Jeremiah Gurney (1812–1895) was an American daguerreotype photographer. Initially working in the jewelry trade in Saratoga, New York, he took up photography after learning of daguerreotype from Samuel Morse, moving to New York City where he began selling photographs alongside jewelry. He was one of the earliest photographers in the city, and may have been the owner of the first photographic gallery in the United States. Gurney took this self-portrait photograph around 1869, now in the collection of the Minneapolis Institute of Art.Photograph credit: Jeremiah Gurney; restored by Adam Cuerden
... that the skulls of Yunxian Man(example pictured) are "relatively complete" despite being heavily crushed?
... that Travis Clayton went from the eighth tier of English rugby union to being drafted into the National Football League, even though he never played in a football game?
... that the mouse protagonist Mrs. Brisby from The Secret of NIMH had her name changed because of a trademark issue from a toy named "Frisbee"?
... that Tachikawa Sumito made a hit cover in 1976 of a song that he first discovered when a housewife called into his radio show requesting to hear a version of it?
... that Riley Testut developed AltStore because he wanted to publish his emulator Delta?
This Wikipedia page is considered semi-tractor-trailer-policy. Semi-tractor-trailer-policy pages are an attempt to jack-knife any real policies and present herculean efforts in codification to questionable purpose. These long-standing unwritten unapproved unthought unrules have widespread support since no actual vote ever becomes real. They should be treated as law, unless they do not support your flame war.
It is so terribly sad that I have to explain that the above is a JOKE
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!