I love history.  Love it.  For instance, my NYC obsession has lead me to look at architectural photographs of various parts of the city taken over the last century, finding beauty in everything — I’m dreaming of decorating my future shoebox-masquerading-as-home in large, distorted art prints of trains and aeroplanes from the 1920s and 50s, images that inspire me with grand theories and the audacity of those who wondered “what could be” and went on to create it.  But I work in a tech field, which seems to have little respect for history or theory or the slow, measured, elaborate work I really enjoy.  I love what I actually do without being terribly enamored of the field in general, though I try to mask my general disdain when I notice it.

The receptionist just delivered my mail, including the July edition of Wired, to my desk.  The cover throws that screwball paradox firmly into my face with the headline: The End of Science: “The quest for knowledge used to begin wtih grand theories. Now it begins with massive amounts of data. Welcome to the Petabyte Age.”

Cute marketing.  I’ll stick with my Socratic methods, thanks, and thumb through this version as quickly as possible.

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