This article is from the archive of our partner. On the occasion of, it's tough to imagine the Internet without all the Google services we use for our Internetting, so let's go back to 1998, the year Google was born, to look at how the Internet operated before Sergey Brin and Larry Page introduced us to searching with. We Used AOL, Hotmail, or Netscape for Email the number one most popular website had the exact same function as one of Google's most popular services today: email. According to a Media Matrix report from 1998, AOL got the most traffic, which shouldn't surprise too many people who were cogent in 1998 — you were reminded. However, the webpage may look a bit foreign. Many of us dialed into AOL using the proprietary AOL software on those CDs, but if you managed to get online some other way, after typing into Internet Explorer (no Googling, remember?) you would find an email and chat services portal that looked like this. Not the link to AOL Netfind, to search that didn't survive Google.

After AOL, Hotmail and Netscape both come in the top 20 most visited website in 1998. Hotmail's homepage was even sparser than AOL's: Netscape had its own 'webmail,' but also advertises for AIM on its homepage with search powered by Excite, which as a. Groove Agent 2 Files On Skyrim. At the end of November 1998, a few weeks after this screenshot was taken,. We Used Yahoo, Lycos, or AltaVista for Search Before Google became synonymous with looking things up on the Internet, Yahoo, which first indexed the web, was the number two most popular site online.

Today, it still (somehow) attracts a ton of traffic, coming in at the number one spot just a smidge above Google,. Back then, Yahoo was considered 'good,'. After-all it had a page load time of three seconds. 'This is one of the fastest download times among major websites,' noted Jakob Nielsen. (Today, those three seconds would be a little slower than average.) He also praised Yahoo for its 'minimalist' design, 'links, links, and more links everywhere you turn,' and the 'structured navigation system.' That 'good' site looked like this: Indeed, unlike the single-box homepage that Google introduced in 1998 the fashion for search engines was links, links, and more links everywhere. Altavista and Lycos both indexed searches with categories all over the homepages.

To celebrate the release of 'Daddy's Home 2', which sees two families come together at Christmas with some rather calamitous results, we found. Mum thought Dad was being romantic, but my wife took it upon herself to explain that the thong and lacy bra was actually a present to her daughter-in-law from.

Here's Altavista, 'the most powerful and useful guide to the Net.' They had the Bill Clinton presidency covered. We Used Internet Explorer IE 4, which came out in 1997 doesn't even look that alien.

But this year, Google Chrome Internet Explorer as the most popular gateway to the Internet: We Would Blog at GeoCities Okay, so Blogger, which first launched in 1999 and was then bought by Google four years later, isn't the most popular service out there anymore. Nuvvu Naaku Nachav Movie Download. But, it's always fun to remember GeoCities in all of its GIFed glory.

After AOL (email), and Yahoo (search), GeoCities came in as the number three most trafficked site. Here's its homepage in 1998. And because the screenshot doesn't show it, yes, that clip-art was an animated GIF: This article is from the archive of our partner The Wire. I’ve never met or interviewed Donald Trump, though like most of the world I feel amply exposed to his outlooks and styles of expression. So I can’t say whether, in person, he somehow conveys the edge, the sparkle, the ability to connect, the layers of meaning that we usually associate with both emotional and analytical intelligence.

But I have had the chance over the years to meet and interview a large sampling of people whom the world views the way Trump views himself. That is, according to this morning’s dispatches, as “like, really smart,” and “genius.” In current circumstances it’s relevant to mention what I’ve learned this way. “I can handle things.

Not like everybody says, like dumb. I’m smart and I want respect!” This morning’s presidential Twitter outburst recalls those words of Fredo Corleone’s in from The Godfather series. Trump that his “two greatest assets have been mental stability and being, like, really smart,” and in called himself a “very stable genius.” Trump may imagine that he’s Michael Corleone, the tough and canny rightful heir—or even Sonny Corleone, the terrifyingly violent but at least powerful heir apparent—but after today he is Fredo forever.

There’s a key difference between film and reality, though: The Corleone family had the awareness and vigilance to exclude Fredo from power. The American political system did not do so well.

Ironically, it was the publication of a book this week that crystallized the reality of just how little Donald Trump reads. While,, Trump’s indifference to the printed word has been apparent for some time, the depth and implications of Trump’s strong preference for oral communication over the written word demand closer examination. “He didn’t process information in any conventional sense,”. “He didn’t read.

He didn’t really even skim. Some believed that for all practical purposes he was no more than semi-­literate.” Wolff quotes economic adviser Gary Cohn writing in an email: “It’s worse than you can imagine Trump won’t read anything—not one-page memos, not the brief policy papers, nothing. He gets up halfway through meetings with world leaders because he is bored.”.

Three months ago, when Jodi Kantor and Megan Twohey of The New York Times unloaded about Harvey Weinstein’s pattern of sexual aggressiveness and abuse, the depth of detail made the story unforgettable—and as it turned out, historic. Real women went on the record, using their real names, giving specific dates and times and circumstances of what Weinstein had said or done to them. Of the reactions that flowed from this and parallel accounts—about Roger Ailes and Bill O’Reilly in the Fox empire, or Matt Lauer and Charlie Rose in mainstream TV, or Kevin Spacey and Louis CK in the film world, or Michael Oreskes and John Hockenberry in public radio, or Mark Halperin and Leon Weiseltier in print and political media, and down the rest of the list—one response was particularly revealing.

It was that the behavior in question had been an “.”. P resident Donald Trump’s decision to about the size of his “nuclear button” compared with North Korea’s was widely condemned as bellicose and reckless.

The comments are also part of a larger pattern of odd and often alarming behavior for a person in the nation’s highest office. Trump’s grandiosity and impulsivity has made him a constant subject of speculation among those concerned with his mental health. But after more than a year of talking to doctors and researchers about whether and how the cognitive sciences could offer a lens to explain Trump’s behavior, I’ve come to believe there should be a role for professional evaluation beyond speculating from afar.

I’m not alone. Viewers of Trump’s recent speeches have begun noticing minor abnormalities in his movements. In November, he used his free hand to steady a small Fiji bottle as he brought it to his mouth. Onlookers described the movement as “awkward” and made jokes about hand size.

Some called out Trump for doing the exact thing he had mocked Senator Marco Rubio for during the presidential primary—conspicuously drinking water during a speech. When Teddy Roosevelt was in office, he had the White House basement coated with mats. An avid martial artist, the 26th president wanted to be able to grapple and practice judo throws without leaving his home. Then the youngest man to assume the presidency (he was 42), he injected a certain vigor into the role: He invited accomplished boxers to the White House to spar with him, he led ambassadors on intense hikes, and he once livened up a formal luncheon by tossing a Swiss minister to the floor to demonstrate a judo hold. Roosevelt was the only martial artist to occupy the oval office, but his enthusiasm for exercise fits a pattern that’s become more marked among recent presidents. It’s not hard to see the appeal of an active president to constituents: Being the leader of the free world is a demanding job, and it’s comforting to know the person filling it will make it to the finish line.

The same clearly holds for Supreme Court justices, as evidenced by widespread liberal concern about Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s bone density and kale intake. ( documenting the octogenarian’s workout regimen—a twice-weekly, hour-long circuit involving push-ups, planks, and weights—seems to have allayed some worries.).

Jayson Jones was my favorite person to call when I needed a substitute for my high-school English classes. Jayson was an aspiring teacher who was extremely popular with the students and related especially well with many of the at-risk kids. One day, I walked into the classroom at lunchtime, and he was sitting alone in the dark, listening to music. “Oh, an introvert?” I said. “I had no idea.” He smiled and responded, “Absolutely. I do this every day to recharge.” Unfortunately for me and thousands of future students, Jayson has left the classroom for the workshop: He’s refurbishing furniture instead of teaching and says that his “introversion definitely played a part.” I’ve written about in today’s increasingly social learning environments, but the introverted teachers leading those classrooms can struggle just as much as the children they’re educating.

A few studies suggest that introverted teachers—especially those who may have falsely envisioned teaching as a career involving calm lectures, one-on-one interactions, and grading papers quietly with a cup of tea—are at risk of burning out. And when these teachers leave for alternate careers, it comes at a cost to individual children and school districts at large. This is the first installment in an ongoing series examining kids’ worldviews and how they are shaped. When the sociolinguist Calvin Gidney saw The Lion King in theaters two decades ago, he was struck by the differences between Mufasa and Scar. The characters don’t have much in common: Mufasa is heroic and steadfast, while Scar is cynical and power-hungry.

But what Gidney noticed most was how they each spoke: Mufasa has an American accent, while Scar, the lion of the dark side, roars in British English. In in which Scar accuses Simba of being the “ murderer!” responsible for Mufasa’s death, the final “r” in his declaration floats up into a sky bursting with lightning, and it’s hard to imagine it sounding quite as monstrous in another tone.

TSUKUBA, Japan —Outside the International Institute for Integrative Sleep Medicine, the heavy fragrance of sweet Osmanthus trees fills the air, and big golden spiders string their webs among the bushes. Two men in hard hats next to the main doors mutter quietly as they measure a space and apply adhesive to the slate-colored wall. The building is so new that they are still putting up the signs. The institute is five years old, its building still younger, but already it has attracted some 120 researchers from fields as diverse as pulmonology and chemistry and countries ranging from Switzerland to China. An hour north of Tokyo at the University of Tsukuba, with funding from the Japanese government and other sources, the institute’s director, Masashi Yanagisawa, has created a place to study the basic biology of sleep, rather than, as is more common, the causes and treatment of sleep problems in people.

Full of rooms of gleaming equipment, quiet chambers where mice slumber, and a series of airy work spaces united by a spiraling staircase, it’s a place where tremendous resources are focused on the question of why, exactly, living things sleep. When I taught linguistics to undergraduates, I would start each semester off by asking students what sort of assumptions they would they make about a speaker who said, 'I ain't got no money.' The responses were always similar—'ignorant,' 'uneducated,' 'stupid.' If I pressed, one brave student would eventually come forward and say 'African American.'

After writing up the list of associations on the board, I'd point out that for nearly a thousand years, double negation was standard in English. 'I ne saugh nawiht' in Middle English; 'I don't see anything' in Modern English. Today, one can find it in French, which negates verbs by affixing the particles ne and pas to either side of the verb, as well as in Afrikaans, Greek, and a number of Slavic languages.

The point: There is nothing inherently 'ignorant' or 'stupid' about double negation; judgments about speech are judgments about the speakers themselves.