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11 Dads of Famous Juniors

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Their offspring might be more well-known, but these dads gave their sons a giant gift: their names. Here are the Seniors behind a slew of familiar Juniors.


King couldn't have known how famous his name would become when he changed his given name in 1934. The civil rights icon's father was born Michael King in 1899, but after he became a successful Baptist minister, he changed his name to Martin Luther King to honor the leader of the Protestant Reformation. When dad changed his name to honor Martin Luther, so did his 5-year-old son Michael King Jr. Like his son, King Sr. was a tireless civil rights advocate; he even led the Atlanta branch of the NAACP.


This father has been known to tickle the ivories and belt out a tune or two in New Orleans' nightclubs (a skill his namesake clearly picked up as well), but his main claim to fame is his legal prowess. From 1973 to 2003, Harry Connick Sr. served as the District Attorney of Orleans Parish, a tenure that earned him enshrinement in the Louisiana Political Museum and Hall of Fame.


Buckley Sr. was a lawyer and prominent oil developer in Texas, and he was active in the oil business in Mexico during the early 20th century. At one point in 1921, he even found himself expelled from the country as the result of his lobbying to ease restrictions on American ownership of oil wells. Interestingly, William Jr., the author and founder of National Review magazine, was Sr.'s third-born son.


Kiper Sr. never heard an NFL team call his name on draft day. Instead, the father of the NFL's preeminent draft guru worked a vending machine route, sold real estate, and coached college and high school baseball until his death in 1988. A 1992 Sports Illustrated profile of his son noted that Mel Sr. played a key role in helping get Mel Kiper Enterprises off the ground by helping Mel Jr. track down subscribers and advertisers for his early NFL draft newsletters.


He may have an Oscar-winning son, but Cuba Sr. knows a thing or two about showbiz himself. Gooding Sr. sang in the Motown group the Main Ingredient, including lead vocals on the band's hit songs "Everybody Plays the Fool" and "Just Don't Want to Be Lonely."


Prinze was born Frederick Karl Pruetzel, but he changed his name to Freddie Prinze when his comedy career started to take off (joking that he'd wanted to be the king of comedy, but Alan King had already taken that surname). Prinze Sr. made appearances on The Tonight Show and The Jack Paar Show, and is probably best remembered for co-starring in the NBC sitcom Chico and the Man for four seasons in the mid-1970s. His son, late-'90s heartthrob Freddie Prinze Jr., was an infant when Prinze Sr. died at age 22.



He hasn't appeared in any mega-blockbusters like Iron Man like his son, Robert Downey Jr., but Sr. has enjoyed a long career as an actor, writer, and filmmaker. In 1972 he wrote and directed the cult film Greaser's Palace, and he had a small role in William Friedkin's 1985 neo-noir To Live and Die in L.A.


This father set a pretty good example for his son when it came to a career in politics. The future vice president's father served as the congressman for Tennessee's 4th district from 1939 until 1953. He then spent 18 years in the Senate, where he was one of the few Southern senators who did not oppose integration. Given his son's outspoken concerns about the climate, it is a bit surprising that Al Sr. worked as a lawyer for a petroleum company and later became chairman of Island Creek Coal Company following the end of his political career.


Sammy Davis Sr. (left), Sammy Davis Jr. (middle) and Will Mastin (right) performed as the Will Mastin Trio.

Sr. had a lot in common with his candy man son. Sammy Sr. was a successful dancer and vaudeville entertainer along with his wife, Elvera Sanchez, during the 1920s. When the pair split up in 1929, Sammy Sr. took his son on the road as part of a new dance act, the Will Mastin Trio, and the young future Rat Pack member spent the rest of his life in show business.


Larry Sr. was surely proud of his son's success as the drummer for the up-and-coming band U2 during the early 1980s, but his boy's growing fame led to some sticky situations. The Irish revenue service apparently had trouble distinguishing the two men, so Dad kept getting hefty tax bills that were meant for his rock-star son. The drummer decided to clear up any confusion by permanently adding the "Jr." to his stage name.


The writer's father didn't compose much satirical science fiction, but he had a knack for designing buildings. As an architect working in Indiana during the mid-20th century, Vonnegut drew up plans for a number of Art Deco-inflected Indiana Bell offices and Hook's Drug Stores shops.

A version of this article originally ran in 2010.

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iStock // Ekaterina Minaeva
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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Why Your iPhone Doesn't Always Show You the 'Decline Call' Button
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When you get an incoming call to your iPhone, the options that light up your screen aren't always the same. Sometimes you have the option to decline a call, and sometimes you only see a slider that allows you to answer, without an option to send the caller straight to voicemail. Why the difference?

A while back, Business Insider tracked down the answer to this conundrum of modern communication, and the answer turns out to be fairly simple.

If you get a call while your phone is locked, you’ll see the "slide to answer" button. In order to decline the call, you have to double-tap the power button on the top of the phone.

If your phone is unlocked, however, the screen that appears during an incoming call is different. You’ll see the two buttons, "accept" or "decline."

Either way, you get the options to set a reminder to call that person back or to immediately send them a text message. ("Dad, stop calling me at work, it’s 9 a.m.!")

[h/t Business Insider]