Original Radioactive Jam

New Digs

2005-11-06T21:18:00.000-05:00

Click it! CLICK IT!
For all things new (and old), go to the ever so shiny Radioactive Jam. Everything here is now there... except for you. Don't be shy, come on over!

Genius At Work

2005-10-18T06:11:00.000-05:00

someday I'll look back on this and laugh. Not.
This quote from Tech Wench's site sums up what's happened at Blog Nouveau: If it ain't broke, fix it 'til it is.
Ten characters, that's all it takes. Ten ordinary alphanumeric symbols, entered in just the wrong place by someone with administrative access (that would be "me") and a perfectly good WordPress weblog turns into a server-trashing juggernaut.

In case you were, you know, wondering.

Sigh.

Famous last words: "Seemed like the right thing to do at the time." Anyway, I hope to have things going again sometime today.

Update: Kinda-sorta back to life at http://radioactivejam.com/. Should get All The Way Back later today.

Relocative Jam

2005-10-12T17:37:00.000-05:00

http://www.radioactivejam.com/
So far so good. New stuff getting posted on the new site, drop in and say hi. [Link]

Migratory Jam

2005-10-10T15:26:00.000-05:00

prelude to the inevitable Dear Blogger letter
I'm in the process of changing... well, pretty much everything: domain, blogware, templates. What lies ahead looks good to me; I'm interested in learning what you think of the new Stuff. For a preview, go to http://radioactivejam.com. Might want to bring your safety glasses and hard hat.

Smaller World

2005-10-09T19:10:00.000-05:00

digital compression
A strong earthquake destroys remote villages in Pakistan. The quake damages buildings in Islamabad and was felt in three or four countries. Already the death toll is numbered in tens of thousands.

Seeing the headlines my first thought was I know someone who lives in that area; I hope she's okay (she's fine, family and friends okay too). I expect we've all had similar experiences with personal connections to significant events outside our immediate environment. Why this one is different for me: I "met" this person through her comments on someone's weblog.

Caring about people whose paths cross mine through posting and commenting - most of whom I've never met - this seems easy and natural, not some great or uncommon thing. For me, the surprising part has been Diversity. I'm not suprised by the existence of such diversity in the blogging community; instead I'm amazed how readily and easily our paths cross...and overlap.

Anaglyph might tell me (again) I need to get out more, and he's probably right. But if I did-- no. Make that when I do, I want to visit your part of the world. There's so many places Radioactive Spouse and I haven't seen. Seriously: if there's ever a Radioactive Jam World Tour, we'll be heading your way. And if you find yourself in central Florida some day let us know; we'll do lunch. Or dinner, dessert, tea, the beach... whatever.

So that's my thought du jour. As my world expands the World gets smaller, and it's all because of this blogging thing, an activity started as a lark/experiment less than six months ago.

Shiny.

Summit's Wrong with this Picture

2005-10-06T17:36:00.000-05:00

letting the words go out to play
I've been enjoying Scroobious' accounts of her adventures in the Land of the Swiss Army Knife. She mentioned having climbed a mountain called The Jakobshorn. Curious about the peak I ran a quick search, but stopped when I saw this truly disturbing picture of The Jakobshorn Summit. If you click on the picture below a larger view should open in a new window; you might want to do this to see what I mean as you continue reading below.
At first I thought Ha, those hosers. What kind of fool do they think I am? This scene is not even from Planet Earth: I'm pretty sure our sun hasn't yet imploded and gone supernova. Then I remembered this was a Swiss mountain-top scene. And what are the Swiss famous for producing besides those awesome Army Knives, bristling with impractical yet irresistibly alluring tools? You guessed it: instant hot chocolate mix. With mini-marshmallows! Yum!

But that's not why the sun looks like an ornament from the galactic Christmas tree. There's yet another special something made by the inimitable Swiss. Here's a hint: it sounds like "microscopic black holes." Can you guess? ...Wow, you're a really good at this.

I suspect a few of those frisky little singularities busted out of their containment fields, and took a vacation in the Alps before heading to the Earth's core to suck the planet into oblivion. You know the old saying, "All work and no play make Jack* a dull antimatter generator/annihilator."

Where was I? Right. The sun couldn't help but get noticed by the bureaucracy** of frolicking singularities; they have a knack for finding and absorbing pretty much anything that exists near them, the bigger the better. Though the sun is tiny - it's smaller than say, the moon - it's relatively heavy, so the singularities decided to "soak up some rays," i.e. eat. The sun. Yes, when this picture was taken, the sun (our only sun! waah!) was getting drawn into the bureaucracy.

"But RaJ," you ask, "why is the sun all pointy, like your head?" Ignoring your veiled insult to the sun I gently explain, "Remember? Singularity? Microscopic point?! Hel-lo!"

Let's acknowledge the Way Of The Cow and ruminate on the sun for a moment. Basically the sun is a big, bagless gasbag full of helium and hydrogen. Helium is... well, light. Plus it makes your voice sound really funny when you breathe it. Hydrogen is of course not helium. Because of the famous Led Zeppelin song "Stairway To Hindenburg" we know hydrogen is flammable. This is why the sun is both hot and bright. (Aside: ever wonder how the sun got "started?" I know how: some idiot wandering around in space, checking out the sun (our only sun!) probably started goofing with the helium, somehow caused a spark and started a solar hydrogen fire which pretty much instantly got out of control and went thermonuclear on his colorful metaphor. The idiot got fricasseed but we got sunlight; like they say, all's well that ends well.***)

Back to our not-so-idyllic mountain scene. So far I’ve explained the sun looks whacked since it’s getting pulled into a bureaucracy of microscopic black holes, all of which are named Jack because a troop of monkeys can be taught to pound one another senseless for trying to get bananas. As to the photo, there’s some disturbing elements here and I don’t mean snow. First – see the girl standing in the right-center? She’s about to be attacked by some kind of fur-covered creature perched on her shoulder. I can’t tell if it’s the carnivorous high-altitude member of the woodchuck family or a Tribble, but she’s doomed either way. If she’s lucky the thing will crap on her shoulder and steal food from her tray; if she’s not lucky she’ll end up dead like her boyfriend.

“But RaJ," you ask. “What boyfriend? There’s two other couples. Do you mean she’s in some kind of meringue-of-toes?” Ignoring the veiled insult to the Swiss delivered in your near-flawless French I gently explain, “What part of ‘dead’ did you not understand?”

One moment he’s standing by the railing, sipping his drink and enjoying the view; next moment he’s riding the open-air express elevator, heading for the ground floor. Poor guy didn’t even finish his drink. He may have jumped but most likely he “slipped,” with a little help from his two so-called friends smirking in the foreground. True, they don’t look like Bad People (though I do not want to know what the guy is doing with his right hand). I suspect they were driven to commit murder by the demon in fur now poised to assault Dead Guy’s girl. And she has no clue! She thinks he’s at the snack bar getting her some hot chocolate. Honey he went for ice instead, but not from the snack bar. Now he is the snack bar,**** a few meters over and a couple thousand down.

Mark my words: monkeys orchestrated this mayhem, from runaway black holes to surreal mountain-top scenes.***** I’ve been hearing rumors of horrific experiments and mutant monstrosities; I can’t say more, not yet. When I know… you’ll know.

I’m just glad Scroobious and her beloved survived their visit to the deadly summit of Jakobshorn.

* ISO Standards specify all manufactured singularities must be named "Jack." No one understands why this is so, but everyone complies with the specification. For a monkey-centric example of this phenomenon see [Link].
** Collective noun used to describe multiple singularities, e.g. herd of elephants, pride of lions etc.
*** Not exactly; seems the idiot left a pet monkey at home. When the food ran out the monkey went bananas and left the house in search of-- well, bananas, mostly. Ended up at a gas station where it was found by a kind though naive stranger. The monkey messed with the stranger and then started a war using thermonuclear weapons. Kind of ironic, really.
**** A veritable feast for carnivorous high-altitude woodchucks (and Tribbles).
***** Lounge chairs?! Let me guess: beach trip, Swiss style?

Hey Kids!

2005-10-05T13:07:00.000-05:00

reinventing cuddly
10" Plush Spiders.*
One word: adorable. Any other words come to mind?
* For some reason these two words are not often associated.

Antehybrid

2005-10-04T07:42:00.000-05:00

I rather enjoy making up words
Remember when I stopped driving the lovely yet fuel-hungry 4X4 pickup, and started driving the odd-shaped little Civic with its custom fadeaway paint job? I expected the fuel-sipping Honda to get 35-40 miles per gallon, and cut my commuting fuel comsumption in half. Turns out my estimate was off by more than 25%. I hate when that happens.

Not so much in this case though, because this morning I logged a mind-boggling 54 miles per gallon from my little red friend. "Happy" doesn't begin to describe my emotional state. Mostly though I'm stunned. This car is almost fourteen years old. It didn't cost a lot in 1992, and it didn't set me back much, either; well under $2000 US after tax, tag etc. 54 miles per gallon! In simplest terms this means each gallon of fuel now takes me almost three times farther than before.

Did I mention I'm beyond happy?

Seems like hybrids are all the rage these days. I bet many of those nice, expensive hybrids are burning more fuel than I am. Why is this? I'm not complaining but there's something wrong with this picture. My car predates hybrids by more than a decade. Fourteen years, technology and engineering improvements out the wazooty, automakers roll out these high-tech (read: expen$ive) hybrids and I'm supposed to go, "Ooh, Ahh, where do I sign?" It is to laugh, i.e. ROTFLU, CUBAG.* Anyone else get the feeling automakers have been taking us for a ride, so to speak?

* Rolling on the floor laughing uncontrollably, coughing up blood and guts. In case you were, you know, wondering.

And Proud of it, Man!

2005-09-30T11:57:00.000-05:00

I hate when this happens
Somehow I missed this test on my earlier visit.

Seeing this result produces strangely mixed feelings. While taking the test I considered picking the most loser-like answers just to see how bad I'd score. Instead I decided to go with honest answers.

And what did the results page say about my score? "You are a loser baby, there are only a few who out-lose you!" Fortunately I have near-indestructible self-esteem, able to survive way worse abuse than this. Yeah!

Still...maybe you could take this test and report back with your score. I understand if you score lower than me you might feel bad for me; that's okay. I'll still find some way to make fun of you. And I promise to say I feel really bad if you score higher. Fair enough?

Anticipation Pt. 2

2005-09-30T07:00:00.000-05:00

Guess where I went this morning?
1 visit, 2 donuts, 4 tickets. Woohoo!
(Friday update) Still anticipating (i.e. urge to scratch held in abeyance). Does this seem more abnormal than my usual? I'm not sure.

2005-09-30T04:29:00.000-05:00

Spamments: trick, or treat?

Anticipation Pt. 1

2005-09-29T10:56:00.000-05:00

40-mile drive for midnight show: not. Current plan: extended lunch Friday.

Radioactive D'Oh!

2005-09-28T07:23:00.000-05:00

delicious delicacies
While the title could be the main ingredient for delicious radioactive donuts, this is not the case here. In this context, "D'oh!" is how I reacted when made aware I'd forgotten to mention an important (and d'oh! known) September birthday: A's on Sept. 18th.

Belated greetings, my most deserving friend. Enjoy!

Party Time!

2005-09-26T23:01:00.000-05:00

phwooooooot! phwooooooot!
Earlier this month we announced several September birthdays. One such birthday person commented, "I expect a cake." Anaglyph, I'm sure this exceeds your expectations; happy birthday, mon!
Cate and Jen - there's a slice of cake here for you too. Sorry it's late, but I wanted to surprise the typically all-knowing Cow. Enjoy yourselves; I'm off to find a less virtual cake for Radioactive Son.

Vehicular Fuelishness

2005-09-25T19:05:00.000-05:00

anybody want a peanut? -- fezzik
Out with the jacked-up Old (18-20 mpg)...
In with the... um, down-to-earth slightly less old (35-40+ mpg)
Will someone please explain why driving at lugnut height burns less fuel?

The View From Here

2005-09-23T06:22:00.000-05:00

like, far out man
Here's a photo of the car I expect to buy today, at its soon-to-be-former owner's home.
Via Google Earth. Is that cool or what?

Pzulk Vortices

2005-09-21T15:37:00.000-05:00

I prefer yoghurt to yogurt, but that's just the vodka talking
Nothing to say, really. Just wanted an excuse to mention "pzulk vortex"* in a post.

* pzulk is Jen's brainchild; blame Anaglyph for the vortex part.

Fun With Numbers

2005-09-20T15:55:00.000-05:00

Marvin was right, this will all end in tears
My work phone rang today. This is such an unusual event I almost missed the call. Seriously. I've had maybe five calls this year. Cell phone calls every day, emails out the wazooty, but the work phone is a dust collector and that's not a Bad Thing. This call however was. Bad. Sort of.

In short - American Express called to see if I made a $999. charge to someplace in Russia, dated yesterday the 19th. Arrrh, the irony: Talk Like A Pirate Day and the pirates attack! Apparently a credit card number has been compromised; first time on my watch, on my ship. Blast! Don't these keelholes understand it's Talk Like, not Act Like?!

Methinks there'll be no permanent damage. Charge gets voided, old card dies, new card takes its place. Now all I have to do is FIND OUT HOW this happened. Curse the scurvy bilge rats!

Yes I realize Talk Like A Pirate Day has passed. Under the circumstances I think I'm entitled.

I am grateful for AmEx vigilance. I hardly use that card and might have gone weeks without checking the account.

What's the pirate word for D'Oh!

A Few Moments

2005-09-18T21:10:00.000-05:00

Arrh!
Sept. 19 update: aye matey, be sure'n scrawl a comment or three today for our pirate-talkin' friends arrh!round the world.

Probably you've seen or heard the line from Beverly Donofrio's Riding In Cars With Boys: "One day can make your life; one day can ruin your life. All life is is four or five big days that change everything." But my most powerful memories are of moments, not days. Sometimes the moments fell within Change Everything kinds of days, though not always. Some examples:

Looking into my best friend's eyes and saying "I do"
Free-falling from 13,000 feet
Ice skating across a frozen lake at midnight
Making and holding eye contact with our minutes-old firstborn child

My memory seems to hold vignettes instead of extended scenes. What about your life's big events? Do you remember moments? Long, detailed stretches? Combinations?

Feeding The Masses

2005-09-14T16:48:00.000-05:00

wonder how it would taste on a donut
Inevitable?
...or redundant?
Update (because Syar asked). Ingredients, and I quote: pork, mechanically separated chicken,¹ ham, salt, sugar, water, spices, sodium nitrite.
¹ Why do I have the feeling the meaning of this unfamiliar phrase is worse than I imagine in my present blissful, though no doubt short-lived ignorance?

Woohoo!

2005-09-13T06:37:00.000-05:00

I should've saved "Mmm... donuts!" for this post.
Perhaps today is a good day to ~~die~~ um, buy a lottery ticket.
I feel so validated. And yet... why didn't they say "You're a winner!"?

Oh Cruel KrispyKreme, Why Do You Mock Me

2005-09-10T21:37:00.000-05:00

All together now: Mmm... donuts.
How my day began:
I feel like such a l0ser!*
* But I'm still way ahead of the pinheads behind the spamments

World Class Time Wasting IIII I

2005-09-09T22:05:00.000-05:00

this post has been G.Lo'd like, 5 or 6 times
Don't blame me, I heard it from The Cow. In a post about International Talk Like A Pirate Day, The Cow's minion Anaglyph included a link for a pirate name generator.* Turns out that site - stupidstuff.org - offers many fine (i.e. stupid) time-wasting opportunities.

Different appetite? Try a Ninja Burger. Look around - there's much amusement to be found - then order a nice, reasonably priced meal for yourself and your email-enabled friends. Pay attention though, and don't anger the ninjas. You've been warned.

I'll leave you with some reminders. Cate's birthday is the first part of next week (the 12th), and fantabulous Sydney girl Jen's "golden" birthday is the 23rd. And! the 27th of this month is Anaglyph's birthday; think I herd The Cow say "Cake." All I'm going to say is "do the right thing." And while you're enjoying your weekend, please send kind thoughts my way; I'll be working. :-/

One more thing. Sept. 27 is someone else's birthday as well: our one and only Radioactive Son, Adamantium Jam. Hmm, perhaps it's time for a Radioactive Fam post?

* I'm Harpoon Harry The Horrible. Go to The Cow and get yours.

Spamments Welcome

2005-09-07T11:43:00.000-05:00

what can I say I'm easily amused
Twice a year many thousands of motorcyclists make their way to Daytona Beach, FL to attend Bike Week in March, and Biketoberfest in July. Just kidding! the second one happens in October. Collectively referred to as "bikers" these colorful men and women certainly fuel the local economy, but not everyone is happy to see them. Bikers are synonymous with excessive noise, indecent exposure - e.g. enormous beer guts, hairy butt cracks...and the guys look even worse* - and tons of trash left for someone else to clean up. Because of this persistent negative image, many places hang out signs saying "Bikers Welcome" or the more flamboyant "Welcome Bikers" so visitors know where they're welcome (to spend their money).

I'm thinking bikers and comment spam, or "spamments," have a lot in common. Since I personally have nothing against bikers - with or without hairy butt cracks - I'm officially putting up the ol' Spamments Welcome sign. I'm sure this will all make sense someday.
* Just kidding! No one notices the guys.
This is a work of fiction. Real bikers aren't like this. Except for the noise, maybe.

Coincidence?

2005-09-05T20:32:00.000-05:00

everyone knows denial = defensive
Omar regularly and vehemently denies any interest whatsoever in gardening. It's no big deal I'm sure; a few such accusations were made in a few weblog posts by a few people scattered around the globe. Yet when I see promo pictures like this, I worry.Omar - I've always believed you. And I'm sure the dozens of comments (attributed to me) scattered around the (admittedly global) internet saying otherwise are simply evil fabrications. Please ignore them.

Aside: No one should be surprised to learn Cate and Glo started the whole "Omar is a girly gardener" thread.

Tiny Mouse, London Style

2005-09-01T11:15:00.000-05:00

Centi... that's metric, right?
Speaking of feet, here's what Londoner Aaron Balick found when he tracked down the "mouse" skittering around behind his TV: a 9-inch long centipede, Scolopendra gigantea. Gotta wonder about the next of kin, and I don't mean Mr. Balick's.
Source: AP on Yahoo.

Working In Escher's World

2005-08-30T20:00:00.000-05:00

"Up's down, down is out, out is in"*
How do I know when my associates have been fully conditioned to accept my customary mixed-color footwear? When I show up for work in these:
and the reaction is, "Hey...your shoes match. Is something wrong?"

* Escher's World, Steve Taylor / Chagall Guevara

Loose Cannons

2005-08-29T12:29:00.000-05:00

Help Wanted: Spin Doctors. Immediate openings.
Last week the Louisiana director of the ACLU made some interesting statements while speaking to a local news crew, summarized thusly in one headline:

ACLU director compares mindset of Tangipahoa school prayer supporters with terrorists

Here's a link to a later article in which the director apologized for his "hyperbole." [link]

I think this balances nicely with Pat Robertson's recent suggestion to have a Venezuelan leader assassinated. Both made outlandish statements, both have since apologized. Score this round as a draw, maybe?

Pardon Our Dust

2005-08-25T11:45:00.000-05:00

They've been experimenting on you I'm afraid.
Not content to leave well enough alone, I'm playing with a new ~~bug~~ feature: showing post summaries or "snippets" by default, with a link to see the post in its entirety.

Not the ~~Momma~~ snippet! (Click to see full post)
Not. For details see my explanation in comment #9.**

Yet another update: IE issue now resolved. I think.

This may prove to be more trouble than it's worth. For one thing I haven't figured out how to not present the "See The Rest" link on non-snippeted posts. This doesn't hurt anything, but it implies there's more to the post than what you initally see.* Another side-effect: you'll have to click something - the "Home" link, the weblog title, your browser's "Back" button or equivalent to see all that other great stuff here.*

Anyway I want to try this for a bit, see how it goes. Please let me know if you like it, hate it, don't much care one way or another, etc. Especially etc.

Thanks, folks!

UPDATE I re-read the Blogger Help page where I found this trick; they mention one of the side-effects I noted. Ha, ha, ha. It is to laugh.
Disadvantages: Requires changes to the posts themselves, rather than to the template only. However, the "read more" link is in the template, so it will appear regardless of whether a post has been truncated or not. (Modifying this feature is left as an exercise for the reader.)
D'Oh!
YET ANOTHER UPDATE Found a solution to the aforementioned exercise. Happy, I am.
* These statements are not invitations to offer commental abuse. You don't need an invitation for that sort of thing. :)
** Anyone else automatically think of The Beatles upon seeing a reference to "number 9?"

Syar: One in a Thousand - All Done

2005-08-23T22:45:00.000-05:00

bla-bla-bla-bla-bla-bla
Underestimated? Yes. Undervalued? No. I had a lot of fun with this, hope you do too.

At 8:36PM EDT on August 18, 2005 the stat counter keeping tabs on the virtual ephemera of Radioactive Jam recorded visitor number 1000. Congratulations and thanks go to... Syar!

Since Radioactive Jam t-shirts are still dematerialized I decided to give Syar a different kind of prize.¹ Enjoy!
¹ Same for nos. 5000 and 10000? I think not.

(A)WAR(D) Of The Words
1000 words dedicated to Syar

"This was supposed to be... an ordinary... day," Syar said, trying to catch her breath. Her mute companion briefly looked up but offered no reply.
Not the ~~Momma~~ snippet! (Click to see full post) Still winded, Syar glanced at the object of her friend’s attention: an elaborately carved, brightly painted five-foot high pole, roughly a foot in diameter. She had literally stumbled upon the pole an hour earlier; Syar's initial curiosity, put on hold by the sudden appearance of the penguin, began to reassert itself. How did something so ornate end up in this frozen wasteland, Syar wondered. For that matter, how did we? All her bitterness and dismay came rushing back. “Not ‘how’,” she muttered. Syar clenched her fist, faced the cobalt sky and challenged, “Why?!”

No answer. “Right,” she said. “Just another test.” She lowered her eyes and slowly turned to view the snow and ice surrounding her, an unbroken expanse of near-featureless white stretching to the horizon in all directions. The scene held a terrifying beauty. With a conscious effort she pushed aside fear and resentment, and silently reaffirmed her will to survive. The sight of footprints on the snow brought a pang of guilt, and reminded her she wasn’t the only one battling the elements in this frigid place. As the wind resumed its pitiless assault, Syar turned away from the stinging cloud of ice crystals and joined her silent friend near the mysterious pole.

“Any guesses, Nadia?” Syar asked. “Have you seen one of these before?” Again the penguin looked at Syar for a moment, but offered no reply. Syar smiled. Despite the relentless wind driving through her skin, that ephemeral vampire piercing her, feeding, stealing warmth and leaving ice, Syar knew her dear friend would keep her safe and lead her home.

Something seemed wrong, though. She felt the thought begin to take form, but lost it. Syar began to shiver. Trembling, teeth chattering, she tried to focus on the strange totem-like object standing before her.

An hour ago when she’d first seen the pole, she hardly noticed the cold; the wind’s touch had been a silken caress. She had moved close to the pole, and had reached out to touch it when she noticed the penguin standing just beyond the pole. She took a step backward in surprise; where had the bird come from? Had it been standing behind the pole? No. Syar was sure she’d walked around the pole at least once; there was no way she’d have missed seeing the creature. She was working on this curious puzzle when she heard Nadia call her name.

“Syar?” Nadia said. “I’m here. Oh Syar, listen--”

“Nadia?” Syar shouted and whirled about, looking for her friend. “Where are you? Nadia!” Desperate and elated, Syar zig-zagged in short, frantic bursts, but soon slowed to a halt. “Where are you? Why can’t I see you?”

“I’m not leaving you, Syar,” said Nadia. Syar’s hopes rose again, then fell; except for the pole and the still-unexplained penguin, she stood alone on this field of snow.

…The penguin? Syar almost laughed out loud. Great. I’m cracking up, she thought. Is this how the world looks when you lose your mind? Endless snow and a totem pole, with a penguin channeling your best friend? Surrendering to the absurdity, Syar shook her head, looked at the motionless penguin and said, “Why not?” Her strength drained, she sat down on the snow and leaned against the pole.

As her back touched the pole, three things happened. First, she was startled to realize the pole felt hot. Not stove-top or flame hot, but warm enough to cause her to push away from the pole and jump to her feet. Second, as she rose she heard Nadia call her name. Third, the penguin began to run, away from Syar and the pole. Feeling confused and driven by reflex, Syar started running, meaning to catch the penguin or at least keep the bird in sight.

Almost immediately sharp pains caused her to break stride. She felt as if her lungs had turned into tiny, weak balloons, filled with fire and ice instead of air. Syar slowed, stopped and stooped low, trying to catch her breath. This was not good; whether from breathing this super-chilled air or some unknown cause, her usual triathlon-capable wind and endurance were nowhere to be found. After a moment she turned and headed for the now-appealing warmth of the strange pole.

Vision is a funny sense. The visual cortex is easily fooled by persistence tricks and distorted perspectives. Sometimes the mind simply refuses to accept unexpected input. At some unconscious level Syar understood this phenomenon might explain why she continued to walk toward a nonexistent – or at least no longer visible – pole. Though it seemed much longer, in reality she’d only taken a few steps before she realized there was no pole in this direction. Assuming she was disoriented she turned a circle, then another; no pole. She noticed her penguin-friend had stopped running, and almost seemed to be waiting for Syar to follow again. After one more fruitless scan, Syar started walking toward the bird who in turn walked away from her, leading them both…somewhere. Maybe.

“Hey! Chilly Willy! Do you know where you’re going, or are we just out for a stroll?” For a moment she thought she heard Nadia answer, but decided it must have been the wind.

They traveled thus together-apart, trudging through unblemished snow, the stoic penguin with the weakening girl a short distance behind. They walked for about an hour, she guessed; the accuracy of her internal clock was legendary. Or was it? She felt as though she had been forced off-course, out of her fast-moving yet familiar currents, slipping into dark, numbing pools of uncertainty and doubt. She imagined vague predators lurking, waiting for her to weaken further. Resisting the urge to give up, she continued to tread water in these pools. More than once she shouted, pinched her arm, slapped her cheek just to feel a twinge of reality-affirming pain or hear a human voice. When she finally saw the pole ahead she was at once surprised, elated, and relieved; she broke into a run. The penguin was waiting when she reached the pole. Thus she stood panting, out of breath from her brief final run.

Syar reviewed these events, trying to capture the elusive sense of something out of place, something not quite right. She told herself to relax, to look with eyes unfocused, see what seemed to resist observation. In a moment she knew the answer: this was not the same pole.

Like a diver’s splash and waves fading to ripples, this initially disturbing realization quickly settled, smoothed by hopeful pragmatism in Syar’s mind. “As long as it’s warm like the other one,” she murmured. Carefully she placed her hand against the pole; this one also emanated the warmth her body desperately needed to absorb. Syar knelt on the snow, wrapped her arms around the object and held herself against it.

The pole’s heat seemed to drive the chill from her, working from the inside out; she hardly noticed. She felt exhausted, and thought she might be able to fall asleep hugging the pole. She closed her eyes, wanting heat and rest. For some reason the penguin became quite agitated when she did this; it hopped and hooted by her side. Was it trying to get her attention? The bird’s antics barely registered in Syar’s mind. She briefly wondered about the mysterious poles: how did the first one vanish? Was this really a different one, or had the first one somehow moved? Thinking took more effort than she cared to muster, so she prepared to stop. “Who cares if there’s more than one pole, or if the things can walk around?” Her voice was slurred, then she gave a weak laugh. “Guess a pole would hop, not walk… Whatever. Not exactly earth-shattering either way.”

As the words left her mouth Syar felt a deep, rippling vibration flow through the snow beneath her legs. This sensation was followed by a powerful cracking sound then more vibration, stronger now. In a daze, she pushed herself away from the pole and looked around; everything had changed.

She heard Nadia shouting, sobbing: “It’s breaking! Syar – Oh God! It’s broken!” She sounded far away. Still dazed, Syar couldn’t find the penguin at first; her world had indeed fractured into dozens of snow-ice masses, slowly drifting apart on a blue-black sea. Using the pole for support she stood to get a better view. She finally spotted the penguin on an “island” some distance from her own, already unreachable.

Fatalistic thoughts took form and sought control. She sat down hard a few feet away from the pole, no longer interested in trying to stay warm. Syar considered the possibility that she might soon draw her last breath in this inescapable frozen waste. She did not fear dying; she cherished life yet viewed it as a souvenir, something she would remember when her days in this temporal form came to an end. Yet she knew the ache of Things Not Done, and could not deny she wanted more days, years… more time, with her family, her friends, her inimitable posse. How deeply she would miss – she turned suddenly, her morose contemplations interrupted by several different sounds. The noise of something falling and splashing into water dominated the sudden auditory barrage.

It was Nadia the penguin, of course. But now she saw more penguins. Five? Ten? She couldn’t count. They seemed to maintain constant motion: diving, surfacing, swimming, climbing. Then she realized what the other sounds were; hearing her Ragamuffins she leapt to her feet and ran to the water’s edge.

Confusion, joy and sadness overwhelmed her; Syar found herself unable to speak. The only thing she wanted was the one she couldn’t have: to somehow rejoin her friends. She stood at the edge of life, of relative safety and of despair. More than anything Syar hated change; she saw the grim irony of this triangle, this three-edged precipice before her. If nothing changed she would certainly despair and most likely die. There was no safe escape from all three.

“Help me, Nadia,” she pleaded.

“We can’t fight change, Syar. It’s just no good,” said Nadia. “Change always wins in the end. All we can do is stay focused on what matters most. When those things change, we’ll still be able to recognize them. Then we figure out the rest.”

“When did you become so wise, my friend?” Syar asked, her voice breaking. I can’t bear this pain.

“What made you decide to notice?” Came the sweet, sarcastic reply. Syar had been fairly certain a penguin’s facial muscles weren’t capable of delivering a smile; apparently she was mistaken.

Despair reared its head. “Why did this have to happen?!” Still unwilling to accept her fate, Syar directed her bitter challenge skyward.

Nadia replied, “It had to break, Syar. There was no other way.” She paused, then added softly, “But I stayed focused on you.”

Syar felt a lump form in her throat, but her eyes remained dry. And suddenly she knew what she needed to do. She might not defeat change, but she could certainly fight. What’s the most effective way to battle change? She asked herself. Answer: do the most unexpected thing. Syar tensed, then dove headfirst into the freezing sea.

Immediately she tried to rotate, to turn and face the surface. She wanted to see the water from her splash fall back into the whole, watch her waves fade to ripples as she slowly dropped to pain-free depths. Instead she found herself spinning, whirling like a skater or a football in a tight spiral flight. In fact she felt more like an airborne football than a sinking, drowning girl. She arched her back and felt herself begin to tumble. Trying to regain control she flailed her arms; she saw a flipper strike her feathered chest.

Syar had also been fairly certain a penguin could not scream under water; again she was mistaken. She finally righted herself and managed to swim a slow loop. Then she spotted Nadia, and the other penguins she’d recognized as friends. She decided to accept this most unexpected change, relaxed and quickly found her wings, so to speak, and swam to join the others. Syar learned the joy, grace and beauty of life as an aquatic bird. A penguin might be flightless in air, but few creatures match their ability to “fly” under water. Syar and her penguin posse rocketed up and down, dove hundreds of meters and enjoyed a sense of freedom and fulfillment of purpose unparalleled on the surface world.

It seemed like only a few moments had passed when Nadia swam beside her and said, “You need to surface now, and breathe air again.” Syar understood this; a penguin can stay submerged a long time on a single “breath,” but she had no need to push her physical limits. She directed her torpedo-like body toward the faint glow overhead and quickly ascended. With a final flex and thrust, Syar broke the surface…

Broke…

“…her fever broke. I screamed and nurses came running. They thought she died or something. She went right to sleep, so we've still been taking turns in here." Nadia’s voice.

Syar kept her eyes closed. As she “swam” back from the depths of a much-needed restful sleep, she considered her vivid memories. She could only begin to guess what must have really happened, but this did not concern her. She was right where she belonged, right now. She knew every person in the unfamiliar-feeling room, knew their names, their chattering voices, their hopes and dreams, how they appeared, even where they stood. These dear ones knew her as well, and this was as it should be. Let changes come; she and her friends would stay focused on what mattered most. With a weak smile, Syar opened her eyes.

Why I Love Gmail Sponsor Links

2005-08-21T14:38:00.000-05:00

love is a many-sponsored thing
You're familiar with Blogger's email-on-comment feature, yes? When someone leaves a comment, I get a copy in my gmail account. If you use gmail you're also familiar with Sponsored Links (SLs): sidebar ads related to something within each open email. Okay. So Demosthenes left a couple comments on the Syar's Story post. Here's two of the SLs gmail thought I needed to see based on Demosthenes' first comment:
Not the ~~Momma~~ snippet! (Click to see full post)

Is He In Love With You? If you're asking that question, here's what you need to know: www.lovetactics.com
On the edge of a breakup? How to decide whether to stay or whether to leave. www.loveisnotagame.com

Let's be clear on this. For the first one: I do not know, but I am not asking, therefore I neither need nor want to know. For the second, sorry - no. Read his first comment (14th of the "Story" post) and see if you can guess why these links surfaced.

His second comment triggered multiple SLs for "HairMax Laser Comb," which "Thickens hair at home" and boasts(?!) a "90% User Satisfaction." This raises several questions.

Is HairMax Laser Comb truly the best SL for the word "max?"
What happens to LaserComb-thickened hair away from home?
90%?!

The real joke: I keep my hair stubble-short.

If only all SLs were this amusingly bizarre. Then again...what kind of SLs do you see?

Quality Time

2005-08-18T07:42:00.000-05:00

from the why-are-you-still-here dept.
Busy, work-filled workdays for the likes of me (I know, can you believe it?). In a way this is good, though: my posting suffers, so you don't. Suffer. Quite so much. Silliness. But I digress. Here's some weblogs you might not - but definitely should - be reading:

Tetherd Cow Ahead, spotted on Anne Arkham
The Gersh Report, spotted on Scroobious Scrivenings

Great, great stuff. Enjoy.

For a Change of Mind

2005-08-17T06:28:00.000-05:00

blue brain wash rules, red kind of sucks. JMO.
This is what I'm talking about. In a word, "yummy!"

Only one more bottle; I'm saving it for a TBD special occasion.

Captions, Anyone?

2005-08-16T08:45:00.000-05:00

whoosh!
Found this image in a Consumer Reports testing archive. Thought it might be fun to make up some captions.
Such as, "Amidala's hair care secrets - revealed at last!"

Does This Look Impacted?

2005-08-15T06:32:00.000-05:00

aka death grip
People¹ have said my "technique" for holding a pen is "wrong." Does this look "wrong" to you? Do you hold a pen in a different way?

¹ i.e. my generally supportive but occasionally savage immediate family.

Cate Starts Yet Another Meme

2005-08-11T12:55:00.000-05:00

oh freddled gruntbuggly thy micturations are to me
This depicts when I'll propagate another so-called meme, I told myself.

Then on a recent visit to Cate's weblog I noticed a simple yet profound deviation from Raj-normal: her comment timestamps showed more than hh:mm. I don't like the terse view but hadn't thought much about alternatives. Until I noticed Cate's nicely expanded format. Immediately overcome with format envy I readied myself to search the entire digital universe if necessary to learn The Trick! Unfortunately I thought to check Blogger's Settings first and found the annoyingly simple answer.

So now, just because Cate did something on her weblog, I've done something similar here. As will some of you, I suspect. Meme.

In closing I want to say I pretty much like Blogger better than Microsoft. The End.

Bring on the Flu

2005-08-07T22:30:00.000-05:00

good fer what ails ya
I can't wait to see the television commercial weenies take a crack at this one, found on Ananova. Yes. An amazing "ancient cough medicine recipe" made from... snail slime. I'm already cured of any potential cough; just thinking about this whole thing is killing me.

Is it just me or does anyone else have nagging doubts about the credentials of whomever translated this "recipe?" First scary part: not only does a company make such a product. Someone apparently buys this stuff. Pays. For. Snail. Slime. "Oh, what a world! What a world!" - WWotW

The factory owner says she has "more than 8500 snails working." This is the part where my mind starts to spin out of control. Somebody call PETA! Wait, snails aren't animals. PETM? No. Maybe they like their jobs. This is the part where you start to imagine things like job descriptions, resumes, break rooms, and WorkMollusk's Comp. Do they have management positions? Do promising candidates get put on the Fast Track? AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Do they have a workers union? Picture them on strike, in their little picket lines holding signs that say stuff like "Unfair To Local 12 VTSU"¹ (with of course a different meaning for at least the 'S'). And if the fast-track managers can't maintain production, will they resort to hiring "scabs?" No. They'll bring in... slugs!

Whew. You probably can't tell but I'm actually kind of enjoying this. Finally we come to the most puzzling part of the story: flavoring. The first question is obvious: why use any flavoring at all? I find it inconceivable to think anyone willing to pay for orally administered processed snail slime will quibble about how it tastes. What are they going to do, return it?
Customer: I didn't like the way it tasted.
Merchant: You bought Snail Slime, you moron! Ha-ha just kidding, no offense. Also no refunds, sorry. Try these Snail Slime caplets instead, they cost more but they're better.
Customer: (pays, smiles) Thanks!

The second question is also my last one. After they decided to add artificial flavorings to their Snail Slime product line, how did they conclude avocado should be one of them? I think maybe they misfiled the results from the Flavor Focus Group working on their next snail slime product, rumored to be a predictably effective emetic.

Or maybe one of the fast-track managers took over the marketing department. Would have been a hostile takeover, of course. A real... slugfest.

¹ If you "get" this admittedly obscure reference without resorting to Google (be honest!) let me know. I will gladly write a post in your honor and heap lavish praise upon you.

O Sole Mio

2005-08-05T20:49:00.000-05:00

it’s not too late to stop reading this for the love of Ethelbert stop
The one and only Scroobious Scrivener recently posted a shoe revue, then invited her readers to do the same¹. Her Five Questions: How many pairs? Most expensive pair? Cheapest? Last shoes bought? How many shoes under your work desk?

Since “thorough shoe inventory” was on this weekend’s to-do list I decided to check it off a little early and emit the results. I think you’ll agree this is a fairly typical catalog, much the same as what you’d find in any guy’s closet.
1. How many pairs?
Okay. I distinctly remember none of my teachers ever writing report card commentary like "Good at following directions" or equivalent. So I'm going to summarize my answers to pretty much all five questions with a single photo. You can click the pic below for a bigger view.
And let's not dwell on conventional metrics like "number of pairs²". Look at these through my eyes and instead of mere pairs you'll see... combinations. Yeah. There's a lot of possibilities here. :->

¹ "Follow in her footsteps" - apropos, but too predictable.
² Um. Nineteen I think.

Opportunistic Little Monkey

2005-08-04T06:51:00.000-05:00

i think we all saw this coming
Demosthenes should have known better than to announce his absence. Looks like the little yellow monkey has taken their conflict to the next level.

Update: In case the link doesn't work for you, here's a snapshot I managed to capture.

Relief efforts are already underway. If you're interested in supplying virtual aid and assistance, please comment accordingly.

Contrast And Brightness

2005-08-02T14:12:00.000-05:00

think of it as intermission
(Note: a reader's comment prompted me to review this post. Looking with "afternoon" eyes I saw an unintended stridency, unfounded opinion and a fairly strong bias. So I changed a few things. What's here now is better, I think; hope so anyway. If you want to see the post in its original form - too bad. It's gone¹. Eaten by monkeys, of course.
-----------
Around here we promote and enjoy silliness, mostly. But sometimes "real" and/or serious items deserve a look from our admittedly limited attention span. Case in point: some stories on the subject of terrorism.

First up is this article titled "Terrorism, Islam, reform: thinking the unthinkable." The writer - Maruf Khwaja, a journalist living in the UK - gives what looks to me like a clear and compelling assessment of what must be done by "only Muslims themselves" to bring about a "long-term answer to terrorism in its Islamic guise."

I admit to having felt a glimmer of optimism after reading his essay; then I saw this bit of news: "Iranian president praises suicide terror." The article linked to another from early July, titled '40,000 time bombs in Iran', a story about Al-Arabiya TV station broadcasting an Iranian suicide bomber recruitment drive.

Goodbye glimmer, I thought. Then I considered some things. First, the two arguably inflammatory articles were posted on ynetnews.com, part of "Israel's leading web news site." Please understand: I pretty much can't be anti-Semitic (think it over, you'll get it). I call attention to the source not to disparage but to suggest considering the impact of perspective on any story. Israelis and Arabs share at least one thing: a deep, lifelong distrust of their enemy.

I watched the video clip, with its translated subtitles. I saw its gathering of would-be suicide bombers. Then again I might have been watching a wholly-staged propaganda film, "leaked" to adversaries for God only knows what hidden reasons.

Here's what I do know, or rather who: a number of Muslims, none of whom attended the videotaped rally. Do you understand what I mean by this? I hope so. Are there volatile, dangerous problems challenging people the world over? Yes. Do suicide bombers attack innocent people? Yes. Does "something" need to change within the Muslim world to end these attacks? Maruf Khwaja says yes. Do Muslims as people and Islam as faith define, personify and exist as the embodiment of The Problem?

Let's just say people who think that last statement is true scare me way more than the aforelinked video clip. No offense but if you think "Muslims" are The Problem, I feel sorry for you and kind of hope you're interested in starting your own colony on Mars. Soon.

Compared to a mindset intent on blaming entire societies for the heinous acts of an empowered few, a saga chronicling the antics of a wild toy monkey starts to seem not only tame...but sane.

¹ This is where I encourage you to accept small disappointments and get on with life, not where you find the earlier text. Sorry.

Fight!

2005-08-01T19:55:00.000-05:00

these things usually turn ugly
Interesting how some Brits send birthday greetings. Headline of a recent BBC article:
Pratchett takes swipe at Rowling

This sort of brutal, senseless and possibly unprovoked Ad Hominem tongue¹-lashing could adversely affect Ms. Rowling's ability to complete her crucial seventh novel, tentatively titled Harry Potter and the TBD.

Writing book No. 7 will be hard enough, considering what unfolded in book No. 6².
--------------------
¹ -in-cheek. Relax. Take deep breaths.
² My all-time favorite HP review.

Give Peas A Chance

2005-08-01T12:53:00.000-05:00

not sprouts though.
A generally reliable source has published this report on escalating hostilities involving the little yellow monkey.

This might be a good time to lock & load. Or panic. Or perhaps both.

Don't Panic!

2005-07-25T22:31:00.000-05:00

unless of course you misplaced your towel
Remember The Instigator? That cute little yellow (fugitive!) monkey responsible for trashing my work area and creating a mass of dark-minded, sentient ooze? A couple days ago he was spotted by a webcam panning a South Florida airport.

Yeah. He's wanted for questioning by a certain "discreet" government agency; they're interested in learning more about the ooze. So far the only component they've been able to isolate is radioactive coffee¹.

Working with local authorities, the Agency managed to apprehend my little yellow (fugitive!) friend. Here's a copy of his mugshot, obtained from an unnamed source².

They charged him with trespassing and criminal mischief for starters; the severity of federal charges would depend on how - and if - he cooperated with the spooks I mean Agency.

When you look at the picture above, do you notice anything unusual? Typical crappy police photo, face-front view, profile...hmm. Does that profile seem a bit narrow to you? If so, don't bother applying for a job in South Florida law enforcement; you won't fit in with them, dear reader.

You probably can guess what happened next. My unnamed source sent me this still photo from the security (Ha. It is to laugh) camera in the monkey's cell.

None of us are surprised; why were they? Sigh.

All I can do is hope my little yellow (Federal fugitive!) friend decides to head for the jungles of Central America instead of making his way back here. Then again - in Central America he'll have an even easier time getting his nimble little hands on the special toys³ he tried to get me to buy for him, toys not readily available in central Florida. Now I'll have to get some just to stay even!

I hate when this happens. This is how nuclear arms races begin, then quickly spiral out of control. Speaking of which I better check the security of my supply of weapons-grade plutonium. Rest assured I always made the little yellow (Ff!) monkey cover his eyes while I entered the cipher lock code!

Uh-oh...

¹Chief chemist: Syar
²Not a chance. Cell before tell!
³LAWS rockets, grenade launchers, compact automatic weapons - you know. Typical home-defense stuff.

13monkeys@work

2005-07-23T00:41:00.000-05:00

ignoring warnings is our special-ty
Put the restless monkeys to work, says Anne Arkham. Sure, I think. I'll bring them with me; they can help write software and stuff. We arrive at my work, I show them around. I'll be back in a minute I say, gotta put my lunch away. Riiight.

(click pic for better view)

Can you believe it? Not five minutes on their own and my entire work area is trashed. This crew wasn't satisfied with ordinary mayhem such as firing lasers (now a 3rd degree felony in Florida), setting off explosive devices and creating sentient, malevolent ooze. No, they thought they'd have a little computer fun, too:

(click pic for better view)

They launched a browser and headed for a couple popular weblogs, no doubt planning to start flame wars using my persona. And if they weren't such lousy typists I'd have lots of free space on the ol' C: drive; they were trying to reformat it!

I was shocked, though mainly because they connected my chair to a wall outlet. After the twitching stopped I started thinking, how could this have happened? These monkeys were restless and bored, sure. But evil? No way. Then I spotted the instigator, trying to hide behind some of his handiwork. See the small yellow monkey in the picture below?

(click pic for better view)

Alert readers will note the yellow monkey isn't like the others. He's the one responsible for this disaster! I thought he was just a homeless "street" monkey when I found the little yellow fellow at a gas station (absolute truth). He looked lost and lonely so I offered to care for him. This is how he repays my kindness? He's some kind of mutant genius; I'm pretty sure that black ooze is the same stuff Mulder and Scully found. And I think some of it escaped before the HazMat crew arrived; I know the yellow monkey got away. He bolted when I tried to grab him, and I have no idea where he went.

If you see him, do not try to apprehend him! Keep your distance and contact local authorities. Tell them to bring (1) heavy artillery, (2) monkey-sniffing dogs, and (3) alien virus vaccine.

Not sure what to do with the others (besides not take them to work with me again). They're not "bad monkeys," I think; they're like children who got caught up in something beyond their control, that's all. Guess I'll give them another chance, but if they start acting like their little yellow friend - well. Then it'll be time to find new homes for them.

Preferably far from here.

Jammin' With Some Friends

2005-07-20T21:15:00.000-05:00

not unexpected, this.
RaJ hanging with some pals on Hawaiian Shirt Day.

They're restless and bored; I'm getting worried. I hold a slight edge in the intellect department (so they say), but they outnumber me. Ideas?

Coming Soon

2005-07-18T10:32:00.000-05:00

Question authority. And hyperbole, don't forget to question hyperbole.

Exciting product reviews! Woohoo!
Bizarre / inevitable civil rights battle! D'Oh! Apparently Qataris (-ans? -ians?) weren't convinced by the I, Robot storyline, and aren't persuaded by forward-thinking philosphy.

Oh, and if you're using a newer version of the Firefox browser, let me know if you see a custom "favicon" - that's the little pic at the left end of the web address. If you're using IE you most likely won't see anything unusual (sorry).

(favicon update) Using IE6? - Add this site to your Favorites. The browser puts the nifty little icon next to the site name in Favorites, and shows it in the address line. You can then delete it from Favorites (you're free to keep it of course); the little pic should still show in the address line. Yee ha.

Firefox users, pat yourselves on the back and enjoy your hassle-free eye candy.

Ten. 10. a. 1010. 12. X.

2005-07-14T11:10:00.000-05:00

yesterday all my troubles seemed so far away/
now armadillos eat my larvae - the beetles
Remembering Netscape: The Birth of the Web

Good article, interesting reading. Hard to believe it's been just ten years. If you weren't in elementary school (no offense, honest!) when you first heard the name Netscape, what did it mean to you? Anything?

Ten years ago these "places" (and in most cases the companies behind them) did not exist: Google. Yahoo! MSN. Blogger, obviously. There's lots more of course but I'm drawing a blank trying to think of some.

Dateline: summer, 1995. Microsoft's Bill Gates watched Windows 95 replace MS-DOS, and no doubt smiled as IBM's technically superior competing product (OS/2) withered and died.

AOL and Time Warner were separate companies. Oh wait, is that true again? No matter. Back then AOL - free! for 30 days! - had (1) a bad reputation, (2) slow, expensive service, (3) clueless users, and (4) token competition from Prodigy and Compuserve. What's that saying, the more things change...? User cluelessness is down, I suppose.

Internet Explorer? No such thing. Computer viruses existed but were relatively uncommon and hard to get. Trojan - that's a condom, right? Worms? Fishing lures. Spyware and adware weren't even words, though "spam" meant more than canned ham even then.

No DVD drives, MP3s, iPods, or X-Box. No Half-Life, standalone or multiplayer. Online games yes, but - well. The words limited and (comparatively) lame come to mind.

Thinking about this "wonderful" stuff makes me wonder: when did you start using the internet, and why (i.e. for what purpose(s))?

Hard to imagine the next ten years bringing an equal amount or "degree" of change. What do you think?

Friday update: OS/2 is now "officially" dead. Long live OS/2.
spotted on /.

We hates the drivesies don't we Precioussss.

2005-07-12T22:00:00.000-05:00

poor poor Smeagol
Aside from the fact that extended time behind the wheel (i.e. hour of "darkness") causes me to experience (1) negative personality changes and (2) disturbing solo conversations, this post has nothing to do with Gollum. You are of course disappointed, and understandably so.

Before you decide things can't possibly get worse, take a virtual stroll through the Gallery Of Transportation. Then decide!

The first exhibit is titled The One I Want. If you want one too, click here for more info.

The next exhibit is called Snakebit, subtitled The Edge Of Madness. See the whole Madness story here.

Third exhibit: What I Need. For some of this one's backstory go here.

The final exhibit: Reality, aka that that is, is.

Of course you're free to look around - here or elsewhere - for answers to those questions you never thought to ask.

How about you? What's the latest / greatest / plainest / wildest exhibit in your gallery of transportation? Or anything else that comes to mind and exits through fingertips (Jon, you can of course use your nose if you prefer).

Fun with Radiation and Zen

2005-07-08T08:49:00.000-05:00

original title: Self Portrait
Most likely you've seen this before; it still cracks me up. Can't remember where I found it, hence the lack of attribution (seemed a little silly to say "My Pictures" though technically it's true).

I printed one as a color transparency and taped it onto the back window of my truck.

* * *

Nowhere to go, nothing to do? Try here.And I have got to get me one of these.

For Sale: Darth Vader's Lightsaber, more

2005-07-06T09:33:00.000-05:00

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
If I (1) lived in California and (2) had obscene amounts of disposable income, I would be happy to attend the upcoming Profiles In History Hollywood memorabilia auction. Per the catalog:

WELCOME to our Summer auction of Hollywood memorabilia! This sale features some rare and unusual offerings, many of which are appearing at auction for the very first time. We’re pleased to present a number of selected artifacts from the first three Star Wars films, direct from the collection of Star Wars producer Gary Kurtz, including:
• Darth Vader’s light saber from The Empire Strikes Back
• Luke Skywalker’s light saber from Star Wars
• Luke Skywalker’s X-Wing flight suit from both Star Wars and The Empire Strikes Back
• Stormtrooper blaster from Star Wars

Yoda's cane, too. Announcement spotted on /.

To assuage my disappointment I subjected myself to yet another nerd test. Perhaps it's one you've not yet tried as well; I found it quite challenging, as these things go. My score:
45.23809523809524%.

IOI

2005-07-05T06:37:00.000-05:00

let me tell you about my day
The title is an acronym for Items Of Interest, a weekly listing of typically boring, largely irrelevant minutiae generated for upper management at my previous employer. It's now just past 7AM Eastern time, and already - today - I've collected a couple items for a legendary IOI report. First, here's my exciting though somewhat atypical minutiae:

1:00 AM (approx.) - Fall asleep in wrong bedroom
2:30 AM - Fall down flight of stairs on way to correct bedroom
4:50 AM - Rise and shine
5:49 AM - Depart for work
5:50 AM - Play with green laser pointer in predawn mist
5:55 AM - Stow laser and depart for real
7:00 AM - Arrive alive (at work)

The best stuff (excluding of course my green-beam fun) happened between 6:50 and 7:00. Leaving the Neighborhood Wal-Mart Located In Someone Else's Neighborhood Not Mine, I noticed this amazing headline on a weekly "news" publication:
Noah's Second Ark Found!
The subtitle was something like, Bizarre Creatures Kept Inside. Hmm, wonder if they found one of those yellow-diamond signs, "Bizarros On Board"...never mind. You might find it hard to believe, but I didn't stop to read the article. To be honest I thought it'd be way more fun if we made up the corresponding story, and - let's face it - our end result would have pretty much the same level of actual fact as the published piece. Consider this an assignment for either your own weblog, comment space here, or both.

The very best - so far, remember it's still early! - was this: for nearly three miles, I shared a stretch of road with...God. I am not making this up. Okay, it might not have been "God" driving the other vehicle, but when I noticed its license plate said "GODS SUV" I knew this was no ordinary commuter. Either that or I hit my head when I fell down the stairs, though I'm almost positive I did not.

Right now you're probably wondering if your socks are really black or just dark blue; I know I am. Plus you might be curious: just what kind of SUV does God own, what message might God want to convey here? Escape? Blazer? Probably not Xterra; too cryptic. Forerunner? No, that'd be John T. Baptist's I think.

Folks, I'm sorry to report God doesn't even buy American. I know, can you believe it? I was more than a little disappointed to see GODS SUV was a Toyota Highlander, though it did have the V6 and special trim package, and looked well kept. I started wondering how things went at the car lot, what kind of deal they made. Did the salesperson say, "I don't think my manager will accept this offer but I'll check?" Were there problems getting a loan approved? "They don't have a category for your occupation..." And whose name is shown on the registration and title?

Then I watched it run a red light, while I waited in a turn-lane...sigh.

Back to work.

Full Of Disclosure: Speaking for myself, I respect and believe in God, Noah (one ark, no Bizarros), and everyone's right to fall down stairs and/or display vanity license plates. Sometimes these things strike me as funny, what can I say, YMMV especially in SUVs, regardless of ownership.

An Exercise In Procrastination: The Book Meme

2005-07-04T09:20:00.000-05:00

order on order, line on line - Is. 28:10
Having been directed to complete this activity, I (finally) present for your consumption the following tidbits.

The number of books I own
Maybe a couple hundred, probably less. Nothing to see here, move along citizens. I do however have a much-used library card, which reveals the expediency-driven mindset: read many, own few.

The last books I bought
...weren't for me. I bought several historical-fiction novels for my sweetie-pie, just because. Or maybe it was Mother's Day, surrogate gifting for income challenged offspring? Or both. Probably both.

(the meme mutates) The last books I acquired
Since I typically borrow, I add this sub-element.
Intrigued by titles on others' meme-lists and posts, I've checked out the following.

Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg, one of Carol's mean-a-lot books.
Children Of God by Mary Doria Russell, noted on Scroobious Scrivener's most excellent site. This book's predecessor The Sparrow was first brought to my attention and recommended several years ago by my mother. I read The Sparrow, found it both moving and disturbing, and put off reading the follow-up story. Scroobious' book meme post and mini-review provided a reminder and motivating push, so - away we go. And mom - thanks. I'm finally working on part 2, sorry for the delay.
A Slight Trick of the Mind by Mitch Cullin (audio), described as "a loving, sad tale of Sherlock Holmes in the era of Hiroshima." Selected for two reasons: I needed an audio book for my daily commute, and seeing this post put me in a Sherlock Holmes state of mind.

Last book I read
Macroscope by Piers Anthony. First time I'd seen it; originally published c. 1969, re-released a couple years ago. Interesting, imaginative concept. Some 60's conventions seem totally weird (such as his use of the word Negro), but overall the story still works well. I might have passed on it if I'd noticed the original date; would have been my loss.

Five books that mean a lot
No particular order; most of these I own, in hardcover even
Y'know this would have been much simpler as say, five favorites. But noooooo! Okay fine. What. Ever. :->

Perelandra by C.S. Lewis. I could use this as a stand-in for nearly a dozen of Lewis' books -- The Chronicles Of Narnia and parts one and three of his space trilogy, to name nine. But I'm not. This story moves me in ways few books do. Dr. Elwin Ransom, a philologist / regular guy gets sent to Venus by beings without bodies, to battle evil in a pristine world populated only by its to-be king and queen, a pair of green-skinned humanoids separated by vast oceans. A powerful allegory, deeply spiritual; yet I find myself easily identifying with Ransom's fears, faults and shortcomings. No, the story's setting doesn't fit at all with what we know about Venus as a planet. Doesn't matter. The story isn't about a material Venus or scientific exploration. This is a story about humans, a creator-designer, an epic battle, and love beyond reason. Another excellent allegory that coulda woulda shoulda made my list is Arena by Karen Hancock. No outer space here, just great fiction.
The Otherland Series by Tad Williams. Not one book but four, each volume averaging over 800 pages. This is a massive, mind-bogglingly entertaining saga, loosely described as near-future science fiction. While there are elements of future tech, this is no space cadet story. If you like well-written fiction, you will like these books. Otherland has the distinction of being the first multi-part story I read that wasn't already finished when I started reading it. Think Harry Potter vs. LOTR. I read #1 shortly before #2 came out, but had to wait for 3 & 4. Definitely worth the wait. Otherland holds* powerful, compelling characters, much conflict and tension; a woman on a quest, a bushman, a psychopath, a Dorothy, flying yellow monkeys -- a great story. My favorite "part" is Williams' style: he trusts his readers possess working imaginations, and writes in a way that enables their use. In other words, when bad things happen (for example), he doesn't resort to using explicit, graphic sequences to convey the scene. He writes well, and writes enough to seed the reader's mind, then sets the imagination free. When bad things happen, he doesn't catalog each movement, each cut, each drop of blood in sense-numbing detail. Yet you know exactly what's happening because your mind takes the author's cues, and if you're like me you'll find the effect more powerful than if the writer did all your imagining for you.
Life Of Pi by Yann Martel. The story won the Man Booker award a couple years ago. This is an amazing, moving story about "a boy, a tiger, and the vast Pacific ocean." Reading the overleaf we learn it might, in the words of one character, make you believe in God. Quite a challenge, eh. Two people I know who've read this book were convinced it was true, or at least based on a true story. I had to double-check for myself as I read it; to say Martel brings his characters to life seems like a gross understatement. You should read this book. When you do, get a hardcover; two reasons. First, the back-cover text on the softcover edition gives away details better left to discovery, IMO. Second, there is some number of softcovers with a "printing error" near the story's end: several key lines of dialog were affected. I noticed this and wrote the author, fearing my preferred version was "wrong." It wasn't. Mr. Martel - you're a cool guy, thanks for taking the time to write back. I kept the letter, but you won't see it on eBay I promise.
Practicing The Presence Of God by Brother Lawrence. The shortest and oldest on my list, written in the 1600s by a monk. Yeah, I read his first release. Not. The author describes in a straightforward, down-to-earth way how flawed, imperfect people ought to perceive and interact with a perfect creator-God. If believers "got" this man's simple message and acted upon it, they would truly change the world. This book has influenced my relationship with God, and continues to do so (I keep a copy on my PDA).
Cold Mountain by Charles Frazier. First saw and read this several years ago, long before the movie release. I knew nothing about the book, but thought it looked interesting. At its simplest, this is a story of a wounded Civil War soldier's journey home, a kind of odyssey. Inman (the soldier) is like Odysseus, and Ada (the girl back home) is his Penelope. A great story with vivid characters and scenes, I found myself quickly and wholly immersed. I ached for the protagonists in their trials, and hated the dark players and their accomplices. I read it again as a refresher before I saw the film (we don't talk about that). The story brings a compelling perspective on the Civil War, Southern yet universal. It's on my list for Frazier's ability to wholly pull me into his desperate, tragedy- and hope-filled world.

One book that I would like to burn
BellSouth's Yellow Pages. Stupid. Disorganized. Worthless. Wake up! The nineties are over, for crying out loud. Give me something I can use, or stop littering my driveway.

People I think deserve this kind of trouble
"Deserve" is such a strong word... Let's just say if you haven't already gone through this exercise and are the least bit interested, consider yourself directed. If you're not interested, do it anyway. Deal with it. Seriously, give it a try. When you're finished please let me know; I'd like to read yours.

Finally - sorry, I know I went a little light on hotlinks here. I'll try to edit/update/add soon. If you see something you want but can't find, let me know and I'll be glad to help.
-------------
*Otherland holds...characters = pun. I will say no more.

Dealing With Mild Disappointment

2005-06-29T15:39:00.000-05:00

expecting this, I was
If I do-over and get a higher score I might update this post.

They have other fun tests, too:

Me, compared to 3000+ other people who wanted to know their WQ:

11% are more weird,
3% are just as weird, and
86% are more normal than you!

The End Of Mr. Jam's Wild Ride

2005-06-28T23:11:00.000-05:00

but befooore we begin
(Yet another interlude)
If we were writing this tale as a trilogy, this portion would be the Gy. Loosely translated from the original Syllablese, Gy means “last bit.” Here’s a tip from our friendly AardGeek: when reading Syllablese one should be careful to not confuse Gy with gy (translation: “lice beet”). Confusion is common and understandable; it’s also the state in which we maintain our primary residence. For the most part this works well for us: we’re empowered! to wear our best inscrutable smile despite the ubiquitous lice beet infestation.

If you’ve read the first two segments you might mentally leapfrog us during this interlude and conclude, “Must be those monkeys again.” Good guess! but no. Seriously, a million monkeys? What were you thinking? If you haven’t yet read Parts One and Deux, now would be a good time to do so (just scroll down or look around). If you finish them and find your eyes still able to hold focus and/or your neurons able to re-form from the mush that was your brain, read on.

(Yes another interlude for crying out loud)
Our astute reader will note we never actually quantified the monkey cadre in our previous post. To you we offer our most sincere Attaperson! and say, “Thanks for paying such close attention to our words. Perhaps now is a good time to seek professional help.” For our other reader, it’s time ~~to close the browser before the stupor takes~~ for the long ~~overdue~~ awaited conclusion of Mr. Jam’s Wild Ride.

One more thing: this part is different. If you’re expecting the usual light and fluffy, you might want to revise your expectations. Not to worry, it ain’t Murder Inc. or anything. It is however a true story, and therefore carries some of reality’s unpleasant baggage.

* * *

Fortunately there’s not much to tell about a dorm room overrun by cockroaches. If it had been a lice beet infestation, that’d be a different story (Mmmm, lice beets), but it wasn’t. Besides, if you’ve seen one roach you’ve seen them all. Well maybe you haven’t; we did. Definitely a night to forget, which I pretty much have, which is why I’m skipping to the next day and our attempt to “get back to where (we) once belonged.”

Homeward bound, somehow back in Michigan, near the interstate but off the path so to speak. We didn’t want to get arrested as (1) vagabonds or (2) interstate highway pedestrians, so we tried to hitch a ride at the start of a highway entrance ramp. Good news – no sign of Suicidal Tendencies or his Mustang. Bad news – no sign of any vehicle for looong periods of time.

Line from an old text-based computer game: “It is not so easy to open this tin. You stop opening the tin.” At that point in the game I usually starved to death, though I sometimes died in more interesting ways. “The Kobold hits…you die…” etc. Four hours, we spent waiting for a car to stop for us. Considering how we were traveling from Elsewhere to Nowhere, we might have anticipated these slim pickings in the free ride department. Instead we got Slim Pickens’ evil stunt double, masquerading as an unmarked state cop.

Borrowing a device from one of my favorite authors, I offer you two versions of what happened that day. In the first version, the fake cop was actually a space alien, a real-deal ET. The cruiser was a cruiser, only it wasn’t your garden variety domestic vehicle. Once the alien had us inside, it put us under some kind of spell. I remember little of what followed; some eerie, off-planet place where we were ordered out of the cruiser. Unable to argue or resist we left the relative safety of the cruiser and entered some kind of alien laboratory.

Memory really falters now. Broken, dreamlike images of two guys undergoing some type of…procedure, performed by the alien who captured them. Little remains in my mind of the procedure itself, though I think it’s safe to say it involved the requisite probes and orifices. After a period of time we found ourselves alone together, near the highway though not at the same place we last remembered. The alien and its cruiser were nowhere in sight.

We walked for a while, not speaking of our recent experience, no longer interested in taking rides from strangers. When we tired of walking and agreed to try thumbing another ride, we managed to get the attention of a for-real state cop, complete with marked car and flashing lights. We did not share our story with him, but opted to take his suggestion, leave his highway and not return. This seemed a better choice for keeping ourselves out of jail (and keeping Things out of us).

Strange experience…when I saw the flashing lights I felt a sudden, excruciating pain in an unexpected region, and almost lost my ability to stand. Then Denial asserted itself and I recovered. Mostly.

We walked for miles, through the night and into the next morning. Then we decided we were Done, called in a favor for a ride from a friend and went home. The end.

The second version is similar to the first. The fake cop was just a fake cop, and we were just too naïve to question his authority. When he started talking about cavity searches, Naiveté found strength in Denial. When he left the highway for a deserted wooded road, Denial became shrill and assertive while Reason turned to Dismay. When he ordered us out of the car and told us to face away from him…well. I split, took an emergency trip to my Fortress Of Solitude, a place like Superman’s, a massive refuge made of ice and hidden a thousand miles away from any other human. I wouldn’t see my friend there, but I think he didn’t stick around either for what followed on that deserted road.

To this day I can honestly say I don’t know exactly what happened, what the fake cop did. The little I do remember is more than enough.

So, dear reader – which version do you prefer?

***

Epilogue

I moved away and lost contact with the friend. Through a Whatever Happened To conversation I heard he died; we were never close so I won't be writing him a letter. I haven’t hitch-hiked since that trip, and most likely never will again. Something I can live without, eh.

We teach our children these things: respect authority, but do not blindly trust authority. If something seems wrong, it probably is wrong and it doesn’t matter how authoritative the wrong-doer is. Tell someone else. Don’t be passive, fight – fight hard, as if your life depended on it. Maybe most important is the lesson I failed to heed: don’t put yourself in a dangerous situation.

Duh.

The end for real this time.

Mr. Jam's Wild Ride Around A Book Meme

2005-06-27T21:52:00.000-05:00

think thank thunk
(Interlude)
Hey got any interluuds, man? Uh...what? No sir I do NOT get the reference, and have no idea why I typed it. Could be some latent, normally suppressed alter-ego. On the other hand, I have different fingers. Wow, so do you! Gaaah Spinning… out… of… control… whap!

Not sure if this is G.Lo’s fault or Carol’s, and – let’s face it – finding answers to deep existential questions involving virtually untraceable causality is normally left as an exercise to the reader. In the previous sentence, the root word “normal” is used as a reminder of something you’re not likely to see anywhere in this post. Buh-bye!

Book meme? Or Wild Ride Part Deux? Which one should I post? Suddenly, a light-bulb goes off in my head, which thanks to the typically low wattage had very little effect. Yes, the – no. It’s No, the freight train of thought – maybe it is yes. I’m almost never sure. Either way the freight train of thought kept right on sitting there on the tracks, baking in the Floriduh summertime sunshine, internal temperatures pushing 140 degrees F (60 degrees C for our enlightened reader). Must have been the vinyl mental furniture set out-gassing, or maybe just ordinary fumes, but suddenly I realized: I don’t have a million typewriters to keep all these monkeys busy. So? I’ll let them sort this out, I’m going to bed. Good-night. Buh-bye!

(Interlude Part Deux)
This is the second part of an apparently multi-part post. If you're like, an in medias res kind of reader, feel free to continue. Otherwise, scroll down the page for the first part.

You might recall our destination was Elsewhere, Indiana, a fine college town where my friend’s sister lived. Then again you might not. Recall. Truth is you should not, but if you did that’s okay, it’s mostly irrelevant anyway. We arrived at sister’s house, battered and bedraggled from riding in cars with suicidal maniacs. She and her husband gave us a warm welcome. That’s warm as in hot, as in angry and put-out and not at all happy to see us, mostly because my friend had neglected to ask if we could visit (No!) and/or stay (Hellogoodbye NO!).

Something else my friend neglected was to mention how he and his sister didn’t exactly get along, in the sense of an inability to tolerate each other's presence on the same side of a given state line. Thus the sister and her disturbing – enough – to – make – dying – in – a – maniac’s – Mustang – start – to – look – pretty – good husband wasted no time on long goodbyes. Or hellos, for that matter. They did however give us directions to the town’s fine college, where we could expect to find dorms available due to the onset of summer.

What they neglected to mention – and by this time I began to perceive a pattern of neglect, beginning with the caretakers of my friend’s family tree – was the lack of vacancy in the fine college dorms. Which is not to say the dorms were occupied. At least, not by students in the conventional sense. Yes, we were allowed to pay for and enter a dorm room. No, the dorms weren’t occupied by students. Yes, the dorms were occupied. No, my obviously sheltered life hadn’t prepared me to spend a night with a bazillion cockroaches. Yes, I will tell you all about it. No, not tonight, the monkeys say they are tired.

And yes, there are worse things than sharing a room with cockroaches. We experienced one such “thing” the very next day.

More. Soon.

Mr. Jam's Wild Ride

2005-06-26T21:37:00.000-05:00

They toad us to stay home but nooooo
One summer a few years back, a friend and I decided to travel from Nowhere, Illinois to Elsewhere, Indiana. For reasons I cannot for the life of me remember, we planned to reach Elsewhere by way of Somewhere in Michigan. Sure, the Michigan segment was “unnecessary” and way “out of the way,” but it did give us some once-in-a-lifetime experiences. At least that’s been my hope (the “once” part, that is).

Since we were both (a) gainfully unemployed and (2) unfettered by the burdens of personally owned vehicles, we couldn't just jump in a car, fill the tank and go. Actually I think we did try the jump in a car thing, but soon decided the high-decibel alarm was fairly annoying and abandoned ~~the vehicle~~ Plan A.

We then set our prodigious brains to work on Plan E. As for Plans B, C, and D…well, let’s just say “5th Amendment” and leave it at that. I won’t bother you with the details of our highly unorthodox, ultra-creative, paradigm shifting outside the box thought processes. Even with such details I’m sure you’d be amazed to learn we needed less than eleven hours to develop our ultimate, can’t-miss plan: we’d hitch-hike.

By now you’re probably thinking whoa, you guys must have been like, Mensa or something. No; that came later, after the brain augmentation. We’ll get to that part. First things first: it’s one of my favorite meaningless expressions. Another one is “be that as it may,” though I don’t get to use it as often as I’d like...

Sorry. Hitch-hiking, from Nowhere to Elsewhere by way of Somewhere in Michigan. To be honest, I remember very little of the outbound trip. I have this vague memory of riding in the back seat of a Mustang (if you’ve ever been, you know what a joke that is) being driven exceedingly fast by a crazy person-stranger. I remember hearing his hearty laugh as he drove up a series of hills, always on the wrong side of the road. Apparently he was both amused and encouraged by the high-pitched squeals of delight he heard coming from the adrenaline-constricted throats of the two grown men jammed into the shoebox-sized space behind him.

For some reason I have almost no memory of Michigan scenery; strangely enough, everything seemed to look just like the insides of my eyelids. Be that as it may (woohoo!), we somehow managed to leave Michigan with our lives intact and our briefs unsoiled. Wish I could say the same for the return trip, during which we encountered this entity:

Part Deux – stay tuned.

Sporadic Innages

2005-06-23T09:12:00.000-05:00

today's word is indistinguishable
Multi-sentence, maybe even multi-paragraph post(s) forthcoming. Consider yourself warned.

Sporadic Outages

2005-06-19T20:31:00.000-05:00

as opposed to what -- these normally sporadic posts?
Out of town this week, with loaner laptop of dubious capability.
In case you were like, you know. Wondering.
:->

A Brain Amok

2005-06-16T21:11:00.000-05:00

I can tell. Never mind how.

mmmUrk.........hovercraft...........eels

Antwerp...........lathe..............brrrrrrrrrE

(get 'em?)

Floating Point

2005-06-16T11:51:00.000-05:00

it's like a whole new dimension
On a recent visit to Scroobious Scrivener's weblog, I found examples of a neat trick using the html "title" attribute. This causes a tooltip-like floating box o' text to appear when a mouse pointer hovers over said link.

Call me a geek, but I like that sort of thing. Maybe if everyone uses this on every single page and link, we could levitate the internet to a higher plane.

Here's a better idea: visit Scroobious Scrivenings and look around. You're sure to find something you'll like.

MeetAgeeK - An AardGeek Interview

2005-06-13T10:43:00.000-05:00

but wait there's more
To compensate for our apparent inability to generate a 100 Things list, we offer similar disinformation through this previously unpublished interview. Conducting the interview will be The AardGeek, a mysterious, vaguely humanoid creature of antediluvian origin. The interviewee is of course yours truly, accompanied by our usual complement of imaginary voices and friends.

We hope you’ll find this enlightening, amusing, and – who knows? – educational. While we claim no mastery of the English language – for example, we suspect the mix of –ing and –al in the previous sentence probably breaks some rule of grammar, plus we use way too many hyphens – we do plan to seed the interview with several commonly misused and/or misspelled words. We hope you’ll notice our correct use, then go and do likewise. An example of this would be ‘complement’ in the preceding paragraph.

Finally, we hope you will notice and adopt our correct use of the words its and it’s. In doing so, you will help to make the world a better place for language nitpickers who through no fault of their own always notice those kinds of things, but never say anything about it because they know it’s nitpicking at its worst and they’d probably get punched in the face if they tried to correct someone anyway.

AARDGEEK: Welcome to this edition of Meet A Geek. With us today is the relatively unknown Radioactive Jam, ready to answer all our questions with complete honesty regardless of potential embarrassment and loss of self-esteem. Mr. Jam, thanks for agreeing to this format.
JAM: Uh…
AARDGEEK: Right, let’s not waste these fine folks’ time. We’ll start out with a couple “softball” type questions, then move into the meat and potatoes. Along the way we’ll mix a few metaphors and most likely split infinitives, mainly because we know this is a common mistake but have no clear understanding of what it means. First question, Mr. Jam – can you explain your lifelong inability to show affection to close family members?
JAM: That’s a softball?
AARDGEEK: cough-Wuss!-cough
JAM: Okay then. Well. My first instinct is to blame my parents, but I can’t for two reasons. One, my mom is still alive and might read this. Two, I’d be lying. My fallback would of course be denial. Again, living family members and relatives know better, so that won’t work either.
So I guess the answer is, I’m not sure. I know this is a problem, I make a conscious effort to try and physically demonstrate how much I love and care about family members. I fail, sometimes, but hope they understand.
AARDGEEK: Does their understanding then become an excuse for the next failure?
JAM: Can I get a different interviewer, or at least a new question?
AARDGEEK: Relax, Mr. Jam. We’re not here to torture you. Next question: is it true you’ve started giving your age in hexadecimal notation?
JAM: Yes. The base-16 form sounds younger, and most people say I don’t look my age. Or act my age, for that matter.
AARDGEEK: People tell you to grow up?
JAM: Usually it’s more of a look, a rolling of the eyes at some of my “immature” behavior.
AARDGEEK: Such as?
JAM: Well, my shoes for instance.
AARDGEEK: You seem to have missed the pre-school phase where they explained things like how to wear shoes that match. Today for example, you’re wearing – what?
JAM: Chuck Taylor Hi-Tops, one red, one neon green.
AARDGEEK: Why? I mean, I see how the red one matches your shirt. And I don’t want to know if the neon matches something I can’t see, thanks.
JAM: The short answer is “because I can.” Chucks come in all kinds of colors, I find them cheap, and mixing them up just seemed like a reasonable thing to do.
AARDGEEK: Do you see yourself as a pioneer, a trend-setter, a free spirit?
JAM: Not really. I’ve done this for years. At first I thought it’d be cool to see other people doing the same, but I don’t expect to start any trends, no.
AARDGEEK: Another word describing your behavior would be “weird.”
JAM: You’ve spoken to my children, haven’t you?
AARDGEEK: We need to take a short break, but we'll be back - stay tuned for self-inflicted haircuts, mudding with a highway princess truck, and more!
Jump to Part Deux
Jump to Part 3

The Joy Of Polling

2005-06-10T11:47:00.000-05:00

bias is for resistors, and (of course) resistance is useless
Following the recent announcement of Apple's CPU switch, slashdot posted this opinion poll:

Clearly they understand the need for careful, anti-bias wording in poll questions. And I completely agree with their decision to think outside the box, so to speak.

The results surprised me, though. Guess I should scratch "psychic" from the ol' resume.

A Fine Spoof

2005-06-09T19:26:00.000-05:00

fans are eating it up
Add this site's entree to the growing list of fine Star Wars spoofs.

Found sitting on a steel white table. Enjoy.

The Dark Side's...uh, dark side.

2005-06-09T06:55:00.000-05:00

only in America (I wish)
Found this disturbing article at Geek Philosophy.

Mr. Lucas? If you were behind these diabolical marketing mutations, you'd tell us...wouldn't you?

Not Your Typical Rainy Day

2005-06-08T10:45:00.000-05:00

insert pith-y comment here
Imagine yourself outside, enjoying a fine spring day somewhere in the Serbian village of Odzaci. You happen to glance up and notice a strange-looking cloud. Hmm, you think; looks like rain. And you would be correct. Sort of.

According to this article posted yesterday, this "cloud" rained frogs instead of water. Thousands. Of. Frogs. At least they were small...

Slavisa Ignjatovic, local climatology expert (whatever that means) offered this simple scientific explanation: some unidentified whirlwind sucked the frogs from some unidentified body of water, carried the frogs to Odzaci airspace, then proceeded to release the frogs from its swirling grasp. Presumably gravity - another famous scientific...doohickey - took over at that point.

Though the voice of Cynical Man rises above the others in my head, I'd like to think the Odzaci residents did The Right Thing and returned these poor innocent frogs to their aquatic homes (parental frog: "Thank you so much. And you, missy, how many times have I told you to not play in the whirlwind?! You are *so* grounded!"). And I hope local authorities will press charges against the whirlwind or its owner. Creator. Whatever. They cannot "look the other way" and condone this sort of thing; anarchy waits in the wings, and probably carries salamanders. Or even newts.

Finally, while I deeply trust the whirlwind explanation - I mean, he is an expert in his field (whatever that is) - I cannot help but wonder: what do these people get with a hailstorm?

(give yourself a bonus point if you "get" the fine-print subtitle)

Almost The Least I Could Do

2005-06-06T21:11:00.000-05:00

indiana...let it go
Fans of the ABC series Lost, take heart. Instead of moping around, wondering how to survive a too-long summer, check this site. Think happy thoughts like trailer / teaser and season two, and enjoy.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled moping.

Abnormal Radioactive Emissions

2005-06-04T11:56:00.000-05:00

mostly alpha some beta
Every now and then my brain starts waving in lines and stanzas instead of sentences and paragraphs. Alas, I don't yet know how to create like, a separate section / area / whatever in this emitter. So I started a new one. You can reach it here; there's also a link on the Profile page.

Think of it as going from bad to verse.

RadioactiveJam: the back-story

2005-06-03T12:47:00.000-05:00

or, the origin of specious by means of unnatural selection
Shopping For Sanity's Carol Danvers recently commented,
Hey, I've been meaning to ask you - does your nick refer to radioactive toejam, by any chance? If so, please don't come near me because I have a very delicate gag reflex when it comes to smells....

When I stopped laughing I replied No, and explained how I chose this "name" -- in short, all the good ones were taken. Then I realized she'd given me a great reason/excuse for a post. Ready or not, away we go.

Believe it or not, this is all AOL's fault. I long resisted assimilation by their juggernaut; I never accepted their amazing free offers, and saw AIM as the mother of all annoying desktop applications. Or father. Whatever. I had a way-cheap ISP for internet access, and knew and liked ICQ for my infrequent messaging; who needed AIM?

Of course this couldn't go on. Eventually I gave in to the relentless pressure and decided to Create An AIM Screen Name. Imagine my surprise when I found all the good names taken. So - whether from inspiration or frustration I don't know, but RadioactiveJam popped into my head. Since it was (1) less than 16 characters long, and - amazingly enough - (2) not already in use, I chose it for an AIM screen name.

After that I guess it kind of grew on me, not unlike toejam (sorry). It's easy to say, and relatively easy to spell: always a plus when dealing with mortals.

The origin of radioactivejam.blogspot.com was pretty much an accident. Hmm, should this be considered a nuclear accident? Not sure; either way, I had no real interest and felt no desire to create a weblog. Then came that fateful day, possibly ordained and/or foreknown before the beginning of time, when I decided to post my first comment on a friend's weblog.

Except I couldn't; the setup he used at the time didn't allow anonymous comments. So I went through the Blogger registration process, thinking I was simply getting a valid username for comment posting. (Yoda voice on) Clueless, he was (Yoda voice off).

Anyone who's gone through this process knows where it ends: at a web page showing something like, congratulations, here's your new 'blog. Imagine my surprise - for real, this time - when I saw I was now the mildly dismayed (and yes, clueless) owner/creator of a bona fide weblog.

From the "should've seen this coming" department: I still couldn't post a comment on the friend's site. D'oh! Turns out it was a site-side problem, now fixed.

Time passed. I vacillated: at first content to maintain a do-nothing-.com status quo, I felt something gnawing on my long-held reluctance to start anything web-based. Not sure exactly what pushed me into action; at some point I decided to take a step or two down Weblog Way and asked, does this lead anywhere I want to go?

In a word, yes. I'm finding nice scenery and great fellow-travelers. And so it's you I salute and thank; hope we'll continue to enjoy this journey together, until our paths diverge.

And Carol -- thanks again.

Homewrecker

2005-06-01T22:15:00.000-05:00

it would eliminate Gretchen Wilson's song-rival
No one's actually accused us of being too sentimental here...yet...but this piece should be a change of pace just the same. The surface layer - the text you're reading - might (okay, should) be taken as a typically lame attempt at humor. The links are a different story. We hope you'll find some of them genuinely amusing, or interesting, or even helpful to you or someone you know. Might have to visit a link's top-level .com page to understand what we mean. So! If you're adequately baffled and/or confused, let's get to it (whatever that means).

Do you ever find yourself thinking maybe your goals, ambitions and dreams might be too small? If so, take a moment to step outside yourself, and think outside the box. Oy! Two sentences and already we're running low on cliches. Sorry, where were we?--> For the person willing to ignore conventional wisdom and take the road less traveled, for the one who sees monumental challenges as invigorating opportunities, yet ignores runaway hyperbole -- we think you'll like what we have in mind for you.

Ready? Then check out this site. Feel free to stop back here and say thanks. If you find yourself too busy with your new project to return, that's okay; we'll understand. We wish you the very best on your mission, and we're sure you'll understand why this tune is our new favorite song.

Dear Gary Brolsma / An Open Letter

2005-05-30T09:20:00.000-05:00

at least this guy's not dead
You're my new hero. Seriously. No sarcasm, no joke: I like your style, and I was sorry to learn you'd been made uncomfortable by your "numa numa" notoriety.

When I first saw your clip I thought, wow. He's got guts. Then I realized it's not about courage; the clip simply shows your creativity, personality and style.

You seem to enjoy the creative process and its results. I don't blame you, but I can't emulate you. Like many people, I'm way too inhibited. That's why I say you're my hero, because you can do things beyond the abilities of mere mortals like me. Not literally, but that's what I "feel."

I hope you choose to keep using your powers, your creative skills. We need heroes to make us smile, to illuminate us, to rescue us from our sometimes mundane, predictable lives. Maybe one day we'll find a creative, numa numa-like spark within ourselves; maybe then we'll do something to make *you* smile.

In the meantime thanks, and keep up the good work.

Regards,
rj

60 Minutes

2005-05-27T06:05:00.000-05:00

I feel your pain
Fifty miles in sixty minutes: welcome to my daily commute. Here's some items that make me think spending this much time getting to work is having a negative impact on my mental state.

Noticing a reduction in the red light duration at my off-ramp (90 seconds down to 30), and feeling Happy because of it.
Having this happiness squelched when I contemplate the fact that these things even register in my brain.
Reading a companion message mounted under a Speed Limit 45 sign: "Enforced by radar" and finding myself giving serious thought to a literal interpretation (e.g. violators and/or their vehicles getting toasted by a hidden roadside microwave source).

"Could be worse. Could be raining." -- Young Frankenstein

Stay In Touch

2005-05-24T14:47:00.000-05:00

must resist chicken and crossroads pun
Some people insist the internet's raison d'être is to spread porn; others say the internet exists for email, chatting, shopping, etc.

If the internet's raisins were ever in doubt, we need worry no more. Our good friend Ananova relays this gem, attributed to Wired News. You really should read the article, so we'll just pique your interest with a few key words: human-poultry interaction.

Imagine how much fun we'll have if this gear becomes as ubiquitous as say, a keyboard or mouse. Goodbye email? Probably not, but it might change other aspects of how we interact with the world around us.

Hmm. Any way this concept could get twisted and/or abused? Nah. What could happen?

We were going to visit Wired ourselves to see its version of the story...but we chickened out.

In closing, perhaps someone can guess how we might take the name of a world-famous award, and use it to describe an "unexpected" instance of the aforementioned interaction.

Darth Side Part Deux.1

2005-05-24T07:28:00.000-05:00

subliminal message leave him a tip do it now
The author of The Darth Side - Memoirs Of A Monster weblog has put together some compilations. Get yours.

Do it now. You won't be sorry I promise.

Dear Non-Firefox Users

2005-05-23T12:46:00.000-05:00

Oops.

Perhaps you've noticed a certain lack of decent formatting in recent posts, specifically those with pictures. Paragraphs meant to appear below piled alongside an image, pictures stair-stepped instead of stacked, that kind of thing.

Completely my fault, and I apologize for not noticing sooner. Some time ago I made a few template changes*; everything looks fine in Firefox (my fave), but not in Internet Explorer. Since I'm still in a wish-I-had-a-Mac state, I don't know about Safari; I'd appreciate page-look feedback from any Safari-riding readers.

I think it's all better now; if not please let me know. Thanks!
---------
* Surprisingly tricky to do away with most of the default "Profile" bits for a simple, uncluttered page top. At least I found it so, mostly because I wanted to keep the pictorial profile "link." I'm no expert but I learned a few things; if you're interested in any details let me know.

RoboRoach

2005-05-22T09:24:00.000-05:00

and I quote, "a cockroach-controlled mobile robot system"
Slashdot makes us aware of a unique (hope! hope!) project involving giant hissing cockroaches and robotic hardware. Fascinating, yet revolting; I like it!

Still, I wonder if the researcher has thought this through. These cockroaches might seem relatively stupid, with brain / reasoning / thinking capacity somewhere between humans and overachiever rocks - and there's a lot of overlap across these three, if you know what I mean and I think you do - but do we really want to give them this level of enabling technology?

Doesn't this guy read books or watch movies? I'm kidding of course; truth is I'm amazed and impressed by the concept, design and implementation. Though I gotta say my favorite part is the closing line from the Slashdot article:

Debugging the project is inherently impossible.

A Long Time Ago etc.

2005-05-21T23:37:00.000-05:00

'he was unarmed' - you can say that again
Capsule review: Star Wars Episode III is a great movie.

I think it’d seem a great film to anyone. Anyone that is, who hasn’t seen Episodes IV, V, and VI. Yeah. Not me.

III is a good movie, with much to like: lightsaber duels – I don’t recall seeing such well-defined ‘saber tips, is that a new effect? – space- and land-based battles, a planet full of enormous, hairy bipedal canine-like creatures wearing bandoliers, and only a couple brief shots of a certain tall, stupid-looking, pink floppy-eared CG lamer.

For me, all these likable elements didn’t carry the film as a whole. III’s story consists of and depends on several threads of conflict; yet all their conclusions were revealed as back-story in IV, V and VI.

In essence we saw the end of the movie first, then went back to see what led up to it. Unless a movie relies on a crucial, unexpected end-twist (think Sixth Sense), a known outcome isn’t a big problem. If a movie tells an engaging story with appropriate detail, I’ll enjoy the whole thing even knowing how it ends. An example is Jackson’s LOTR trilogy.

If I’d seen say, the last Rings film first, I’d know the end. Or at least the parts of the end Jackson chose to include. But that’s another rant and – predictably – I digress. With LOTR, watching (or reading) The Return of the King takes almost nothing away from The Fellowship of the Ring. The stories are so big, so involved and well written, each one amazes and entertains irrespective of the others.

Maybe it’s an issue of scope; maybe Star Wars was too small for Mr. Lucas to pull off the end-first trick. Or maybe I saw this film with a kind of tunnel vision, only interested in a too-small part of the story. Maybe I should try to think of some other word to use besides ‘maybe.’

Maybe not.

Seriously though, as I write this I realize all I cared about was Darth Vader’s story. I wanted III to tell me how he went from edgy Jedi to The Man In Black. III does a good job at telling how ol’ yellow eyes – the Emperor – got what he wanted. Then there’s the Jedi thread – remember how there was a well-stocked Jedi Council in I and II, but pretty much just Obi-Wan (and Yoda) in IV? Spoiler alert (not): something Bad happens to the Jedi somewhere between II and IV. III tells me, “They were blindsided!” Okay…that’s the “what” part. Why? How? IMO cheeseburgerbrown does a better job explaining this than Episode III. Ouch.

I think the movie tries to tell the story of Anakin’s metamorphosis. I won’t go into spoiler-type details here; if you’re interested in my perception of its attempt, let me know. To me, the film portrayed Anakin as a shallow, almost stupid character. Watching III I wanted, needed strong feelings for him one way or the other, but found none.

Item of note: Moviegoers cheered and applauded when the Star Wars graphic first appeared, and again at the movie's end. One round was strong, the other tepid. Matching the events and responses is left as an exercise to the reader. If you're not sure which goes where, re-read this post; I'd say I wasn't the only one un-wowed.

At my core I’m an optimist. Either that or an optometrist, I forget which. Where was I? Right – optimism. So despite my current disappointment with Episode III I’ll be okay, ‘cause for an optimist there’s always (you're an optometrist so you saw this coming, right?) a new hope.

Dubious Distinction Pt. One

2005-05-21T11:53:00.000-05:00

wokka wokka wokka ad nauseum
Namco's PacMan arcade game turns 25 this year. PacMan was my only true arcade game love. Here the word "love" means of course "addiction".

I've tried other games; usually they had too many knobs and buttons for my eye coordination challenged hands, the notable exceptions being Whac-A-Mole and one other game with a mallet and sliding croc or gator heads that said stuff like "Ow", "Now I'm angry" - midgame taunt - and "You're pretty good" at game's end, unless you sucked. Can't remember what it said in that case, but - as usual - I digress.

PacMan was simple, yet tricky: one control, no buttons, and something like nine different levels or mazes. Game's challenge came from faster ghosts with shorter regen times, and (I think) less navigable mazes as one moved through the levels.

I got pretty good. Posted respectable scores of a hundred thousand plus points, but I couldn't get much farther than - well, I've forgotten the details; basically I hit a wall. Then one day I saw a newspaper article about a guy in Pennsylvania who'd figured out how to get through the hardest levels. He claimed scores exceeding 2,000,000 points. I was in a word, impressed.

So I wrote to him and asked if he'd share his secrets. Here the word "wrote" means "wrote," as in pen, paper, envelope and stamp. Yes indeedy boys and girls, this was pre-email. In fact it was pre-internet, pre-Windows, pre-PC...but again, I digress.

He wrote back. Woohoo! Hand-drawn mazes and tips for getting past my wall. Thus came the day when I set my personal best PacMan score, a million two hundred thousand-something. I could have kept going but it took 45 minutes to pass the million mark, and I decided I had enough for one game, so I walked away.

And never went back. End of addiction, end of obsession. Weird, eh?

That's me.

Serendipityware

2005-05-19T22:27:00.000-05:00

needs more syllables
Did something Right at work today. I had a demo-ready version of our current software project done in time for a weekly visit from our customer. The program manager was glad to be able to demonstrate our progress on a target system, and the group of customers seemed pleased as well.

Later I learned one of the customer-side managers offered our PM a suggestion to improve productivity: maybe everyone should start wearing two different-colored shoes to work.

Steppin' outside the box.

Ready To Move On?

2005-05-19T21:43:00.000-05:00

honey have you seen my lightsaber anywhere
Haven't yet seen Star Wars III. Soon; probably this weekend my wife and I will try to help poor Mr. Lucas get right-side up on all those loans he must have accumulated. In the meantime I find myself thinking I'm already Over It, even if it's a great movie.

Saturation leads to desensitization. Desensitization leads to indifference. Indifference leads to...never mind. Yoda's riff - fear, anger, hate, all that - better, his was.

All that plus according to an item on Slashdot, one so inclined can already find 'Sith' online. The tiny part of me not wholly turned to the dark side of disillusionment is surprised it took so long.

What's that, you say? Cynical? Moi?

But of course. I find cynicism acts like a mental flu shot, and protects me from disillusionment and similar communicable ailments. YMMV.

Trouble In Paradise?

2005-05-19T06:42:00.000-05:00

three if by email
The internet - whatever that is - has always seemed like a fluid, fast-paced thing. Place. Whatever. Sites come and go; previously working links "die." Aside: were dead links once alive? Never mind.

Years ago I learned of a micronation located within Milwaukee, Wisconsin. In 1979 some kid decided to secede from the US, and started his own country. I poked around the site for a while, amused by this person's creativity. Imaginative, detailed and cool, I thought; I bookmarked it and moved on. Have I mentioned I'm a geek at heart?

Some time after I first visited Talossa, the kingdom expanded; people could and did join as citizens. All kinds of elaborate Stuff came into existence. I still felt disinclined to apply, but kept the 'mark.

So this morning I checked to see if the kingdom still existed. The short answer is yes, though a rift seems to have developed. Would that be a revolutionary or civil war? Guess I need to create another bookmark, then try and sort out what happened there.

Maybe Demosthenes could help them resolve their differences.

Dear Dead Friends / An Open Letter

2005-05-18T21:18:00.000-05:00

late again
How many years since you left the land of the living? At least five for Rockie, could be ten or twelve for Bill. Much has happened during this time, but some things haven't changed. There's still no cure for AIDS, and little understanding for people afflicted with it (or at risk).

In so many ways, I was an idiot. Insensitive? Maybe just clueless. We were friends; I cared about you...but found it too easy to stay out of contact. No doubt you felt little if any sense of loss, not hearing from me. Despite the distance between us - some emotional, most physical - I was still taken by surprise.

Bill, you were already dead when I finally called to say hello; I didn't even know you were leaving. Nothing I could have done either way, I guess. While I wished I had called a year or two earlier, I grieved for those close to you. I was just an out-of-touch friend from long ago.

Rockie - I still don't know anyone quite like you, and I really miss talking with you. Recently I listened to an entire opera on CD, Massenet's Thais, first time for me. You'd have made some wisecrack - here I'm thinking, "About time, buddy" or "I suppose you want an award," - and then you'd tell me things I needed to hear.

Hoping you get a chance to do so, someday. Until then I'll do my best, try to not be an idiot, take care of what's been entrusted to me.

And sometimes, deeply miss the two of you.

God knows...

Darth Side Part Deux

2005-05-17T16:08:00.000-05:00

Can't decide if sites like this one are a kind of tribute, or more like remoras...

"Not that there's anything wrong with that." Some of my best friends are virtual remoras. And most of them would say I'm one, too.

Truly, I mean no disrespect. I'm leaning more toward the "tribute" answer.

(Update)
Yes. Having now actually read several of the items, I'd say tribute. Nicely done, too.

The end.

Someone with talent - how unusual

2005-05-17T06:37:00.000-05:00

Stumbled across this Journal Of Darth Vader; actual title is The Darth Side: Memoirs of a Monster. Far and away some of the most entertaining writing I've seen in a long time. Author's entries are great, "dialogs" within reader comments are funny, too.

My current favorite quote comes from Haste Makes Waste, where Vader shares this thought following a ponderous monologue from his master the Emperor:
"Man, that guy loves the sound of his own voice! Luckily no one can see me roll my eyes behind this masque."

For more from the Darth Side author, start here. Thanks for the nice work, mon.

Thin Air

2005-05-15T15:26:00.000-05:00

Working a couple weeks in Utah for a certain unnamed former employer (they're like, shy, okay? Leave 'em alone), I decided to do a little weekend mountain climbing. I had two criteria: day trip, and high altitude. One of the tallest in the area proved to be Wheeler Peak in eastern Nevada - 13,063 feet.

I know we're not talking Everest, or even half-Everest. But I've lived in Florida for decades, where anything taller than the local Mt. Trashmore qualifies as impressive. The guidebook said the Wheeler Peak summit trail was rated "difficult." The trail started at 10,000 feet, covered five miles, took six to eight hours to complete. The last stretch before the summit was "brutal." So of course the Idiot inside my head said "Yeah! That's the one we want!"

At 13,000 ft. I wouldn't need oxygen, but I'd likely notice a difference from say, Florida - roughly 20 ft below sea level - or even central Utah at ~4500 ft. Anyway - bla bla-bla bla bla - here's a view from the top.

@13,063 feet. I'm looking north, so you're looking south. I think. I might have been a little light-headed, in addition to the self-inflicted absence of hair.

Profile Photo, Take 1

2005-05-15T13:00:00.000-05:00

Red & purple go with almost anything.

Evangelism Through Graffiti?

2005-05-14T13:03:00.000-05:00

I don't think so, even if the writer/artist has permission. But say we accept using graffiti to "reach" people. Somehow I don't think scrawling religious catch-phrases in public restroom toilet stalls gets the job done, no pun intended.

Maybe the writer meant it more as a testimony, a kind of Here's What I Believe.

Hmm.

Sorry, answer's still no.

WWJD, indeed.

Geeks-R-Us

2005-05-14T10:25:00.000-05:00

Not exactly a surprise, but -

Quick-checking Yahoo's "In The News" shortlist of headlines this morning, two items caught my (admittedly shortlived) attention. Since these articles get relocated, I'm not "linking" them; if you're interested in their content you can of course look 'em up.

Where was I? Oh yeah, article titles. These two:
• New nuclear battery lasts 12 years
• Esquire slowly revealing 'sexiest woman alive'

Which of these two do you suppose would be more interesting to a "typical" heterosexual male? The second one seems the obvious choice. But what happens if said male is also an engineer, whose browser history is dominated by sites like slashdot.org and thinkgeek.com?

Yeah. The battery, with almost no mental debate. And I don't have an overloud car-stereo to blame, either. Curses!

Believe it or not, my wife might feel somewhat ambivalent when I tell her about this...

Reality

2005-05-12T21:49:00.000-05:00

Near-reality, anyway. Mine is similar to this one, only

Uglier, and
Older

Here the word 'older' means more than seventeen years since the dealer shook somebody's hand. I had to "park" the off-road tires for a set more appropriate for commuting. Still - I can't complain.

Obviously that's not true. But I could complain more (I know can you believe it?) and have more problems. So, I'd rather fly but this will do in the meantime.

Return to the Gallery

What I Need

2005-05-12T21:36:00.000-05:00

Oh to be "green" and freed from dependence on fossil fuels. This is an example of biodiesel. Though I'm predictably excited about the prospect of ladling old french-fries grease into some kind of clarifier on a regular basis, I'm still maintaining a guarded Wait And See attitude. As in Wait until you-know-where freezes over, and See how mainstream these people look Not.

Seriously though, if I could afford the entry fee I'd not hesitate to make the switch. I like french fries, don't you? And so far no activist groups have surfaced to defend the much-maligned french fry, so there's still time to jump on the old bandwagon. Just be careful you don't slip on the grease.

Return to the Gallery

Snakebit / The Edge Of Madness

2005-05-12T21:06:00.000-05:00

This thing really does exist; it's called a Tomahawk. A quote from the official website: "Tomahawk is enough to make a stuntman want his mommy."

My mind translates this warning into "oh momma how I want one of these."

Here's the math:
X engineers + 1 engine (say, from a Dodge Viper) + special "motorcycle" frame = Y.

Perhaps you're thinking it should be "Why?!" rather than Y (if you're an engineer, I bet not).

Performance:
0-60 mph: 2.5 seconds
Top Speed: 300+ mph

That would be the "why." I saw an article in an engineering design mag for this "project" several years ago. As I remember it, the story quoted a designer offering a theoretical top speed along the lines of >500 mph, though no one was suggesting that would happen.

I would ride one of these in a heartbeat. Coincidentally, that's probably about how long I'd last trying to keep this beast under control. Still - imagine the envious, approving stares while you're stopped at that red light. The light turns green, you wrench the throttle and watch your torso (and the bike of course) blast off for the next intersection. Then your newly separated head hits the pavement.

Maybe we'll wait for the production version.

Return to the Gallery

The One I Want

2005-05-12T20:38:00.000-05:00

Yep. If I had the $50,000 to cover the price of admission, I'd be on this ride every single day, and without question I would truly enjoy the daily commute. Forget high-speed rail and carpooling (and social responsibility I suppose). Say these words out loud: "I am cleared for takeoff." So long, ground-bound!

Return to the Gallery

Way-Loud Car Tunes, Impotence Linked

2005-05-12T20:13:00.000-05:00

Grad student research uncovers all kinds of interesting stuff. Case in point: an apparent link between frequent exposure to bone-rattling, high volume car stereos and impotence in young and middle-aged males. Yet another cause for impotence, just what we need.

You: What is "sarcasm?" Alex: Correct.

What does this mean? Simply put, that guy down the street with the ultra-expensive, megawatt system jammed into the trunk of his Honda? One day - long before he's old and decrepit - he's going to start experiencing "sexual dysfunction." As in, Can't Get It Up. And the research isn't encouraging about things getting better, either. Not good, dude!

I wasn't able to get much detail; it's currently unpublished. Something about certain energetic frequencies, resonance and gradual, possibly irreversible deterioration of male sex glands.

So you might want to turn that down some, dude, before your gonads do a slow fade and leave you hanging...limp.

Good luck with that, eh.

Light Joke

2005-05-12T13:26:00.000-05:00

Q: How many attention-deficit people does it take to change a light bulb?
(answer in 1st comment)

I'll Wait for the eBay Knock-offs

2005-05-11T12:44:00.000-05:00

According to an AP story seen on Yahoo! Bonhams auction house in London plans to sell some abstract paintings created by Congo, a contemporary of Pablo Picasso. Per the article, "Three tempera on paper works - brightly colored compositions of bold brushstrokes - will be featured" in a sale of "Modern and Contemporary Art" scheduled for June 20th.

I've seen this Congo's stuff; she created something like 400 paintings in the late 1950s. Perhaps unsurprisingly, critics - we know how they are - were unimpressed. While she's no Picasso, Congo is without question an artist.

She's also a chimpanzee. And for all anyone knows, she might still be alive. Or not. When asked if Congo was still alive, a Bonhams spokeswoman said it was not immediately known. Whatever that means.

Not sure how Yahoo files its photos, but you might find a sample of Congo's work here. Hmm, wonder why Congo paintings are "untitled?" Probably just some miscommunication. Either that, or no one at Bonhams wants to admit all the paintings were titled "Hoo-hoo-hoo! Ahh! Ahh!" by the artist herself.

If you can't find a copy to view, don't despair. No doubt someone will buy the three paintings at auction ("I got 'em for chimp - I mean chump - change!"). You'll find hundreds of the same three - all original of course - available on eBay shortly thereafter, if not before. And don't feel bad about paying good money for something like this; Picasso himself supposedly owned a Congo. Painting. At least that's what some say.

Enjoy.

If you read the AP story (on Yahoo) you'll notice it has Congo as a male; not so, according to backspace.org. But I digress.

One more thing. If you're skeptical about Congo's status as a bona-fide artist, consider these words from the AP story:
"Congo quickly learned how to handle a brush and pencils, instead of knocking them over or trying to eat them. He painted within the boundaries of the sheet of paper and never allowed the paint to spill over the edge. He also appeared to know when he had finished a painting: He refused to pick up his brush or pencil over the work."

Like me, you probably know at least two or three so-called artists who can't make these claims, especially the part about not eating pencils. And brushes. So laugh if you want; I've got other plans. I have to find the name of an attorney-friend. I see a clear case of artist exploitation in the making here. Anybody have a chimp that (1) looks around 50 years old, and (2) generally avoids eating paint brushes? I'll consider human stand-ins, if the arms look long enough...

Ones With Chocolate, Mostly

2005-05-10T10:04:00.000-05:00

Famous hero Superman and I have much in common. For example, we have similar vulnerabilities and strengths. Superman's main weakness is of course Kryptonite; mine - I admit it - is Krispy Kreme doughnuts.

Coincidence? I think not.

Burst Of Old News

2005-05-09T18:11:00.000-05:00

This just in, from space.com: BREAKING NEWS: Creation of Black Hole Detected Today
...
Astronomers have photographed an amazing cosmic event -- the birth of a black hole. Wowie! Two neutron stars come together, and the result is a burst of gamma rays followed by a brief Pop! in the visible.

Uh, and a black hole. Can't forget that. Can't see it, of course, but that's another story.

We might expect this newborn black hole to be given some kind of stately cosmic name, or maybe something cute; I was thinking "Goober." Seems I have little or no imagination for these things, in light of the actual name chosen by our ever-clever scientific community:

GRB050509b.

Kind of rolls off the tongue, doesn't it? Heh-heh. Those crazy, fun-loving scientists!

G00ber, definitely.

Before you go hunting for that intergalactic congratulations card and gift set, hang on. The article also says the "merger" (can we start drawing industry parallels now?) actually happened some time back. How long, you say? Try "2.2 billion years."

So I guess lil' G00ber is like, a black hole teenager by now. Wonder if it hangs with that Goth crowd, two galaxies over...

Holter and I, or Holter and me?

2005-05-09T14:47:00.000-05:00

Leaving a local Subway Shop this afternoon wearing my newly attached pulse monitor, I notice two high school girls arriving for off-campus lunch. Just before we pass, the right-side one lets fly a guy-class belch. Not bad, I think, especially when she offered no apology to me or her friend, not even an "oops" or a sideways glance.

Reassures me that I am indeed invisible.

I gave her points for the public setting, volume and clarity. Points left unawarded for her too-cool demeanor: she could have at least offered a self-satisfied smile.

3.9 out of 5.

Drive

2005-05-05T06:50:00.000-05:00

From the mind-boggling numbers dept.
You might have some idea how long a tankful of gas typicallys lasts in your vehicle, and/or how many gallons your tank holds. And you might know how many gallons of gas come from the infamous "barrel" of oil; it's just under 20.

Given this knowledge, how long do you think a billion barrels of oil would fuel the US? According to one estimate ... about 45 days.

Makes me want to pull over, shut off the car and think for a while.

Leave Mine Stupid, Thanks

2005-05-04T19:12:00.000-05:00

Computerized grocery carts? Something smells fishy, and it's not the halibut.

From IBM comes the "shopping buddy," a touch screen thingie for shopping carts. I liked OS/2, but this gives me bad vibes, not so unusual with the shopping carts around this area.

According to an AP article, IBM exec Ken Lawler says, "It helps save you time, and it helps save you money. It's all about making it easy for you." These babies have something like a mini gps for in-store navigation and locating stuff down aisle Whatever.

Well, then? Sign me up!

Wait a minute...I liked OS/2, but some people think IBM totally botched its development, marketing and release. Here's another description of the smart cart concept from the same AP article: "The whole model is driven by advertisers' need to get in front of consumers."

I'm thinking, get thee behind me.

Dibs On The Crow's Nest

2005-05-04T19:04:00.000-05:00

An AP article I noticed on May 3 - might still be here - says we might see working solar sails within ten years. Of course the shortsighted, overly cautious planners expect the first missions to be payload-only, bound for inner planets.

If they change their minds and send something decent in the other direction, count me in.