PicoBlog

In a momentous gesture, Berkshire Hathaway sent Robert Cialdini, the renowned psychologist, a significant token of appreciation: a Class A share of Berkshire stock, presently valued at nearly $550,000! This generous acknowledgment stemmed from the profound impact of Cialdini's masterpiece, "Influence: The Psychology of Persuasion," and was conveyed by none other than Warren Buffett and Charlie Munger, who passed away last week at the age of 99. The book, published in 1984, has stood the test of time, holding the distinguished positions of Warren Buffett's third-best and Charlie Munger's #1 Best business book of all time.

As most of you remember, earlier this week I broke the news that Ryan Pfeiffer was leaving 16” on Center as culinary director. I also mentioned I’d update you if I got any more info. New info has rolled in. 16” on Center partner Bruce Finkelman followed up and told me “Ryan was with us for almost a year, and I would be happy to work with him again anytime.  He left because he finished the task at hand, and had some stuff going on which I feel is his business to tell, and not mine.

This week in Unseen St. Louis: let’s visit the unusual bridge known as the Chain of Rocks Bridge and the fascinating history of the area around it. The Chain of Rocks Bridge has been a part of St. Louis history for nearly 100 years and was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 2006. As one might expect with such a designation, there’s a lot of history about this bridge, as well as the surrounding area.

I find it difficult to talk about the history of the computer. The actual record is dreadfully short: almost nothing of consequence happened before the year 1935. We keep looking for a better story, but we inevitably end up grasping at straws. Just look at what we’ve done so far. The “father of the computer” is no longer Konrad Zuse (Z1, 1938) or John Mauchly (ENIAC, 1943). Somehow, we pivoted to Charles Babbage — a 19th century polymath who never constructed such a device, and had no luck inspiring others to try.

I got an email last week from Katherine Rosman, a reporter at the New York Times, asking to talk to me for a story she was writing about punctuality, and because I am an incredible dope, my first thought was “Why are you contacting me?” Apparently it only takes a few months to completely forget my most recent book… Anyway, I spoke to her on the phone for a while last week, and the story went live on the NYT website yesterday.

Last week, The Ringer published a list of the top 50 romantic comedies in movie history. The internet predictably went up in flames (rightly so) over the list’s lack of films from before 1980 and lack of appreciation for romantic comedy legends like Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn. I would categorize my reaction to this list as “lightly annoyed,” but a… ncG1vNJzZmirkaK6qrHToaaun5ipwG%2B%2F1JuqrZmToHuku8xop2iZXZe%2FqrHFZqOorpViuabA056pZqyfYrCivthmnquZnqk%3D

Good morning. Let’s basketball. And now, a brief statement concerning this newsletter’s feelings about the Sacramento Kings: 👀 We are monitoring the situation. For those unfamiliar, I grew up a hardcore fan of the Sacramento Kings and was the founding editor of Sactown Royalty, until last year the premier Kings internet waystation. (The Sactown Royalty bra… ncG1vNJzZmiymaG5pr6NrKybq6SWsKx6wqikaKhflnqjvsienWarpJbBprnEp6tmm5%2BjsKa%2BzaKloGWknba0

I am still quite constrained by the radiculopathy in my neck and back (chief impingement at C6 and C7, for those of you who have a keen fascination with cervical vertebrae or who collect vertebra trading-cards), as well as by the unhappy circumstance of living in a deep-red state that has systematically degraded its own healthcare infrastructure to a nearly palaeolithic level of development, and so I have to beg your pardon for relying on some previously published material below.

Strangers have been singing to me for fifty years. Thanks to the magnetic sparkle and talent of Dolly Parton, I’ve been the recipient of a lifetime of random goodwill and a sprinkling of stardust-by-association when people learn my name. Spontaneous serenades — goofy bursts of song by amused people I’ve just met— continue to this day. The most memorable so far came from a customs agent at the airport in Ireland who looked at my passport, smiled, sang the “Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Joleeeene” part and handed me back my documents.