A literal description of my state of mind
A literal description of my state of mind
That's me. I don't know how I got on Derek's good side* but all I do is mention my sucky banner and he whomps up a great one instanter.
Thanks muchly.
*Oh, now I remember. It involved gifts.
That one up there kinda sucks, don't it?
Update: Not that one. That one's cool. I'm talking about the ick one from before.
Like the title? How very zen of me.
Yeah, right.
On Saturday I once again travelled into our nation's capitol, destination: The Smithsonian's Hirschhorn Museum. When Dawn and I visited a few weeks ago, it was raining hard all day, so we didn't get to experience one exhibit that sounded cool.
It was called "Words Drawn In Water" (this was the last weekend for it), and it was a walking guided tour while wearing an iPod shuffle and headphones. The audio track told you where to walk and pointed out various things along the way, and also included snatches of music, interviews and ambient sounds as you walked along. But this wasn't a regular guided tour, because there were several surreal moments when unexpected insights and visions were planted in your mind's eye.
Very nice, and I'm bummed that it's over, because I definitely would've loved to have gone again.
Afterwards, I visited the Air & Space Museum, specifically to see SpaceShipOne. I had prepared myself to be underwhelmed, because so often you see something like that and think, "wow, that's smaller than I expected." Not this time though. It was actually quite a bit larger than I thought it would be. It's hanging from the ceiling, between the Spirit of St. Louis and the Bell X-1 (the orange X-plane, I think it's the X-1).
Brandon, over at Down With Pants!, is also going to participate in NaNoWriMo. He's also playing in the Hockey Whoopass Jamboree, and kindly displayed the logo of my beloved Sharks when his Kings came up just short last weekend (what a heartbreaker, but better you than me, bucko!).
Words. Check.
Water. Check.
Ice. Check.
Air. Check.
Bye bye.
I know of two friends who're going for it (and/or the variation thereof), and I've been poking the idea with a stick. It hasn't jumped up and bit me yet, but it's not fully awakened yet either. We shall see.
November 5th and 6th in Culpeper, Virginia. 10am-5pm. Spectators welcome and it's free. We're cleared through the FAA for flights up to 15,000 feet.
I'll be there, look for the red Mazda pickup. If you need more info, feel free to ask in the comments or via email. If you do decide to come out, please check that link or check back here, and I'll post whatever go/no go information I have if the weather's dicey.
This will be the first BattlePark for me sans kids, which is going to be kind of strange (I've got a seat open if someone would like to ride with). We've camped out there before, and other times we've just made day trips of it. Either way, it's big fun.
DirecTV has this spot that's been on heavy rotation during football games that shows this cute 4 year old kid coming in to see his dad.
"Dad, can you read me a story?"
The kid notices the TV and looking crestfallen, says, "Oh, football."
And dad, playing the hero, tells his tot that "I can freeze time" with a snap of his finger and a clandestine touch of the remote.
Oh puh-leeze.
Today's four year olds know what the freakin' freeze control is. Hell, by that age they've already hacked the passworded parental control block.
Better check up on older sister, dad. The kid is distracting you for a reason. "Read me a story?" Ground the little scamster and go find the mastermind. Catch 'em red handed, administer punishments.
Then watch your football game uninterupted. As it should be.
Even though this is tres cool. Behold the imagination that went into creating the zombies of Dawn of the Dead as knitted dolls. I love you, but I'm surprised they let you keep the pointy knitting needles.
Thanks to Pete for this one.
It's up, over at Everything and Nothing. Plenty of good hearty fall and winter fare in this one.
A friend is looking for a "Thomas Jefferson" style font, where the "s" is written almost like an uncrossed small letter "f" (sample here). This style was used for early printed versions of the Declaration of Independence.
I've found a font designed based on Jefferson's handwriting, but it has the normal "s" and it's not what he wants.
If you can point me to the right place, font fanatics, I'd be most obliged.
Kids, if you see one of these on the front porch:
Just head right on by to the next house, because you can pretty much count on their candy already being gone.
I'd pass on the brownies too, if they offer.
Wegglywoo has a fun look at beach bathing boxes, down under.
This is awe-inspiring.
More than 60 years after the formation of a pioneering group of black pilots known as the Tuskegee Airmen, three of its aging members visited their former unit in Balad, a city just north of Baghdad."This is the new Air Force, this is the Air Force that represents America, all of it. It is not an organization of African American pilots trying to break the segregation system - they have done it," Lt. Col. Lee Archer, 85, said Friday in a telephone interview from Balad, where the 332 Expeditionary Air Wing is based.
Col. Archer is America's first black Ace from World War II.
Archer, of New York City, said the new unit "reflects the entire image of America. In that dining room was everything that makes America what it is: black, white, Asian, Pacific islanders, people from different parts of Europe. This is what America is."He was one of three original Tuskegee Airmen in Balad. Archer was accompanied by retired Tech. Sgt. George Watson Sr., 85, from New Jersey and Master Sgt. James A. Shepherd, 81, from Maine. The visit was arranged by Air Force officials to link the legacy of the Tuskegee Airmen with a new generation.
Of the many things that the United States military does well, possibly the most underappreciated by the civilian world is how it quietly emphasizes the historical significance of the various units to it's warriors. You can bet that this reminder of the 332nd's beginnings has boosted morale even higher and subtly pointed out that the men and women in that unit have a mighty big legacy to live up to. By all accounts, they are.
Read more about the Tuskegee Airmen here.
Somehow, Rocket Jones is number 1 on Google for "how to dress up as buckethead".
I know this because someone got here by doing just that search. Either a lost lamb or a really, really stupid bot.
Carve your own virtual pumpkin here.
Here's mine (click for big, scary jump-out-at-you size):
Thanks to The Ministry of Minor Perfidy for the pointer.
Do you think Captain Kirk was overcompensating all that time?
My last comment on the subject, I promise.
George Takei, best known as Mr. Sulu of the original Star Trek, has transported out of the closet.
It's kind of a shame that this is still considered news.
This line, from a story about Israeli troops arresting a senior leader of Islamic Jihad:
[Hamas] has largely scaled back its attacks since the truce declaration.
So I guess the word truce now means "we won't murder as many of you as before."
My drop light died last night. I've had that thing for somewhere around 30 years, it was one of the old fashioned light bulb types. I've got the portable halogen setups as well, but sometimes the old drop light was exactly what was needed. Now I've got to replace it, which means a trip to the hardware store. Yay!
Congrats on winning the World Series. I didn't have a dog in this hunt, because I don't particularly follow either Chicago or Houston. If the Astros would've won, I'd have been happy for them as well.
But the good Chicago team won. You know, the non-loser ones.
I took the "Which Historical General Are You" test, found over at Naked Villainy.
Results in the extended entry.
| Julius Caesar You scored 59 Wisdom, 81 Tactics, 56 Guts, and 54 Ruthlessness! |
Roman military and political leader. He was instrumental in the transformation of the Roman Republic into the Roman Empire. His conquest of Gallia Comata extended the Roman world all the way to the Atlantic Ocean, introducing Roman influence into what has become modern France, an accomplishment of which direct consequences are visible to this day. In 55 BC Caesar launched the first Roman invasion of Britain. Caesar fought and won a civil war which left him undisputed master of the Roman world, and began extensive reforms of Roman society and government. He was proclaimed dictator for life, and heavily centralized the already faltering government of the weak Republic. Caesar's friend Marcus Brutus conspired with others to assassinate Caesar in hopes of saving the Republic. The dramatic assassination on the Ides of March was the catalyst for a second set of civil wars, which marked the end of the Roman Republic and the beginning of the Roman Empire under Caesar's grand-nephew and adopted son Octavian, later known as Caesar Augustus. Caesar's military campaigns are known in detail from his own written Commentaries (Commentarii), and many details of his life are recorded by later historians such as Suetonius, Plutarch, and Cassius Dio. |
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My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:
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| Link: The Which Historic General Are You Test written by dasnyds on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test |
WWII, as an online interactive game:
deGaulle: eisenhower ur worthless come help me quick
Eisenhower: i cant do **** til rosevelt gives me an army
paTTon: yah hurry the fock up
Churchill: d00d im gettin pounded
deGaulle: this is fockin weak u guys suck
*deGaulle has left the game.*
And it just gets better from there.
Follow the links over at The Ministry of Minor Perfidy and read the whole thing. Warning though, your co-workers will be looking in to see why you're making those strangled choking noises at your desk.
My wife and I, discussing an idiot she had to deal with at her workplace:
Me: Welcome to Stupidit-- Welcome to Stupidititt-- Welcome to Stupidville.Wife: And you're their spokesman.
Sometimes, I'm their king.
I work in Rosslyn, Virginia, right across the river from Washington, D.C. I work early hours, so when I first started I'd park in the garage and then walk all the way around the block to get to the front lobby of my building. When winter rolled in, someone showed me a couple of shortcuts through the connecting garages underneath the city block so that I could reach my destination without having to brave the elements.
I missed those walks though. Every morning, I'd walk along mostly deserted city streets, and each morning I'd pass the sign for the Spectrum Theater. For all that time, the Spectrum was presenting a one-man show, Defending the Caveman.
Stay with me, I do have a point and I'm getting there.
It's been almost a year since I'd noticed the sign at the Spectrum, and I was amazed when this past week I found myself in front of the theater (fire drill) and "Caveman" wasn't on the sign. I noted the contact information and on Friday evening I stayed late after work and caught a performance of Dracula.
The Spectrum is a small and intimate space, maybe 400 seats. It doubles as a conference center. The stage itself is small and I imagine that it presents significant challenges to the theatrical folks.
As for the play itself, I wasn't sure what to expect. I'd done a little research on the Synetic Theater troup. They call themselves "non-traditional" and use a fusion of mediums to create their productions.
As the lights came up and illuminated the misty room (they had the fog machines going strongly enough fill the entire room - nice effect), a very stylized battle was acted out. Without a word being spoken, one heroic yet barbaric man fought alone, and we witnessed the birth of Dracula.
They closely followed the original story of Dracula, not the melodramatic "I vant to suck your blood" nonsense that I love, and that many people remember from the movies. Nor was it the over-romanticized Ann Rice mythos. Instead, you were drawn in and keenly felt the horror, the otherworldliness, the passion and sensuality of the story. Dracula is, at one level, a very erotic tale, and this performance captured that.
The one word that keeps coming to mind is "remarkable". The sets were minimal and for the most part, successful. As you would expect, flat blacks and crimson red were the dominant colors. Even the main characters were dressed in muted browns. The only exceptions were the two ingenues, who wore whites and creams. The soundtrack was wonderful, being an integral part of the story and effortlessly moving from background to foreground as needed. One memorable scene involved a character writhing and fighting off a cloud of swarming bats, with the existance of the bats wholly created via the music suggesting the fluttering of papery wings. Likewise, the lighting was masterful, especially where, in several scenes, one character would be barely illuminated at the back of the stage, as if you were seeing the thoughts of the foreground character. Choreography... I could go on and on.
I did think that the performance dragged a little about halfway through. Mostly, this may have been caused by the need to use more dialogue to make clear the storyline. I was completely enthralled up to that point, and after a brief time, the concluding scenes drew me into their world again.
I thoroughly enjoyed it, although I'm not sure that their style would lend itself equally well to all tales. I wouldn't want to see their version of, say, "It's A Wonderful Life", but I noticed in their program that they mentioned a production of "Jason and the Argonauts" that I would've loved to have seen.
I'm going to close with a quote from my favorite critic:
Fluid. Lyrical. Concupiscent.
A perfect description in three words.
I stayed up until midnight last night, happily hacking away at this strange new universe called PHP. This morning, my body followed it's normal weekday routine and woke me up at 4am. Knowing I had more homework to catch up with, I jumped right into functions, arrays, objects, string manipulation and all that other geeky wonderfulness. It's big fun, peoples, and if you don't think so, then odds are good that your job will never be outsourced to India.
I've almost completely switched over to the new PC and no longer have Yahoo Messenger. Now I'm using something called GAIM that the kids installed for me (I needed it for an online job interview). If you have a compatible IM service, give me a holler at "RocketTed".
Update: Ok, thanks to my daughter for clearing a few things up in the comments. GAIM is a free "universal" IM utility that is AOL messenger and Yahoo compatible, as well as a few others. I've got a Yahoo account, but for some reason the new PC will not let me open it. I'll work on that as I get the chance.
This page gives directions on how to knit a replacement breast for women who've undergone a mastectomy.
What a beautiful idea! Thanks to Rachel Ann for the pointer.
This evening, after countless hours of work, I have managed to install Apache, PHP and MySQL onto my PC. More importantly, I've convinced them to get along (Apache had decided to roll over and play dead for a while), so that I can now do my homework (PHP class) at home. There's a reason we mainframe programmers have a systems shop to handle crap like this.
I'm having a magical weekend.
This is kind of a non-linking linking thing, but if you go over to the right sidebar and scroll down (or do the search thing... not the box, the cntl-F search), look for Two Nervous Dogs and click on it.
Behold one of the funniest, most original and creative people I've never met but wish I could someday.
There's always been a degree of "if it bleeds it leads" thinking in the media, and the local versions are no exception. Mostly though, I tended towards thinking that the more outrageous stupidity was due to lesser talents being at the local level. After seeing a piece on last night's broadcast, I'm no longer sure.
A wanted member of the gang MS13 was apprehended in the area, apparently a very bad hombre. It was a peaceful arrest, probably due to the extreme amount of firepower the police deployed to get this guy.
Afterwards, the breathless reporter interviewed other residents of the apartment complex where the guy was arrested. Most notable was the sloppy and amatuerish editing, all designed to make it sound like Jack the Ripper himself had been lurking in their midst. But if you listened to what people were actually saying, you noticed that the guy was quiet, kept to himself, wasn't bothering anyone. In short, he was laying low. The reporter was falling all over herself to find someone, anyone, who would claim that he was terrorizing the neighborhood.
The capper was when they showed the door of the apartment where the guy was apprehended.
Reporter's voice-over: This is the apartment where the arrest was made, number 76. Note that 7+6=13, and he belonged to the gang MS13!
No word on whether the residents of apartments 13, 49, 58, 67, 85, or 94 were taken into custody as well
So the NBA implements a dress code in an effort to cut down on the hiphop gangbanger look. Whatever. I'm sorry, you pay these guys millions a year to play a game, and then expect them to not be flamboyant? Your entire marketing strategy is based on individual stars.
And then Marcus Camby (who, incidentally, has a guaranteed multi-year contract paying him around $10 million per), claims that players should receive a clothing stipend to be able to afford the new clothes.
Proof positive that you don't have to be smart to play in the NBA, just tall.
According to Pixy, MuNu is now considerably larger en toto than Instapundit.
If I were a woman, I would now ask if this blog made me look fat.
Just a few random thoughts...
Yesterday at work I got a new 17" flatscreen LCD monitor, just because I asked for one. I wish it worked that way at home, but then I suppose y'all wouldn't be helping to pay for it.
Canadian visitors can stop snickering now. I figure the Aussies are still mad at me because of yesterday's eHarmony joke.
When making a meat sandwich, try a crank or two of fresh cracked pepper on it. It makes a world of difference.
I'm having a hard time being concerned about bird flu. If it does avalanche into an epidemic, well, that's also called "thinning the herd". And for those who're worried that one group will be more affected than another, well (again), that's the way Mother Nature works.
It's easy to type the above because I'm in a low-risk group.
I'm less than impressed with hockey coverage on the Outdoor Life Network. The other night the New York Rangers played the Montreal Canadiens, a classic matchup. Instead, we got reruns of the 2004 BBQ Championship Tour or some such nonsense.
Congratulations, by the way, to the ladies of Squeal of Approval for their win in the finals. Those ribs looked gooooooood.
Now I want a banana.
At the recent blogmeet, the Maximum Leader told me more than once, "More Wernher Von Braun!" He also hinted at some Von Braun stories that I'm going to beat out of him if plying with beer doesn't work insist he tell next time.
But you know me, I'm always happy to oblige...
In my own way, of course.
Robbo the Llamabutcher has spent considerable time defending the ol' homestead from deer and rabbits. The cute, cuddly and innocent woodland creatures believe that a beautifully maintained flower garden means "salad bar". You can try to scare them away, you can put up fences or many other time-tested methods that don't work all that well, because when Bambi and Thumper get hungry your garden looks a helluva lot more appetizing than Mother Nature's ordinary fare.
Being a fellow gardener (although I don't share the wildlife problem), I was inspired the other night while watching an old movie on TV. So Rob, here's what you do...
First, build a sandbagged bunker atop one corner of your roof, near the trouble spot in the garden.
Next, hire George Takei. I can't imagine that he's not available, and it'll be a nice change for him to dress up in cammo fatigues rather than that threadbare Star Trek uniform.
You'll need to do some secret prep work, probably at night so that your neighbors and the animals don't know exactly what your defenses are.
When the time comes next Spring, be in the bunker with George. And when you spot Bambi and friends dropping by for a midnight gnosh, George will smile at you inscrutably and say, "I was prepared for that". Then he pushes a button on a small box in front of you and FWOOM!!!! Bambi, Thumper, and the rest of the critters are incinerated by carefully laid out trenches full of foo gas.
Remember, the key to successful defense is overlapping layers and depth, so you should be prepared for a second, third, or even fourth wave of mixed-grill on the hoof.
I wondered about the authenticity aspects, and decided that you should probably forego blowing up the little dog with a mortar. To make up for it though, you could wait for the inevitable visit from PETA, and then snare one and fling him into a wall of punji stakes. That would probably persuade them to leave and might even cause the local police to look upon the agressive but justified defense of your personal property in a more lenient light.
Let me know how it goes.
Last night my beloved Sharks lost to the Detroit Red Wings in OT. Congrats to Machelle and David.
This weeks Carnival of the Recipes is up over at Blonde Sagacity, and it's a special edition. The focus is on pork, because those politically correct nitwits in England banned Piglet!!! What's next, Lassie?
... oh jeez, I don't wanna know when *that* edition of the Carnival comes out!
Worth passing along:
Ever wonder what the difference between prison and work is?Just in case you ever get the two mixed up, this should make things a bit clearer.
IN PRISON...you spend the majority of your time in an 8X10 cell.
AT WORK...you spend the majority of your time in a 6X8 cubicle.IN PRISON...you get three meals a day.
AT WORK...you only get a break for one meal and you pay for it.IN PRISON...you get time off for good behavior.
AT WORK...you get more work for good behavior.IN PRISON...the guard locks and unlocks all the doors for you.
AT WORK...you must carry around a security card and open all the doors for yourself.IN PRISON...you can watch TV and play games.
AT WORK...you get fired for watching TV and playing games.IN PRISON...you get your own toilet.
AT WORK...you have to share with some idiot who pees on the seat.IN PRISON...they allow your family and friends to visit.
AT WORK...you can't even speak to your family.IN PRISON...the taxpayers pay all expenses with no work required.
AT WORK...you get to pay all the expenses to go to work and then they deduct taxes from your salary to pay for prisoners.IN PRISON...you spend most of your life inside bars wanting to get out.
AT WORK...you spend most of your time wanting to get out and go inside bars.IN PRISON...you must deal with sadistic wardens.
AT WORK...they are called managers.Have a Great Day at WORK!!
I don't know whether to laugh or cry.
I was feeling so lousy on Friday that I didn't mention that my review copy of MaddenNFL 2006 arrived.
Neener neener.
Just saw the first-ever shootout in Washington Capitals history, and they beat the Tampa Bay Lightning 3-2.
Fantasy football, and two, repeat TWO of my starting wide receivers didn't play today. Both were game-time decisions, so thanks guys, for giving me a little warning. I'm glad the Steelers lost (Hines Ward), and I wish the Bengals had too (T.J. Houshmandzadeh).
Serves (half of) you right, dammit.
Update: Somehow I'm hanging in there. Now I need Edgerrin James to have a great Monday Night and the rest of the Colts to fall off the face of the planet, and I might just pull this one out.
There was a time when the National Park Service would provide an estimate of the crowd size for events held on the mall in Washington DC. After being criticized for not sufficiently inflating the estimates to soothe the egos of various organizers, the parks people did an intelligent and reasonable thing. They declined to provide crowd estimates any more.
That made everyone happy. The National Park Service no longer had to deploy people to "count" the crowds, and they deftly sidestepped various complaints ranging from bad mathematical skills to racism.
The organizers of various events were happy too, because now their "official" numbers were, in fact, official.
Yesterday was a classic example. After hearing reports throughout the day about "thousands massing at the mall" or "a throng numbering in the thousands", the Nation of Islam released their official crowd count at 1.8 million people.
I'm happy, because now I know for sure that every estimate I hear from these events is complete and utter bullshit.
Last night, I had the extreme pleasure of meeting several local - and one very not-local - bloggers for dinner in Olde Towne Alexandria. John Lanius of Texas Best Grok got the ball rolling a couple of weeks ago via email, because he would be in town on business, and was wondering if it would be possible to set up a blogmeet.
Besides John, those in attendance included Cat of A Swift Kick and a Bandaid, her blogless friend Matt, Dawn of Caterwauling, Lysander (who is alive and kicking, despite the evidence at his blog), Robert the Llamabutcher, Naked Villainy's Maximum Leader, and Buckethead of The Ministry of Minor Perfidy. Oh, and yours truly.
As usual, it was like getting together with old friends even if most of us had never met each other. The food was good (mine was, I don't recall hearing anyone else mentioning it), and the conversation excellent. Topics ranged from the history of communism to TShirt Hell, and just about anything and everything in between. Four and a half hours later, we settled up and on the way out the conversations continued on the sidewalk out front.
For the locals, Nic has suggested a get-together for a Washington Capitals hockey game one evening. I'm up for that!
Earlier this week we had the headline:
Avian Flu Found in Turkey
Today we see:
Thousands Attend Millions More March
But of course, this is deliberate:
Rice Fails To Gain Russian Support Over Iran
When the more accurate statement would be:
Russians refuse to change mind despite Rice efforts. But hey, she failed, you know?
1. There are about 1/2 ton of termites living for each human being on the planet.
2. Termites fart.
3. Farting releases methane.
4. Methane is a greenhouse gas.
5. Therefore, killing termites can stop global warming.
(Chemistry in Context: Applying Chemistry to Society, 4th edition, page 125)
Hand me that aerosol can of bug spray, would you?
You do realize that there's a salty side and a not-salty side to a Pringles, don't you?
I feel like hell, which means that y'all get to listen to me rant. And boy, did I find a doozy.
Let's start with this headline:
Sea farmers struggle to save kelp from predatory urchins
Cool. I think I like sea farmers. All high-techy and stuff, feeding the hungry millions in our world. Check out this promising start to the story:
Not many farmers wear wet suits to work. But Tom Ford isn't running your average ranch. Instead of a tractor, he drives a motorboat. And rather than chase away insects and rodents, he fights off prickly sea urchins.
But something starts to smell fishy in the very next paragraph, when you find out that Tom's "farm" is all of one acre. Seems that Tom, along with other biologists in Southern California, are struggling to restore the great kelp forests to the coastal waters of Southern California.
Now, I don't have a problem with that, because kelp is an incredibly useful plant, as the story goes on to explain. It provides fish with an underwater habitat that allows them to thrive in great numbers and even when it washes up on shore it's a boon for beach critters like crabs and birds.
I bet those bastard humans have destroyed it, right?
But in the last 50 years, frequent episodes of warm-water El Nino have devastated kelp, which thrives at lower temperatures. California and Alaska are the only two places in the Northern Hemisphere where giant kelp grows.
Oops. Maybe not.
Scientists say humans also are to blame for kelp's demise because they pollute the ocean and overfish the urchins' natural predators--lobsters, sheep-head fish and sea otters.
Sorry about that. I forgot to provide a warning about the obligatory "it's all our fault" paragraph. I guess I should feel bad, because I do love to sit down to a nice sea otter steak. Sheep-head fish? Not on any menu I've ever seen.
But we're fighting back. According to the story, they've spent millions of dollars in their effort to restore the kelp beds. Results?
Only two acres of kelp were restored in Southern California from 2001 to 2004, say environmental groups that spent $2.5 million in state and federal grants.
But it's hard work. Here's how the intrepid "sea farmers" (translation: tree-huggers) fight back:
Armed with a rake and mesh satchels, he and volunteers purged the area of purple, red and white urchins--bagging 25,000 last year alone.
Got that? They artificially manipulate an ecosystem in a wholesale and arbitrary manner, because they're like, you know, protecting the environment. The paragraph after that even includes a gratuitous and totally unsubstantiated scary anecdote.
So far, we've learned that they've spent millions of dollars fighting the ecological effects caused by a cyclical change in the environment of an entire hemisphere. In three years, they've restored two acres of kelp forest, at a cost of over one million dollars per acre. They've also destroyed hundred of thousands of living creatures during that time, because they're not the "right" kind. Ok, I'm assuming that they destroyed them, because if they just collected them and then dumped them into another area, then that's two different places where they've drastically altered the ecosystem. Which way is better?
This quote just seals it:
"If you go into a kelp forest, the place is swarming with fish," said Paul Dayton, a marine ecology professor at Scripps Institution of Oceanography. "Take out that kelp and the fish won't go extinct, but they'll be much rarer because they don't have the habitat. ... We should protect it just on the grounds that it's for our grandchildren.
These people are supposedly scientists. Why do they righteously insist on preserving a single snapshot of the living, evolving, ever-changing world we live in?
I swear, if environmentalists had been around at the beginning of the universe, they'd have protested against God himself for destroying all the nothingness when he created the world.
If it were, I'm not sure I would tell it.
“I was driving my wife’s car the other day and saw a little round thing in the cupholder, thought it was a cigarrette lighter. I looked at it, it had a little handle you turn and push down so I thought, yeah, it’s a lighter, I wonder what the wife is doing with this- she don’t smoke. So I pushed the button down to see if it still worked and maced myself. It weren’t any damned fun, I’ll tell you that.”
Thanks to Random Nuclear Strikes for the pointer.
Derek is a mad genius.
(click to add bacon, Dave would've wanted it that way)
At my old worksite, there was the nog. At the current one, the fridge is full of whipped cream and beer.
Psychology paper? Coffee table book? Either way, there's an opportunity here.
Check out these beautiful galleries of photographs taken by Amy's anti-Mother-in-Law (must be a Krypton thing).
Someone was kind enough to scan and post a whole heap of Players Cigarette cards. This particular set of 85 cards is of Actresses, and were released during the late 1930's (from clues like "her latest film was...").
I'll post one of these every once in a while, with a couple of simple links to IMDB.com or a bio if I can find one. You might be surpirsed at some of the familiar names you'll see. The category is "Star Cards" (over on the right column), and you can click there at any time to see all that I've posted. Hope you enjoy.
(in the extended entry)
Madge Clark played her first silent film role at the age of five, and became one of the most sought-after child stars. In 1920 she became the first actress to appear as Heidi on film*. After talkies appeared, she seemed to fade away, instead concentrating on stage productions. In the 1930's she signed a contract with MGM studios and burst back onto the movie scene, but towards the end of the decade she became disillusioned with the system as she was lent to other studios for a series of lesser movies. She retired from film for good by 1940 and except for a brief dalliance in television, stayed out of the spotlight until her death in 1981.
*As a Raiders fan, I have an instictive dislike for Ms. Evans, based solely on the fact that she played Heidi.
I heard on a radio news report this morning (and if it's on the radio then it must be true, right?), that according to an AOL (*snicker*) user survey, half of all bloggers list "therapy" as the reason they blog.
Or in my case, evidence of the need for.
I am still employed. To my mind, it was touch and go there for a bit.
See, last week I made an incredibly silly mistake which happened at precisely the wrong moment, resulting in spectacularly bad results all out of proportion to the size of the original mistake.
It took the entire team most of a day to put us back on track, and the fact that it's the beginning of a new fiscal year only added to the festivities. There was no finger pointing or gnashing of teeth, just professionals digging in and making things right.
Our boss was on vacation last week. I stressed big-time all weekend about this morning, and whether I would still have a job. I got the expected (and deserved) ass chewing, and then we moved on.
But the back of my neck is still cringy, and I've become rather maniacal about double-checking and triple-checking things. A little late, but better than never.
I'm sorry, but I laughed so hard at this. Warning: animal lovers or people without a sense of humor should NOT click that link.
Thanks to the Llama Butchers for the link.
Wow, it's been awhile, eh?
Someone was kind enough to scan and post a whole heap of Players Cigarette cards. This particular set of 85 cards is of Actresses, and were released during the late 1930's (from clues like "her latest film was...").
I'll post one of these every once in a while, with a couple of simple links to IMDB.com or a bio if I can find one. You might be surpirsed at some of the familiar names you'll see. The category is "Star Cards" (over on the right column), and you can click there at any time to see all that I've posted. Hope you enjoy.
(in the extended entry)
Sally Eilers was one of the busiest actresses in the early-talkie era, rising to leading lady status in the late 1920's until the early 1940's when she transitioned into character roles. She was never a major star, but maintained a steady and productive career until her retirement from the silver screen in 1951. Ms. Eilers married cowboy star Hoot Gibson in 1930, but their marraige couldn't survive the strain of her rising popularity as his declined. She passed away in 1978.
Yesterday, Dawn surprised me by saying that this print was me.
I was so surprised that when she asked me what I saw in it, I babbled some incoherent nonsense. She was right though, because the image resonated and stayed with me. So here's an attempt to answer your question.
I see serenity and solitude. The empty basket tells me that the day is ending, the toil of the day is over, and there is time for reflection. The mountain in the distance is unchanging, and even when the moods of the volcano change, underneath is permanence.
It occurs to me that the rippling path underneath the tree may be water, but my first impression was that it was a road, perhaps signifying one's life, with the ups and downs that happen to everyone. I also think it significant that the difficulty of navigating the road is trivial compared to the mass of the mountain beyond, or even to the lesser permanence of the tree itself, which live far longer than any single person.
I suck at this introspection stuff.
It's all in the details.
With all the rain we've been having the past two days (measured in inches), our basement is flooding a little bit. So I've been doing the towels on the floor, spin and dry, sop up the excess from the carpet with the cleaner, etc. That's the hassle part of it. The benefit side is that the creeks around us are all full to bursting, and when I went to let the dogs out this morning, you can hear the water rushing in the background. Very nice.
The Carnival of the Recipes is up over at the Glittering Eye. There are the usual collection of outstanding dishes for every taste, contributed by people from all over the world. Go check it out.
Last week I was in the back upstairs bedroom (3rd floor of our townhouse), painting near the window, when I was startled by a flash just outside the glass. I witnessed a magnificent little aerial battle as a large blackbird was chased off by one of our local hawks. They were like two nimble fighter jets, wings extended, banking and darting as the blackbird tried to shake the hawk from his tail. The hawk was close enough that, had he wanted, he could have snatched a tail feather from the blackbird with his talons. They fell two stories and, at the last second the blackbird broke hard left, over the back fence and out of the area. The hawk leveled out and glided across the back meadow to the wood, where he perched in a tall tree and stayed for a while, as if surveying for further intruders.
When I got home last night I checked on the hockey scores and noted that Brian's St. Louis Blues were in the process of whooping on my beloved Sharks. This morning I inteded to go find a Blues logo to post here, in accordance with the prophesy the rules of the Whoopass Jamboree, when lo and behold, I discovered that the Sharks had come back to win. Brian is a better sport about it than I, because I'd probably have to create an extended entry to protect innocent eyes from my cursing and ranting.
In related news, Victor beat me in the first week matchup of our blogger fantasy hockey league. I'm completely lost as to how this league works and what the rules are, it's unlike anything I've ever seen before. Not an excuse, just sayin'. Congrats Victor, let's hope Bondra can keep it up, eh?
Finally, yesterday I had the pleasure of spending the day walking through several Smithsonian art museums with Dawn. We started at the Hirschhorn, and afterwards (like Victor mentioned) walked down the street in the pouring rain to see the Freer and Sackler galleries. Memorable.
I want to go again in better weather, to experience Directions - Janet Cardiff.
We now return you to your regular Rocket Jones program of cheesecake pinups and zombies.
Everyone welcome Brandon to the Jamboree.
He's selected the Los Angeles Kings.
By the way, Brandon, my Sharks logo is 204x193. I just wanted to make sure you make plenty of room for it, since you'll be displaying it often this season.
The players:
Machelle and David: Detroit Red Wings
Frinklin: Vancouver Canucks
Brian J: St. Louis Blues
Tom: Philadelphia Flyers
Derek: Colorado Avalanche
Gir: Calgary Flames
Grand Moff Trojan: Colorado Avalanche
Tilesey: Toronto Maple Leafs
Cal Tech Girl: Carolina Hurricanes
Victor: Washington Capitals
Michele: New York Rangers
Brandon: Los Angeles Kings
Yours Truly: San Jose Sharks
Complete rules - and there's not many - can be found here.
All right, this is way late, but since I use Rocket Jones as my online flight log, you get to read it or skip it.
This launch was one of our monthly club launches, sponsored by NOVAAR. Held at Great Meadow Equestrian Center on 9/11/2005, the weather was beautiful and the wind ranged from near calm to quite brisk. The biggest problem was that it was blowing diagonally across the field, directly towards the biggest patch of woods bordering the field.
I pulled a shift as Launch Controller, and also made several flights of my own.
1. Angel - D12-5 - This ring-fin hadn't flown for a couple of years, but she made an excellent comeback flight.
2. Snitch - D12-0 / C6-0 - I chad-staged this plastic flying saucer from Estes. Great flight, and it always gets a lot of attention with the big motor hanging out from underneath.
3. Pacifyer - D12-5 - Arrow-straight boost and good recovery for my flying blood-dripping battleaxe.
4. YJ-218 - C6-7x2 - Perfect ignition of both engines. Great flight.
5. Phoenix - H180 White Lightning, medium delay - Loud and smokey, and after the motor burnout you could hear her fins whistling as she coasted to apogee. She suffered the only damage of the day, when she landed on one lower fin and the body tube partially delaminated. Easy fix, and the fin is still rock solid.
6. Barenaked Lady - F24-7 - This flight was just plain stupid. I put a big honkin' motor in a large but very lightweight rocket. She screamed off the pad, arced ever so slightly into the wind, and landed less than 50 yards away. Only on low-wind days. Sweet!
7. Odin's Spear - B6-6 - Another excellent flight from Vertical Force's first kit offering. Rich was kind enough to give me one of the new kits in the package for helping to test the prototype. It's numbered too. Cool!
So that was it for my flights. Another excellent rocket flying day that are far too far apart.
Over at Mozongo they've posted my latest review. This time it's an excellent handwriting recognition application. Plenty of screen captures accompany my usual wit and wisdom *ahem*, so head on over and check it out.
(This will be bumped to the top once in a while as updates happen)
It's perfectly ok for more than one person to select a team, so just because someone else has declared for your favorite doesn't mean you can't play.
The players:
Machelle and David: Detroit Red Wings
Frinklin: Vancouver Canucks
Brian J: St. Louis Blues
Tom: Philadelphia Flyers
Derek: Colorado Avalanche
Gir: Calgary Flames
Grand Moff Trojan: Colorado Avalanche
Tilesey: Toronto Maple Leafs
Cal Tech Girl: Carolina Hurricanes
Victor: Washington Capitals
Michele: New York Rangers
Yours Truly: San Jose Sharks
1. If you have a favorite hockey team, place their logo somewhere on your front page. Let me know.
2. Every time your team plays someone else's team in the Jamboree, the loser must place the winner's logo (and a link) on their front page for 24 hours.
3. You don't have to actually be a Munuvian to play.
4. Trash talkin' is encouraged.
Quick notes and thoughts:
Last night, every player in the NHL wore a special patch on their sweaters. After the first period, they all changed and the game-worn jerserys will be auctioned off at NHL.com to raise money for hurricane relief.
Alexander Ovechkin is scary-good.
His first NHL check was so fierce it dislodged a support beam. He refused to let his team lose, twice answering with goals less than 90 seconds after the opponents took the lead. And when his face appeared on the large scoreboard, he stuck out his tongue and flashed a charismatic smile.
The Halpern-Zubrus-Ovechkin line is clicking, with Zubrus picking up the Capitals third goal and an assist, and center Halpern dishing up three assists.
My favorite "duh" moment was when one announcer asked the other if he noticed that the team didn't seem as sharp or as quick as normal and what could be the reason. His answer? "They haven't played in fifteen months!"
Here's your sign.
Rocket racing. Real rockets, real pilots.
A private group of rocketeers has banded together to create the Rocket Racing League with aims at blurring the line between competitive racing and human spaceflight. Their vision: A fleet of at least 10 stock rocket planes flown by crack pilots through a three-dimensional track 5,000 feet above the Earth.
"Imagine not one, but 10 of these fire-breathing dragons flying around a race course." -- Peter Diamandis
One of these visionaries is Peter Diamandis, who also founded the $10 million Ansari X Prize suborbital competition for private piloted spacecraft.
The liquid oxygen/kerosene fuel mix is expected to have a burn time of about four minutes, which would force pilots to repeatedly shut down their engines and glide, then restart as needed to surpass opponents, explained Searfoss, who will demonstrate the method during the upcoming prototype demonstration.Because of their fuel type, X-Racers should also generate a 20-foot flame easily visible from the ground, which will be vital for spectators, Diamandis said.
These people aren't crazy, they're looking to foster greater interest among the population for civilian spaceflight.
Better duck, NASCAR.
Thanks to Chris Hall at Spacecraft for the pointer. He's got some interesting background tie-in information too.
So you know I love this site full of the history of cookies!
Thanks to James at Starfighter's Model Blog for the pointer.
Used to be, there were a lucky few who got to write blurbs for trashy paperbacks:
No man could satisfy her. Four men tried to tame this wildcat who knew no end to the daisy-chain game of sin savagery... until she met a woman as explosive as herself. Together they stormed into an arena of perverted pleasures that knew no parallel except in hell. -- I Want You, by Lester Lake
Nowadays, I think they hang out in AOL chat.
Look at this picture (reasonably safe for work). The ladies pictured are topless, but the body paint is good enough to hide that fact except under close and careful examination.
Disregarding everything except the spirit of fun and adventure, could you do that?
He's a good interview:
"Just put down 'bleep.' It's OK. Lots of things I say in the paper have bleeps in them." -- Chicago White Sox manager Ozzie Guillen
He's a good interview, with a little judicious editing.
From John at TexasBestGrok (who's blog turned 2 the other day - yay!):
Context: Insects are specialists (drone, workers, queens, etc), where humans are generalists.
The original Heinlein:
A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.
Items I've done are in bold, notes and explanations follow.
* Change a diaper - cloth for the first child, disposable for the third, a mix for the middle kid.
* Plan an invasion - in real life a security exercise designed to steal nuclear weapons, on a gameboard for entire continents and galaxies.
* Butcher a hog - deer, pheasant and fish.
* Conn a ship - my Uncle's sailboat, which he sometimes sailed to Hawaii.
* Design a building - the largest that ever made it past the paper stage was a shed.
* Write a sonnet - I've written some pretty bad poetry, but no sonnets of any quality
* Balance accounts - enough to get by.
* Build a wall - wood, brick, and maybe stone next summer.
* Set a bone - a friend's broken finger, although I never want to have to do it again.
* Comfort the dying - I've been fortunate in my life.
* Take orders - thirteen years in the Air Force.
* Give orders - ditto.
* Cooperate
* Act alone
* Solve equations - it's not math... it's not math...
* Analyze a new problem - welcome to computer programming
* Pitch manure - and hay and ground oats (?), family with dairy farms
* Program a computer - my job.
* Cook a tasty meal - check.
* Fight efficiently - fight? yeah. won? yeah. lost? oh yeah.
* Die gallantly - more than once in a simulated fashion while doing security exercises for the Strategic Air Command.
Hey, that's more than I expected!
I've been enjoying the hyperventilation going on among some conservatives over President Bush's nominee for the high court. Mostly because I remember the chorus of "he's the President so he should get to choose anyone he wants to join the Supreme Court."
Guess what? He did.
That ol' "be careful what you wish for" bites y'all in ass again.
So New Orleans Mayor Nagin has appointed a committee to oversee reconstruction. This is a different committee than the one appointed by the city council to oversee reconstruction. And then, not to be outdone, Governor Blanco has appointer her very own committee to oversee reconstruction.
More hands muddying the money trail, more people to blame when questions arise. These folks are old pros at the grand con game called corrupt government.
I'm reminded of the movie Operation Petticoat. Cary Grant was the skipper of a submarine, and Tony Curtis was his "supply" officer who specialized in creative larceny to get things done. During an air raid, the supply troops headed out, saying "In confusion, there is profit."
True words.
I've been promoted to "crony" over at the Ministry of Minor Perfidy!
If you don't regularly read these guys, then you're not getting your minimum requirement of evil robot overlords, all things yeasty and the occasional neener-neener from a snotty Canadian.
Sports, that is.
Our baseball season is over. I wound up a respectable 5th out of 10 teams, and was fighting for 4th throughout the last month or so. (update: I did finish in 4th place in the final standings) Many thanks to annika for being the commish for this league, I had a blast. Congrats to Hank's Homeys for running away with the pennant.
Meanwhile, over at the stadium, I inexplicably won again thanks to some truly uninspired play by my opponents roster. By all rights, he should've stomped me. I'm not loving this league, because the scoring emphasis seems to be on touchdowns, which make your wide recievers the primary weapons. Running backs and quarterbacks are a very small part of the equation that I'm seeing so far. It's still fun, but I preferred last year's setup, where total yardage and number of receptions and other stats factored in.
You still have the chance to sign up for the fantasy hockey league. You don't have to obsess, peoples, it's for fun!
I was telling a coworker about a couple of plants I've got going on this year in our front yard and told her I'd take pictures.
(in the extended entry)
This is nine New Guniea Impatiens that I planted in a bed about 15 feet long. You can't go wrong with impatiens, as long you keep them watered. They'll droop and wilt badly when they get thirsty, but a good soaking will perk them right back up, and they'll stay covered with blooms like this right until first frost.
This is a flowering vine called Mandevilla that I potted and trained to climb through the lattice. Our HOA was on our case about the trash can being visible, so this is how I solved that problem (you can barely see the can behind). The blooms are four or five inches across, and it's flowered all summer. The mandavilla is tropical, so in all likelyhood it won't survive the winter here, but I'm going to trim it back before first frost and set it down into the window well where the dryer vent exhausts. Maybe it'll be enough, we'll find out.
It was a good day yesterday.
Called my Dad, he's 73 now. He sold his house and moved in with his girlfriend. Bought a brand new fully loaded minivan too, he does that every few years.
On the home front, Liz reupholstered a footstool while I installed a new computerized thermostat for the house. We also did some patching and painting in the soon-to-be sewing room.
Yep, a boring and pointless post. Welcome to Rocket Jones.
Look who's on the cover of the inaugural issue!
Blue and Rocket Jones get a mention too.
What's that? You ask, "what's 'podcasting'?" Oh, ye stone-tool-using throwback, you might call podcasting "audio blogging". Download shows (follow the links above and there are more links here) to your mp3 player and join the 21st century.
I've written about some of my adventures while in the Air Force, many while serving as a Security Policeman. While I tend to share the lighter moments, it's never far from your mind that things can become serious and deadly in a split second. That's the nature of the job.
Airman 1st Class Elizabeth Jacobson, 21, was providing convoy security Sept. 28 near Camp Bucca, Iraq, when the vehicle she was riding in was hit by an improvised explosive device. She is the first female Airman killed in the line of duty in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom.
Please, follow this link and leave words of encouragement for those she left behind in the comments section.
I've updated the complete list of movie reviews and bios.
And, as always, you can just visit the Cult Flicks archives for all kinds of related posts. The link to all of the Rocket Jones archives are always on the right, available by category or farther down by month. I'm obsessively organized like that.
