4 Quixotic Quests of the Rich and Famous
Hey, Michael Jordan, just because you're good at basketball doesn't mean you can swing a bat. And a syrupy sweet voice doesn't make you a poet, Jewel. Oh, and Paul Newman, you're a fine actor, but your salsa is ... well, it's really good, actually, but you're the exception. Sometimes, the talented and famous begin to experience delusions of multi-famed grandeur. For all those tilting at windmills, mental_floss is here to provide the ridicule and reality check. Prose and Cons: Mussolini's Writer's Block
Curiously, Mussolini isn't the only dictator with a weakness for romance novels. Saddam Hussein has anonymously published three, and another is purportedly on the way. None of them have been translated into English, though we hear they make Mussolini's stuff read like Proust. Cantor Battles Shakespeare: Left Brain Takes a Right
But even before then, he wasn't exactly a picture of mental health. Toward the end of his life, he became obsessed with proving that Sir Francis Bacon was the true author of Shakespeare's plays via complicated schema and hidden codes the likes of which haven't been seen outside "A Beautiful Mind." Cantor's extensive writings on the subject aside, nearly all Shakespearean scholars agree on two things: William Shakespeare, of Stratford-upon-Avon, wrote the plays attributed to him, and Cantor should have stuck to math. Isaac Newton: Putting the Pseudo in Science
[Note - See previously on Neatorama: 10 Strange Facts About Newton] Mark Twain Gets Business-Schooled
A massive typesetting machine with 18,000 moving parts, the Compositor was a complete commercial failure. Twain invested at least $190,000 and 14 years worth of anxiety into the invention and came away with two prototypes, neither of which worked for very long. All was not lost, though. One of those prototypes was willed to Columbia University, which donated it to a scrap metal drive during World War I. That means the Compositor became bullets ... and finally served a purpose. |
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The article above appeared in the Scatterbrained section of the Sept - Oct 2005 issue of mental_floss magazine. It is reprinted here with permission. Don't forget to feed your brain by subscribing to the magazine and visiting mental_floss' extremely entertaining website and blog today! |





















While
noted fascist Benito Mussolini eventually found a fulfilling career as
a tyrannical dictator, his earlier ambitions were literary. Fourteen years
before taking power in Italy, Mussolini penned a serial novel titled The
Cardinal's Mistress for a weekly supplement in an Italian newspaper.
Apparently, it was quite the bodice-ripping romance. You know, the kind
filled with lines such as, "The common brutes of the market-place
satiate their idle lusts on your sinful body." It goes without saying,
but the book didn't do much to secure Mussolini's reputation as a writer.
Georg
Cantor is widely regarded as the most important mathematician of the 19th
century. He invented "set theory," which - in addition to making
life miserable for Calculus II students everywhere - proved that some
infinities are (prepare to have your mind blown) bigger than others. That's
the sort of realization that can make your head hurt. And sure enough,
Cantor eventually went bonkers.
Forget
Isaac Newton's famous falling apple. (For starters, that story was quite
possibly made up by Enlightenment stalwart Voltaire.) Many scholars argue
that Newton's theory of gravity was the product of his obsessive fascination
with what was, at the time, the decidedly unenlightened science of alchemy.
Newton spent more of his life studying alchemy than "real" math
and science. And without his beliefs about occult forces operating in
a vacuum, he might never have understood gravity. So when Newton famously
said, "If I have seen further than others, it's because I stood on
the shoulders of giants," many of the giants to whom he was referring
were probably cranks, pseudo-scientists, and alchemists.
Mark
Twain's The Adventures of Tom Sawyer was the first novel composed
on a typewriter. Yet, ironically enough, the author formerly known as
Samuel Clemens was nearly driven into bankruptcy by the Paige Compositor.



