I love how the net forms these shapes and patterns. Especially that shape on the very inside of the pattern. That would be the bottom part of the net.

Notice how the bottom part of a basketball net has 24 sides.

A shape with 24 sides is called an icositetragon. A basketball net is an icositetragon!

I might be the first person on the internet to say a basketball net is the shape of an icositetragon. I only say I might be the first person, because I did a Google search for: icositetragon basketball; and there wasn’t anything related to a basketball net having 24 sides. I’m guessing there HAS to be something out there, and Google just isn’t showing it in their results.

Icositetragon is a long confusing word. Let’s break it down to its Greek components

• icosi- = twenty
  From Greek eíkosi (εἴκοσι), meaning “20.”
• tetra- = four
  From Greek téttares / tetra (τέσσαρες / τετρα), meaning “4.”
• -gon = angle
  From Greek gōnía (γωνία), meaning “angle” or “corner.”

Therefore, icosi + tetra + gon = “twenty-four angles”

In this particular case, since the sides go inward, this is a star icositetragon. Let’s isolate the star icositetragon.

If you stare at the shape enough, it looks like it’s made of three overlapping squares. To help you see the three squares, let’s put three colored squares on top (magenta, yellow, and green).

That looks pretty cool! Like some sort of 90s logo. If an NBA team wants to go 90s retro, they could implement three overlapping squares into the logo. It’ll have that 90s look, but it will also be symbolically tied to a basketball net.

Here’s how a logo like that might look (logo generated by ChatGPT)

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While walking to school to pick up Evelyn, an evergreen tree on my block dropped a bunch of pine cones. I picked one up, because I like holding something from nature on a walk. Plus, it gives me something to investigate while waiting for her to come out.

When I plucked this pine cone from the grass, the side facing up was open. But flipping it over, the side that had been facing the ground was closed. (nine-second video)

Pine cones open and close based on moisture. When the air is dry and warm, they open up. When it’s damp or cold, they close. Try it sometime — put a pine cone in your fridge (especially the fruit crisper where there is more humidity), and it’ll close right up. Take it back out, and it opens again. The cells inside are actually dead, so it happens entirely on its own, a purely mechanical response to moisture.

Today was the first warm, dry day in a couple of weeks, reaching 80 degrees with only 28% humidity, so the pine cone opened up in the dry air. But the ground still held the cold and dampness of the past few weeks. So the side of the pine cone facing the wet grass stayed closed, while the side facing the sky opened wide.

Cold below, warmth above. That little pine cone was carrying both at once.

Why would pine cones do this at all?

The pine cones we all recognize are female pine cones. They open when it’s warm and dry so their seeds can be carried away by the wind — conditions perfect for germination. When it’s wet, they close back up to protect the seeds inside.

The male pine cones are much smaller and softer — not the big woody kind at all. They look like tiny ears of corn, only half an inch to two inches long. Their job is to release pollen into the wind. In spring, as things dry out and warm up, the female cones open to receive that drifting pollen.

After fertilization, it takes about two or three years for the seeds inside to fully develop. Eventually, they loosen and fall — and if conditions are right, a new evergreen tree begins.

In winter, the pine cones close. In summer, they open. And sometimes, on the first warm day after a cold spell, a single pine cone on the ground tells you both stories at once.

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One of the few buildings to survive the Great Chicago Fire, the Chicago Water Tower still stands on Michigan Avenue. It’s part of the identity of Chicago. You see it and immediately know where you are.

For a stretch of time, roughly 1999 to 2017, the inside of the tower operated as the City Gallery. It was small, able to hold about 20 to 40 works. But the size almost made it better. You weren’t just looking at art. You were inside the Water Tower, moving through a space that is usually sealed off.

There’s something amazing about being in a city and unexpectedly encountering artwork. A mural on a building. A sticker on a train station handrail. A small object someone leaves behind in a planter among flowers. These moments interrupt the flow of the city for a second. You notice something you weren’t looking for, and the pace changes.

That’s how I felt about the City Gallery in Chicago’s historic Water Tower. It was a small gallery inside a limestone landmark. A place you could step into directly from Michigan Avenue, leaving behind traffic and tourists for a few minutes of quiet observation.

Stepping inside this gallery was like entering a warp zone. There was no lobby area. No check-in. No ticket counter. Entering this gallery was an immediate action. As soon as you step through the antique wooden doors, BAM, you are IN the gallery.

The room was white, compact, and arranged in a square. You moved around the perimeter, looking at the work, with no clear beginning or end point to the space.

Then you turned around, walked back through the same wooden doors, and stepped immediately into the noise of the city again.

These brief pauses inspired me to create artwork in public spaces. And continues to inspire me today. This gallery was like a work of art set in the urban environment. A sort of jewel you find lying right there on the sidewalk.

I wish I had documented City Gallery more carefully. I have no full walkthrough. Just a few photos and a short video. In one of those moments, I placed a piece of my street art on top of a lion relief inside the tower. The intention wasn’t to be ironic or disruptive. It was to add something human to the space—something that might catch a person off guard in a good way.

Here’s that video from 2011.

There’s also a walk-through someone else captured of the “Charlie Trotter: Chef, Artist, Thinker” exhibit that shows more of the interior.

Is the City Gallery at Water Tower still showing exhibitions?

I tried to get into the gallery about a month ago. The doors were locked. Peering through the windows, I didn’t see anything on display.

From what I can find, the exhibition schedule seems to end around 2017:

The oldest exhibit in City Gallery I could find online is from 2009; however, the gallery dates back to 1999. The City of Chicago’s tourism site in 2011 states:

Established March 20, 1999, the City Gallery is a program of the Chicago Department of Cultural Affairs’ Public Art Program. The gallery features several exhibitions per year, all free and open to the public.

A small space, but a real one

It wasn’t a major destination, but it was always worth a visit. You could walk in off Michigan Avenue, spend a few minutes with the work, and step back out into the city.

There aren’t many places like that. Especially not inside a structure as recognizable as the Water Tower.

What’s left

The building is still there, still photographed, still doing its job as a landmark. But the interior feels like it’s gone quiet again. And it’s hard not to wonder if that stretch—those years when you could just walk inside and see something new—was a short chapter that’s already over.

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Last year, Kodak released a tiny keychain camera that went viral. It sold for $30. People questioned if a toy camera is worth thirty dollars. Well, now people will have to question if a toy camera is worth $35.

Kodak now sells the Charmera for $35. (I bought mine from Kodak last year for $30). I suppose Kodak realizes they have a hit on their hands, so with the increased demand, they increased the price.

Today I read an article about how Urban Outfitters sells it for $35. I chuckled because, of course, Urban Outfitters would take something and sell it for more than other places. But I was wrong. It’s selling for $35 everywhere. Kodak, Target, B&H, etc.

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They come in three sections (each about 3.3 feet wide), which gives you some flexibility. I used two sections in the main entrance between our living room and dining room, and the third in a doorway.

Putting them in multiple spots makes the whole room feel wrapped in gold foil.

The problem

If the strands touch the floor, they won’t last long. Kids run through them. Feet catch the bottom. Strands get pulled. Before long, you’ve got a patchy curtain.

The simple fix

Trim them so they float just above the floor. Here’s the easiest way I found to do it evenly:

1. Put a box under the curtain

I used an empty tissue box, but anything similar works.

2. Use the box as your cutting guide

Rest your scissors on top of the box and cut straight across. Trimming them to be all the same length is so satisfying! I feel like I could have done a video of me trimming the fringes and posted it on social media. It would have gone viral with the sensation crowd.

3. Let the box catch the scraps

This might be the best part. The foil trimmings fall right into the box instead of scattering everywhere.

Bonus use

Save the leftover gold strips. They make perfect bait for a leprechaun trap next St. Patrick’s Day. Your local leprechaun will not be able to resist!

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It’s always fun searching abstract words in Google Photos. You’ll often come up with some surprising results. This image came up in my Google Photos.

When you first see the image, you think: whoa. What in the world is going on here? Detailed instructions. Numbers everywhere. A web of lines crossing a keyboard like some kind of maniac blueprint. To execute these in the proper order looks like it would require tremendous skill. Almost like playing a complicated piano piece. Like virtuosity.

But when you look closer and begin decoding it. In reality, it’s just typing 28-character message (33 with spaces). We easily type 28 characters on a keyboard. Nothing virtuosic about that.

• Number 1: M
• Number 2: A
• Number 3: Y…

MAY YOU…

LEARN…

You start guessing. It becomes a little like Wheel of Fortune.
MAY YOU LEARN SOMETHING NEW TO…

Oh! Today!

MAY YOU LEARN SOMETHING NEW TODAY

There’s a fun element of play in that slow reveal. The pleasure isn’t just the message. It’s the uncovering. Each letter is a marker of sequence. You could almost ask, “When did you guess the phrase?” At the 14-letter mark? Earlier?

Right now, the letters unfold in order. It’s more procession than puzzle. If I wanted to make it more suspenseful, I could scramble the sequence. Instead of 1, 2, 3, 4… it could go 7, 2, 15, 21, 13… revealing letters in scattered positions like a true game board.

That would make it more like a decoder puzzle.

Which is funny, considering I’ve been working at Tribune Content Agency for 26+ years — a place that syndicates crossword puzzles and word games. This feels like a distant cousin. Not as challenging as a crossword. Much more direct. Just follow the trail. Let the message slowly surface.

And honestly, there’s something nice about a puzzle that doesn’t make you think too hard.

The way this is made is also of note. This isn’t a photograph of a keyboard. It’s a keyboard scanned directly on a scanner. There’s something tangible about that. The keyboard touching the surface of a scanner. It’s like doing a pencil rubbing. You are in direct contact with the surface.

Which is interesting, because a keyboard is already something we are constantly in contact with. Our fingers live on it. Our words pass through it. But here the keyboard itself is pressed flat, touching the scanner. Only a thin plane of glass separates you from it in this digital replication.

If this were a photo, it would be a bit more detached. More like an object in space. The scanner makes it feel archival. Fossilized. Pressed into the page.

I made this back on April 4, 2018. Yeah, that was a while ago. Remember, I came across this in my photo archives. The original purpose of this image was to mail the print to a friend.

Could I have typed the message in a text? Sure. Could I have emailed him a photo of this print? Sure. But instead, I snail-mailed him the actual print.

With a keyboard, we type out messages. With this print, instead of typing, I wrote on the sheet of paper with a pen. Instead of writing letters, I wrote instructions. The keyboard speaks, but only after you follow the path.

I remember wanting to send Marco a keyboard. Not just a message typed from a keyboard — but a keyboard with a message on it. As if to say: here is this keyboard. It is saying something to you.

In fact, the day before I made this puzzle, I literally wrote the letter right on top of the image. Here’s what I sent to my cousin.

We take for granted all the messages that pass through a keyboard. In thise case wrote the message on a keyboard. ON the keyboard. Get it?

Eight years prior to this keyboard exercise, I started printing friends’ Facebook posts, hand writing a comment on the printout, and snail-mailing it to them.

Admittedly, putting someting into the mail takes a bit of effort, so this year, I’ve picked up the handwriting tradition again, but without the snail mail part. Now I scan in my letter and post it online as a response.

Back to the keyboard message. Here’s the image again.

These numbers are almost like a dance. Or a treasure hunt. The treasure is reached once you go through all the steps, and you have the final message. The treasure is both the adventure, and the final result.

This reminds me of doing mazes. You meander around a maze, trying to find the ending. The joy is found in the meandering. I’ve always said that a good maze will bring you to the very edges. As in, a good maze doesn’t just give you a direct route to the end. A good maze will bring you over the entire canvas. A good maze will bring your trail to the borders of the maze canvas. A good maze will take you places you never imagined going.

Going from key to key on this keyboard feels like that. You span the whole surface. You cross diagonally. You double back. You wander.

Eventually, you reach the end.

But the joy is in the meandering.

Virtuosity… remember that definition?

great technical skill, fluency or style

The virtuosity here isn’t technical brilliance. It’s more that the recipient took the time to decode the message. Also, the virtuosity might be the decision to turn something ordinary — typing a sentence — into a trail. Into geometry. Into a small adventure mailed in an envelope.

Possible messages to encode next

• Take the long trail
• Meander
• Every now and then dance
• You have virtuosity
• You found the treasure
• The treasure is yours
• The geometry of joy

I like that last one, “The geometry of joy.” That takes into account the shapes and lines on the printout. The chaos of the lines looks almost like something in nature. Like a garden. Here’s some garden-related messages that could be used:

• Flowers grow out of dark moments
• The forest was once just a seed
• To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow
• Dirt is good for the soul

Maybe something dance related

• At the still point, there the dance is.

I heard about the news that the Chicago Symphony Orchestra hired a 30-year-old Finnish wunderkind as their new conductor. I have orchestras on my mind. The keyboard looks a bit like an orchesta pit.

So maybe a message to encode on the keyboard could be music-related:

• I know this music from memory, not from the music.
• The orchestra plays

Imagine taking the time to decode this puzzle, and the resulting message is THE ORCHESTRA PLAYS. If you decoded the message one note at a time, it’s like YOU are the orchestra. You are playing the music. And that’s sort of grand, isn’t it? Or perhaps virtuosic.

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In an effort to use my notepad more often, instead of my phone. I am attaching my phone to my notepad using rubber bands.

Trying my new notepad + iPhone combination. The iPhone provides a solid surface to write on. But the edges of the paper are a bit challenging to write on, because the edges of the paper overhang the phone. I have the much smaller iPhone SE 2020. This might work better with today’s larger iPhones.

Bonus: I can attach a pencil to the notepad!

The bulk of the iPhone inside my notepad might make this not work. Plus, the rubber bands are likely to slip off as I take it in and out of my pocket.

The long-term goal is to buy another iPhone case and hot-glue it to the cardboard, so I don’t need to use the rubber bands.

I will make sure to cut a hole in the cardboard for the camera. This is actually a bonus feature of the iPhone SE 2020. That iPhone has only a tiny hole for the camera. Unlike today’s iPhones, which have a gigantic lens setup. I just need to make one small hole in the cardboard instead of the giant gaping hole needed for today’s iPhone camera lenses.

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I made this wire figure and put him on a swing in Chicago’s Winnemac Park. This is an art series called “Get into the swing of”. The series is meant to encourage people to enjoy the area where they view the artwork. The person on the swing is looking and enjoying the area. Hopefully, the viewer will enjoy the view too. And perhaps get some inspiration to have some fun.

When making art in this series, I bring the string and wire. The seat of the swing is always constructed on-site using materials found at the site. This brings more of the specific location into the artwork. Plus, I hand-make the figure on the site, so I, the artist, sit down and enjoy that particular spot. I’m not merely dropping off the artwork. I’m making it right on the spot.

» View more photos from this series taken at Winnemac Park.

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I made a screenrecording to show you how to turn off the AI results in Google searches.

Or if you prefer to read the instructions

1. The manual way

Here’s how a regular Google search looks with the AI results at the top:

To get rid of the AI results, you can add “-ai” to the end of your query.

If your query is: how much does a dime weigh
Your new query would be: how much does a dime weigh -ai

You’ll get results with no AI:

Hooray! But who in the world is going to remember to type -ai after every search? You want a setting.

2. Adding the setting to Chrome

By default, Chrome does not have a little button that you can just push to say, “Turn this off.” Instead, the setting is buried in the settings. You have to add these weird variables and stuff. But I’m going to show you how to do it.

The trick is to go to Chrome > Preferences… (In Windows, I believe that would be called Settings).

Click on “Search engine” on the left.

Click on Manage search engines and site search.

Now we have a list of search engines.

Yours is probably going to say Google by default, which is good. It’s fine. Most people will have that. We want to add a new one to this list. The add button is down here.

It looks like the Add button is part of the site search. And that searches individual sites. It appears that doesn’t seem like what we want to do. I think Google is being a little tricky with their user interface, so people don’t add this this extra little trick that we’re going to do.

The trick is to actually click that Add button. We click add.

Now we get the screen for “Add site search”.

• Name: Google (No AI)
  (Name can be anything you want)
• Shortcut: @web
  (Shortcut can be anything you want)
• URL with %s in place of query: {google:baseURL}search?udm=14&q=%s
  (Use that exact text. This forces Google to do the old-fashioned Google search without all the extra little bells and whistles. No AI. Just a simple search.)

Click the “Add” button.

Now, here’s another little trick that Google is playing. We can’t see our new setting named “Google (No AI)”. Where is it?

We have to click “Additional sites” because it’s going to be down below.

Here’s our setting named “Google no AI”. That’s what we want.

Click the little meatballs, and select “Make default“.

Bada bing bada boom. Yeah, now “Google (No AI)” is our default search engine.

So now when do a search either in the browser’s URL bar, or the Google start page, there’s no AI in here anymore.

The only trick, and I’m going to tell you this, the only trick where this does not work. If you go to google.com, the website, and you do a search, it’s going to give you that AI result. This trick doesn’t work from the website.

The trick we did works in the URL bar up here because this is a browser thing. This is a browser feature. That’s a little URL bar. It’s part of the browser, right?

The trick we did works in the Google start page. Because that’s a browser thing, not a website.

Why does this work?

In our setting we added: {google:baseURL}search?udm=14&q=%s

• {google:baseURL} is equilavent to google.com.
• udm=14 is a search parameter. And anytime you do a Google search with that udm=14 in the URL, that’s telling Google to keep it old school, man. I remember 14, because Ernie Banks, one of the greatest Chicago Cubs of all time wore #14. He played in the 1950s, 60s, and 70s. Thus, he’s old school. Not that you need to remember this trick because our Chrome setting automatically adds udm=14.
• q=%s is your actual search keywords.

This trick is only for desktop like laptops and computer towers. It’s not for cell phones.

Other values that work

We used:

• {google:baseURL}search?udm=14&q=%s

You can also use any of these values:

• {google:baseURL}search?q=%s&udm=14
• https://www.google.com/search?q=%s&udm=14
• https://www.google.com/search?udm=14&q=%s

I personally like using udm=14 before q=%s. It forces Google to include it right at the start of the URL, so then Google can’t just simply chop it off.

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For those who like a timeline:

• 1983-2005: Original iconic Rock ‘n’ Roll McDonald’s
• 2005-2018: Larger Rock ‘n’ Roll-themed McDonald’s (with giant arches)
• 2018-present: Corporate boring eco-friendly McDonald’s

I just watched an 18-minute video called “The McDonalds that Defined an Era: The Death of a Chicago Icon” by Chunklight Twona, about the history and eventual demise of the Rock ’n’ Roll McDonald’s in Chicago. It’s really good. And I’m especially glad the creator went there on the last day. Someone actually documented it on its final day of existence. That alone makes this a historical video.

First off, the video shows you what the original Rock ’n’ Roll McDonald’s looked like in the 1980s and 1990s.

I’ve been to the original Rock ’n’ Roll McDonald’s as a kid and as a teenager. What always stuck with me was how dense it felt. They packed so much into that space. Everywhere you turned, the walls were covered with memorabilia. It felt like a physical collage. No empty space. No minimalism. Just layers of stuff.

I also spent a good amount of time in the 2005 version.

I worked at Tribune Tower from 2000 to 2018, so it was basically my McDonald’s for over a decade. I liked that version too, but it never felt quite as rich. Part of that is just scale — the 2005 building was huge. Anything you put inside it is going to feel a little dwarfed by the architecture.

I haven’t even seen the new one. In fact, I didn’t realize they tore down the 2005 version until watching this video.

And wow. The 2018 version. Zero charm.

Here’s my theory: this building probably looked amazing in computer renderings. I’m sure the mockups were slick. All sharp lines and glowing surfaces. That second-floor greenhouse thing? In the concept art it probably screamed: “We are eco-friendly to the MAX.”

But then it got built in real life, and it’s just… underwhelming. Flat. Corporate. Bland.

And yes, you can say “everything is corporate and bland now,” but I think it’s deeper than just branding. I think it’s about how we design and build things now.

We don’t really build things as we go anymore. We pre-build them on screens. Everything is mocked up in software first. There’s no one sketching loosely on paper, no one ad-libbing in the process. No moments of, “Hey, we’ve got this weird corner here — what if we stick this thing there?”

Now it’s all 100% premeditated. Locked in. Approved. Rendered. The computer screen becomes the reality.

And the computer screen lies.

It adds perfect lighting. Perfect reflections. Soft glows. Beautiful atmospheres that don’t exist in the real world. Then you build the thing, and real sunlight hits it, and real materials reflect it, and suddenly it’s just… meh. The magic was in the rendering, not in the building.

When they built the original Rock ’n’ Roll McDonald’s, I can almost guarantee it was more like:
“Hey, we’ve got this empty wall — let’s throw these records here.”
“And we’ve got this weird space — stick a jukebox there.”
And they just kept fitting things together like a puzzle.

It had life because real humans were making real-time decisions in physical space.

The original wasn’t designed. It was assembled. And you could feel that when you were inside it.

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