Friday, July 7, 2006

Alika, RIP

Alika died today, very suddenly and very unexpectedly — he was just over two years old, and had no health problems that we knew of. He was our “gentle monster” cat; he will be missed by all his two-footed and four-footed companions…

I’ve blogged about him several times before: here, here, and here.

Yesterday afternoon, Debbie spotted the fact that he was walking oddly. After observing him for a bit, both Debbie and I thought he had some muscle or skelatal problem — perhaps he’d fallen and twisted his back, something like that. Other than his odd movement, and reluctance to move, we didn’t see any signs of trouble. Debbie called the vet and went over the situation with her, and the vet told us to give Alika an anti-inflamatory steroid (we had some lying around), and to bring him in for a visit in the morning. I watched him last night, and saw no change. This morning Debbie visited with him several times, and saw no alarming signs. But when she went to load him up into a crate for the trip to the vet, she discovered that he’d died.

We had him examined by the vet, because we were concerned that whatever happened to him might also pose a risk to our other five indoor cats. But it turns out that Alika had very bad urinary tract blockage (unfortunately a fairly common problem with male cats). We’re told that a blockage of just two days or less can lead to a cat’s death. The most obvious way to detect this problem is through absence of urine in the litter box — but with five cats in the house, that’s a little hard to discern. The only other symptoms are behavioral, and the vet explained to us that these can be very hard to pick up, particularly if the cat was habitually sedentary — which Alika most definitely was.

So we’re left with the very sad feeling that if only we’d understood the seriousness of the problem — if only we’d gotten him to the vet earlier — then maybe he’d still be with us. I put that question to the vet, and she said it was possible that had we brought him in last night, it might have been early enough to save him — but most likely not, as his condition was very advanced. We really needed to spot the symptoms earlier to have had a good chance of saving him. For the umpteen millionth time, we found ourselves wishing that our animal friends could just tell us when they were hurting.

RIP, Alika. We will fondly remember our gentle monster kitty…

Thursday, July 6, 2006

Jonny Rebel Update

First, from news reports yesterday (various sources):

A young man accused of driving a BMW at speeds up to 100 mph before slamming into a pickup truck, killing a newspaper carrier on her pre-dawn rounds, pleaded not guilty Wednesday to a vehicular manslaughter charge.

"He’s charged with vehicular manslaughter with gross negligence,” Deputy District Attorney Terrie Roberts said. “He faces up to six years in prison if he is found guilty."

Superior Court Judge Laura Halgren, who allowed Dallo to remain free on $50,000 bail, scheduled a readiness conference for Aug. 11 and a preliminary hearing for Sept. 12.

Prosecutors say alcohol or drugs were not involved in the crash.

This is exactly what I feared would happen. An innocent woman is killed by the willfully reckless actions of Jonny Dallo, and the maximum punishment is six years. From what I could find on the Internet (with conflicting reports), the average sentence for vehicular manslaughter is between 6 and 30 months — with about 25% receiving no jail time at all.

One lawyer’s site defines vehicular manslaughter as “… an unintentional killing that occurred during the commission of an unlawful act while driving a motor vehicle.” I’m certainly no lawyer, but in my reading of that definition I think I see the crux of my issue — it lies with the word “unintentional", which seems to be the key difference between involuntary manslaughter (which includes vehicular manslaugther) and the more stiffly punished “voluntary manslaughter,” or murder. It sounds to me like our laws have codified the liberal notion that we are only fully responsible for the consequences of our actions when we intended the consequences.

An anonymous commenter on one of my prior posts about Jonny Dallo (here and here) touched on another cherished liberal notion:

it is certain tht jonny dallo killed sum1 but it is also certain tht she wasnt wearing a seat belt either so she wasnt being safe

Blame the victim — a favorite liberal shibboleth, a way to shift part of the responsibility elsewhere. Oh, how I hate this kind of illogical thinking, and what it has done to our society!

Just in case anyone is in doubt, here’s where I stand: 100% of the responsibility for Jodi’s death is Jonny Dallo’s, for making the choice to behave in a reckless fashion that endangered everyone on that road — and which killed Jodi Burnett. I believe that Jonny — and others who demonstrate similarly reckless behavior — should be held accountable for the consequences of their actions, and their punishment should be widely published as a deterrent. I believe that unintentionally causing someone’s death as a result of reckless behavior isn’t far removed (in a moral sense) from intentionally causing someone’s death, and the punishments should be correspondingly similar.

Jonny Dallo should be in jail for a long, long time — and if he ever makes it out, he should never be allowed to drive again. His jail time should be unpleasant: punishment, not “rehabilitation”. I would just love to see a documentary produced about what he did, the consequences to Jodi and her family, and the unpleasant punishment that was his reward — and then require all school kids to watch it.

New Dictionary Entries

Tip o’the hat to Marsha.

Note: I’ve been unable to verify the authenticity of these, but who cares?

The Washington Post’s Style invitational asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition. Here are some of the winners:

Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts only until you realize it was your money to start with.

Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.

Bozone: (n.) The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.

Foreploy: Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of getting laid.

Cashtration: (n.) The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period.

Giraffiti: Vandalism spray-painted very, very, high.

Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn’t get it.

Inoculatte': To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.

Hipatitis: Terminal coolness.

Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease. (This one got extra credit).

Karmageddon: It’s like, when everybody is, like, sending off all these really bad vibes, right? and then, like, the Earth explodes and it’s like, a totally serious bummer.

Decaflon: (n.) The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.

Glibido: All talk and no action.

Dopeler effect: The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.

Arachnoleptic fit: (n.) The frantic dance performed just after you’ve accidentally walked through a spider web.

Beelzebug: (n.) Satan in the form of a mosquito that gets into your bedroom at 3 in the morning and cannot be cast out.

Caterpallor: (n.) The color you turn after finding half a grub in the fruit you’re eating.

Ignoranus: A person who’s both stupid and an asshole.

Wednesday, July 5, 2006

You Go, Girl!

Tip o’the hat to Judy:

Here’s a quote from a government employee who witnessed a recent interaction between an elderly woman and an antiwar protester in a Metro station in DC:

"There were protesters on the train platform handing out pamphlets on the evils of America. I politely declined to take one. An elderly woman was behind me getting off the escalator and a young (20ish) female protester offered grandma a pamphlet, which she politely declined. The young protester put her hand on the grandma’s shoulder as a gesture of friendship, and in a very soft voice said, 'Lady, don’t you care about the children of Iraq?' The old woman looked up at her and said, “Honey, my father died in Germany during World War II, I lost my husband in the Korean War, and a son in Vietnam. All three died so you could have the right to stand here, and bad mouth our country. If you touch me again, I’ll stick this umbrella up your ass and OPEN IT."

Toothbrushing Adventure

What could be more ordinary and routine than the ritual of brushing your teeth? Folks like me, who can remember vacuum tubes and cars that didn’t always work, have performed this routine so often than we’ve got every move perfectly choreographed. I know exactly how many twists of the wrist it takes to remove the toothpaste tube cap, precisely how much pressure (and how long) I must apply to get the perfect blob of toothpaste on my toothbrush, and I automatically move my hands to manipulate that brush to traverse every square millimeter of toothly surface. In other words, brushing my teeth is a totally mindless activity that I’ve completely reduced to practice. It’s been a long time since brushing my teeth was an adventure, with new things to learn and surprising experiences.

Until last night.

You see, a few days ago my lovely bride decided that we needed new toothbrushes. And she was right — our old brushes had bristles that were just barely discernable, and the handles were bent at odd angles from all the pressure we’d applied. So she got us some dandy new brushes, and last night was only the third or fourth time I’d used them. And I liked these new brushes, with their funny rubbery “bristles” that seemed to work very well at cleaning the crevices between my teeth.

But I was unprepared for the surprise that awaited me last night. About halfway through my toothbrushing ritual, sleepy, and not paying much attention … suddenly my toothbrush was vibrating! WTF!?!? Can you imagine the shock I felt, immersed in my familiar, comfortable routine, when my toothbrush takes the initiative? What the hell kind of toothbrush takes over the ritual on its own?

The results were much as you might expect. The toothbrush ended up in the shower. The mirror over the vanity was thoroughly sprayed with a suspension of toothpaste, water, and saliva. My ears were ringing from the loud noise I must have made. And Debbie was wondering what prompted such odd goings-on.

After I cleaned up the mess, I tracked down my toothbrush and gave it a thorough inspection. As I was pondering the problem of locating a toothbrush exorcist, I noticed that the toothbrush handle had a couple of little raised dots, one marked with a “+” and the other with a “-”. And sure enough, if you click on these buttons the toothbrush starts and stops vibrating. Ah ha! My toothbrush was not possessed!

Debbie had no idea that she’d purchased such advanced toothbrush technology. She just set out to buy new toothbrushes, and she thought these looked like serviceable examples when she saw them on the shelves at the market. And why not? They look like slightly unusual variants of an ordinary toothbrush, albeit with a slightly fatter-than-usual handle — but that just looked like it would be easy to grip (which it is). Neither of us suspected we’d be ambushed by our toothbrush.

Adventures in toothbrushing. You just never know where an adventure is lurking…

Tuesday, July 4, 2006

Veterans

Passed along by SimonM, and very appropriate for the day…

What Is A Vet?

Some veterans bear visible signs of their service: a missing limb, a jagged scar, a certain look in the eye. Others may carry the evidence inside them: a pin holding a bone together, a piece of shrapnel in the leg - or perhaps another sort of inner steel: the soul’s ally forged in the refinery of adversity.

Except in parades, however, the men and women who have kept America safe wear no badge or emblem. You can’t tell a vet just by looking.

What is a vet?

He is the cop on the beat who spent six months in Saudi Arabia sweating two gallons a day making sure the armored personnel carriers didn’t run out of fuel. He is the barroom loudmouth, dumber than five wooden planks, whose overgrown frat-boy behavior is outweighed a hundred times in the cosmic scales by four hours of exquisite bravery near the 38th parallel.

She - or he - is the nurse who fought against futility and went to sleep sobbing every night for two solid years in Da Nang.

He is the POW who went away one person and came back another - or didn’t come back AT ALL.

He is the Quantico drill instructor who has never seen combat - but has saved countless lives by turning slouchy, no-account rednecks and gang members into Marines, and teaching them to watch each other’s backs.

He is the parade - riding Legionnaire who pins on his ribbons and medals with a prosthetic hand.

He is the career quartermaster who watches the ribbons and medals pass him by.

He is the three anonymous heroes in The Tomb Of The Unknowns, whose presence at the Arlington National Cemetery must forever preserve the memory of all the anonymous heroes whose valor dies unrecognized with them on the battlefield or in the ocean’s sunless deep.

He is the old guy bagging groceries at the supermarket - palsied now and aggravatingly slow - who helped liberate a Nazi death camp and who wishes all day long that his wife were still alive to hold him when the nightmares come.

He is an ordinary and yet an extraordinary human being - a person who offered some of his life’s most vital years in the service of his country, and who sacrificed his ambitions so others would not have to sacrifice theirs.

He is a soldier and a savior and a sword against the darkness, and he is nothing more than the finest, greatest testimony on behalf of the finest, greatest nation ever known.

So remember, each time you see someone who has served our country, just lean over and say Thank You. That’s all most people need, and in most cases it will mean more than any medals they could have been awarded or were awarded.

Two little words that mean a lot, “THANK YOU."

Warner Anderson MD

Chief, Emergency Medicine

Gallup Indian Medical Center

U.S. Public Health Service

and LTC, MC

Group Surgeon

19 Special Forces Group Airborne

Thank you, indeed.

P.S.: Since writing this piece, Lieutenant Colonel Warner has been promoted to “full bird” Colonel. Our congratulations!

Our Anthem

Dr. Isaac Asimov is mostly known for his science fiction (think I, Robot and the Foundation trilogy) and the amazing number of non-fiction books and articles he wrote. But even if you’re very familiar with Dr. Asimov, you may not know that he was also an unabashed patriot who loved American history. And he loved — he really loved — our national anthem.

Dr. Asimov was well known on the “speaker’s tour", much in demand by audiences who wanted to hear about science, technology, or the future. He often spoke of his patriotism to these audiences — and despite his missing-in-action vocal talents, he often sang our anthem as well. Below is a transcript of one such speech he gave:

NO REFUGE COULD SAVE : BY DR. ISAAC ASIMOV

I was once asked to speak at a luncheon. Taking my life in my hands, I announced I was going to sing our national anthem — all four stanzas. This was greeted with loud groans. One man closed the door to the kitchen, where the noise of dishes and cutlery was loud and distracting. “Thanks, Herb,” I said. “That’s all right,” he said. “It was at the request of the kitchen staff”

I explained the background of the anthem and then sang all four stanzas. Let me tell you, those people had never heard it before — or had never really listened. I got a standing ovation. But it was not me; it was the anthem.

More recently, while conducting a seminar, I told my students the story of the anthem and sang all four stanzas. Again there was a wild ovation and prolonged applause. And again, it was the anthem and not me.

So now let me tell you how it came to be written.

In 1812, the United States went to war with Great Britain, primarily over freedom of the seas. We were in the right. For two years, we held off the British, even though we were still a rather weak country. Great Britain was in a life and death struggle with Napoleon. In fact, just as the United States declared war, Napoleon marched off to invade Russia. If he won, as everyone expected, he would control Europe, and Great Britain would be isolated. It was no time for her to be involved in an American war.

At first, our seamen proved better than the British. After we won a battle on Lake Erie in 1813, the American commander, Oliver Hazard Perry, sent the message, “We have met the enemy and they are ours.” However, the weight of the British navy beat down our ships eventually. New England, hard-hit by a tightening blockade, threatened secession.

Meanwhile, Napoleon was beaten in Russia and in 1814 was forced to abdicate. Great Britain now turned its attention to the United States, launching a three-pronged attack.

The northern prong was to come down Lake Champlain toward New York and seize parts of New England.

The southern prong was to go up the Mississippi, take New Orleans and paralyze the west.

The central prong was to head for the mid-Atlantic states and then attack Baltimore, the greatest port south of New York. If Baltimore was taken, the nation, which still hugged the Atlantic coast, could be split in two. The fate of the United States, then, rested to a large extent on the success or failure of the central prong.

The British reached the American coast, and on August 24, 1814, took Washington, D.C. Then they moved up the Chesapeake Bay toward Baltimore. On September 12, they arrived and found 1,000 men in Fort McHenry, whose guns controlled the harbor. If the British wished to take Baltimore, they would have to take the fort.

On one of the British ships was an aged physician, William Beanes, who had been arrested in Maryland and brought along as a prisoner. Francis Scott Key, a lawyer and friend of the physician, had come to the ship to negotiate his release.

The British captain was willing, but the two Americans would have to wait. It was now the night of September 13, and the bombardment of Fort McHenry was about to start.

As twilight deepened, Key and Beanes saw the American flag flying over Fort McHenry. Through the night, they heard bombs bursting and saw the red glare of rockets. They knew the fort was resisting and the American flag was still flying. But toward morning the bombardment ceased, and a dread silence fell. Either Fort McHenry had surrendered and the British flag flew above it, or the bombardment had failed and the American flag still flew.

As dawn began to brighten the eastern sky, Key and Beanes stared out at the fort, trying to see which flag flew over it. He and the physician must have asked each other over and over, “Can you see the flag?”

After it was all finished, Key wrote a four stanza poem telling the events of the night. Called “The Defense of Fort McHenry,” it was published in newspapers and swept the nation. Someone noted that the words fit an old English tune called, “To Anacreon in Heaven” — a difficult melody with an uncomfortably large vocal range. For obvious reasons, Key’s work became known as “The Star Spangled Banner,” and in 1931 Congress declared it the official anthem of the United States.

Now that you know the story, here are the words. Presumably, the old doctor is speaking. This is what he asks Key:

Oh! say, can you see, by the dawn’s early light,

What so proudly we hailed at the twilight’s last gleaming?

Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight,

O’er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?

And the rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air,

Gave proof thro' the night that our flag was still there.

Oh! say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave,

O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

"Ramparts,” in case you don’t know, are the protective walls or other elevations that surround a fort. The first stanza asks a question. The second gives an answer:

On the shore, dimly seen thro' the mist of the deep

Where the foe’s haughty host in dread silence reposes,

What is that which the breeze, o’er the towering steep.

As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?

Now it catches the gleam of the morning’s first beam,

In full glory reflected, now shines on the stream

'Tis the star-spangled banner. Oh! long may it wave

O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

"The towering steep” is again, the ramparts. The bombardment has failed, and the British can do nothing more but sail away, their mission a failure. In the third stanza I feel Key allows himself to gloat over the American triumph. In the aftermath of the bombardment, Key probably was in no mood to act otherwise? During World War I when the British were our Staunchest allies, this third stanza was not sung. However, I know it, so here it is:

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore

That the havoc of war and the battle’s confusion

A home and a country should leave us no more?

Their blood has washed out their foul footstep’s pollution.

No refuge could save the hireling and slave

From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave,

And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave

O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

The fourth stanza, a pious hope for the future, should be sung more slowly than the other three and with even deeper feeling:

Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand

Between their loved homes and the war’s desolation,

Blest with victory and peace, may the Heaven - rescued land

Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation.

Then conquer we must, for our cause is just,

And this be our motto — “In God is our trust."

And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave

O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

I hope you will look at the national anthem with new eyes. Listen to it, the next time you have a chance, with new ears. Pay attention to the words. And don’t let them ever take it away … not even one word of it.

It’s a beautiful anthem, Dr. Asimov. And that star-spangled banner? It still waves over the land of the free and the home of the brave. Over my home, too.

Independence Day

Ben Stein, in his last column for Eonline (in December 2003) said talks who the real heroes are:

How Can Someone Who Lives in Insane Luxury Be a Star in Today’s World? by Ben Stein

As I begin to write this, I “slug” it, as we writers say, which means I put a heading on top of the document to identify it. This heading is “eonlineFINAL,” and it gives me a shiver to write it. I have been doing this column for so long that I cannot even recall when I started.

I loved writing this column so much for so long I came to believe it would never end.

Lew Harris, who founded this great site, asked me to do it maybe seven or eight years ago, and I loved writing this column so much for so long I came to believe it would never end.

But again, all things must pass, and my column for E! Online must pass. In a way, it is actually the perfect time for it to pass. Lew, whom I have known forever, was impressed that I knew so many stars at Morton’s on Monday nights.

He could not get over it, in fact. So, he said I should write a column about the stars I saw at Morton’s and what they had to say.

It worked well for a long time, but gradually, my changing as a person and the world’s change have overtaken it. On a small scale, Morton’s, while better than ever, no longer attracts as many stars as it used to. It still brings in the rich people in droves and definitely some stars.

I saw Samuel L. Jackson there a few days ago, and we had a nice visit, and right before that, I saw and had a splendid talk with Warren Beatty in an elevator, in which we agreed that Splendor in the Grass was a super movie.

But Morton’s is not the star galaxy it once was, though it probably will be again.

Beyond that, a bigger change has happened. I no longer think Hollywood stars are terribly important. They are uniformly pleasant, friendly people, and they treat me better than I deserve to be treated. But a man or woman who makes a huge wage for memorizing lines and reciting them in front of a camera is no longer my idea of a shining star we should all look up to.

A real star is the soldier of the 4th Infantry Division who poked his head into a hole on a farm near Tikrit, Iraq.

How can a man or woman who makes an eight-figure wage and lives in insane luxury really be a star in today’s world, if by a “star” we mean someone bright and powerful and attractive as a role model?

Real stars are not riding around in the backs of limousines or in Porsches or getting trained in yoga or Pilates and eating only raw fruit while they have Vietnamese girls do their nails. They can be interesting, nice people, but they are not heroes to me any longer.

A real star is the soldier of the 4th Infantry Division who poked his head into a hole on a farm near Tikrit, Iraq. He could have been met by a bomb or a hail of AK-47 bullets. Instead, he faced an abject Saddam Hussein and the gratitude of all of the decent people of the world.

A real star is the U.S. soldier who was sent to disarm a bomb next to a road north of Baghdad. He approached it, and the bomb went off and killed him.

A real star, the kind who haunts my memory night and day, is the U.S. soldier in Baghdad who saw a little girl playing with a piece of unexploded ordnance on a street near where he was guarding a station. He pushed her aside and threw himself on it just as it exploded. He left a family desolate in California and a little girl alive in Baghdad.

I no longer want to perpetuate poor values by pretending that who is eating at Morton’s is a big subject.

The stars who deserve media attention are not the ones who have lavish weddings on TV but the ones who patrol the streets of Mosul even after two of their buddies were murdered and their bodies battered and stripped for the sin of trying to protect Iraqis from terrorists.

We put couples with incomes of $100 million a year on the covers of our magazines. The noncoms and officers who barely scrape by on military pay but stand on guard in Afghanistan and Iraq and on ships and in submarines and near the Arctic Circle are anonymous as they live and die.

I am no longer comfortable being a part of the system that has such poor values, and I do not want to perpetuate those values by pretending that who is eating at Morton’s is a big subject.

There are plenty of other stars in the American firmament. The policemen and women who go off on patrol in South Central and have no idea if they will return alive. The orderlies and paramedics who bring in people who have been in terrible accidents and prepare them for surgery. The teachers and nurses who throw their whole spirits into caring for autistic children. The kind men and women who work in hospices and in cancer wards.

Think of each and every fireman who was running up the stairs at the World Trade Center as the towers began to collapse.

Now you have my idea of a real hero.

Last column, I told you a few of the rules I had learned to keep my sanity. Well, here is a final one to help you keep your sanity and keep you in the running for stardom: We are puny, insignificant creatures.

We are not responsible for the operation of the universe, and what happens to us is not terribly important. God is real, not a fiction, and when we turn over our lives to Him, he takes far better care of us than we could ever do for ourselves.

In a word, we make ourselves sane when we fire ourselves as the directors of the movie of our lives and turn the power over to Him.

I came to realize that life lived to help others is the only one that matters. This is my highest and best use as a human.

I can put it another way. Years ago, I realized I could never be as great an actor as Olivier or as good a comic as Steve Martin — or Martin Mull or Fred Willard — or as good an economist as Samuelson or Friedman or as good a writer as Fitzgerald. Or even remotely close to any of them.

But I could be a devoted father to my son, husband to my wife and, above all, a good son to the parents who had done so much for me. This came to be my main task in life.

I did it moderately well with my son, pretty well with my wife and well indeed with my parents (with my sister’s help). I cared for and paid attention to them in their declining years. I stayed with my father as he got sick, went into extremis and then into a coma and then entered immortality with my sister and me reading him the Psalms.

This was the only point at which my life touched the lives of the soldiers in Iraq or the firefighters in New York. I came to realize that life lived to help others is the only one that matters and that it is my duty, in return for the lavish life God has devolved upon me, to help others He has placed in my path. This is my highest and best use as a human.

As so many of you know, I am an avid Bush fan and a Republican. But I think the best guidance I ever got was from the inauguration speech of Democrat John F. Kennedy in January of 1961.

On a very cold and bright day in D.C., he said, “With a good conscience our only sure reward, with history the final judge of our deeds, let us go forth … asking His blessing and His help but knowing that here on Earth, God’s work must surely be our own."

And then to paraphrase my favorite president, my boss and friend Richard Nixon, when he left the White House in August 1974, with me standing a few feet away, “This is not goodbye. The French have a word for it — au revoir. We’ll see you again."

Au revoir, and thank you for reading me for so long. God bless every one of you. We’ll see you again.

I’ll be remembering my heroes today — those brave men and women who lost their lives or their limbs to keep my country free and independent.

To all my fellow Americans: Happy Independence Day! If you see a soldier today, say “thanks” and shake his (or her) hand…

Three Dogs

Last weekend, two friends (Vera and Konstantin) visited us, and while they were here Konstantin took a few pictures. We tried to get our three field spaniels to pose, but as you can see we only had moderate success.

Vera says:

I like the one where Debbie is telling the dogs very seriously to sit still, but they don’t, at least not Mikki!

Look at the middle photo, and you’ll see what she’s talking about!

As usual, click on the small photos to get a larger view…

Monday, July 3, 2006

Mo'i

At a recent agility meet where Debbie competed with Mo’i, a photographer (Terry Curtiss) captured these images of Mo’i running the course. He double-Q’d (double-qualified) on this day. From left-to-right:

Mo’i paused on the table, waiting for the command to speed off to the next obstacle.

Mo’i in mid-air, leaping over a jump with a lot of air between him and that bar.

Mo’i in the middle of the weave poles, totally focused on getting that big lunky body of his to wriggle in just the right way.

At the moment, Mo’i and Debbie (my lovely bride) are the number two field spaniel agility team in the country. And they’re gaining on number one <smile>!

As usual, click on any of the thumbnails for a larger view.

Iraq Images

R. L. Klika is familiar to many who follow the news in Iraq; many of his photos have been used by news organizations, the military’s PR folks, and others. The photo at right is one of his. He’s now posting at an interesting blog called High Desert Wanderer.

Pay him a visit now and then, won’t you?

Sunday, July 2, 2006

Flying the Flag

A couple of weeks ago we decided to replace our tattered old U.S. flag. We searched on the Internet for a high-quality flag and pole, and we found one we liked on Amazon — it was pricey, but had all the things we were looking for. When we got our order (more on that below), we were very pleased with the quality of the product. The flag is made from very heavy material, it is sewn beautifully (nearly everything is double-stitched), and the stars are embroidered. The flagpole spins very easily, which should keep the flag from wrapping around the pole. And the mounting bracket looks like it would hold up a ton, and its angle is easily adjustable. I put it up this morning, and Old Glory never looked better at our home.

When we initially received this order, there was a problem: the only part in the box was the spinning flagpole. This is when one always gets that sinking feeling…"Oh, no! Now I’ll have to go through some horrible hassle to straighten it out — if the vendor even will fix it!” So you can imagine my pleasant shock when I called the customer service 800 number, and got an actual person on the first ring. And the further shock when, after I described my problem, that person immediately said “That’s our problem, we’ll take care of it.” I was starting to wonder if I was hallucinating when the customer service person said they’d get it right out in a priority shipment, and I’d have it the day after next. And sure enough, on the promised date the box showed up, with the right stuff in it — along with a handwritten note that said:

Apologies for the goof. I’m the culprit.

Signed by the fellow who made the mistake.

That’s what I call excellent customer service. The company is called “Thompson Flag and Banner", though on Amazon they seem to go by “The Flag Center”. Either way, I know where I’m shopping the next time I need a flag…

Jonny Rebel

A few days ago I blogged about Jodi Burnett’s death at the hands of the reckless, thoughtless, and irresponsible Jonathan Dallo. A couple of things have happened since then that I thought you should know about.

First, this morning I read an anonymous comment on my earlier blog:

I totally agree with you! I too am sick of seeing people drive the way Jonathan Dallo did that morning. I did a little research on Jonathan…he was profiled on an episode of Dateline in which it was mentioned that he has a history of speeding tickets (do a Google search on Jonny Dallo to read for yourself). If this is true, why the heck did he still have a license? And why the heck did his parents allow him to drive their car at all if he has a history of being reckless? Perhaps if the legal system and his parents would’ve been more strict on Jonathan, Jodi would be alive today.

I can’t prove it with absolute certainty, but my commenter appears to be correct. I tried that link, and got several articles about “Jonny Dallo", who is the right age to be the same person as Jonathan Dallo. If Jonny Dallo is the same person as the Jonathan Dallo who killed Jodi Burnett, then the story is actually worse than I had thought, just as my commenter said. One of the articles refers to the “…pile of speeding tickets…” that Jonny Dallo had accumulated at age 17!. Other articles refer to his troubled and rebellious nature — being expelled from a special school, general tendencies to disobey rules and constraints, etc. Jonathan/Jonny was a ticking time bomb…

Second, I took a drive past the scene of the crime yesterday. Something jumped right out at me that was missing from all the articles I read: Jonathan Dallo wasn’t just passing at 100 MPH. He was passing on a blind curve! His driving behavior was even more irresponsible and idiotic than I thought.

Jodi’s death was already terribly tragic. If this is all true about Jonathan Dallo, then her death was even more unnecessary — as a society, we failed her. We failed to disarm the ticking time bomb named Jonathan Dallo, and she lost her life because of our failure.

Don’t you think we should demand laws that would stop the Jonathan Dallos of the world when they’ve demonstrated their inability to drive safely? And then actually enforce those laws? I think this would work just like Rudy Guilliani’s cleanup of New York — don’t let drivers get away with the misdemeanor-level offenses. Crack down on them, and the other crime will stop as well. I’m writing my state and county officials today — won’t you do the same? Let them know how you feel!

Friday, June 30, 2006

Slight Misunderstanding

Tip o’the hat to my mom:

It was just announced that Abu Musab al Zarqawi was killed in Iraq by American forces, as most people already know…

George Washington met him at the Pearly Gates. He slapped him across the face and yelled, “How dare you fight against the nation I helped conceive!"

Patrick Henry approached, punched him in the nose and shouted, “You wanted to end our liberties but you failed!"

James Madison followed, kicked him in the groin and said, “This is why I allowed our government to provide for the common defense!"

Thomas Jefferson was next, beat Zarqawi with a long cane and snarled, “It was evil men like you who inspired me to write the Declaration of Independence."

The beatings and thrashings continued as George Mason, James Monroe and 66 other early Americans unleashed their anger on the terrorist leader.

Zarqawi lay bleeding and in pain, an Angel appeared. Zarqawi wept and said, “This is not what you promised me."

The Angel replied, “I told you there would be 72 Virginians waiting for you in Heaven. What did you think I said?"

That’s my kind of angel!

Somhow I think the editorial staff at the New York Times would have trouble understanding this…

Thing Things

Tip o’the hat to JimM:

THREE THINGS TO THINK ABOUT:

COWS: Is it just me, or does anyone else find it amazing that our government can track a cow born in Canada almost three years ago, right to the stall where she sleeps in the state of Washington and they tracked her calves to their stalls? But they are unable to locate 11 million illegal aliens wandering around our country. Maybe we should give them all a cow.

THE CONSTITUTION: They keep talking about drafting a Constitution for Iraq. Why don’t we just give them ours? It was written by a lot of really smart guys, it’s worked for over 200 years and we’re not using it anymore.

TEN COMMANDMENTS: The real reason that we can’t have the Ten Commandments in a courthouse…you cannot post “Thou Shalt Not Steal,” “Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery” and “Thou Shall Not Lie” in a building full of lawyers, judges and politicians — it creates a hostile work environment.

Thursday, June 29, 2006

Jodi Burnett

Early yesterday morning, Jodi Burnett — a 40 year old wife and mother of five children — was killed in a senseless collision. She was in her pickup truck, on her newspaper delivery route. Stopped in a left-hand turn lane, she was rear-ended by a BMW allegedly traveling at over 100 miles per hour, driven by 19 year old Jonathan Dallo. The details, from the San Diego Union Tribune’s most recent article on the crash:

Pennings said Burnett was waiting to turn left from eastbound state Route 94 onto Rancho Miguel Road when her Ford F-150 truck was hit by the BMW about 4 a.m.

“Witnesses said the BMW was traveling at speeds of 100 mph and passing in the left-turn lane,” Pennings said.

The impact threw the truck onto its side on the westbound side of Route 94, Pennings said. Burnett, who was not wearing a seat belt, was thrown from the cab.

The BMW came to a stop about 80 yards farther east. The driver, identified as Jonathan Dallo, was uninjured, Pennings said.

A hard-working mother, on the job at 4 a.m., waiting in a left-hand turn lane, killed by a thoughtless, irresponsible young man driving like a maniac. That is so, so sad. And it is infuriating at the same time, because experience tells us that most likely this young man will suffer very little punishment. The all-too-usual pattern is that the judge (and jury, if there is one) will treat this as if it was an “accident” — outside of anyone’s control, without holding the perpetrator accountable for his actions. We’ll most likely hear things like “Oh, he’s such a young man, and young men make mistakes — we don’t want to ruin his life over one mistake!” and more such drivel, none of which will be of much consolation to Jodi’s family.

In recent years, I have personally seen a lot of driving behavior like that which took Jodi’s life. Not all of it was done by young men, either — a surprising number of women were amongst those that I saw. I have felt personally threatened on many occasions. I’d like to be surrounded by drivers who felt a sense of responsibility for the welfare of those around them; unfortunately a minority of drivers routinely behave in a reckless and dangerous fashion — like Jodi’s killer — and they are highly visible.

I’d like to never again have to read about someone like Jodi being killed. I don’t want to be killed like Jodi. I can only think of one way to persuade the knuckle-dragging idiots like Jodi’s killer to behave: threaten them with punishment. Real punishment. Charge the unthinking fool (and the others like him) with the crime he actually committed: first-degree murder, or at the very least second-degree murder and reckless endangerment. I’d like to see a clever prosecutor attempt the argument that Jodi’s killer demonstrated premeditation with his outrageous driving. If that doesn’t fly, the charge second-degree murder (and the reckless endangerment) seems clearly supportable. Put the S.O.B. away, for a long time, where he can’t kill anyone else.

Of course, the prosecutor would have to find a jury willing to hold the killer accountable. I’d like to think that’s possible, though I have to admit I may be wrong there. In one of California’s many liberal bastions, I’m sure I’ll not live long enough to see a jury do its job. Here in the much more conservative countryside where I live, I think we have a fighting chance.

Jodi’s killer needs to be held accountable for his actions — for the sake of Jodi, her family, and the rest of us who would like to live out our days without being murdered.

RIP, Jodi Burnett. May your family find the strength to make it through this awful experience, and keep you bright in their memories.

May you rot in a prison cell for the next 30 or 300 years, Jonathan Dallo. Suffering would be good, especially if others' knowledge of it deters similar crimes.

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

A Tribute

This coming September 11 will mark the fifth anniversary of the 9/11 attacks. A fellow named D. Challener Roe had a wonderful idea: that bloggers get together and create tribute pages for each victim of the 9/11 attacks — one blogger, one tribute.

You can read about the project, and it’s progress, on a special blog he’s created just for that purpose. I’ve also added a graphic to my site (at right, just below the Day-by-Day cartoon) that also links to the project blog.

So…

If you’re a blogger, and you haven’t aready signed up for the project…get your butt in gear and head on over there. If you’re not a blogger but would like to participate anyway, either start up a blog (it’s easy and it’s free from numerous blog hosts) or head over to the project blogs to see some other ideas about how to help.

And look here on September 11 for my tribute to Nicholas P. Rossomando, one of the firefighters who died in the World Trade Center on 9/11.

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Consensus

This essay was published in yesterday’s Wall Street Journal ($); I’ve taken the liberty of reproducing it in its entirety, after the fold (click on “Read more…", below).

Richard Lindzen is a prominent climatologist, one of many scientists who do not agree that what I’ll call the “global warming hypothesis” has been proven. The global warming hypothesis is this: that the observed warming trend of the overall climate of the Earth is caused by the activities of mankind. Note that there is no significant disagreement about whether the Earth is actually getting warmer — it is. The disagreement is over what is causing the warming trend — nature or mankind. And that leads into the political issue of whether we should try to do something about it, and whether anything we tried to do would be effective.

What you won’t read in the lamestream media is that Mr. Lindzen’s view is actually the consensus view amongst scientists who study climate. Their consensus is that the fact of global warming is indisputable, but that the cause of it not known — nor is it at all clear that we could mitigate it, or even that we should. This is a profoundly different view than that espoused by the stridently uninformed Al Gore.

Take a moment to read this excellent essay.

There Is No 'Consensus' On Global Warming

By RICHARD S. LINDZEN

June 26, 2006

According to Al Gore’s new film “An Inconvenient Truth,” we’re in for “a planetary emergency": melting ice sheets, huge increases in sea levels, more and stronger hurricanes and invasions of tropical disease, among other cataclysms — unless we change the way we live now.

Bill Clinton has become the latest evangelist for Mr. Gore’s gospel, proclaiming that current weather events show that he and Mr. Gore were right about global warming, and we are all suffering the consequences of President Bush’s obtuseness on the matter. And why not? Mr. Gore assures us that “the debate in the scientific community is over."

That statement, which Mr. Gore made in an interview with George Stephanopoulos on ABC, ought to have been followed by an asterisk. What exactly is this debate that Mr. Gore is referring to? Is there really a scientific community that is debating all these issues and then somehow agreeing in unison? Far from such a thing being over, it has never been clear to me what this “debate” actually is in the first place.

The media rarely help, of course. When Newsweek featured global warming in a 1988 issue, it was claimed that all scientists agreed. Periodically thereafter it was revealed that although there had been lingering doubts beforehand, now all scientists did indeed agree. Even Mr. Gore qualified his statement on ABC only a few minutes after he made it, clarifying things in an important way. When Mr. Stephanopoulos confronted Mr. Gore with the fact that the best estimates of rising sea levels are far less dire than he suggests in his movie, Mr. Gore defended his claims by noting that scientists “don’t have any models that give them a high level of confidence” one way or the other and went on to claim — in his defense — that scientists “don’t know… They just don’t know."

So, presumably, those scientists do not belong to the “consensus.” Yet their research is forced, whether the evidence supports it or not, into Mr. Gore’s preferred global-warming template — namely, shrill alarmism. To believe it requires that one ignore the truly inconvenient facts. To take the issue of rising sea levels, these include: that the Arctic was as warm or warmer in 1940; that icebergs have been known since time immemorial; that the evidence so far suggests that the Greenland ice sheet is actually growing on average. A likely result of all this is increased pressure pushing ice off the coastal perimeter of that country, which is depicted so ominously in Mr. Gore’s movie. In the absence of factual context, these images are perhaps dire or alarming.

They are less so otherwise. Alpine glaciers have been retreating since the early 19th century, and were advancing for several centuries before that. Since about 1970, many of the glaciers have stopped retreating and some are now advancing again. And, frankly, we don’t know why.

The other elements of the global-warming scare scenario are predicated on similar oversights. Malaria, claimed as a byproduct of warming, was once common in Michigan and Siberia and remains common in Siberia — mosquitoes don’t require tropical warmth. Hurricanes, too, vary on multidecadal time scales; sea-surface temperature is likely to be an important factor. This temperature, itself, varies on multidecadal time scales. However, questions concerning the origin of the relevant sea-surface temperatures and the nature of trends in hurricane intensity are being hotly argued within the profession.

Even among those arguing, there is general agreement that we can’t attribute any particular hurricane to global warming. To be sure, there is one exception, Greg Holland of the National Center for Atmospheric Research in Boulder, Colo., who argues that it must be global warming because he can’t think of anything else. While arguments like these, based on lassitude, are becoming rather common in climate assessments, such claims, given the primitive state of weather and climate science, are hardly compelling.

A general characteristic of Mr. Gore’s approach is to assiduously ignore the fact that the earth and its climate are dynamic; they are always changing even without any external forcing. To treat all change as something to fear is bad enough; to do so in order to exploit that fear is much worse. Regardless, these items are clearly not issues over which debate is ended — at least not in terms of the actual science.

A clearer claim as to what debate has ended is provided by the environmental journalist Gregg Easterbrook. He concludes that the scientific community now agrees that significant warming is occurring, and that there is clear evidence of human influences on the climate system. This is still a most peculiar claim. At some level, it has never been widely contested. Most of the climate community has agreed since 1988 that global mean temperatures have increased on the order of one degree Fahrenheit over the past century, having risen significantly from about 1919 to 1940, decreased between 1940 and the early '70s, increased again until the '90s, and remaining essentially flat since 1998.

There is also little disagreement that levels of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere have risen from about 280 ppmv (parts per million by volume) in the 19th century to about 387 ppmv today. Finally, there has been no question whatsoever that carbon dioxide is an infrared absorber (i.e., a greenhouse gas — albeit a minor one), and its increase should theoretically contribute to warming. Indeed, if all else were kept equal, the increase in carbon dioxide should have led to somewhat more warming than has been observed, assuming that the small observed increase was in fact due to increasing carbon dioxide rather than a natural fluctuation in the climate system. Although no cause for alarm rests on this issue, there has been an intense effort to claim that the theoretically expected contribution from additional carbon dioxide has actually been detected.

Given that we do not understand the natural internal variability of climate change, this task is currently impossible. Nevertheless there has been a persistent effort to suggest otherwise, and with surprising impact. Thus, although the conflicted state of the affair was accurately presented in the 1996 text of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), the infamous “summary for policy makers” reported ambiguously that “The balance of evidence suggests a discernible human influence on global climate.” This sufficed as the smoking gun for Kyoto.

The next IPCC report again described the problems surrounding what has become known as the attribution issue: that is, to explain what mechanisms are responsible for observed changes in climate. Some deployed the lassitude argument — e.g., we can’t think of an alternative — to support human attribution. But the “summary for policy makers” claimed in a manner largely unrelated to the actual text of the report that “In the light of new evidence and taking into account the remaining uncertainties, most of the observed warming over the last 50 years is likely to have been due to the increase in greenhouse gas concentrations."

In a similar vein, the National Academy of Sciences issued a brief (15-page) report responding to questions from the White House. It again enumerated the difficulties with attribution, but again the report was preceded by a front end that ambiguously claimed that “The changes observed over the last several decades are likely mostly due to human activities, but we cannot rule out that some significant part of these changes is also a reflection of natural variability.” This was sufficient for CNN’s Michelle Mitchell to presciently declare that the report represented a “unanimous decision that global warming is real, is getting worse and is due to man. There is no wiggle room.” Well, no.

More recently, a study in the journal Science by the social scientist Nancy Oreskes claimed that a search of the ISI Web of Knowledge Database for the years 1993 to 2003 under the key words “global climate change” produced 928 articles, all of whose abstracts supported what she referred to as the consensus view. A British social scientist, Benny Peiser, checked her procedure and found that only 913 of the 928 articles had abstracts at all, and that only 13 of the remaining 913 explicitly endorsed the so-called consensus view. Several actually opposed it.

Even more recently, the Climate Change Science Program, the Bush administration’s coordinating agency for global-warming research, declared it had found “clear evidence of human influences on the climate system.” This, for Mr. Easterbrook, meant: “Case closed.” What exactly was this evidence? The models imply that greenhouse warming should impact atmospheric temperatures more than surface temperatures, and yet satellite data showed no warming in the atmosphere since 1979. The report showed that selective corrections to the atmospheric data could lead to some warming, thus reducing the conflict between observations and models descriptions of what greenhouse warming should look like. That, to me, means the case is still very much open.

So what, then, is one to make of this alleged debate? I would suggest at least three points.

First, nonscientists generally do not want to bother with understanding the science. Claims of consensus relieve policy types, environmental advocates and politicians of any need to do so. Such claims also serve to intimidate the public and even scientists — especially those outside the area of climate dynamics. Secondly, given that the question of human attribution largely cannot be resolved, its use in promoting visions of disaster constitutes nothing so much as a bait-and-switch scam. That is an inauspicious beginning to what Mr. Gore claims is not a political issue but a “moral” crusade.

Lastly, there is a clear attempt to establish truth not by scientific methods but by perpetual repetition. An earlier attempt at this was accompanied by tragedy. Perhaps Marx was right. This time around we may have farce — if we’re lucky.

Mr. Lindzen is the Alfred P. Sloan Professor of Atmospheric Science at MIT.

Jamul Casino

News today the Jamul Indian tribe has revised its plans for the Jamul Casino: instead of building a 30+ story monster as a single project, now they’re planning to build in two phases. The first phase would occupy 4 of the reservations 6 acres, with 8 or 9 levels of parking, 2 levels of casino, and 1 level of offices — for 11 or 12 stories altogether (3 of which would be underground). After the casino was open, a second project would be built, covering the remaining two acres of the reservation. This would be a hotel. There are no firm plans for this hotel yet, but it could be 20 or more stories high, according to the Jamul tribal spokesperson.

This doesn’t sound like much of an improvement to me; really the only change is the nature of the skyline impact. While that’s obnoxious (under either the old plan or the new plan), the worst impacts are all still there, all caused by the huge numbers of people and cars added to the Jamul area: increased traffic, energy consumption, water consumption, and fire danger. Not to mention the rather complete destruction of the character of Jamul, which is rural (one of the major businesses in town is the feed store).

This news from the Jamul tribe seems to be prompted by the scheduled release of the long awaited Environmental Impact Report (EIR), which is due on July 26. I read this “news” as a sop to the locals, a hope — forlorn, I think — by the tribal supporters of the casino that they can get more local support, or at least less strident opposition.

I think they’re wrong,and San Diego County Supervisor Diane Jacobs expressed my feelings well in a statement she made yesterday (after being asked to comment on what the EIR should address):

“I don’t need an environmental study to tell me how flagrantly ridiculous this monster proposal is for a postage-stamp-sized village,” she said. “Residents, environmental groups, state and federal representatives and two California governors already know that the area is too rural and too biologically valuable for large-scale commercial development. The tribe and its out-of-state gaming financial backers are wasting their time and money, in addition to making enemies out of the community.”

Indeed. Though I don’t live in the town of Jamul (I live about 8 miles away from it, in rural Lawson Valley), and though the impact to me would indirect, I am one of those stridently opposed to the casino. My reasons: even the indirect impacts to me would be inconvenient and annoying (especially the traffic impacts to state highway 94), and the character of the town of Jamul is part of the overall rural atmosphere that attract my wife and I to this area in the first place. Our quality of life would be irreversibly diminished by the presence of a casino and all its associated hoopla, hustle, bustle, misdemeanors, and crime. It’s entirely possible that the impact would be so profound that we’d no longer want to live here, though I hope that’s not the case.

What I’d really like to see is this: the Jamul casino project dying such an unpleasant death, with such losses to its investors, that it is never resurrected again. Even better would be if its failure discouraged other such monstrous projects, in other areas.

Monday, June 26, 2006

Hapless

From an editorial in today’s WSJ ($) about state governments' booming revenues:

At least 40 states are in the black, and only a handful, such as the Gulf states wrecked by Hurricane Katrina and perpetually hapless New Jersey, are still spilling red ink. In 2005 state and local revenues grew by 10.5%, according to Census Bureau data, and so far this year tax receipts in most states are climbing at close to that level. California’s income tax revenues in April were up an astonishing 55% from last year. Oklahoma is so flush it has exceeded its legal limit on its rainy day fund.

"…perpetually hapless New Jersey…” just nails it, don’t you think?

As the Instapundit would say: heh!

Formative Events

This is the latest in a series of posts about the key events that shaped my life. Search for “formative events” to see them all.

When I first started getting into electronics, the general pattern of my activities was to build a design I found in a book. At the time, hobby electronics stores carried lots of inexpensive paperback books full of designs for various things, mainly based on vacuum tubes (remember, this was the 1960s). In these books you could find designs for power supplies, audio amplifiers, radio receivers and transmitters, and more exotic things like portable radios (very challenging with power-hungry tubes), light-sensitive switches, etc.

From old dead TVs (scrounged from the then-abundant TV repair shops) I’d scavenge the parts needed to build the designs from these books. Not just the obvious electronic components, but even the chassis — I’d strip an old TV chassis down until it was just the steel or copper (if it was a good TV) chassis with tube sockets and lug strips. Ah, lug strips — many of you, even if you’re into electronics, won’t know about these. Back in the 1960s, TVs weren’t made with printed circuit boards — instead, all the components were wired directly together, point-to-point, using either their leads or short pieces of wire. And the “lug strips” were the standard device to do this. They were just short strips of insulating material with a series of “lugs", which were small hoops, like croquet wickets, which you could wrap the ends of leads or wires around, and solder them securely.

Anyway, I’d start with such a stripped-down chassis, and then build my project directly onto it. Looked like hell, but if I did it right it would actually work.

One such project is the subject of this post. It was (or should have been) a very simple project — I wanted to make a regulated, variable 200 to 300 volt B supply (the high voltage supply used for the plate supply in a tube-based design). This would be the basis for other projects I wanted to build, and it would let me build just one regulated supply instead of several.

An aside for those who are electronically inclined: back then, a regulated supply was much more difficult to build than it is today. There was no such thing as the convenient integrated circuits of today, or even zener reference diodes — we had to build the whole darned thing from scratch, and then calibrate it ourselves. When I build an electronic project today, I still marvel at (by today’s standards) the simple little voltage regulators we can get so easily, or the very sophisticated switching regulators — either would have been sheer magic in the 1960s!

The design I’d chosen, out of one of those books of designs, used a couple of the most common tubes I’d find in TVs or radios: the 5U4 dual high-voltage rectifier, and the 12AU7 dual triode amplifier. It was a simple, straightforward design. I found the parts, I built it, and turned on the power. A bright blue arc formed across the top of the 5U4 (which was one of those big, chunky tubes not much smaller than an ordinary light bulb), and there was a sizzling sound — and a bit of smoke. The arc worked its way down the length of the tube, and there was a lould “pop", and then the fuse blew. Meanwhile, my voltmeter (which was monitoring the output) had pegged at something higher than 300V. In other words, the whole thing was a spectacular failure.

Since the 5U4 had disintegrated so spectacularly, I suspected a bad tube was the culprit. I had plenty of 5U4s, so I just popped another one in, replaced the fuse, and tried again. Same exact results. Next suspicion was that despite my careful check and re-check, I’d wired something wrong. So I checked again, against the circuit diagram in the book. Nope, everything was right.

Now what?

For a while, I was stumped. This had never happened to me before. Sure, I’d had projects that had failed to work — but every time the problem was either a mistake in my construction or a bad component (a common problem with scrounged components). This time, however, everything looked like it was correct. And it was such a simple circuit, compared to some other projects I’d built!

So I started troubleshooting in the only way available to me. I couldn’t turn the thing on and start measuring things, because it would self-destruct within seconds. So I started analyzing the circuit, trying to get a clue why the 5U4 would be arcing over. I worked backwards from the symptom (the arcing). Arcing over must mean the voltage was too high. Where does the voltage come from? The transformer. How could the transformer put out too much voltage? Well, this I could test — I unhooked the transformer from the circuit, and tested it in isolation. Sure enough, it was putting out 700 volts instead of the 350 volts called for by the circuit diagram. How could the voltage be exactly double? Ah…if the transformer’s dual secondaries were wired in series instead of parallel, that would do it — but the circuit design clearly showed a series wiring. Could the designer have made a mistake?

A mistake. Yes, the designer made a mistake. I rewired it in parallel, and flipped the power on — my meter showed 250V, exactly what it should have. No arcing, no sizzling, just the warm glow of the tube filaments and the appropriate hum of the transformer.

This silly little incident, though, was the first time it ever dawned on me that I might be able to design a circuit myself, instead of using these books. All the reading I’d done about electronics was focused on understanding how things worked, not designing them. I had a default assumption that only people with years of schooling could possibly understand how to design an electronic circuit. But in the course of troubleshooting that darned power supply, it dawned on me that I was figuring out how to make it work — how to design it. And after that, I built a series of projects that were of my own design — the first real engineering I ever did. The first design I still remember: a simple unregulated high-voltage supply. I had no purpose for it; I just wanted to see if I could do it. It was laughably simple: a full-wave rectifier with an RC filter on it. And even that simple thing didn’t work right the first time — I’d missed a few decimal points when computing the size of the capacitor, and my power supply was horribly noisy (the dreaded “hum” of the vacuum tube days). But it was my design, and eventually I figured out what was wrong and fixed it. I’ve been designing things, with slightly improved success, ever since.

It all started with that mistake.

Sunday, June 25, 2006

Smiles and Friends

Konstantin and Vera Stankevich visited us yesterday, the first time we’d seen them since they returned from their epic travels to Estonia, Russia, Belarus, and Italy. We had such a fun visit! Vera and Konstantin were chock full of stories — funny stories, interesting stories, curious stories, adventure stories, and even a herioc ice-cream eating story. It was obvious from their faces and their enthusiasm that they had a wonderful time on the entire trip, even the Belarus part (which we were more than a little worried about, due to the political situation there).

For Konstantin and Vera, part of the motive for the visit was to see Miki, our field spaniel puppy (or “poppy", as Vera would say in writing <smile>). Miki was shy with them for, oh, five or six seconds — then he was his normal bounding, playing, full-of-energy self. Konstantin got a good “group” picture will all three of our field spaniels looking at him — but getting them to stand still for that photo was a lot of work, and a lot of laughs.

Vera presented Debbie with three ball caps — one from Belarus (where “native” ball caps are very rare), one from Estonia, and one from Italy. She had a good story about the one from Belarus. It seems that ball caps aren’t real popular there in the first place, and the few that do exist all seem to be foreign-themed. In desperation, she enlisted all the members of Konstantin’s family (the reason they were in Belarus) to locate one. She painted a verbal picture of hordes of Stankeviches, scouring stores far and wide, in search of the elusive genuinely Belarusian ball cap. And they found one!

Recently I purchased (on eBay) a Soviet anemometer (a device for measuring wind speed). I couldn’t resist — it was only $4, and it was an interesting looking gadget, typically Russian with its massive, over-built design. When I got it, it came with what appeared to be a manual — but entirely in Russian, of course. I don’t read a word of Russian, so I took advantage of Konstantin and Vera’s visit to get some translation. This turned into something completely unexpected for me: a trip down memory lane for Konstantin and Vera (who both grew up in the Soviet Union) that had them laughing hysterically as they tried to translate the manual for us. At several points Vera was laughing so hard she had to wipe the tears from her eyes. I will never be able to convey the humor of the situation for them, though it seemed plain enough at the time. Mostly it was related to the pompous wording, the unwarranted seriousness of the manual, and the trappings of the Soviet era that just seem so silly today (like the official stamps and signatures page in the manual). When I brought that anemometer out, I never expected it to be such a source of amusement for us — I could throw it away now and it would have been worth 10 times its price just for that experience…

Like me, Konstantin is a shutterbug; they came back with bazillions of photos. I’d seen all but the photos from Belarus before their visit, and those were the ones I was most interested in. Konstantin gave us a “slide show” on his laptop, and I was very surprised by what I saw. I was expecting to see images that were as Soviet-like as the political situation there — but instead, I saw charming old towns, beautiful parks and buildings, and much renovation in progress. It’s very reminiscent of what’s happened in Toompea, the “old town” of Tallinn, Estonia, which I’m very familiar with. Most unexpected! The two photos above right are Konstantin’s, from Belarus, and I would never have figured out what they were without his explanation: they are bee hives! The bears each have a slot cut about where you’d think their belly-button is, and the house has a slot near the top of the door — this is where the bees go in and out. I wonder what possessed the apiarist to make such hives?

Our visit was capped by Konstantin and Vera taking us (Jim Barnick and I; Debbie couldn’t join us as she had another obligation, darn it) to dinner at one of our favorite restaurants: Descanso Junction. We’d eaten there once before with them, but didn’t realize that they’d enjoyed it so much. We had a great meal, but the real high point was the amiable conversation that bubbled along through the whole meal; four friends enjoying each others company. Oh, and there was also Konstantin’s expressive face to smile at — the best, I think, was the oh-so-satisfied and happy look on his face toward the end of the meal, as he said “I like this restaurant” in a reverent tone.

We were very reluctant to say good-bye, but we had to let them start their long trip home (they live over 100 miles away).

Good friends, good times; what more does one really need?

Oh, Man!

When I got up this morning, one of the first things I did was to check the temperature and humidity — and it was 84 degrees and 24% relative humidity. Those are unusual values for an early summer morning; more normal would be in the high 50s or low 60s for temperature, and 40% or higher for humidity. Even stranger — you can see that the temperature hardly varied at all last night. For the first night in a long time, we kept the windows shut, and the air conditioner kicked in several times (very rare at night).

Now today the temperature is at 102 as I write this (it looks lower on the graphs because they’re averaging the readings over an hour), while the humidity is down to just 3%. This is the kind of weather that just sucks all the moisture right out of the plants and organic material. If we have too many days like this, the fire danger will climb to “critical” (right now it’s at “moderate").

And it’s darned uncomfortable to be outdoors — it feels like you’re in an oven, even when you’re in the shade.

But we have to be thankful we don’t live in an area with high humidity; we only have to imagine what this heat would feel like with, say, 90% relative humidity…

Saturday, June 24, 2006

Warlord

I’ve just finished the book Warlord, by Ilario Pantano (on Amazon). It is an excellent read on several levels.

Foremost (for me, at least) is the way it articulately presents the war from the perspective of a real modern warrior. I’ve not read anything else like this concerning the war in Iraq. One cannot help but be impressed with the professionalism of our military after reading this.

Nearly as interesting is the glimpse this book gives into Mr. Pantano’s fascinating life. Even though the book is nearly entirely about Iraq, you discover things — quite amazing things — about Mr. Pantano’s other experiences. There’s material for several more books in there!

Finally there’s the major plot component — the story of how then-Lt. Pantano was accused (wrongly) of murder, went through the military justice system, was cleared of all charges, but had his career ruined. It would be a sad and tragic story if it wasn’t for Mr. Pantano’s (and his family’s) admirable reactions and handling of the experience.

It’s very comforting to know that our military has men — more than a few of them, too — like Lt. Pantano.

Read the book. That’s an order!

Friday, June 23, 2006

Alaa is Free!

About six weeks ago, I told you about the arrest and jailing of prominent Egyptian blogger Alaa, and several other less well-known bloggers. And I asked you to participate, with me, in a boycott of all things Egyptian — and to write to the Egyptian embassy in protest.

Yesterday the Egyptian government released Alaa and all the other bloggers. No charges were ever filed. Alaa is now free to resume his activities.

Bloggers are being credited (by the lamestream media, no less) with having organized an effective campaign that succeeded in convincing the Egyptian authorities that they had made a tactical error.

Well, imagine that. I’m delighted to have played a small part in this, and even more delighted that we got a positive outcome. My personal boycott is now over. If you are amongst those friends and family who helped in your own way, my thanks — and share the glory!

Alaa is free!

Damn Them!

Much has already been written about this. Michelle Malkin has an excellent roundup, and Pajamas Media is running another.

Just in case you haven’t heard, here are the salient points:

— Our intelligence teams have been running a brilliant secret operation that used access to Swift (an international financial clearinghouse) to track the funding of terrorist groups worldwide.

— Somehow, some of the most blatantly and militantly liberal reporters on the planet (at the New York Times and Los Angeles Times, of course) discovered this fact.

— The reporters wrote their story, and in the course of doing so intelligence agencies discovered the intent to publish details of the secret effort.

— The government formally and officially asked both papers not to publish this information because it would blow the cover on a valuable operation that had stopped millions of dollars in terrorist funding and had netted at least one top-level terrorist financier.

— The two papers published the story anyway.

And now the operation, blown sky high, will have no further value in the war on terror.

The papers defend this action out of supposed concern for Americans' civil rights. They claim that Americans are having their transactions examined in an illegal fashion.

I claim that those papers have violated a much more fundamental civil right of mine — the right to have my life and property defended by my government. Those publishing houses — bastions of liberalism — are traitors to the American cause of the war on terror.

I would love to see someone in our federal government have the balls to initiate action to punish those reporters and all the editorial staff who approved publishing this story. Those people should be treated exactly as any ordinary citizen who gave the enemy a vital secret would be treated. They should be in jail, for a long, long time.

And what does it say about our country that in many quarters the reporters are being lauded, and treated like heroes? I can think of many implications of that, and not a single one of them is good.

Damn them! Damn them all to hell!

Khobar Towers

Ten years ago, on June 25, 1966, terrorists exploded a huge bomb outside the Khobar Towers U.S. Air Force barracks in Dhahran, Saudia Arabia. Nineteen U.S. servicemen were killed, along with one Saudi. Then-President Clinton said “no stone would be left unturned” in the effort to bring terrorists to justice.

Louis Freeh — the head of the FBI, appointed by Clinton — was given the job of finding the perpetrators and bringing them to justice. Mr. Freeh took that responsibility very personally, and today in an excellent piece in the Wall Street Journal, unfortunately behind the subscription wall, he tells some of the infuriating details of how his investigation was obstructed — not by the Saudis, but by Americans. It serves as a detailed reminder of why we just cannot trust U.S. security to unserious liberal politicians.

I’m going to talk about a few points from Mr. Freeh’s piece, but if you can, please read the whole thing.

It soon became clear that Mr. Clinton and his national security adviser, Sandy Berger, had no interest in confronting the fact that Iran had blown up the Towers. This is astounding, considering that the Saudi Security Service had arrested six of the bombers after the attack. As FBI agents sifted through the remains of Building 131 in 115-degree heat, the bombers admitted they had been trained by the Iranian external security service (IRGC) in the Beka Valley, and received their passports at the Iranian Embassy in Damascus, along with $250,000 cash for the operation from IRGC Gen. Ahmad Sharifi.

We later learned that senior members of the Iranian government, including Ministry of Defense, Ministry of Intelligence and Security (MOIS), and the Spiritual Leader’s office had selected Khobar as their target and commissioned the Saudi Hezbollah to carry out the operation. The Saudi police told us that FBI agents had to interview the bombers in custody in order to make our case. To make this happen, however, the U.S. president would need to personally make a request to Saudi Crown Prince Abdullah.

So for 30 months, I wrote and rewrote the same set of simple talking points for the president, Mr. Berger, and others to press the FBI’s request to go inside a Saudi prison and interview the Khobar bombers. And for 30 months nothing happened. The Saudis reported back to us that the president and Mr. Berger would either fail to raise the matter with the crown prince or raise it without making any request. On one such occasion, our commander in chief instead hit up Prince Abdullah for a contribution to his library. Mr. Berger never once, in the course of the five-year investigation which coincided with his tenure, even asked how the investigation was going.

Mr. Freeh’s contempt for Sandy Berger and President Clinton are clear. Who can blame him? The man who appointed him and gave him this solemn responsibility behaved in an appalling, even traitorous, fashion. And if you think the trusty sidekick (Sandy “papers in my pants” Berger) sounds bad above, consider this:

Finally, frustrated in my attempts to execute Mr. Clinton’s “leave no stone unturned” order, I called former President George H.W. Bush. I had learned that he was about to meet Prince Abdullah on another matter. After fully briefing Mr. Bush on the impasse and faxing him the talking points that I had now been working on for over two years, he personally asked the crown prince to allow FBI agents to interview the detained bombers.

After his Saturday meeting with now-King Abdullah, Mr. Bush called me to say that he made the request, and that the Saudis would be calling me. A few hours later, Prince Bandar asked me to come out to McLean, Va. on Monday to see Prince Abdullah. When I met him with Wyche Fowler, our Saudi ambassador, and FBI counterterrorism chief Dale Watson, the crown prince was holding my talking points. He told me Mr. Bush had made the request for the FBI, which he granted, and told Prince Bandar to instruct Nayef to arrange for FBI agents to interview the prisoners.

Several weeks later, agents interviewed the co-conspirators. For the first time since the 1996 attack, we obtained direct evidence of Iran’s complicity. What Mr. Clinton failed to do for three years was accomplished in minutes by his predecessor. This was the breakthrough we had been waiting for, and the attorney general and I immediately went to Mr. Berger with news of the Saudi prison interviews.

Upon being advised that our investigation now had proof that Iran blew up Khobar Towers, Mr. Berger’s astounding response was: “Who knows about this?” His next, and wrong, comment was: “That’s just hearsay.” When I explained that under the Rules of Federal Evidence the detainees' comments were indeed more than “hearsay,” for the first time ever he became interested — and alarmed — about the case. But this interest translated into nothing more than Washington “damage control” meetings held out of the fear that Congress, and ordinary Americans, would find out that Iran murdered our soldiers. After those meetings, neither the president, nor anyone else in the administration, was heard from again about Khobar.

Are you infuriated yet?

When reading a piece of our recent history like this, I often reflect on how it relates to our current situation with the war on terror; the conflict of civilizations between Western secular liberalism and radical Islam. The actions of unserious politicians like Clinton (and his minions) were clearly harmful to us. Their tepid reaction to Khobar Towers, and their reflexive “realpolitik” avoidance of an Iran confrontation, could do nothing but encourage the radicals — as, with hindsight, it obviously has. It’s Chamberlainesque appeasement all over again.

It’s also arguably traitorous. The man who swore he would uphold and protect the Constitution, the man who was our Commander-in-Chief (and I’m disgusted as I write that) — betrayed all of us with his actions. Most of all he betrayed the memory and families of those 19 servicemen killed at Khobar Towers.

And of course this is but one example of Clinton’s betrayal, and not even an extraordinary example. However, I think it is counter-productive to focus on Clinton, as he will not be in a position to betray us like that again (unless the world is so stupid as to allow him to become the Secretary-General of the U.N., an often-mentioned idea in liberal circles). Instead we should focus on how such a dangerously unserious politician came to hold the office of chief executive, and endeavour to avoid those mechanisms in the future.

In todays American politics, if we restrict the discussion to those politicians who actually have some hope of coming to power, the dangerously unserious ones (e.g., Pelosi, Dean, Reid, Kennedy, McCain, Schumer, McKinney, etc.) are concentrated in the Democratic Party. There are some Democrats (most notably Lieberman) who stand out for their seriousness, and there are many Republicans whose politics I have major disagreements with but who are at least serious about the war on terror (e.g., Frist, Hastert, Hunter, etc.).

Personally, I’ve arrived at a mental position that I never thought I would — where I can point to a single issue (defense, including the war on terror) and say “I don’t care how a politican addresses anything else but this.” If they’re serious (in the philosophical sense) about defense and the war on terror, I’ll support them. Even if they want to wall up the border. Even if they’re pro-abortion. Even if they’re pro-union.

Even if.