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10 Loud Places That Are Actually Nice and Quiet

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You know how people make lists of unusual town names to send out as a joke via email? I got one that had a list of "noisy" towns. I decided to look them up and see how "loud" these places really are. I found that most of them were simply nice, quiet places -with very loud names.

1. Loudville, Massachusetts

Loudville, Massachusetts is part of Hampshire County, but is not listed as a town. The area is known for a group of small lead and silver mines that were worked in the late 1600s. Photograph by John Phelan.

2. Screamer, Alabama

Screamer

Screamer, Alabama is a small community in Henry County. It is apparently big enough to support a fire department. Photograph by Flickr users Jim & Lynn Sisk.

3. Screamersville, Virginia

Screamersville, Virginia is in Chesterfield County, but we don't know how many people live there. It's an unincorporated community between Richmond and Petersburg.

4. Hoop and Holler Bend, Manitoba, Canada

Hoop and Holler Bend in Manitoba is described as a "non-descript stretch of Provincial Road 331 southeast of Portage." Nobody knows exactly how it got the name, but the theories are that it was some sort of place for partying, or maybe it was named for the eerie sounds of ghosts left behind when a party barn burned down, or possibly it came from the sounds kids in the back of a wagon made when coming into town. The above video shows a controlled release of water at Hoop and Holler Bend during a flood in 2011.

5. Hoot and Holler Crossing, Texas

Hoot and Holler Crossing, Texas, is an unincorporated community in northern Texas that has the distinction of having the barest Wikipedia entry I've seen yet. However, there do appear to be people living there. It's located in Wilbarger County.

6. Yelling Settlement, Alabama

Yelling Settlement, Alabama is near Daphne, Alabama. It's a part of L.A. which in the South means "Lower Alabama," the little part that reaches down to the Gulf of Mexico. Yelling Settlement is populated, but there is little about it on the internet.

7. Yellville, Arkansas

Yellville, Arkansas is about 30 miles south of the Missouri state line. It was named in honor of Archibald Yell, who was a territorial judge before Arkansas became a state, and a congressman and then governor after statehood was achieved. He was killed leading his cavalry troops during the Mexican-American War. Yellville has 1,204 proud citizens.

8. Yell, Tennessee

Sanders Grove School House

Yell, Tennessee is a small populated but unincorporated community in Marshall County. The building shown is the former Sanders Grove schoolhouse near Yell. Photograph by Flickr user Tennessee Wanderer.

9. Yell, Scotland

Yell is also one of the Shetland Islands off the north coast of Scotland. The name could have come from the Proto-Norse word Jela, meaning "white island." Or it could be from the Old Norse word Gjall, which means "barren." The island was under Viking rule for a long period, although it was populated back in the Neolithic era. Photograph by Anne Burgess.

10. Holler, Maryland

Holler, Maryland is in Frederick County, and has an elevation of 600 feet and an unknown population. I debated whether to include this one, as the word "holler" is often a place name that was originally a "hollow." We don't know the origin of the name of the Maryland community near Unionville, but it is apparently a quiet spot.

If number ten doesn't quite qualify as a "loud place" then you might want to check out Hoop and Holler, Texas, or Screamer, Tennessee. That is, if you can find them. There's not much on the internet about these places, except that they exist on some map, somewhere.

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iStock // Ekaterina Minaeva
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technology
Man Buys Two Metric Tons of LEGO Bricks; Sorts Them Via Machine Learning
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iStock // Ekaterina Minaeva

Jacques Mattheij made a small, but awesome, mistake. He went on eBay one evening and bid on a bunch of bulk LEGO brick auctions, then went to sleep. Upon waking, he discovered that he was the high bidder on many, and was now the proud owner of two tons of LEGO bricks. (This is about 4400 pounds.) He wrote, "[L]esson 1: if you win almost all bids you are bidding too high."

Mattheij had noticed that bulk, unsorted bricks sell for something like €10/kilogram, whereas sets are roughly €40/kg and rare parts go for up to €100/kg. Much of the value of the bricks is in their sorting. If he could reduce the entropy of these bins of unsorted bricks, he could make a tidy profit. While many people do this work by hand, the problem is enormous—just the kind of challenge for a computer. Mattheij writes:

There are 38000+ shapes and there are 100+ possible shades of color (you can roughly tell how old someone is by asking them what lego colors they remember from their youth).

In the following months, Mattheij built a proof-of-concept sorting system using, of course, LEGO. He broke the problem down into a series of sub-problems (including "feeding LEGO reliably from a hopper is surprisingly hard," one of those facts of nature that will stymie even the best system design). After tinkering with the prototype at length, he expanded the system to a surprisingly complex system of conveyer belts (powered by a home treadmill), various pieces of cabinetry, and "copious quantities of crazy glue."

Here's a video showing the current system running at low speed:

The key part of the system was running the bricks past a camera paired with a computer running a neural net-based image classifier. That allows the computer (when sufficiently trained on brick images) to recognize bricks and thus categorize them by color, shape, or other parameters. Remember that as bricks pass by, they can be in any orientation, can be dirty, can even be stuck to other pieces. So having a flexible software system is key to recognizing—in a fraction of a second—what a given brick is, in order to sort it out. When a match is found, a jet of compressed air pops the piece off the conveyer belt and into a waiting bin.

After much experimentation, Mattheij rewrote the software (several times in fact) to accomplish a variety of basic tasks. At its core, the system takes images from a webcam and feeds them to a neural network to do the classification. Of course, the neural net needs to be "trained" by showing it lots of images, and telling it what those images represent. Mattheij's breakthrough was allowing the machine to effectively train itself, with guidance: Running pieces through allows the system to take its own photos, make a guess, and build on that guess. As long as Mattheij corrects the incorrect guesses, he ends up with a decent (and self-reinforcing) corpus of training data. As the machine continues running, it can rack up more training, allowing it to recognize a broad variety of pieces on the fly.

Here's another video, focusing on how the pieces move on conveyer belts (running at slow speed so puny humans can follow). You can also see the air jets in action:

In an email interview, Mattheij told Mental Floss that the system currently sorts LEGO bricks into more than 50 categories. It can also be run in a color-sorting mode to bin the parts across 12 color groups. (Thus at present you'd likely do a two-pass sort on the bricks: once for shape, then a separate pass for color.) He continues to refine the system, with a focus on making its recognition abilities faster. At some point down the line, he plans to make the software portion open source. You're on your own as far as building conveyer belts, bins, and so forth.

Check out Mattheij's writeup in two parts for more information. It starts with an overview of the story, followed up with a deep dive on the software. He's also tweeting about the project (among other things). And if you look around a bit, you'll find bulk LEGO brick auctions online—it's definitely a thing!

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Cs California, Wikimedia Commons // CC BY-SA 3.0
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science
How Experts Say We Should Stop a 'Zombie' Infection: Kill It With Fire
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Cs California, Wikimedia Commons // CC BY-SA 3.0

Scientists are known for being pretty cautious people. But sometimes, even the most careful of us need to burn some things to the ground. Immunologists have proposed a plan to burn large swaths of parkland in an attempt to wipe out disease, as The New York Times reports. They described the problem in the journal Microbiology and Molecular Biology Reviews.

Chronic wasting disease (CWD) is a gruesome infection that’s been destroying deer and elk herds across North America. Like bovine spongiform encephalopathy (BSE, better known as mad cow disease) and Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease, CWD is caused by damaged, contagious little proteins called prions. Although it's been half a century since CWD was first discovered, scientists are still scratching their heads about how it works, how it spreads, and if, like BSE, it could someday infect humans.

Paper co-author Mark Zabel, of the Prion Research Center at Colorado State University, says animals with CWD fade away slowly at first, losing weight and starting to act kind of spacey. But "they’re not hard to pick out at the end stage," he told The New York Times. "They have a vacant stare, they have a stumbling gait, their heads are drooping, their ears are down, you can see thick saliva dripping from their mouths. It’s like a true zombie disease."

CWD has already been spotted in 24 U.S. states. Some herds are already 50 percent infected, and that number is only growing.

Prion illnesses often travel from one infected individual to another, but CWD’s expansion was so rapid that scientists began to suspect it had more than one way of finding new animals to attack.

Sure enough, it did. As it turns out, the CWD prion doesn’t go down with its host-animal ship. Infected animals shed the prion in their urine, feces, and drool. Long after the sick deer has died, others can still contract CWD from the leaves they eat and the grass in which they stand.

As if that’s not bad enough, CWD has another trick up its sleeve: spontaneous generation. That is, it doesn’t take much damage to twist a healthy prion into a zombifying pathogen. The illness just pops up.

There are some treatments, including immersing infected tissue in an ozone bath. But that won't help when the problem is literally smeared across the landscape. "You cannot treat half of the continental United States with ozone," Zabel said.

And so, to combat this many-pronged assault on our wildlife, Zabel and his colleagues are getting aggressive. They recommend a controlled burn of infected areas of national parks in Colorado and Arkansas—a pilot study to determine if fire will be enough.

"If you eliminate the plants that have prions on the surface, that would be a huge step forward," he said. "I really don’t think it’s that crazy."

[h/t The New York Times]

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