Well, Winter has arrived

Got up this morning to a quarter inch of snow in the driveway. Most of it melted off by noon.

Of course the snow reminded me that I hadn't got the studded tires on the wife's jeep. And we have the neighbors coming over for dinner today (any time now, potatoes are baking on the grill, steaks are marinating, and my stomach's growling). Urg! So, we ran up to Wasilla to get the tires changed out (yeah, us and every damn body in the Valley). And swung by the store to pick up a couple of things for dinner.

On top of all this, I'm seriously aggravated (yeah yeah, when am I not? Shuddup, the lot of you). My main computer, the main media server in the den, fried last night. Happened as I was plugging my ZEN into the USB port. Got a static pop, and then the machine locked up. Uh oh. Reboot? Maybe? Suddenly I'm all religious here, pray that it comes up. Ah, no. Pulled it apart this morning, reset the CMOS BIOS, just hoping that I can pull it off. No. The motherboard is apparently toast. Goddammit! I knew I should have turned on the humidifiers!

That's my music server, and the machine I talk to my brother on via video conference. I feel like a member of the family has died. Tomorrow I need to go find a new motherboard (I ain't buying a new computer here folks, not one this size). Just what I needed to do this week, rebuild a computer, but I have to have this machine dammit.

Well, my week's starting are nicely, how about you guys?

Uh Oh!

Is it just me, or do the rest of you now have the "Run away!, Run away!" bit from Monty Python and the Holy Grail in your head? Ha, don't say I never gave you anything.


Brave Sir Robin ran away.
Bravely ran away, away!
When danger reared its ugly head,
He bravely turned his tail and fled.
Yes, brave Sir Robin turned about
And gallantly he chickened out.
Bravely taking to his feet
He beat a very brave retreat,
Bravest of the brave, Sir Robin!

Try to have a good Saturday, I'll be out running some errands.

Make Beer, Not War!

A while back I wrote a post about those strangely ill-defined units of measurement used on the science and history channels. As I recall, you weren't impressed - apparently only I am concerned about the growing problem of imprecision in Cable TV premium channel measurement. Fine.

Well, here's a bit of math that you might find more useful. Basically it's is the amount of beer the standard sized Englishman could have bought for the amount of money England has spent on GWB's adventure into, ah, er, world peace.

"Next time the government wants to take our country to war, let's just have few beers instead."

I thought this put things nicely into perspective, for the English. So what about the US?

We've got to do some conversion of the units first, as such: Pints? American beer doesn't come in no stinkin' sissy English pints, so we're going to use 10oz cans or my personal favorite 12oz bottles. And English Pounds? Well, we're going to change that into real money (and don't they use Euro's or something nowadays?).

So, the amount spent to date on the war by America is: um well, hell, somewhere between $1 and $1 trillion. But, see that includes the campaigns in both Iraq and Afghanistan, secret prisons, rendition, torture (oops I meant 'Extraordinary Means' heh heh, sorry), warrantless wiretap pay-offs to AT&T, email screening, searching old lady's orthopedic shoes in our airports, endless piles of body bags in support of Blackwater Security pacification operations, and Vice Presidential pay-offs funneled through Halliburton. Needless to say, there's some ambiguity in the figures, and you know how I hate that. So we'll just go with $460 billion, which is roughly what we've spent on the basic military operation in Iraq so far.

So, plug 460,000,000,000 into PentaCalc

Divide by the average cost of a 12oz bottle of Killian's Irish Red (I mean if we're gonna do this, let's use good beer). Hmmm, let's see, $14 (plus state and federal tax) for a 12 pack of Killian's, works out to $1.25 a bottle more or less.

Equals 368 billion bottles of beer. 368 billion.

Now there's roughly 303 million US citizens. That's 12,014.5 bottles of Killian's for every single US citizen (or probably something like 30,000 cans of pisswater Bud Lite per person for the WWF is a real sport! type folks).

But wait! There's more. The total world population is roughly 6,624,000,000, the math works out to approximately 55 bottles of Killian's for every man, woman, and child on the planet! Figure only about 2/3 thirds of the world population is above legal drinking age (since America is handing out the beer in this scenario, we'll use the US Federal drinking age of 21), so it's really more like 75 bottles of beer per person. And that's just the money we've spent in Iraq. Take the money we've really spent on Bush's Folly and we could get every dammed person on the planet snot slinging, lampshade wearing, karaoke yodeling, shitfaced for two weeks. Ever see two drunks fighting? Right, exactly, a couple of clumsy roundhouses, next thing you know they're out on the porch hugging and saying "I love you, Man," and the next day they're too embarrassed to discuss it and everybody has a funny story to tell at subsequent social events. Plus, you know how it is, after about the first three beers you're hopping up and down in line for the bathroom, or outside pissing in the azealas every fifteen minutes. No soldier in the world is going to be able to fight if he's gotta bleed the thunder lizard four times an hour. And finally, after two weeks of worldwide Mardi Gras (show us your tits! show us your tits!), everybody on the planet will be bleeding eye, raw egg swilling, hung the hell over for at least three days. Ain't nobody shooting at nobody in that condition: "Duuuude, shhhh with the AK-47 bullshit, will you? My head feels like Senator Craig's ass after a wild ride on the wide-stance bronco. Hand me an Alka-Seltzer, quietly."

I'm calling it the Beer For Peace Program.

I'm mailing the power point slides to the Nobel Committee today, just in case that will streamline the process for awarding me the prize. Stop it, please. No really, no thanks needed. Just doing my bit for world peace.


Seriously, sarcasm aside. How many bags of rice, flour, beans, and bread would that money have bought? How much medicine? How many condoms? How many irrigation ditches would it have dug, or water filtration plants would it have built? In other words: How far towards solving the real root causes of war and terrorism could we have gotten with that money?

As I've said elsewhere, funny how we always seem to have the money for war, but never seem to have any money for making war unnecessary. Funny, in a sad, depressing sort of way.

Quick Question

Why doesn't somebody just kick the ever living shit out of this woman? Really?

I swear, the only time I wouldn't piss on this sorry excuse for a human being, is if she was on fire.


Update: Please, don't interpret this as a command to do violence. It's just a question, because frankly I cannot understand why somebody hasn't just smacked this evil malignant anorexic bitch right upside the head.

This I believe - an open letter to Congress

There's a scene in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade where Indy is in a castle on the Austrian/German border. He looks over the edge of a balcony, down upon a secret German command center. Sighing, he pulls his head back and says to his companion, "Nazis! I really hate these guys."

President Bush, demanding "flexibility" in the pursuit of suspected terrorists, insisted Wednesday he would not sign a new domestic spying bill if it unduly limits the administration's authority to eavesdrop without warrants. (emphasis mine)

Sigh. George W. Bush and his cronies! I really hate these guys.

As an American, and as an American who has spent his life (and nearly lost it more than once) defending this nation, I am outraged. This is not hyperbole, I am truly filled with rage at this statement. I will NOT tolerate this kind of behavior from the elected leader of the United States. Every American should be outraged. If you do not immediately see why this is statement is unconstitutional, if you can not immediately see why this statement is the very epitome of tyranny, then you need to educate yourself. Stop reading this blog now, right now, and go read the United States Constitution. Read Every Word. Read it again and again until you understand it in your bones. Read the Declaration of Independence. Read the Federalist Papers. Read them out loud, you can hear the power, the sheer raw power, of the words. Read these documents until you understand that they are not just words, but ideals. Read these documents until you understand that those ideals are the single greatest achievement of the human race. Read them until you understand that these ideals are a sacred trust of every single American. Go do it, I'll wait.

As I may have mentioned elsewhere, I believe in the Constitution. I believe in the principles that this country was founded on. I believe in it so much, that I was willing to give most of my adult life in defense of those ideals. And to be perfectly blunt about it, I have come to the reluctant conclusion that the current administration is more, far more, of a threat to those principles than King George III, the Confederacy, Hitler, Hirohito, Tail Gunner Joe McCarthy, or that bearded pissant Osama Bin Laden ever was.

The wise and brilliant men who founded this country, those men who fought a bloody war against tyranny and oppression, those men who agonized over the drafting of the Constitution, had one burning concern above all others - that no one man, would ever again have unlimited power over his fellows. They rightly feared the power of government, even as they struggled to build a new government of their own, the likes of which had never been seen before in the history of mankind - a nation founded on the principles of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness for all of it's citizens, a government of the people, by the people, and for the people - Not a government TO the people like some blood spattered jackboot on the throat of it's citizens. A nation founded on ideals so powerful, so true, so pure, that over time they would change the very fabric of that nation and her people, all of her people, and indeed the whole world itself. Those words are powerful. The sheer force and beauty of those words have rung like a bell throughout the last two hundred and thirty one years of human history. For over two centuries, those words have flared like a brilliant unwavering beacon and inspired literally billions of people worldwide to risk their very lives and all they hold dear in pursuit of the ideals those words embody. There was a time, not so long ago, when millions came to shores of America, the tired, the poor, the huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of distant teeming shores. They came because they believed in those words, because they saw the beacon of liberty and freedom burning in the wine dark sky, because they knew in their heart of hearts that America was the land of a free and brave people. They knew that America was a land where no one man would ever hold capricious and arbitrary power over their children again. That is why they came. There was a time, not so long ago, when other nations yearned to be like America, there were revolutions in Europe, in France especially, inspired by the 'noble experiment' that was America. There was a time, not so long ago, where America rode into the valley of death and sacrificed her children to free the peoples of Cuba, Europe, and Asia from injustice and tyranny and holocaust and they were welcomed with tears of joy. There was a time, not so long ago, when the name, America, inspired awe and hope among the oppressed peoples of the world, and struck utter abject fear in the hearts of tyrants, kings, despots, and dictators. There was a time, not so long ago, when Americans could be proud of their nation, their government, themselves.

No longer.

I believe, believe more strongly than anything I have ever believed in, that our great republic is truly in peril. More so now, under this simpering, lying, paranoid, smirking, childish, power mad, insane tyrant of a president, that America the Ideal is in great jeopardy. When a people become ashamed of their own nation, that nation is most surely in imminent peril. I truly believe that we, America, stand upon a precipice, and that we are sliding faster and faster into the dark festering depths of tyranny - the very thing that our founders feared above all else. The very thing that they warned us, their descendants, of over and over again. This is how it always ends, this is how all the great republics of history have died.

But it does not have to be this way.

A great man, a brilliant and wise man, Edmund Burke, once said, "All that is necessary for the triumph of evil, is for good men to do nothing," or words to that effect.

Congress, you are the elected representatives of America. You, you, represent all Americans, every single one - not just those who voted for you, not just those who gave you money and favors, not just those of your political party or your church or your country club - but every single man, women, and child in the United States. You carry on your shoulders the weight of history, past and future, you are the guardians of Democracy, Liberty, Freedom, Duty, Country, and the hopes and dreams of all those multitudes who gave their own lives for the last two hundred and thirty one years because they believed in the ideal that is America. It is your sworn and sacred duty to preserve this nation, to defend with your lives if necessary the principles of the Constitution. And you have been betrayed, all of you, all of us. This is a moment in history that will always be remembered, just as Julius Caesar's betrayal of the Roman Republic is remembered. You must stand together, you must hold, you must not waver, you must prevail - or this nation will indeed perish from the Earth. Republicans, Democrats, Independents it does not matter, party be dammed we have all been betrayed, you represent all of us - you, all of you, are the check that holds tyranny at bay. I implore you, don't give in to this evil, this President who has no intention of sharing power with you. This president who has made Americans afraid in their own country, who has made Americans ashamed of their own nation and identity. He casts aside those who displease him, those who don't knuckle under to his insane Orwellian vision of America. Only you can stand against him. Now is the time, right now, for good or ill history will remember what you do in this moment. Use the power of the Constitution, stand together as Americans and fight, Goddammit!

From the Declaration of Independence: "...Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed..." Hear me, Congress, I do not consent. I DO NOT CONSENT. I. DO. NOT. CONSENT! I refuse to give up my rights. I refuse to go quietly into darkness and tyranny. I refuse to see the Republic perish because good men did nothing. I DO NOT CONSENT!

The president is not a king, he is not Caesar, unless you, good men and women, do nothing.

In the Navy, you can sail the seven seas...

So, this morning I was down at the coffee shop and the barista asked me "Say, you were in the Navy, right?"

This wasn't exactly an out of the blue question, I don't know her personally - only that she is a very nice lady who works the early morning shift and makes a dammed good caramel machiato - and it's a very small town, you see people around on a daily basis. We often chat like people do while I'm waiting for my coffee, and the fact that I'm retired has come up once or twice. And then there's the way that I look, very short hair in a military cut (I'm not growing it out long now that I'm retired, it's been short my whole adult life and I like it that way), and I almost always can be found wearing an Australian Navy bush hat with "HMAS ANZAC" and the Fast Frigate ANZAC's silhouette embroidered on the front (the hat is a whole other story, some day maybe I'll tell you how I ended up with it and why it means so much to me). So, again, the barista's question wasn't exactly clairvoyance. When I answered in the affirmative, she asked if I would stick around for a moment. I could tell something was on her mind, she looked nervous and her mind really wasn't on making coffee this morning. Sometimes people act like that around vets, uncomfortable, but I didn't think that was it. She made a couple of coffees while I pursued the donut selection (the Starbucks is in the bakery section of the local super market) and then came over and said,

"My daughter wants to join the Navy. She told me this morning. And she's going to see the recruiter this afternoon. She has no idea what she's getting into."

At first I thought she wanted me to talk the girl out of it. Nope, she was pretty taken aback by her daughter's decision, but supportive. Her real question was, "Could you talk to her? Give her some advice?"

Well sure, of course. I gave the woman my card and told her to have the daughter call me, figuring I'd never hear from the young lady (really, mom met some guy in the store and he'd like to give you some unsolicited career pointers, suuuure okay). But, an hour later - the girl called me.

She wasn't as young as I'd assumed, 27 actually. Which is quite a bit older than the average recruit. Her life was a mess, for reasons I won't go it here, but she'd gotten her shit together and was looking for a major change in her life - which, of course, the Navy will certainly do, in spades.

Is a "major life change" a good reason for joining the military? Good as any, I'd say. Everybody joins for some reason, education, adventure, regular if unspectacular pay, regular if unspectacular food, learn a trade, running away from a failed marriage, and the ever popular see the world and get the hell out of your crappy little home town (which is how I ended up in the military), meet exotic hookers in foreign ports, whatever. I once knew a guy who joined the Navy specifically because he'd heard the Navy issued "free" shoes (he'd grown up in some dirt poor Kentucky holler, the youngest of a dozen hand-me-down children and had never owned a pair of shoes that 4 or 5 other kids hadn't had their feet in first. The Navy gave him new shoes. It was important to him). Some kids join because it's a family tradition. Hell, some people actually join to do their bit for "Freedom and Democracy." All of those things qualify as a "major life change," I guess.

Why people join the military is irrelevant. And it's sure as hell not for everybody, it's hard, and it's dirty, and it's dangerous even in the best of times, and it can suck the life right out of you, and I don't look down on anybody who chooses another path. But for those who do join, I guarantee that it will change your life. I talked to this girl for an hour, giving her what advice and insight I've learned from 23 years of Navy life. I don't know if they'll take her, like the Offspring song goes she's got issues. But there's a war on, and so she might be accepted into Naval service.

I wished her luck.

Busy day

Apologies for the lack of posts today. I've been busy. Had a couple of visitors and some business that kept me on the phone for a couple hours and I just haven't had time to post anything. And I still have a couple things to do before I can sit down and play with the internets.

You know how it is.

Later today I'll try to find some time to put on my dancing monkey hat and find something to entertain you - until then you're on your own. Make the best of it.

Fun with Spam Math

Spam used to annoy the hell out of me. Then I switched my Norton Anti-Spam configuration to Whitelisting mode and life got a lot better. Maybe one spam email in a thousand makes into my inbox, the rest gets dumped into the spam folder. About once a week I look in the spam folder and flush it out. Anybody who emails me on a regular basis is already on my whitelist, and the anti-spam module is programmed to pass emails with [stonekettle station] in the subject line, so it's pretty rare to get a valid message in the spam folder - still I check, just to make sure. I get a lot of email from active-duty military folks, many who read this blog but are not comfortable commenting in public. So when I saw an email from "LAC cav" in the spam folder I assumed it was from somebody in the military who had forgotten to put the pass phrase in the subject line. So I looked at it, and it turned out that Norton knew what it was doing. Here's the message:

Wazzup jlwright!
I started in May at 5 inches. I grew to 6 inches in 2 months
LAC cav

There was a hyperlink to a website where I assume you could get you some of this, or maybe even see actual pictures of the amazing manhood improvement LAC Cav is bragging about. But for obvious reasons, I didn't include it here. You want 5" porn? You look that shit up on your own, people.

Let's examine this bit of advertising brilliance, shall we?

First: Wazzup? Seriously, spammers, if you want to get my attention don't start with Wazzup! Really, don't. Ever.

Second: Five inches? Five? Now LAC Cav doesn't give specifics, but from the nature of the correspondence I'm going to assume we're talking length here, not girth (because if it's five inches in diameter, you really don't need any enhancement, do you?) Also, I'll assume we're talking five inches erect, not flaccid. Anonymous Spammer or not, seriously, I wouldn't be emailing this little (heh heh) personal detail around the internet. Think about it, you're going to get caught eventually, do you really want to be on international TV as the Five Inch Guy? You're going to get what? Five-to-Ten maybe, then you're a free man, and what's the first thing you want when you get out of prison (besides broadband)? Right, exactly. So you're an ex-con nerd, it's going to be hard (heh heh) enough getting a date. Don't think women won't remember your face from the news either, Five Inch Guy, chicks say that size doesn't matter, but they've got long (heh heh) memories and you don't want to be on the short (heh heh) list. Just saying.

Third: The math. One inch in two months? Well, see something sounds a little (heh heh) off here. He says he started in May, for simplicity I'll assume May of this year. Then he says two months and he's gained a inch. But see, six inches isn't all that impressive either, especially to somebody who's obviously obsessed with length like our buddy, LAC cav. So, you have to assume that he'd keep taking the Super-Length-Enhancing-Herbal-Woody-Maker Supplement up to the present, and if he kept seeing improvement, well, he'd do a little (heh heh) bragging. Since he didn't, I have to assume that one inch is about the best you can expect from the product, no matter how long (heh heh) you take it. May to October is closer to six months, so instead of an impressive 0.5 inches per month of manhood expansion - it's really more like a dinky 0.16 inches per month total to date - and if there isn't any improvement after the first two months (which we can assume from the lack of bragging, and the fact that I haven't seen any TV "male-enhancement" advertisements of some guy named LAC cav pushing his junk along on a canoe trailer) then with each month that goes by the average per month gain gets a little less. Statistically speaking.

Math, is there anything it can't do? (besides not improving your manhood, I mean).

And with that, I'm off to the Post Office to mail some packages - and pick up this month's supply of manhood improver. I may be gone a long (heh heh) time.

The 21st Century, it's about time...

Since my wife reads this blog, upon occasion, I'm starting my Christmas list early.

Behold, the brand new iRobot Dirt Dog.

I want one of these. Unlike the iRobot Roomba, which is pretty cool in it's own right, the Dirt Dog is designed for garages and shops. And at $130, it's reasonably priced too. I'd love to have a Roomba for the house too, but I think I'll wait until they come out with a 55gal drum sized one, we have a lot of cat hair and I think those little frisbee sized Roombas would have an electronic stroke just looking at it all. Also, speaking of the cats, I'd have to have a Roomba that could defend itself, say with some kind of built in Taser or death ray, because the cats would destroy it in short order otherwise.

I have a heavy duty, dedicated dust collection system in the shop, which I custom built from various parts acquired from scrap piles and craigslist, which looks something like this:

Dust collection in a shop like mine is very important. Especially in the winter when I can't work with the highbay doors open, because it's, you know, -40F outside. Sawdust is flammable, extremely so. It's also a breathing hazard and can lead to pneumoconiosis if you breath enough of it in a confined space. The dust/chip collector, which is sort of like a super dooper version of a house vac, is attached via ductwork to each piece of woodworking equipment in the shop, and also has a couple of vacuum hose connections so that I can use it to suck up dust and chips off the floor. But it doesn't quite get everything, especially under the workbenches where fine dust tends to collect until I get down on my hands and knees and reach under there with a foxtail and dustpan, but sweeping fine dust tends to throw it up into the air which defeats the whole purpose. The iRobot Dirt Dog is designed for exactly this situation, roving under the benches where I can't easily reach. And it can be programmed to do it late at night, so that what little dust it does raise I'm not around to breath in.

How cool is that?

See, that's what robots are supposed to do - make our lives easier. They're supposed to take care of the little details so that we don't have to ruin what's left of our knees on the cold concrete floors of our woodshops. I don't want a robot that talks and walks and acts like it's a member of the family (and I especially don't want a robot that walks and talks and acts like Robin Williams!). I want a robot that's small and cheap and can reliably get into or out of tight spots on it's own, taking care of the little jobs that are hard or inconvenient for me to do. I think I've mentioned a couple of times that we're big automation fans around here at Stonekettle Station, we already have a robot cat feeder and a robot cat box, I'm sure they'd welcome a robot shop sweeper to the household.

So, what do you want for Christmas?

They're Baaaack!

All children love tire-swings, apparently.

Mom and calf are back this morning. The baby (yeah, all 800lbs of him) scared the crap out of me. I was leaning on the back of the truck, parked in that open bay you can see in the shop in the background, drinking my coffee and planning the day's shop schedule, when he stepped around the edge of the open door about 3 feet away. I don't hear as well as I used to (something about people blowing shit up next to my head for the last 20 years), but still I'm a little embarrassed that 800lbs of moose could get within 3 feet of me without me noticing. He gave me the beady eye and put his ears down flat on his head and snorted out both nostrils - not a good sign. I calmly put the coffee cup down on the truck bumper and prepared to dodge around the truck. But he lost interest and wandered across the driveway to eat the raspberry bushes (those green leaves on the hill behind him). I looked around for Mom and heard her coming through the bush on the left side of the shop. I grabbed the camera which I always keep in the shop for just such an occasion, and quietly eased around and down into the yard so I could get some pictures.

That's mom to the left in the trees. Baby for some reason, wanted to play with the tire swing.


I was really afraid he was going to get his head stuck inside the tire. Instead he licked it, then chewed on the nylon rope for a while. Then like all kids, lost interest and wandered off.

I'm about twenty feet away, taking these shots, using a Sony professional DSC770. Just so you don't think I'm completely crazy, since moose can be extremely dangerous - especially a mother with a calf, I've got the Mossberg 12ga on a sling over one shoulder and the Colt .44 in a shoulder holster. I also had 3 clear paths to retreat down hill if necessary. They're used to me and I have no desire to shoot either of them, but better safe than sorry - plus getting stomped retired Warrants out of the yard is a major pain for the widow.

Representative Roy Blunt, Jerkoff of the week

“If this was October of next year, I’d be really worried,” said Representative Roy Blunt of Missouri, the second-ranking House Republican. “But this is October of this year and the beginning of us getting our credibility back by showing that we are willing to take principled stands on spending.”

Blunt is talking about backlash to Democratic efforts to override President Bush's recent veto of a bill passed by Congress to expand SCHIP, or the State Children's Health Insurance Program, a federal and state program that is supposed to provide health insurance to children in families with incomes too great for Medicaid eligibility but not enough to afford private insurance. But see, Blunt is not talking about kid's health care per se, he's actually talking about getting reelected, along with his Republican pals.

Congress has been pissing and squabbling over SCHIP for a year now. Nobody can seem to agree on anything, as usual, apparently investing in the future of our nation is difficult. However, when it comes to limiting Americans' fiscal future it's a whole lot easier - it only took a month to hammer the Patriot Act all the way through Congress and up to the President for signature. How much do you think that act has cost us to date? We could fund health care for every single American kid, with money left over, for what NSA is spending on monitoring those same kids' phonecalls, email and myspace accounts.

Bush and Congressional Republicans called SCHIP "fiscally irresponsible."

You know, I've read the bill, I've listened to the arguments both for and against it, and truthfully I don't know if it's 'fiscally irresponsible' or not. What I do know is this - we never seem to have enough money for things that really matter, things like health care for all Americans, access to decent education, the homeless problem, the hungry, manned space exploration, etc and pick your own issue.

But, somehow we always seem to have plenty of money for Blowing Shit Up. Why is that? Our fearless leaders are always willing to take out a loan on our kid's future so we can go off to war, but we're never willing to invest in our own country's future. Why is war okay, but health and education 'fiscally irresponsible?'

Look, I don't want America to become some socialist welfare state, but Goddammit, if the lower middle class (the majority of Americans) goes broke paying for their kids' health coverage, what kind of future do those kids have? Surely this is at least as important as the 'War on Terrorism' or whatever we're calling this adventure now.

Attention Republican Idiots: You know what's fiscally irresponsible? I tell you: getting us into this mess, with no plan to get out and turning the whole thing into some bottomless, tax funded feeding trough for your pals in the defense industry. You know what's fiscally irresponsible? This:

Cost of the War in Iraq

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To see more details, click here.

Republicans aren't worried about the amount of money they're spending in Iraq or Afghanistan, so long as Blackwater and Halliburton voters keep raking in the dough. Dipshits like Roy Blunt suddenly are all about a 'principled stand on spending,' probably because poor kids tend to grow up to be Democrats. I guess if those kids want even minimum health care, they can join the Army and go to Iraq - but they better hurry, because, if experience is any guide, pretty soon funding Veteran's health care is going to get pretty dammed expensive indeed, and then you watch if guys like ole' Roy don't start blustering about a little more 'fiscal responsibility' when it comes to funding it.

You know you're living in Alaska when...

Visitors in my front yard this evening, and just enough light to get a couple of good pictures. This is a very large cow moose and her yearling male calf. She's lived around here since we have, and always has at least one, sometimes two, calves a year.

We were a little worried about this calf, last winter he twisted his front left ankle. It was swollen and he was having a hard time in the snow. Frankly, I didn't think he'd make it. But he heeled up and it looks like he's doing just fine.


This is them on the other side of the driveway, ripping branches off the Black Currant tree.

And just for the record, I picked up every dammed leaf in the front yard yesterday. The trees, they hate me.

Don't Expect Much Today

Mostly sunny and reasonably nice today. And I've got a dozen errands to run and things to do in the yard and shop, things that I can only do when it's nice out. You know how it is, got to get ready for winter - which in Alaska is no joke.

So, I'll leave you with a little Mark Knopfler and Eric Clapton, the live version of Sultans of Swing. I love this song, most especially the instrumental that makes up the last 2/3's of this video. Knopfler is a fingerstyle player (he doesn't use a pick) which makes his sound very distinctive, I can pick his music out of any background. I once saw him do this song in London with Dire Straits, and it was one of the most amazing things I've ever seen.

Some trivia regarding the man (from the Wikipedia):
* British author and humorist Douglas Adams said about Knopfler, in his book So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish: "Mark Knopfler has an extraordinary ability to make a Schecter Custom Stratocaster hoot and sing like angels on a Saturday night, exhausted from being good all week and needing a stiff beer."
* The dinosaur species Masiakasaurus knopfleri was named after Knopfler. The paleontologists were listening to Dire Straits recordings when they discovered the species.
* On Weird Al Yankovic's parody of "Money for Nothing", "Money for Nothing/Beverly Hillbillies", Knopfler played guitar in the song, recreating the memorable guitar riff from the original song. He also appeared in the music video, playing guitar and performing with Yankovic's backing band.
* Knopfler's guitar classic "Going Home" from the soundtrack to Local Hero was until 2007 used before kick-off at Newcastle United's home matches at St James' Park.
* According to director Rob Reiner, Knopfler agreed to write the music for Reiner's The Princess Bride on one condition: Reiner had to put the hat that he wore in This Is Spinal Tap in Princess Bride, "somewhere in evidence", as homage to the rock mockumentary. The hat makes its appearance in Princess Bride in the Grandson's (Fred Savage) bedroom.

I can live with that

Get Your Cyborg Name

Beware, Angry Bobcat!

Man, for some reason this just cracks me up. Sounds like something I would do.

I've always loved comics for some reason, the kind with quirky, biting humor are always my favorites. Bloom County, Farside, Calvin and Hobbles, man I miss those. But on the upside, there are a number of very good regional comics that can be found on teh internets nowadays, along with some purely web-based comics. Besides the brilliantly funny XKCD, I read:

Russell's Teapot - Be warned, crudely drawn, irreverent Atheist type humor
WAR Comic - The Secret Lives of Mobs, by Rory Phillips. Kind of a cross between gaming humor and Tolkien, terrific artwork.
Get Fuzzy - by Darby Conley, also a syndicated newspaper comic. A bemused pet owner, his bemused dog, and an psychotic cat. With the occasional weasel.
Pearls Before Swine - by Stephen Pastis. also a syndicated newspaper comic. Zeba Zeba Eata! From some reason, I find this strip hysterically funny on an almost daily basis. I know people exactly like the Crocs, and personality-wise I probably resemble Rat more than a little.
CTL-ALT-DEL - by Tim Buckley. A comic about a gaming addict.

So, what comics do you read?

Just when I think people can't get any worse...

I hate loud noise, it interrupts my thought process and I find that incredibly irritating. Loud trucks, sirens, ringing cell phones, car alarms, squealing cheerleaders, and most especially that dammed shrill penetrating beep! beep! beep! from backing heavy construction equipment (don't they ever drive those things forward?). I love the peace and stillness of the Alaskan bush, without a single sound of humanity, just the wind and water. I am usually opposed to anything that increases the ambient man-made noise level.

So it never occurred to me that there could be such a thing as too quiet, especially when it comes to cars. Turns out I'm wrong. Again.

Try to imagine my surprise.

"Because hybrids make virtually no noise at slower speeds when they run solely on electric power, blind people say they pose a hazard to those who rely on their ears to determine whether it's safe to cross the street or walk through a parking lot."

Well hell, that never occurred to me. I can see where these people are coming from (no pun intended, or at least not maliciously intended). The National Federation for the Blind and other groups are advocating that quiet technology cars such as hybrids and electrics be equipped with some type of noise generator so that that the vision impaired can hear them coming. Now, they're not talking about some kind of wailing siren or some such; a number of folks have suggested something that sounds similar to a conventional internal combustion engine. Sounds reasonable to me, in fact, I think this idea benefits everybody, vision impaired or not. Kids. People not paying attention. Cyclists. Road construction workers. Hell, even animals. Most of us have been conditioned from birth to associate the sound of an approaching internal combustion engine with "Danger! Brain to feet - get out of the way." It doesn't seem like the device should increase the cost of new hybrids by much if at all, or be at all that difficult to retro-fit onto existing ultra quiet cars. Also, it just seems like the right thing to do. And it sure doesn't seem like it's any skin off my ass to make the lives of blind people a little easier. I mean, I can be a callus jerk upon occasion, but I'm not that big of callus jerk - being blind sucks enough as it is without silent cars sneaking up on you.

So, I was more than a bit appalled to read some of the comments attached to this article. Here's a few of the more idiotic examples:

"Keep the car quiet, it’s not being marketed to the blind" Exactly, blind people drive loud cars.

"...create a law banning blind people from crossing the street..." Or we could just ban this commenter from driving again, ever.

"...make it mandatory for the blind to wear inflatable pads all over their bodies." I think this commenter should have a mandatory pad over his mouth.

"and I’m sure zebra don’t want to be eaten by a quiet tiger either, but it happens. It’s natural selection. deal with it." Ah, eugenics. Because if you're going to be an asshole, you might as well pervert Darwin to support you ideas.

"The idea of reducing noise pollution seems more important." Well, it is true that dead blind people make less noise than the live ones. Of course that applies to jerkoff commenters too, just saying.

"They should be walking on sidewalks. If they get hit here, it’s due to the reckless driver, and they likely would not be able to do anything about it anyway." Yeah, wouldn't want to give them a sporting chance or anything.

And my personal favorite: "Put baseball cards in the wheel spokes." Though to be fair, I think this last was actually meant to be funny.

There's more. A lot more.

What. A. Bunch. Of. Utter. Assholes!


Attention Assholes: Can you hear this noise? That would be the sound of my blood beginning to fizz and boil. I wouldn't wish blindness on anybody, but if there is such a thing as karma, you jerks are overdue for a good smack upside the head with the Detached Retina stick.

The Rushes

You know, some things just frustrate me.

I came across this group, The Rushes, a little band out of London. Check out that first song on the mySpace player, What You Waiting For. I really like that tune, and I'd really, really like to buy the album. But it's only available, apparently, on iTunes - which for previously stated reasons, doesn't work for me. Argh!

If anybody can figure out how I can get this album, I'd be grateful.

Over-Unity is real!

Uh oh, anybody else smell another really bad Val Kilmer movie in this astounding discovery? More here.

" It sounds too good to be true - not to mention the fact that it violates almost every known law of physics." - from the 2nd article.

Those British, they're such kidders.



Of course, if this doesn't turn out to be cold fusion all over again, I'll have to apologize, again. And I will. Hell, I'll even buy one of the dammed things.

Sunrise on the Peak

Frost! It was 29F this morning and the yard is coated in frost. But, no rain! The sky is clear and blue and the sunrise on Pioneer Peak is spectacular this morning.

Hell, it might even be dry enough to pick up all the leaves in the yard today. Whoohoo!

Also, for those of you who care, we had our local MatSu Borough elections yesterday - and it looks like we managed to toss out the old, corrupt school board and elect all new members in what amounts to a landslide, including my good friend Susan Pougher who will be filling Seat C. Congratulations, Sue!

This is major poetic justice for Sue, who was fired from her job as head of School Food Services, through some major unethical bullshit by the Administration with the backing of the outed school board. Ha! Reap the whirlwind, boys.

Strangeness afoot

I had some kind of MS Outlook meltdown this morning. Actually I think it's the spam handler integration.

So, if you've emailed me and are expecting a reply. Be patient, I'm working on it. Should have it fixed shortly.

Update: I appear to have fixed the problem. It was exchange server. Needed to be purged and rebooted. Seems to be working fine now. But, I don't know how long it was acting strangely, so if you got a bounce back email from me, try again. Thanks.

Evolution Inaction

I'm a firm believer in the theory of evolution. I also believe in the corollary that says: Once evolution produces intelligence (intelligence being a relative condition, as we will see below), evolution stops in that species, because the weak, crippled, and just plain stupid are protected and allowed to breed - thus passing their defective genes on to the next generation of booger eating morons.

Every day I see undeniable proof that evolution has achieved a state of stasis in the human species. Allow me to present a couple of observations from the first few hours of today:

I took my kid to school this morning and then, because I was already out, I decided to go the extra five miles into Palmer to the coffee shop. There's a Starbucks in the local Fred Meyer and Tamie, the barrista, knows exactly how I like my coffee without asking, so it's worth the five minute drive. Usually there's nobody in line at 7AM, which is good thing because I despise standing in line, but this morning there was one woman ahead of me. Mid-twenties maybe, reasonably attractive in that outdoorsy Alaskan way, and just irritating the crap out of me - because instead of ordering her dammed coffee she's got to ask questions. What's good this morning? Are these free samples free? Can I write a check? Blah blah and etc. Look, lady, it's a coffee shop, order coffee, then get the hell out of my way. Eventually, she moves on and I get my morning jolt of hot caramelated caffeine. Because I was already in the store, I figured I'd pick up a couple of things. I was probably in the store twenty minutes or so, including the time I spent in line behind Irritating Lady. I'm walking out of the store, who's ahead of me? That's right, her. As I'm getting into my truck I see her getting into her monster SUV directly in front of me. The SUV is running. Hmmm, says I, that's a little odd - leaving your giant gas guzzling monster running while you're in the store for 25 minutes, what with $3.10 a gallon for gas and all. But wait...what's that in the back seat? Why a small child, strapped into a child safety seat. The kid is maybe two? Crying and obviously upset at being left in the fucking car while her mother is inside the store shopping. What the hell is this women thinking? How many more tragic, sobbing distraught mothers do we need to see on the evening news, blubbering the immortal line "but, but, I only left her alone for a minute."

Not so long ago, this child would have been eaten by saber-toothed cats while her idiot cave dwelling mother was off getting her nails done at some neolithic beauty parlor. However, despite her unfortunate choice of mother, this child will probably survive to adulthood and thus stand a reasonable chance of breeding herself - and thereby saddling future generations with the Stupid-Parent gene.

While I'm still debating with myself whether or not I should say something to this idiot women, she speeds off and the question becomes moot. Driving home, I was still shaking my head and wondering how the human race managed to survive so far. Suddenly, my contemplations were interrupted by the blood-freezing roaring of hunting saber-toothed tigers! What? No, actually as it turns out, it's a kid on a two-stroke dirt bike going past me. I'm doing 45-50MPH and this kid is passing me. It's dark out, pouring rain, and he's doing at least 60MPH down the paved walking/bike path beside the road - jumping the side streets without looking or slowing down - headed towards the high school. Late for class I'm guessing, that or a meeting with his parole officer. Now being a small Alaskan town, the Palmer cops normally have nothing to do but act like swaggering assholes and harass the people who pay their salaries (if they're reading this, I mean that in the most respectful don't tazer me sort of way). Meaning that they are usually about in the morning on this particular patch of the road, so I'm looking around for one hoping he'll nab this little joker before he kills himself or somebody else. But, of course, the cops are nowhere to be found. And sure enough, about that time the kid hits a patch of mud, slides sideways for a few feet before going ass over teakettle into the weeds. Sigh. I pull over, reach into the back seat for the first aid kit and flashlight. I climb out of the truck, hoping I'm not going to find a dead mangled kid-shaped smear, and flipped open my cell phone to dial 911. As I'm sliding down the wet grass into the ditch and before I can finish dialing, the kid pops up out of the weeds. "Fuck!" he yells, "These are my good jeans!" And without so much as a glance in my direction he stands the bike up, hops on, and roars off into the dark and rain. He can't be any older than 14 at the outside.

Again, what in the hell are his parents thinking? What is this kid doing on a dirt bike at 7:30 in the morning, in the rain, in the dark, with no lights, with no safety gear other than a cheap half face helmet, doing 60MPH illegally down the walking path? Not so long ago evolution would have deleted this kid from gene pool by having a mastodon stomp him and his good jeans into the permafrost while his fur-bearing parents were off doing whatever neolithic Yuppies did at 7:30 in the morning. Is it the kid's fault? Hell no, of course not, teenagers are idiots by definition - that's why they are supposed to have parents. Since this kid's parents seem to lack even the most rudimentary concern for his welfare, I suspect that they won't much care when he knocks up some high school cheerleader and manages to pass his parent's clueless chromosomes on to the next generation of retards.

While I have no empirical proof to offer, I suspect that these idiots are outbreeding the rest of us (notice how I put myself and the readers of this blog in the "not-stupid" category? You're welcome). What we need around here, are some saber-tooth cats. Hungry saber-toothed cats. That would get evolution back on track in short order.

Caveat Emptor

There’s a scene in Inferno, Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle’s revisit to Dante Alighieri’s classic The Divine Comedy, where the protagonist, Carpentier, is attempting to pass a guardian demon and return to an upper circle of Hell. The demon accuses the dammed-to-hell writer Carpentier of creating his own religion with his books, but Carpentier says, no, it was only a game. The demon nods thoughtfully and replies “Games” then steps forward and slashes Carpentier on his bare chest, leaving two deep parallel cuts from chin to navel. Carpentier stumbles back, bleeding profusely, aghast, staring at his ruined stomach - and then he slowly realizes what the demon intends, and so he steps forward again, saying the classic line, “Once again, Carpentier demonstrates his inability to learn.” The demon slashes two more cuts, perpendicular to the first, a crosshatch, and after a moment you understand. It’s a game, tic-tac-toe. Carpentier beats the demon at the game, by scratching the symbols into his own flesh with his fingernail. As he stumbles away, holding his bloody eviscerated belly together with his bare hands, the demon asks “Best two out of three?”

When I read about the current woes by owners of the Apple iPhone, I am vividly reminded of that scene. Once again, Apple customers demonstrate their inability to learn. Like the dammed souls in The Divine Comedy, they too wail for salvation, but they’ve made their deal with the devil and now they are suffering the consequences.

Apple bills itself as the company that “thinks different.” Apple has, right from the beginning, appeared to represent those that prize creativity, innovation, and artistry. The current “I’m a Mac and I’m a PC” advertising campaign is the epitome of this concept, poking fun at the stodgy, confined, business orientated world. iMacs are fun, easy to use, and they will free your soul from the chains of the hell that is the Personal Computer. What doesn’t appear in those ads is that Apple has never allowed anyone else to build the Macintosh hardware platform; you buy it from Apple or you don’t buy it. And it’s the same with Mac software to large extent, which is, of course, why you just can’t find much native Mac software, certainly not to the extent that you can for the PC. Many Mac users have resorted to loading the Microsoft XP operating system, so they can actually, you know, do something other than paint pretty pictures and play with photo layouts.

Then there’s the iPod. “Decisions, decisions. Who needs ’em?” says the Apple iPod webpage. Who indeed? Buy an iPod and you’ve given up your ability to choose; its iTunes software and the iTunes store or nothing. You’ll damn well listen to your music the way Apple says, or not at all.

Neither of the observations regarding the Macintosh computer or the iPod are condemnations. Steve Jobs and Apple have a corporate vision of how they want to do business, and they neither desire nor require any outside input on how that vision should go. It’s their right to do so, of course. And despite the many proclamations over the years sounding the death knell of Apple, the company has managed to hang in there and grow and succeed, so they must be doing something right. But, make no mistake, Apple is not some 1960's California hippy artist commune, they are a business, and they have just as much of a corporate vision as the rest of the stodgy tech industry that they claim to disdain. They have repeatedly and aggressively moved to protect that corporate vision. And it’s about time that their customers realized this.

It shouldn’t have been any surprise to owners of the iPhone that Apple would protect their considerable investment. Don’t get me wrong, I understand where these people are coming from. I mean, if I drop $500 on a phone then it’s mine, dammit, I’ll do with it as I please. But then again, I probably wouldn’t spend $500 dollars on a phone, even one that is supposed to do all the nifty things the iPhone is supposed to do – at least not yet. My motto, if I had a motto, would have to be: Never buy version 1 of anything. And therein lies the crux of the matter, the current iPhone, like the iMac and iPod, is all flash and dazzle. It is creative, and innovative, and it is artistry – but sometimes you just need to do business like everybody else. Sometimes you want options. The iPhone’s limitations are many: no Bluetooth capability; limited wireless broadband support; no Flash support and limited Javascript and poor frame handling capability; a 10MB limit on Web pages; only Apple Quicktime support for video and audio; no resizing or scrolling controls, the iPhone automatically resizes display images to default, no matter what the user wants; no way to cut, copy, or paste text; can’t choose or load your own ringtones; no video record capability; and the biggest limitation of all – you’re stuck on the shitty AT&T network.

It shouldn’t have been any surprise to Apple that the users they’ve been exhorting to “Think Different” all these years actually, you know, would. People have come to expect, demand actually, that their portable devices be able to do certain things. It should be no surprise that people who spent considerable sums of money on the iPhone didn’t want to be constrained by the iPhone’s limitations. Almost immediately hacks and software widgets appeared on the Web to get around those limits, making the device more usable and integral to people’s lives. Apple wasn’t having any of that, last week they pushed out an update that either slicked those unauthorized modifications, or rendered modified iPhones permanently inoperable. And iPhone owners are steamed, there’s even talk of a class action lawsuit – though at this point it’s just that, talk. And frankly I don’t think people who now own a very expensive inert iBrick have a pot to piss in. They were warned, Apple stated quite clearly in the upgrade announcement, that this was the likely result if users had modified their phones in a manner not approved by Apple itself. But iPhone users just didn't want to believe it, didn't want to believe that Apple had become "The Man," and so most of them upgraded anyway.

Once again, both Apple customers and Apple itself demonstrate their mutual inability to learn. Apple customers continue to believe, with cult-like devotion, despite all evidence to the contrary that Apple is something other than what it is: a big corporation with big corporation goals. And Apple itself continues to believe that it can shit all over its customers and get away with it. I watch with amusement as iPhone owners stagger away, holding their bleeding guts in their hands – I can almost hear Steve Jobs’ voice saying, “Best two out of three?”

It's that time of year

There were bears in the blueberry fields on Lazy Mountain yesterday. Just another sign that winter is on the way. In this part of Alaska, after salmon season, the bears move up into the berry fields trying to pack away enough calories for their winter hibernation. We have a lot of berry bushes on our property, cranberries, raspberries, and rosehips. I've seen black bear tracks in the mud on the trails behind our house, but so far we haven't had them in the yard.

This picture above is a fairly common joke around here.

The Joys of Being a Homeowner, part II

Been a little busy the last two days.

Yesterday was sunny for the first time in a month (and based on the pouring rain this morning, the only time this month), so I was out in the yard all day, working to get ready for winter. Snow is now just over halfway down the mountains behind the house and it could start snowing in the valley at any time now. My property is heavily wooded, and the cleared grassy part that is my front yard is about an acre, which means I've got a shitload of leaves to pick up every year. So that's what I was doing yesterday. Most of it I can pick up with the bagger towed behind my garden tractor. I had to trim back some of the trees and cut down all the pulpy dying rhubarb. I probably hauled ten to twelve bagger loads and a couple of garden trailer loads of yard waste back to the compost heap behind the shop. I also needed to make some repairs to the soffits and eves and replace a few cedars shakes. Recaulked the sunroom windows. All in all, I was pretty happy with what I got done yesterday.

Last night it stormed, and the yard of full of crap again. Sigh.

Help you, I will

Today's favorite spam email subject line:

"Thanks, a girl to be yours in here found!"

Yoda, the spammer, the Jedi have indeed fallen on hard times.

One of these days, Alice! To the Moon!

I watch a lot of nerd TV: the Discovery Channel, The History Channel, The Military Channel, National Geographic, The Learning Channel, The…well, you get the idea.

Something I’ve noticed - almost every show employs some fairly ill-defined units of measurement.

For example: tonight I was watching Modern Marvels – Snack Food Tech II (Hey! I like to know stuff) and the show made the following statement: “If all the Coca-Cola ever made was bottled in 8oz bottles, stacked end to end, it would reach to the moon and back 136 times.” Holy shit! That’s a lot of brown carbonated beverage, but that’s not what I’m getting at. It’s that whole “…to the moon and back…” part. This type of comparison is used a lot on these shows, I think a little clarification is in order.

This measurement is not well defined, do they mean from center to center of the two bodies? Or from surface to surface? Logically, I assume surface to surface, surface being sea level on Earth and the average surface level on the Moon. Now the Moon is in an elliptical orbit around the Earth so the distance between the two bodies doesn't remain constant, but mean distance, center to center, between the Earth and Moon is approximately 238,863 miles. The Earth is about 8,000 miles in diameter, and the moon is roughly a quarter that at 2159 miles more or less. Subtracting the radius of the moon, 1079 miles, and the radius of the Earth, 4000 miles from the mean Earth/Moon distance gives us roughly 233,784 miles surface to surface, plus or minus a certain margin of error which I’m just going to ignore. 233,784 miles, times 2 (there and back again), times 136 equals 63 million, 589 thousand, 248 miles. Like I said above, holy shit! That’s a lot of Coke.

Another common measurement on these shows is the Earth’s circumference. I.e. if all the iPods currently in existence were laid end to end, they would make a line long enough to stretch completely around the Earth. Again, just a little vague here, which iPod model? The numbers vary significantly depending on if we're talking Classic or Nano for example. For the purposes of convenience I'm just going to average all the models together. Now the circumference of the earth at the equator is 24,901.55 miles. But, if you measure the earth through the poles, the circumference is a bit shorter - 24,859.82 miles, because the earth is an oblate spheroid. In other words, it’s a little wider than it is tall, giving it a slight bulge at the equator. The difference is only 41 miles or so, but 41 miles is a lot of iPods, about 3.6 million by my calculations (based on an average of 6 inches per iPod). So, which measurement do they mean? Since most people think equatorial rather than circumpolar when they talk about Earth's circumference, I’m assuming we’re taking the 24.901.5 measurement.

And finally, another common unit of measurement on these shows is the distance between New York and Los Angeles, which is about 2445 miles. Now is this as the crow flies (assuming a crow would want to fly in a straight line between these two cities. Hey it could happen, New York ravens might get the urge to go Hollywood and find their fortunes), or are we talking highway miles here? Beats me. All I know is that if you took all the Starbucks Venti-sized paper cups and stacked them up, they’d make a line stretching from the Big Apple to the City of Angles. That’s a lot of Carmel Macciatoes, and would explain all those white paper cups I see alongside the road.

My question is this: who figures this out? Is there some kind of Office of Really Big Vague Measurements, manned by guys from the old Monty Python sketch comedy troop somewhere? As the future Ultimate Emperor of the Universe, I think it's just about time we did something a little more official about this.

ATTENTION International Standards Organization (ISO): It’s about time you got off your Swiss Chocolate yodeling asses and did your jobs. I’ve already done most of the math for you (see above), and I’ll even go the final step and suggest a couple of unit names as follows:

The Alice: the basic unit of mean distance between Earth and Moon, surface to surface, 233,784 statute miles (376,238 Kilometers). Named for Audrey Meadow’s character Alice Kramden on the hit TV show The Honeymooners. “To the Moon, Alice, to the moon!”

The Clemens: the basic unit of measurement around the Earth’s circumference at the Equator, 24,901 statute miles (40,074 kilometers). Named for Samuel Langhorne Clemens, better known as Mark Twain, who in 1897 wrote the famous travelogue Following the Equator. Which was immortalized in one of my favorite Jimmy Buffet songs, which I'm listening to right now.

I’ve got no idea what to call the NY to LA measurement. You guys at the ISO need to do some work. Figure it out.

Maybe if you ask real nice, somebody here can come with an idea?

Stupid Congress Tricks

Well, at last, Democrats and Republicans have buried the hatchet and are making real bipartisan efforts to fix America's problems. At last they've put aside their bickering to work on the things real Americans are concerned about. Rep Heath Shuler, D-NC and Rep Walter Jones, R-NC are pushing the Family Friendly Flights Act. You know it's a good law, when it's got a catchy title.

"The airlines have chosen to put our children in a situation that I don't feel comfortable with," said Shuler.

They are, of course, talking about movies on airplanes. Oh God, the horror, the horror! The crux of the FFFA being that these two dipshits want the airlines to create "Kid Friendly" areas on each commercial plane.

ATTENTION NORTH CAROLINA IDIOTS: here's a better idea, let's pass an act that creates passenger friendly areas on airplanes.

Between the endless Gordian knot of asinine government regulations we already have, and the out and out incompetence and stupidity of the air carriers, air travel is one of the most irritating, aggravating, and miserable trials of modern life. Rep. Shuler isn't comfortable with the situation? I'd be willing to bet my next airline "snackbox" that he's a hell of a lot more comfortable up there in first class than I am back in the livestock section. Hey, Shuler, when was the last time you tried shoehorning your giant pro-football playing ass into one of those coach class seats? When was the last time you bought tickets a month in advance, reserving an isle seat because you've got knee and shoulder problems from defending your country and not your million dollar NFL career - only to check in and find out you've been moved into a middle seat because some fucking amateur sports team decided to change flights at the last minute and the plane is full of juiced-up teenagers and we're so sorry? I'm curious, Representative Jones, when was the last time you checked in for the redeye home with your children, only to be told by some check-in counter robot refugee from the DMV that, oopsy, we oversold the flight. But, hey, we'll put you on standby for the next flight. That next flight being 6 hours later. I'm curious, you two vote-pandering Congressional jackasses (yes, I know that's redundant), when was the last time you booked seats in advance for a family trip, checked in online, printed the adjoining tickets - and got to the airport only to find that the airline has reassigned your family to three widely separated seats (all of them middle seats) for some unknown reason? I have to wonder when these two privileged jerkoffs have had to stand for an hour with their kid in the TSA security line, so some former mall-cop Gestapo wannabe can check their shoes and make sure they don't have any of that dangerously explosive bottled water on them. These two morons should try sitting in an overloaded, poorly maintained piece of Boeing crap with over-flowing toilets and screaming kids on the tarmac at O'Hare for fours hours because the plane can't take off and the pilots aren't allowed to return to the terminal.

You want to make air travel better for children? Let's pass a law that allows passengers delayed by airline incompetence to camp out overnight at the airline CEO's house, and Mrs CEO has to fix them breakfast the next morning. I guaren-goddamm-tee you she'd make sure those people got where they were going on time. Let's pass a law that sends the airline board of directors to one of those secret CIA prisons in Bulgaria every time their reservation department "overbooks" a flight. I mean seriously, how hard is it? You've got 150 seats, you sell no more than a 150 tickets. This isn't rocket science, my 6th grader can figure this out. They can sure as hell do enough math to calculate their million dollar annual bonuses, they can do the seat math. The average American's ass gets wider by at least an inch a year, yet airline seat width is retreating faster than the Greenland ice sheet. Let's pass a law that mandates that the ergonomics of airline executives' office chairs must match those of their airline coach seats exactly, inch for inch. Make the seats better, you get a better office chair, otherwise you can suffer, bitch. Let's make a law that says every single time an airline imprisons it's paying customers in an airplane stuck on the runway for more than two hours because of "weather" or some other such bullshit, the children of every FAA employee are rounded up, put in a small room with one overflowing port-O-potty and no air conditioning until the situation is resolved.

Seriously, this is the top priority in North Carolina? Here's a real idea: let's let the free market sort it out. People who don't want their kids exposed to online movies should get together and petition the airlines. Don't take your kids on airlines that show gay snuff porn (seriously though, what the hell airlines are these people flying on? The last three flights I've been on have shown Shrek III, Night in the Museum, and The Astronaut Farmer.) Eventually major carriers will take a lesson from Alaskan Airlines, they don't show movies, they rent "Digi-players" at four bucks a pop. It's basically a portable DVD player with a variety of programming, you put on the ear phones and watch whatever the hell you want, when you want. Simple, easy, popular, no laws required - unfortunately, it's low profile so there's not enough controversy for Representatives to grandstand their way into the "Outraged Parent" voting demographic.

Listen Shuler and Jones, please, go back to doing nothing about the war and leave the rest of us alone. Oh, and somebody get me another bag of peanuts.

Hmmm, Tacos!

One of those days, AGAIN

You know, I'm getting sick and tired of seeing my own blood. Really, enough now.

So after regaling you all with tales of woe with the lathe chisel across the knuckles of my left hand yesterday, I managed to do this today:


No, this is not what I intended.

This is, was, an eggshell turning. When finished (never!), the walls of the bowl should be no thicker than 1.5mm, thin enough that light shines though. This is quite difficult. I had the upper portions of the wall turned to about 3mm thickness and was slowly thinning down the bottom portion. I reached inside the bowl while it was turning to smooth the inside wall with a piece of sandpaper, so that I could get a good caliper reading on it, and BOOM! Pieces everywhere. Razor sharp pieces. Flying shards sliced three deep parallel cuts across the first three fingers and thumb of my right hand.

If you're going to injure yourself repeatedly, keep it bilaterally symmetrical I say.

Should you ever decide to take up wood turning, remember one of the best things you can invest in is a quality full-face shield. Just saying.


Oh, and get a good First Aid kit.

Gone Fishing

Actually I'm off for a couple of hours to the sawmill. I need to pick up some more rough cut birch planks and chat with a couple friends who own the place. The owner is a Vietnam vet, and his son is an Army vet, purple heart recipient (IED in Iraq), dammed nice people even if I wasn't buying wood from them.

Back in a couple hours.