Pictures and infographics.  Wonderful things, aren’t they?

Everyone seems to think so.  But I don’t.  Personally, I hate infographics, and find picture heavy posts annoying.

We live in a world where it’s assumed you have all five of your senses, and nothing makes that clearer than the current trend of replacing text filled posts with infographics.  For those who actually do have all five senses, this is a great thing, and apparently serves to save time, allowing them to fit in more blog reading time each day.  This is a good thing, right? Well, yes, it is.  After all, we all want as many people as possible to visit our blogs, so the more blogs each person can visit, the more chance we have of one of those blogs being our own.

But what about those of us who are missing one of those senses? What about the visually impaired…

There are ghosts in the walls of old houses. They roam abandoned plantations. They float down the side streets of southern cities on sticky, sultry summer nights.

That is what the dark tourism industry would have us believe at any rate. Dark tourism is travel that is steeped in suffering of one sort or another. In the American South, this industry overlaps with the ghost tourism industry in which people investigate potential hauntings. Historian Tiya Miles explores these ideas along with the historical memory of slavery in Tales from the Haunted South: Dark Tourism and Memories of Slavery from the Civil War Era.

In the book, Miles focuses on ghost tours to help understand how people reinterpret the Civil War era. The narrative follows her as she travels to places like Charleston, New Orleans, and Savannah as well as more rural plantations. Histories can often be dry texts, but Tales…

History is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake.

– James Joyce

Enhancement. Why shouldn’t we make ourselves better than we are now? We’re incomplete. Why leave something as fabulous as life up to chance?

– Richard Powers,  Generosity: An Enhancement

In Thomas Pynchon’s Gravity’s Rainbow a point is reached in the text in which the inexorable power of an accelerating capitalism is shown out of control mutating into something else something not quite human:

The War needs electricity. It’s a lively game, Electric Monopoly, among the power companies, the Central Electricity Board, and other War agencies, to keep Grid Time synchronized with Greenwich Mean Time. In the night, the deepest concrete wells of night, dynamos whose locations are classified spin faster, and so, responding, the clock-hands next to all the old, sleepless eyes— gathering in their minutes whining, pitching higher toward the vertigo of a siren. It is the Night’s…