FDR, at least the FDR of the 1958 play Sunrise at Campobello. Further down we encounter Nelson Mandela, who recited the poem to hearten his fellow prisoners. There's also Aung San Suu Kyi. And then... it's chilling to encounter this after beginning this post with the crisis of identity brought on by 9/11:

The Oklahoma City bomber Timothy McVeigh quoted the poem in its entirety as his final (written) statement.

The terrorists are out and about on their own ships in the seafaring journey of life, and they've got their rudders. Emergency inspiration available here.

GeoGuessr.

"1. Look around the random Google Street View and try to figure out where you are. 2. Click the world map to guess!"

A great game... really teaches you how wrong you can be. (Note: You can zoom in on the map (and the street view).)

"This Is The Most Depressing Version Of Google Maps I’ve Ever Seen."

What is depressing? That when people get more money they move to the suburbs? That people flock to cities when they are young and at the lower end of the income scale? That childless people often have these 2 characteristics: they aren't making enough money yet and they are comfortable with the housing options in the city? Our easily depressed map viewer assumes he's looking at an image of nothing but racial segregation:

What do you get when you combine Google maps and a bunch of info about household income? Only one of the most fascinating things ever to happen because of the census. Colder colors mean wealthier neighborhoods; warmer colors mean poorer ones. Whoever thought segregation could be this hypnotic, am I right? 

Since you are so fascinated, how about thinking your way out of that hypnosis, which perhaps is something you got put under in college. Wake up. Think of other dimensions. And look up the word "median."