Saturday, September 16, 2006

Misbehaving Tree

Last night it got down to 47F here — a harbinger of autumn. And as a direct result, the morning here was just lovely, in the 60s and low 70s. So I thought I’d tackle one of my many queued-up outdoors jobs, queued up because the summer heat makes working outdoors just unbearable.

I decided to work on pruning our pine trees. This is something we have to do every two or three years. The Italian Stone Pines (pinus pinea) that line our driveway have the rather stupid habit of growing their branches straight outwards until the weight of the branch causes it to droop to the ground, or snap, whichever comes first (it’s about 50/50). These longer branches are always the bottom branches, since they’re the oldest. So over time, I’ve been pruning off the branches higher and higher up the tree trunk. On some of my biggest pine trees, the lowest branches are now erupting from the trunk at 12 or 13 feet off the ground. Sometimes I don’t cut the branches at the trunk, but rather at some distance out. When I do that, I’m usually aiming to keep the branches at least 8 feet high, so we can see clearly under the trees.

So this morning I had my biggest step-ladder out. It’s not really very big — only six feet tall — but when I stand on the next-to-top step I can reach branches about 12 feet off the ground, so it works out pretty well. As I’ve often done before, I was standing on the next-to-top step, sawing away at a branch. This one was about 3 inches in diameter, and the end I was cutting off was about 18 feet long, drooping down to almost ground level. When I saw over my head like this, I’m always careful to put the ladder toward the side that’s NOT falling, even though that means I have to cut sideways (which is quite difficult, physically). This is because for some silly reason I’ve always believed it would be a bad idea to have the branch fall on me (or the ladder).

Something very odd happened when I cut this branch: somehow it snapped and the cut end moved up, hesitated for a moment, and then moved straight toward my face, quickly. This was, to say the least, quite disconcerting! So I did what came very naturally — I dodged it, moving my upper body to the right. But remember where I was standing — my feet almost six feet in the air at the top of a stepladder. Of course when I dodged right, my feet and the top of the ladder went to the left — Newton’s principle of action and reaction demonstrated. The end result was that my whole body rotated clockwise (from my perspective) until I was horizontal in mid-air, and my feet left the ladder (which then continued to fall over).

That’s what you call an “Oh, shit!” moment. There I was, holding a very sharp saw, about 8 feet above the ground with nothing but air under me.

I knew that I didn’t want my head, a hand, or a foot to be what hit the ground first, as I might actually hurt something badly that way. So I pitched the saw away, and tucked my hands and feet in. That had the disconcerting effect of making me spin faster, and I could see that I’d be doing a half-somersault and landing on my back. I remembered reading somewhere that if you’re going to fall, you should try to hit on your back, but off to one side of your spine — that’s where your ribs have the strongest resistance to impact. Somehow I managed to squirm around so that I’d hit a little bit on one side. This all happened in a fraction of a second, but it sure seemed like a lot longer!

When I hit the ground, it was just below my right shoulder, slightly head down. What happened next made me feel a little bit like an acrobat or a gymnast — and anyone who knows me knows that this is a most unlikely thing! When I hit the ground, I rolled from my shoulder down my side to my hip, and the momentum popped me right back up on my feet. I stood there in complete astonshiment for a minute or two — I had just fallen off a rather tall ladder fully expecting to end up in a pile of broken bones and mangled flesh — and not only was I completely unhurt, I ended up on my feet!

I’ll bet I couldn’t do that again if I tried a thousand times…

The biggest problem ended up being finding my saw — I threw it a good 75 feet away, and it ended up about 5 feet high in a manzanita…

Terrorist Moms

Tip of the hat to Rick P. for the first terrorist pun I’ve heard yet:

Two Muslim mothers are sitting in a cafe chatting over a pint of goat’s milk. The older of the mothers pulls her bag out and starts flipping through photos and they start reminiscing.

"This is my oldest son, Mohammed. He’s 24 years old now."

"Yes, I remember him as a baby,” says the other mother, cheerfully.

"He’s a martyr now, though,” mum confides.

"Oh, so sad dear,” says the other.

"And this is my second son, Kalid. He’s 21."

"Oh, I remember him,” says the other, happily. “He had such curly hair when he was born."

"He’s a martyr, too,” says mum, quietly.

"Oh gracious me,” says the other.

"And this is my third son. My baby. My beautiful Ahmed. He’s 18,” she whispers.

"Yes,” says the friend enthusiastically, “I remember when he first started school."

"He is a martyr, also,” says mum, with tears in her eyes.

After a pause and a deep sigh, the second Muslim mother looks wistfully at the photographs and says:

"They blow up so fast, don’t they?"

Groan…

But this leads to a ponder… I’ve noted on quite a few occasions the proud comments of the parents of a jihadist 'martyr' who has blown himself up. These parents sound like an American parent whose kid made the winning run in a Little League baseball game. But their kid is dead, and in a violent and gruesome manner — killing innocent people in the process. Is there any more crystal-clear example of the differences between the culture of radical Islam and the culture of the West? Such a thing would be utterly unimaginable in our culture…

The liberals would (and do) argue that all cultures are morally equivalent; they urge us to make no judgment about other cultures based on our own mores.

To which I say “Bullshit!” I refuse to grant even the possibility of moral equivalence to a culture that celebrates the death of innocents, that takes joy in the 'martyrdom' of its children, and which believes that it is their duty and obligation to kill me and the people I love. Nope, radical Islam is a culture that is distinctly inferior and primitive by comparison with ours. And if they insist on maintaining jihad against the West, then I believe we (in the West) have no choice but to grind their sorry asses into camel feed.

And if that’s not politically correct, well then that’s just too damned bad.

Inevitable In Iran

Some time ago I concluded that there was only going to be one way to stop the threat of nuclear weapons in Iranian hands: direct military action. Diplomacy has been a complete failure; Iran is 'playing' the West with the greatest of ease.

Charles Krauthammer agrees with this, and has written an interesting piece about the calculus. His conclusion: yes, military action will be costly, both in blood and in treasure — but it must be done. His conclusion:

... These are the costs. There is no denying them. However, equally undeniable is the cost of doing nothing.

In the region, Persian Iran will immediately become the hegemonic power in the Arab Middle East. Today it is deterred from overt aggression against its neighbors by the threat of conventional retaliation. Against a nuclear Iran, such deterrence becomes far less credible. As its weak, nonnuclear Persian Gulf neighbors accommodate to it, jihadist Iran will gain control of the most strategic region on the globe.

Then there is the larger danger of permitting nuclear weapons to be acquired by religious fanatics seized with an eschatological belief in the imminent apocalypse and in their own divine duty to hasten the End of Days. The mullahs are infinitely more likely to use these weapons than anyone in the history of the nuclear age. Every city in the civilized world will live under the specter of instant annihilation delivered either by missile or by terrorist. This from a country that has an official Death to America Day and has declared since Ayatollah Khomeini’s ascension that Israel must be wiped off the map.

Against millenarian fanaticism glorying in a cult of death, deterrence is a mere wish. Is the West prepared to wager its cities with their millions of inhabitants on that feeble gamble?

These are the questions. These are the calculations. The decision is no more than a year away.

Yup, he’s got it.

I just hope we can muster the courage (are you listening, Mr. Bush?) to take action — unilaterally if necessary — before the mad mullahs demonstrate their new power by vaporizing London, Munich, Paris, or New York…

Friday, September 15, 2006

Scary Referrals

My blog, like all blogs I know, keeps track of “referrals” — the web pages with links to my blog that someone clicked on to visit my blog. The vast majority of these referrals to my blog come from search engines, and sometimes they’re quite funny or surprising.

But check out this referral I got about two hours ago:

Google referral: “structural evaluation” collies “naked women” gerbils “oil price"

WTF?

What kind of a mind would ask this question? And what is the question, anyway?

Sometimes I think it might be better not to know something. This just might be one of those times…

On the Ground

A friend (thanks, Jim M.!) forwarded this email, sent to the father of an Army Captain (Rangers, Special Ops) on the ground in Afghanistan. Read it:

Dear Dad,

Tell people that doubt the US should be here to travel over here, particularly women and liberals. The only women here that advocate the Taliban or al-Qaeda are those that know nothing else, and are effectively brain washed. But they dare not say or do anything with another Afghan around that might tell the woman’s husband, father or brother, who would probably beat them to death for speaking to an infidel without a tribal elder or father as chaperone, even when seeing a medical team, which we try to get them to regularly. They can see medics and doctors only when in a large group and even then only with a father or older brother there.

The way women are treated here is that they are property and nothing more. The livestock is treated better because they have monetary value and women don’t. Just two days ago I saw a grown man strike a little girl in the head with a rock because he could. They work morning till dusk like slaves while the men sit around and do largely nothing. They do all of the work over here while the men busy themselves with killing each other, or other trivial things. The way women are treated is so bad that about 70% of the men, even in the cities, prefer to have sex with boys because they view women as not worth having sex with. There is a saying here that “Women are for babies, boys are for sexual fun.” Such a sad culture. The Koran says homosexuality is wrong, but to these people if a man is married to a woman and has sex with another man, that’s not being a homosexual. If two single men have sex, they are executed. I thought a homosexual act is a homosexual act, whether married or not.

Hard to accept, but boy sex slaves are kept in the man’s house and treated as their own child by the wife, otherwise she is beaten. When the boy reaches puberty, he is released to go back home, but most don’t and join a Wahadi group which are Taliban or al-Qaeda.

Remember the tribal battle I told you about that started when a father and uncle of a 10 year old boy were killed because they objected to his being taken as a sex slave by the leader of another clan. Such is life in this part of the world.

Oh yeah, another custom the outside world ignores, especially the UN, NATO and EU authorities. If a girl or woman is raped, she is the guilty one and is put to death, usually by stoning with her father and brothers casting the first stones. I have sadly come across the aftermath of this several times when traveling through villages. The family will leave the girl where she died for days, which means she can’t go to heaven in their belief. The first time I wanted to stop and bury the young girl we were told was 15, but both interpreters said if we did there would be an instant gun battle as infidels interfering with a Muslim.

The civilized world has two choices, either change it by being here or stay home and allow it to spread, because they live only to kill the infidels so they can spread their beliefs and customs. When in Egypt, Jordan, Saudi Arabia and Turkey, my Muslim counterparts often told me the militant and fundamentalist Muslims are growing stronger and will some day rule the Middle East. As far back as 1989 some of the CIA men I know told me that someday Muslim’s will rule the world because of their fanatical battle against the “infidels” is growing stronger and the Western countries are in denial and think they can be negotiated with.

Irma and I are looking into adopting some kids from here, to get them away from this hell-hole. Tell those people that said Afghan women don’t want change to get out of their comfortable living room, and travel some before they come to conclusions.

Kevin Boyd

CPT, IN

I have never been able to figure out how American liberals could reconcile their anti-war views with the facts outlined above. Just to pick on one example, I would have expected American feminists to whole-heartedly support the military efforts to eliminate the oppression of their Afghan sisters. Instead we get platitudes about the stylishness of burqas.

Reading Captain Boyd’s description of conditions in the areas he’s operating in reminds me, once again, of this strangeness. I think there’s a deep message somewhere in here about the mindlessness and hypocrisy rampant in modern American liberalism, but I can’t quite figure out what it is. Part of it, I’m sure, is that two irreconcilable liberal viewpoints are in tension here: equality of all people vs. equality of all cultures. To the modern liberal, both of these are a given — but in Afghanistan (and everywhere else fundamentalist Islam prevails), the culture says that women and children are not equal at all. If you have a liberal mindset, how do you reconcile these two issues? How can you be simultaneously supportive of the equality of women and the equality of the Islamic culture? Tilt!

For me, this is not a quandary at all — I reject the notion that all cultures are equally valid, equally worthy, or equally good. I have no conflict here at all.

But what does a liberal do when confronted with this? From the evidence at hand, it appears they just avert their eyes from the plight of women in Afghanistan — while (in some cases) supporting the likes of Khatami, Chavez, Nasarallah, and so on. Their actions, if not their words, indicates that in their minds cultural equality trumps human equality. Let the women of Afghanistan and other Islamic regimes suffer, so we can proclaim the cultural equality of fundamentalist Islam.

What crap.

Cop Comebacks

But who knew they collected 'em? Seen out in the wild, on the web:

The following 15 Police Comments were taken off actual police car videos around the country.

#15 “Relax, the handcuffs are tight because they’re new. They’ll stretch after you wear them a while."

# 14 “If you take your hands off the car, I’ll make your birth certificate a worthless document."

#13 “If you run, you’ll only go to jail tired."

#12 “Can you run faster than 1,200 feet per second? Because that’s the speed of the bullet that’ll be chasing you."

#11 “You don’t know how fast you were going? I guess that means I can write anything I want to on the ticket, huh?"

#10 “Yes, sir, you can talk to the shift supervisor, but I don’t think it will help. Oh, did I mention that I’m the shift supervisor?"

#9 “Warning! You want a warning? O. K., I’m warning you not to do that again or I’ll give you another ticket."

#8 “The answer to this last question will determine whether you are drunk or not. Was Mickey Mouse a cat or a dog?"

#7 “Fair? You want me to be fair? Listen, fair is a place where you go to ride on rides, eat cotton candy and corn dogs, and step in monkey poop."

#6 “Yeah, we have a quota. Two more tickets and my wife gets a toaster oven."

#5 “In God we trust, all others we run through NCIC."

#4 “How big were those 'Just two beers' you say you had?"

#3 “No sir, we don’t have quotas anymore. We used to, but now we’re allowed to write as many tickets as we can."

#2 “I’m glad to hear that Chief (of Police) Hawker is a personal friend of yours. So you know someone who can post your bail."

AND THE WINNER IS....

#1 “You didn’t think we give pretty women tickets? You’re right, we don’t. Sign here."

Thursday, September 14, 2006

Puppy Time

Miki is now seven months old, which is kind of “early adolescence” on the doggie time scale. Think 13, 14 year old kid and you’d be about right. Daily we see him turning from a puppy into an adult dog.

Yesterday, on a short walk down to our mailbox and back, he did two very new things.

First, on the way back up the hill from the mailbox, he suddenly stood stock-still and stared intently into the sky. I was watching him, not the sky, so I didn’t see at first what he was looking at. I noticed that whatever he was looking at seemed to be standing still, and that it had his complete attention. My guess at that point is that he was watching a bird preening on the telephone pole, or something along those lines. Then he abruptly sat down, threw his head straight up, closed his eyes, and commenced a full-throated howling that would have made any coyote proud. I looked up to see what he was looking at — and of course it was the moon. In broad daylight the moon (about half full) wasn’t very conspicuous, but it had Miki’s full attention. He howled for several minutes, while I laughed at him. It was very cute, but … after a minute or so, tiresome. Plus I worried that our neighbors a mile or so away might not think this 400 decibel howling was cute. Finally I got him distracted, and we continued toward home.

Where we had our second adventure and new experience for the day.

In our fenced yard, I took Miki off his leash to play fetch with him. I used an unopened pine cone, rolling it down our driveway for Miki to chase and catch, and proudly bring it back to me so I could throw it for him again. If only people were so easy to please! On what I was planning to be the last toss, perhaps the 20th of the day, Miki took off after the bouncing pine cone as ususal, running straight down the driveway. But then he started curving off to the left, and he sped up until he was going startlingly fast — and ahead of him was a rabbit, running for its life. Miki caught the rabbit and dispatched it within seconds in a very … professional … way, very matter-of-factly. Then he ran back after the pine cone and returned it to me, ready for me to toss it again.

We have two adult field spaniels (Mo’i and Lea) who have been trying to catch rabbits for years. It’s their favorite sport, and sometimes with think the rabbits enjoy teasing our dogs by staying safely out of reach. Mo’i has been spotted with a couple of dead rabbits, but we suspect those were either already dead when he found them, or there was something wrong with them, as we’ve watched Mo’i easily outpaced and fooled by the rabbits many, many times. Miki, on the other hand, ran down a perfectly healthy adult rabbit running at full tilt. The little guy is fast.

This gets the ponder going… Will he keep that speed on the agility course? If he does, he’s going to be a formidable competitor…

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

PO Ponder

As some of you know, I have a slightly odd hobby: I collect calculating machines, especially slide rules. The majority of these slide rules are purchased through eBay or some other online source, and then they’re shipped to me. The slide rules come from all over the world, including from places that used to be considered quite exotic: Belarus, Bulgaria, Paraguay, Thailand, and Russia, to name just a few. And of course a lot of them come from the U.S.

Many of the U.S. shippers use a standard box available from the Post Office. This box is roughly 15” x 12” x 3", which is a good fit for a lot of the 12” slide rules (this was a common size). Over time, I’ve received well over a hundred of these boxes.

Which leads to the ponder. These boxes all have, on one end, a little pull tab whose purpose is to give the recipient an easy way to open the box. And such an easy way would be much appreciated. But…on every single one of these boxes I’ve ever received, this pull tab has failed. Usually it’s because the plastic strip you’re pulling is broken or missing somewhere along the line. Sometimes it just breaks. Whatever the reason, the think always fails. It’s become a kind of game with me — each time I get one of these boxes, I try a new way of yanking that strip. I’ve tried slow yanking, fast yanking, and 50 speeds in between. I’ve tried yanking straight up, yanking sideways, wiggling as I yank. All to no avail. Today I tried whistling and standing on one foot while yanking — it broke right in the middle.

What is it with the Post Office (a quasi-government “corporation")? How can they go for years and years buying a faulty product? Well, that’s an easy one — it’s a government agency, and there are no consequences for screwing up. Probably the company who makes these inferior boxes makes the appropriate bribes political contributions, and magically they get the contract each time.

BTW, FedEx and UPS both have a similar box. They work first time, every time. I’ve never had one of theirs fail. I can’t make them fail!

Capitalism works.

Government executes poorly, on a small scale or a large scale.

Where Has This Been?

In yesterday’s New York Post, I found this remarkable bit of commentary, excerpted below. The problem is that it is remarkable, whereas it should be commonplace:

September 12, 2006 — WELL, here it is, five years late, but here just the same: an apology from an Arab-American for 9/11. No, I didn’t help organize the killers or contribute in any way to their terrible cause. However, I was one of millions of Arab-Americans who did the unspeakable on 9/11: nothing.

The only time I raised my voice in protest against these men who killed thousands of innocents in the name of Allah was behind closed doors, among the safety of friends and family. I did at one point write a very vitriolic essay condemning their actions, but fear of becoming another Salman Rushdie kept me from ever trying to publish it.

Well, I’m sick of saying the truth only in private - that Arabs around the world, including Arab-Americans like myself, need to start holding our own culture accountable for the insane, violent actions that our extremists have perpetrated on the world at large.

Yes, our extremists and our culture.

Every single 9/11 hijacker was Arab and a Muslim. The apologists (including President Bush) tried to reassure us that 9/11 had nothing to do with Islam, but was a twisting of a great and noble religion. With all due respect, read the Koran, Mr. President. There’s enough there for someone of extreme tendencies to find their way to a global jihad.

We need much more of this from the Islamic world. Faster, please.

I suspect that this sort of awakening in the Islamic community is the only thing that stands a chance of avoiding a horrible, prolonged, and very costly war that will inevitably result in the defeat of the Islamic world. The course the world is on now (think of Iran) will see escalating provocations from the radical Islamic fundamentalists, which eventually will awaken even the French surrender-monkeys from their mindless slumber. That is, if the high birthrate amongst Muslim immigrants doesn’t hand them France earlier in a more, er, entertaining sort of war. Once the Western world is united against radical Islam — and this will happen if enough Europeans are killed — then a much more conventional war will be fought. It will be costly to both sides, but much more so to the Islamic world. I cannot imagine any action of the United Nations (in its current form) preventing this outcome, nor can I imagine any action on America’s part — though I think George W. Bush’s foreign policies are about as good as we’re likely to get in that direction (and I shudder to think what 2008 might bring us in the way of a replacement). But recognition within the broader Islamic community that their brothers are the problem just might provide the path to a less violent solution.

Trouble is, I don’t think there’s much of a chance of that happening. But I can always hope…

SMASH vs. Code Pink

Lt. SMASH (an outstanding milblogger who should be on your daily reading list, and not just because he’s from San Diego) confronted a Code Pink group in front of Walter Reed Hospital recently. He also interviewed a couple of soldiers — wounded Iraq war veterans — who had done a little confronting of their own. “P.D.” and “Mason” are the vets in this excerpt (but don’t neglect to read the whole thing:

P.D.: We tried to explain to them that we were fighting for freedom. They said “no."

Mason: And then they basically told us that if we weren’t there, the terrorists wouldn’t be there. And that the terrorists, you know, even though the terrorists murder civilians, and children, that if we left it would all… stop. And I… I literally saw, with my own eyes, families be executed by ‘em. And I don’t think it would matter if we were there or not. The terrorists are terrorists. That’s what they do.

P.D.: It’d be a lot more people getting executed if we weren’t there.

SMASH: Did you try to express any of that to the folks down there?

Both: Yes, sir.

SMASH: And how was it received?

P.D.: It was received negatively. They were closed-minded. They have their beliefs, and they won’t even open their minds to what we believe.

SMASH: They weren’t interested in dialogue?

P.D.: Exactly.

Mason: The majority of ‘em, ninety-nine percent of ‘em, didn’t even look us in the eye. Wouldn’t even turn and acknowledge our presence.

P.D.: Yeah, they wouldn’t even turn around and look at us.

SMASH: Do you feel that they’re being sincere when they say they support the troops? Or do they think they’re sincere?

P.D.: I don’t feel they are.

Mason: One or two, maybe. But the majority, no. Not at all. I mean, if you really support the troops, as we said before, you’d turn around and talk to us. Acknowledge us. You know, all these people here (indicates the pro-troops rally), we walked out, and they said “thank you,” you know, “how are you feeling?” Those guys (indicates Code Pink) say, “Don’t talk to them.” That guy literally came out and said, “Don’t talk to them."

Lt. SMASH wonders if this is what Code Pink means by “supporting the troops.” Indeed. But then, we all know that the lying bastards are not, and never were, all about “supporting the troops"…

Columbian Justice

Can you even imagine an American politician dealing with this situation? The only pol I can imagine handling it well is, well, Arnold:

BOGOTA, Colombia (Reuters) - They are calling it the “crossed legs” strike.

Fretting over crime and violence, girlfriends and wives of gang members in the Colombian city of Pereira have called a ban on sex to persuade their menfolk to give up the gun.

After meeting with the mayor’s office to discuss a disarmament program, a group of women decided to deny their partners their conjugal rights and recorded a song for local radio to urge others to follow their example.

If this actually works, I wonder if it could be used here?

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

Ikea Threat

This weekend, the last remaning American who hadn’t shopped at Ikea (me) took the plunge. America’s assimilation into the Ikeain empire is now complete.

And I’m very worried.

It all started when I researched bookcases on the web, and discovered that there were really only three choices: (1) outrageously expensive solid wood bookcases, worth more than the books I’d be putting on their shelves, (2) surprisingly inexpensive particle-board bookcases whose shelves deflected approximately six inches for each sheet of paper you put on them, and (3) Ikea bookcases made of particle-board, veneer, and some reinforcements that were modestly priced and quite strong.

So (with a friend to lean on) down the hill I drove, on Saturday, to the “local” Ikea store in Mission Valley. I was expecting it to be a nightmare, but it was far worse than I imagined. This store was designed by a sadist to trap you in turbulent traffic, I believe to force you to look at their wares as you try to get around the mom with three squalling babies who decided to change a diaper in the middle of the narrow path. This so-call “show room” was absolutely packed with people who uniformly (and unaccountably) seemed to be having fun. I suspect they were all Ikea employees with the explicit job of keeping me in the showroom as long as possible. I didn’t try this, but I’ll bet if I offered to buy something — anything — the horde would have parted to let me through to it.

Eventually, and with a newly acquired headache, I managed to figure out that you can’t buy anything in the “showroom”. Instead, you have to find your way to the “self service” section on the first floor. This place is almost impossible to find unless you follow the signs, and if you do that you end up meandering (very slowly) through the entire “show room” (which is about 250 acres in extent). But my friend and I eventually made it to the self-service area, located the bookcases I wanted, paid for them, and made our escape from Ikea.

I thought that was the end of it, but in fact the nightmare was just beginning.

I’ve purchased many pieces of factory-made particle-board furniture over the years. Every business I’ve had, and all my home offices, have been furnished with such pieces. Every piece I’ve ever purchased in the past, no matter whether it was the cheapest crap at the bargain store, or the top-of-the-line crap at Office Depot, shared some common traits. So I knew that I could look forward to an interesting and challenging experience putting my new bookcases together, as they were of the same ilk.

And this is where I discovered the real Ikea threat: they are out to destroy the manhood of America. Ordinarily it takes a real tool-bearing, foul-swearing man to put together a piece of particle-board furniture. The man (it always seems to be a man!) assembling the furniture must face head-on and conquer one threat after another. Usually it starts with missing parts, which the man must synthesize from whatever is lying about the home and yard. If it takes gnawing a branch off a tree, that’s what you do. Then there’s the extra parts, which forces the man to exercise extreme creativity to find a place for. Then there’s the particle-board parts that don’t fit right, which requires the man to break out the heavy tools (sometimes including jackhammers and chain saws) to force them into place. The aesthetics of the furniture usually suffer in the process. But when the process is finished, the man knows he’s accomplished something, well, manly — he’s taken the random collection of parts sold to him as a piece of furniture, and constructed something with them that’s usable, if not pretty.

Ikea has ruined this.

I bought five bookcases from Ikea. There wasn’t a single extra part. There wasn’t a single missing part. There wasn’t a single part that didn’t fit perfectly. The instructions were all pictures — I didn’t even have to read them. There was no manly challenge at all. My dogs could easily have built these bookcases and got it right.

Ikea is destroying the manhood of America.

Monday, September 11, 2006

Nicholas P. Rossomando

Nick Rossomando — “Nicky Love” to his many friends — was one of the 2,996 Americans killed on 9/11. He was a fireman, a member of the elite Rescue Company 5. Though he was off-duty when the planes hit the World Trade Center, he responded to those first calls with the rest of his company. He jumped on the truck with them, and ran into the World Trade center with them.

Nick Rossomando was an American. He was a hero. And he was killed by Islamic terrorists when the World Trade Center collapsed.

My tribute to Nick Rossomando is here.

We must never forget Nick Rossomando, or any of the 2,996 Americans killed by terrorists on that day. Please take a few moments to read more about Nick Rossomando.

Never forget.

(This post will remain at the top for a while; new posts will appear below it)

Thursday, September 7, 2006

Big Oil

Most of the lamestream media accounts of this find that I’ve read have spun it as something minor and unimportant. I first read of the find in business news, where they tend to be more concerned with facts (imagine that!) than ideology. So I knew it was a big — make that huge — deal. It took quite a search for me to find even one newspaper article that got it right:

And it could increase U.S. domestic reserves by 50 per cent. Only part of that overall total, however, could be attributed to the Jack prospect, which some analysts said Tuesday is likely to amount to 500 million barrels.

Whatever the ultimate size of Jack, its true importance lies in when it was discovered — earlier this decade, rather than in the 1960s or 1970s, said Mr. Lynch, president of Strategic Energy and Economic Research Inc. It is proof positive that higher commodity prices and improvements in exploration technology can result in major new discoveries, he said.

And of course that was in their business section.

The best indicator of the import of this find is this: worldwide crude oil prices dropped 2% within minutes of the announcement, and they’re continuing to drop.

Business runs on facts, and business seems to have assessed this discovery as a major event (a 2% drop in oil prices is many millions of dollars each and every day). So why is the lamestream media spinning it as nearly irrelevant? The only reason I can think of is that a major oil find undermines their ideology-driven agenda to have governments force a switch from fossil fuels. If major amounts of fossil fuel are found, it…detracts…from the urgency of making that switch.

This is, I suspect, why you also won’t read about another inconvenient fact: if you measure “oil reserves” by what’s actually in the ground and economically extractable at current oil prices (rather than at an arbitrary price, as is the standard used today), then for each of the past 12 years, proven reserves have increased. Yup, we’re finding more oil than we’re using. We aren’t going to run out of oil next week, or the week after. In fact, the way things are looking at the moment, we’re not going to run out of oil for something like 80 or 100 years…

Why?

Wednesday, September 6, 2006

Internet Impact

A friend emailed me today, mentioning how profoundly communications have changed, even in her lifetime. And that got the ponder going…

I suspect that a few decades from now, historians will look back at the phenomenon we call “the Internet” and note that its biggest impact was on the ways that people communicate with each other. Sure, all that other stuff like online shopping, information at hand, etc. is really cool — but just think about how much we’ve changed the way we talk with each other!

It wasn’t all that long ago — about 150 years ago — that the only way (other than face-to-face) people could communicate was via a letter in the mail, or through a printed publication of some kind. These things took days at their very fastest, months or even years (for a large book, for example) at their slowest. Conversations with someone far away were long drawn-out affairs. I have a good example of this in my family: my uncle saved the letters he exchanged with his mother (my grandmother) in World War II; hundreds of them in all. I’ve read them, and it’s fascinating to see how a conversation evolves over a period of months — dealing with letters gone missing, letters arriving out-of-sequence, and censors blacking or cutting out sections. One particular conversation (about managing apple trees) went on for 8 months. On a telephone call or email exchange, that would have taken maybe two minutes. That sloooooowness gives these conversations an entirely different “feel” from what we’re used to today…

I have a little exposure to the “letter” modality myself. As a child (about 10, I think) I had a “pen pal” for a while. Do you remember pen pals? Talk about an obsolete concept! But back then, they were rather a big deal. My pen pal was a little boy in Perth, Australia, by the name of Perry. That’s just about all I remember about him — but I do remember how awkward it was to keep up a conversation when the medium took so long to deliver messages (a few weeks each way). Today, of course, we’d just send email back and forth, or use one of the instant messenger applications — or even Skype an Internet phone call. Wait for a letter? I don’t think so!

Think about all the ways that the Internet has given us to communicate: email, instant messenger, voice-over-IP (phone calls), web sites, blogs (like this one!), podcasts, Internet radio, and…I’m sure I missed a few others. And more ways will pop up, because that’s what people really seem to want on the Internet. It’s instructive, I think, to see how explosively sites like YouTube (video sharing), Flickr (photo sharing), and MySpace (sharing…anything) have grown. There’s a common theme, of course — they are all ways for us to communicate, using this enabling technology called the Internet.

My crystal ball long ago bit the dust. I’ve been spectacularly bad at predicting future technology trends. But one prediction I think is pretty safe: the Internet will continue to become more and more available, more and more ubiquitous. For example, the FAA is on the verge of allowing cell phones to be used in-flight. There are very good Internet connections available via cell phones these days — so I’m sure a lot of people will use this new privilege to remain connected to the Internet while in flight (which is, of course, one of the few places where today you can’t easily connect). WiFi is getting more and more widespread. Broadband technologies are reaching into even very remote places — where I live, for example, satellite Internet access just recently became available at an attractive price. I don’t think the day when we can be on the Internet, at broadband speeds, no matter where in the world we are. What will that do to the way we communicate? Why have a cell phone, for instance, when you could simply Skype over your remote Internet connection? Why carry around storage media for your camera or video camera, when you could simply send the photos or video over the Internet — no matter where you are — to some storage facility available there (straight to Flickr or YouTube, for instance)? Think about it — if you knew that no matter where you were, you’re connected to the Internet — what things would be different? I’ll wager it would be a lot of them, starting with all the ways we communicate.

On a personal level, the Internet’s communications tools have radically changed this guy’s life. I now routinely “talk” with friends all over the world, in places that not so many years ago would have seemed very exotic: Bulgaria, Thailand, Madagascar, Sri Lanka, Estonia, and many others. Through my work, my hobbies, and my blog, I’ve “met” so many nice people (and really very few not-so-nice). I have extensive conversations (generally by email) with a few dozen of them. Some I’ve even met face-to-face — and I have standing invitations in cities all around the world. I think it’s safe to say that none of this would have happened without the Internet.

Now of course the Internet does many things for me. It’s an essential tool in my work (software engineering). But if I think about the single most profound impact the Internet has had on me, it’s clearly communications. Not all that other stuff, however pleasant and convenient it is…

Tuesday, September 5, 2006

BOLO

Just got word from my mother that they don’t know where my father is. He was supposed to travel from Philadelphia to Halifax, Nova Scotia today (through Boston). My brother dropped him off at the airport, and they haven’t heard from him since. What they have heard is that both segments of his flight have been canceled.

So…

If you happen to see a balding botanist wandering around with a confused look on his face, drop me a line, would ya? He could be anywhere by now — he’s hard of hearing, and he could easily have wandered somehwere he shouldn’t have. Like, say, a shipping crate bound for Botswana, or a hotel in the wrong part of Philadelphia…

Sigh…

Update:

The wandering botanist has been spotted in Boston. Apparently the airline managed to get him that far, and then put him up in a hotel for the night. For reasons known only to himself (and possibly not even that), he didn’t bother to call either my mother or the people who were supposed to meet him in Halifax.

Then, to top it off, he discovered that he can’t get into Canada these days with just his good looks — he needs a passport or a birth certificate. Which, of course, he doesn’t have with him in Boston. So…with a bit of scrambling and telephone help, I talked my mom through scanning his birth certificate to a file, emailing it to me, and then I faxed it to the airport. Sheesh!

I think my dad’s in big, big trouble when he gets home. And maybe when he gets to Halifax, too — worried people on both ends are ready to strangle him. Perhaps he should consider moving to somewhere out of the way … Madagascar comes to mind…

Update 2:

My dad finally made it to Halifax. He’s apparently not happy about the experience. No word on whether he understands just how much he perturbed the equinamity of his family and friends…

Pampas Grass

We have two large clumps of pampas grass in our front yard — each is over 8' tall, and equally broad. Just this past week they’ve come into bloom. One is a male plant, the other a female. This morning I noticed something that surprised me: the pampas grass flowers were full of honeybees — hundreds and hundreds of honeybees. The male plant (pollen-bearing) had far more bees than the female plant. I’d estimate that there was one bee for each four or five cubic centimeters of flower mass (and there are a couple of cubic meters of flower mass altogether).

I had no idea that bees were attracted to grass flowers!

Sunday, September 3, 2006

Personal Information

This email is a twist on a common issue:

Beginning this month (JULY '06) a new database will be available to the general public free of charge that displays your personal information (names, addresses, phone numbers, birth dates). (Soc. Sec. is available for a price.) The database is found at http://www.zabasearch.com/ type in your name and check … you’ll be SHOCKED as I was!

I urge you to forward this email to family and friends. Check to see if your name and information is in their database. If so and you want it removed, send them an e-mail at info@zabasearch.com <mailto:info@zabasearch.com>

to request it be removed. I do not know how our names are appearing there, but I checked my own and a few other random ones and they are all in this database!

After opting out by email, check back after a few days to make certain your information has been removed. If it has not been removed then file a complaint with your State’s Attorney General.

The first thing to know about this is that there is one very misleading piece of information in here about ZabaSearch: they are not new. They’ve been around since at least 2004 (and quite possibly much earlier, perhaps under another name). Emails like this seem to circulate every few months, always with at recent date in them — this makes me suspicious that it’s actually an example of “viral marketing", started by the firm itself.

Most people don’t seem to realize just how much information about themselves is in the public domain, available either for free (generally from government sources or advertising venues such as the telephone book) or for a small fee. An even bigger surprise to most people is the fact that dispensing such information is perfectly legal. While ZabaSearch offers the ability to block your name, they have no legal obligation to do so (and the notion of getting your state’s Attorney General involved is therefore useless) — because every bit of information that they make available, free or paid, is publicly available and completely legal to obtain and publish.

The notion of “publicly available” — the opposite of private — works (under American law) differently that most people expect. We Americans do not have the right to declare any particular information as “private” and thereby prevent others from discovering or publishing it (this right does exist in some other countries). Instead, we have a system here that recognizes only two mechanisms for keeping information private: laws about specific kinds of information, and secrets that you keep yourself.

The legally protected information is really quite limited. We have laws about health care information (HIPA), about Social Security Numbers, about credit or financial information, and a few other things — but that’s it. Just about any other information about you is unprotected by the law.

However, we Americans have a second mechanism available to us: we can keep any information we want to as a secret, only disclosing it to people or companies with whom we have a contract to keep that information secret. To most of you this probably sounds extreme — and to be sure, it takes a lot of work — but there actually are people who do this. This is actually exactly the same mechanism by which a company keeps a trade secret.

For example, suppose you didn’t want your address to be publicly available information. Here’s what you’d have to do. First, you’ll have to move, since presumably your current address is publicly known (e.g., you didn’t keep it a secret from everybody). When you buy a new place, you’ll have to buy it through an attorney, so your name doesn’t show up on the records. Anyone who learns your name during the purchase process (for example, the realtor or mortgage broker) will have to sign a non-disclosure agreement (a contract) before you do business with them. Trust me, they’ve seen these before — this is how celebrities who want privacy buy their homes. Next, you’ll need to set up a P.O. Box (through the post office, or a private one if they will sign a non-disclosure agreement). Then all your mail and packages go there, and you don’t need to give out your address for routine matters. You’ll still have a few things happen in your life where you’ll have to give your address (such as your employer, when you go to work there) — but you just get all them to sign a non-disclosure agreement and you’re protected.

If you do all that, you have a protectable secret — you can take successful legal action against anyone who discloses it. But…if you ever make a single mistake, disclosing that address to even one person or company without a non-disclosure agreement, then all bets are off and your address is now public information. Any legal action you took against someone disclosing it would then fail, as your address would then be considered to be in the public domain.

You can take similar measures to protect any information you want to, and you could be successful with them. But that’s the only way under American law. You are free, under our legal system, to sue anyone you want to after they have disclosed information, if that disclosure has harmed you. The track record of such suits is quite poor, especially when the information involved isn’t of a nature most people (e.g., jury members) would consider private.

Lots of information about you is clearly in the public domain, and in ways that I think most people are unsurprised by. For example, if you’re in a public place (i.e., somewhere there is no “expectation of privacy"), anything you say, and anything that can be publicly observed about you, is in the public domain. If you’re walking into the grocery store, and someone wants to take a photo of you — that’s their right to do so, and they can do anything they want to with that photo, so long as it wasn’t libelous or protected in some other way. If I was sitting next to you at the theater, and I overheard you telling your spouse that you just got a raise to $27 an hour, I could take out a newspaper ad and publish that information — you gave up your privacy on that by talking about it in public.

Another surprise for most people is that they have explicitly given permission — many times! — for companies to distribute their personal information to whomever they want to. For example, in the fine print of virtually every magazine subscription, there’s a section where you’re specifically granting the publisher the right to “share” your name, address, and phone number with anyone they want to. They sell this information (and on many magazines, that’s their primary revenue) to anyone who will pay them — and you gave them permission to do so. Such agreements pop up in the strangest places these days — I once found one in a rental car agreement (who reads them, other than kooks like me?), and in a car parking garage’s agreement (printed in teensy little type on the back of the ticket). Often when you apply for a job you’ll sign something like that — and when you apply for credit. I could go on and on here, but the real point is this: out of an abundance of caution, many companies are asking your permission (even if, strictly legally, they don’t need it) to distribute your personal information — and you’re giving it to them!

The result of all this is that firms like ZabaSearch can easily — and perfectly legally — publish and/or sell this “private” (but not really) information about you. This is nothing new — I was using such firms back in 1992 to check out people applying for a job at the company (Stac) I then worked for. The first few reports I got (for $25 and a phone call) just about blew me away — I couldn’t believe I could legally (not to mention easily) get this information. The only things new about ZabaSearch and their ilk (there are several dozen of them) is that they’re on the web, and they have the “teaser” of some free information. Otherwise they’re just like “investigations” firms that have been around for well over 100 years.

I mentioned earlier that some countries have privacy laws that work much different than ours here in the U.S. For example, in much of Europe it is illegal for any company to to disclose your address or phone number, unless you’ve given them explicit permission to do so. What happened when these laws were passed is quite interesting. Very generally, businesses have sorted themselves into two categories: either they do need your address (either for practical reasons, such as the pharmacist, or for revenue, such as a magazine), or they don’t. Those businesses who do need your address — even if they have no intention of disclosing it — get your permission to do so, and they won’t do business with you unless you grant it. This permission then protects them against the consquences of disclosure, whether intentional or not. The other companies simply never take your address. In the end, I’m not sure this is really any different than the situation we have here…

My recommendation: this isn’t something to get yourself in a dither about. I think it’s an unavoidable consequence of living in modern times. If it really disturbs you, consider moving to Papua New Guinea…and privacy will no longer be worrying you…

Friday, September 1, 2006

An Invitation

By now most of you are well aware that my wife (Debbie) competes with our field spaniels in agility. And you may have accidentally caught one of the few (less than a hundred, I’m sure) references I’ve made to she and Mo’i (our adult male field spaniel) being invited to the AKC Agility Invitational.

Well…here’s the by-golly-it’s-for-real invitation she just received. It’s all very official, using Mo’i’s registered name: Wolftree’s Pearl King, and with his agility titles (AX and AXJ). By the way, in case you somehow missed it in my earlier bragsmentions, Mo’i is the current number two field spaniel in agility in the whole country!

Is this way cool or what?

Thursday, August 31, 2006

A Convenient Lie

Al Gore’s movie “An Inconvenient Truth” has a premise that dangerous global warming caused by human activity is a proven scientific fact.

That premise is false. Al Gore’s movie should have been titled “A Convenient Lie”.

In fact, there is no scientific consensus on almost any aspect of global warming, most especially with respect to mankind’s contribution to it as compared with the natural contribution.

Boston Globe columnist Alex Beam recently wrote this:

Speech codes are rare in the industrialized, Western democracies. In Germany and Austria, for instance, it is forbidden to proselytize Nazi ideology or trivialize the Holocaust. Given those countries' recent histories, that is a restraint on free expression we can live with.

More curious are our own taboos on the subject of global warming. I sat in a roomful of journalists 10 years ago while Stanford climatologist Stephen Schneider lectured us on a big problem in our profession: soliciting opposing points of view. In the debate over climate change, Schneider said, there simply was no legitimate opposing view to the scientific consensus that man - made carbon emissions drive global warming. To suggest or report otherwise, he said, was irresponsible.

Indeed. I attended a week’s worth of lectures on global warming at the Chautauqua Institution last month. Al Gore delivered the kickoff lecture, and, 10 years later, he reiterated Schneider’s directive. There is no science on the other side, Gore inveighed, more than once. Again, the same message: If you hear tales of doubt, ignore them. They are simply untrue.

I ask you: Are these convincing arguments? And directed at journalists, who are natural questioners and skeptics, of all people? What happens when you are told not to eat the apple, not to read that book, not to date that girl? Your interest is piqued, of course. What am I not supposed to know?

He goes on to describe his discovery that there is no consensus on Al Gore’s inconvenient “truth”. It’s well worth reading.

Now my state (California) has passed an emissions cap law that is intended to mitigate global warming (read about it here and here $). My summary: California just decided to voluntarily spend billions of dollars and discourage a wide variety of manufacturing industries, all for a reason based on junk science and political correctness.

Earlier this week, our state Assembly passed a bill mandating Hillary-style “single payer” health insurance. This is the system that exists in Britain and Canada today, the same system that has Brits and Canucks fleeing their country to find reasonable quality health care, delivered in a timely fashion. The waiting list for MRIs in Toronto is about six months; for heart bypasses in London over a year. Doctors are fleeing both countries — not for better health care, but to make more money, as the single payer system has relentlessly chipped away at their entrepreneurial opportunities. Our Assembly has decided that we need this sort of third-world medical care in California. Their apparent motivation? They want to make sure that all illegal aliens would have taxpayer-funded health care coverage (I read the bill myself, and that is exactly what it mandates). This bill is sitting in front of Governor Schwatzenegger, who has not announced where he stands on it. I sure hope he’s on the side of the angels on this one…

The first event makes me long for a revolution in Sacremento. The second one, should Schwartzenegger sign it, will have me seriously considering moving out of state.

Hmmm… I wonder if Jamul could secede from California?

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

TV and Movies

You may know, from previous posts, that I’m not generally a big fan of watching television or movies. I cannot even remember when I was last in a movie theater; all I remember is that the experience was (for me) awful. In a good month I may watch two or three movies, and an hour of television. Maybe. But clearly most of the world is not like me. My wife, Debbie, is much more typical — she absolutely adores old black-and-white movies. And many of my friends have similar interests — in fact, an email from one of those friends provoked this post. She wondered why it was that she, and so many others, enjoy television and movies so very much.

I have a theory about why I’m not very attracted to TV and movies, and also why most people are. My theory could easily be wrong, perhaps especially because a non-enthusiast came up with it.

The theory: people like activities that are intellectually passive without being boring. TV and movies are a passive activity; you don’t have to think about them, you just have to experience them. But they are (at least most of them) also not boring. The combination of the two makes them attractive — even very attractive — to most people.

Reading fiction, if you’re an expert reader, is not quite as passive — you have to use your imagination to envision the places and people in a book — but otherwise, I think it has similar attractions. Inexpert readers have to work very hard to read a book, so for them it isn’t a passive activity at all. That’s not all bad — people I know who have to work hard at reading also pay more attention to detail, and seem to have more appreciation of nuances. It’s an interesting tradeoff. I suspect this may also be true for anyone reading in a language other than their native language.

I think a big part of the reason why I am not particularly attracted to movies and TV is because I much prefer intellectually active pursuits. I have to be tired, or in the right mood, to really enjoy a movie. But learning something new about technology or science or history — I can get very engaged in those activities just about anytime.

Another phenomenon that I suspect is related: I’m not bothered in the slightest by leaving in the middle of a TV show or a movie. Once I get to a point where I’m bored, or I just can’t stand the passivity of the experience, I’ll just leave. Nearly everyone I know finds that behavior to be bizarre and/or obnoxious. It’s as if they think about sitting down to watch a show or a movie as an obligation — once started, they simply must complete it. This makes no sense to me at all! My attitude is that if there’s something I’d rather be doing (and there usually is), then by golly I’m gonna do it, and not just suffer in front of the screen.

What do you all think about my theory? It fits this non-enthusiast, but does it fit you enthusiasts (e.g., most of the world) out there?

Enquiring minds want to know…

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

2,996 Update

Late last night (my time), the 2,996th blogger signed up with the 2,996 project — meaning that every single one of the 2,996 victims of 9/11 will have a tribute created for them. All of these tributes will be unveiled on 9/11/2006, the fifth anniversary of 9/11.

But we’re not stopping there. Now the 2,996 project is signing up a second blogger to honor as many victims of 9/11 as we can with second tribute!

If you know any bloggers who have not already signed up, please direct them to the 2,996 project site, and tell them to sign up immediately!

Sunday, August 27, 2006

Flat Stanley #2

This is the second Flat Stanley Journal (see the first one here). Flat Stanley met some of our eight cats this morning. Here he’s snuggling with Tippy, the grumpy old man of our cats. About eight years ago, Debbie rescued Tippy from some terrible young hooligans who thought it was fun to hurt Tippy. She took him away from the bad kids, and we’ve given him a nice, safe home ever since. But he’s still grumpy. Tippy is the best jumper we’ve ever had (and we’ve had a lot of cats!). When he was younger, he could jump from the kitchen floor to the top of our refrigerator — and he made it look easy. Tippy got his name because of the tiny white tip on his tail (you can’t see it in this photo). Tippy’s favorite thing: he likes a little dish of half-and-half in the morning, when we make our coffee. He hollers at us if he doesn’t get it!

Maka Lea means “twinkling eyes” or “mischievous” in Hawai’ian, and that’s a really fitting name for him. He was sick (with a disease called distemper) when he was a tiny kitten, and as a result he’s very clumsy and awkward. But he doesn’t know it — he’s just a playful, happy cat. And it seems like he’s always getting into trouble — as Flat Stanley is discovering! Maka Lea’s favorite thing is to be taken outside and held in our arms right next to the hummingbird feeders. The hummingbirds aren’t scared of us at all — sometimes they’ll even land on our ears or our head. And even if we’re holding a cat (who would really like to eat a hummingbird or two), the “hummers” will buzz all around us, flying very close. Maka Lea loves it when the hummers hover right near by him!

Halala Pala means “big mellow” in Hawai’ian, and that name tells his story. We call him “the Ha” for short, because Halala Pala is quite a mouthful. He’s a great, big, roly-poly and very mellow kitty. We got him as part of a rescued feral cat litter, but we think he’s at least partly a kind of cat called “Maine coon” — known for their large size, mellow disposition, and markings just like Halala Pala has. Halala Pala’s favorite thing is a toy that looks like a small fishing pole with a feather where the hook would be. We swish that around, and you can see Halala Pala pretending that it’s a bird, and he’ll scamper all over the place trying to catch it.

Flat Stanley likes Halala Pala much better than Maka Lea!

By the way, when you see an apostrophe in the middle of a Hawai’ian word, that means you need to pronounce it with something called a “full glottal stop”. That sounds hard, but it’s really easy — it’s what you do when you say “oh-oh”. In Hawai’ian, you’d write that as “oh’oh”.

Well, after Flat Stanley heard about the hummingbirds from Maka Lea, he wanted to go out and see them for himself. So he climbed up on a hummingbird feeder and just waited for the hummers to show up. That took about 2 minutes — our hummers know they’re safe around our house, and that we have lots of tasty “hummer juice” for them to drink. Hummer juice is just a mixture of sugar and water, with a little food coloring in it to make it look pretty (the hummers really don’t care about that part). We have ten hummingbird and oriole feeders hung up outside our windows, each one holding between one quart and one and a half quarts — three gallons all together. The hummers will drain those completely empty in just over one day, in the summertime. It takes about 25 pounds of sugar to make a week’s worth of hummer juice in the summertime. In the winter, most of our hummers (all but one species) fly south to Costa Rica. In the springtime there are lots of flowers for them to drink the nectar from, so we don’t see them on our feeders so much. But from the summer until they leave around Halloween, they are chugging hummer juice at high speed. We figure we have between 300 and 400 hummers visiting us every day.

Flat Stanley made lots of hummer friends, and very quickly. In the picture above at far right, you can see one of the hummers coming in for a landing right by Flat Stanley’s feet. And in the other picture you can see quite a crowd of hummers. That particular kind of hummer feeder has eight places for hummers to drink from. We often see all eight places taken, with one or two hummers hovering just behind, waiting in line for their turn.

When you get really close to a hummingbird, it looks a little different than you might expect. In the far right picture (click to make it bigger) you see a male hummingbird, with his bright red throat patch. Right now the patch is a little tatty; they look their best in the springtime when they’re courting the females. Notice how those bright red features are splayed out above his “real” feathers — almost as if they were scales. And also notice how the normal feathers look almost stringy — each of those little “strings” is actually a teensy tiny little feather. If you touch a hummingbird, they’re not soft like you might expect — they actually feel a little stiff, sort of like a stiff paper bag. The left-hand photo shows a female hummer in the foreground, with that same male in the background. Notice how the female is much less colorful? This lets her hide better when she’s sitting on her nest, warming her eggs.

Flat Stanley really liked the hummers. I had trouble talking him into going for the rest of our walk. The first thing we stopped to look at was this patch of desert lillies. Like many lillies, these bloom in late summer or early autumn, instead of springtime. Botanists believe that this is a clever adaptation, so that the lily is in bloom when almost nothing else is — and all the bees and hummingbirds will visit it. In the springtime, the flowering plants are all competing with one another for the bee’s attention. The lillies don’t have this problem — they’ve got the bees all to themselves! We have lots of these lillies in our yard, and they grow all over the hill behind us. We look forward to them popping up every summer.

A short distance away, Flat Stanley found this big clump of Pampas Grass. This is not a native plant, but with a little water it grows very well here. This particular plant is about 8 feet across and 10 feet high. The beautiful white flowerheads come out in the late summer (these just erupted this week), bloom, and then turn into equally beautiful seedheads that stay good-looking for months. The whole time Flat Stanley was climbing up the Pampas Grass, we could hear him saying “ouch!", “ouch!” — because those pretty green grass blades have very sharp edges. In the closeup photo at left, in the part circled in blue you can see the tiny little “saw teeth” that line the edges of the Pampas Grass blades. They can give you a nasty cut. Who would expect that from grass? In the part circled in green, you’re looking at a very close-up view of Flat Stanley. See how the colors are actually made up of little tiny dots? Most color printers work this way. They usually only have three to six colors of ink in them — but they make up any other color by combining these little dots. For instance, lots of red dots with just a few yellow dots will look like a deep orange color — unless you have a magnifying glass powerful enough to see the individual dots, as in this picture.

Flat Stanley saw our tractor and wanted to go for a drive. We took him around the back part of our yard, and let him drive for a little while. We use this little tractor for all sorts of chores, saving us from digging or lifting by hand. We also use it to chip wood (we cut lots of brush every year), mow, and drill fence post holes. It’s a handy thing to have around! And lots of Flat Stanley fun, until he tried to drive into our fence! Along the way we passed by the tower that holds our weather station, and Flat Stanley couldn’t resist climbing it. This weather station measures the speed of the wind, what direction it’s coming from, the temperature, the humidity, the rainfall, and how bright the sun is. It has a radio transmitter in it that sends all the weather information to our computer, where we put it on a web site. Flat Stanley tried to climb all the way to the top, but he slipped and fell off. After he got up and dusted himself off, he said he was ready for a rest.

So we walked down to this big rock in our back yard. It’s an interesting place, because there are lots of things to see all in one place. You can see them all in the photo if you click on it to get a big version. The first thing to look at is the rock itself. It’s a very old rock; it’s been exposed to the air for hundreds of thousands of years. During that time, the wind, the rain, and plants (especially lichen) growing on the surface have all caused the rock to weaken, or “decompose”. The rock is granite — a kind of rock we usually think of as very hard and durable. But with enough time, even granite will break down. Decomposed granite forms all of our soil around here; it all comes from rocks like this one. Behind the rock is a large manzanita. Manzanitas like it best on the northern side of a hill, with very well-drained, sandy soil, near rocks, and on a small raised (elevated) place. That’s exactly where this manzanita is, and it’s a very happy manzanita because of that. On the right hand side of the picture, you can see a pine tree branch. That happens to be an Italian Stone Pine — not a native tree, but one that grows very well here. This particular kind of pine tree grows a “tap root” — a root that grows straight down into the ground until it finds water. Trees with a tap root can easily survive our long, hot, and extremely dry summertimes. Most pines do not have tap roots, so they cannot survive in our area unless you give them a lot of water in the summer. All of our water has to be pumped up from deep wells, most of which don’t have a lot of water in the first place — so it is expensive (for the pumping) and risky to have trees that need a lot of water. Down on the ground in front of Flat Stanley are some plants with very light green leaves forming a kind of umbrella over the bare dirt. These are just the right height for Flat Stanley to get some shade under. If you look very closely at the leaves of these plants, you’ll see they’re actually dark green, but covered with little tiny white hairs. This is a very common adaptation by desert plants, to protect them against drying out and overheating. These particular plants are very common on open ground in our area. To the left of Flat Stanley you can see a clump of scruffy-looking shrubbery poking out of the rocks. This is a monkey-flower shrub, and it’s one of our favorite plants in the area. Not because of how it looks now, of course — but because in the springtime these shrubs are completely covered in pale orange flowers. There something else surprising about this plant, too: it’s leaves are very sticky. Touching them feels a lot like touching the sticky part of a Post-It note. Flat Stanley got stuck in the monkey-flower, and we had to rescue him.

And after this adventure, Flat Stanley was plumb tuckered out. He’s taking a nap in his envelope again…

Saturday, August 26, 2006

Flat Stanley #1

Flat Stanley is visiting with us for a week or so. He hails from Flat Rhode Island, where he lives with a fellow blogger, her husband, and their three kids (Jacob, Zachary, and Kaileigh). He’s visiting with us as part of an educational program to teach the family about what it’s like in other parts of the country. We volunteered to host Flat Stanley out here in our California home. This is the first of several journal entries about Flat Stanley’s visit here.

Flat Stanley has a major travelling advantage over the rest of us, especially in these days of high gasoline prices. You see, Flat Stanley is so flat that he fits quite nicely into a Priority Mail envelope — so he got to travel all the way across the country for about $5. Pretty darned good deal, Flat Stanley!

This morning just after sunrise, Debbie (my wife), I, and our three field spaniels all went for a walk up the old, disused dirt road that goes uphill from our property. We’ve taken this walk — about a mile each way — many, many times. The road wanders slowly uphill from our house, around small chaparral-covered hills. There are interesting things to see all along the way, changing with every season. And there are very pleasant views of our valley (Lawson Valley) that are different as you walk around every corner.

In the summertime our area usually gets very warm every afternoon — often the temperature goes over 95 degrees Fahrenheit, and on the hottest days it goes over 105 degrees. That sounds just awful to anyone used to the temperatures on the East coast of the U.S. — but the heat here “feels” very different, because our relative humidity is so much lower. Whereas back East it’s very common for the relative humidity to be 90% or even 100%, here the usual relative humidity during the day is less than 20% — and sometimes less than 10%. This very dry air makes the heat much easier to bear, mostly because sweating cools you off much more effectively.

Flat Stanley seemed to like just sitting around more than he did climbing our hill. Since he’s so used to Flat Rhode Island, we’re thinking it might be the thin air at our altitude that’s got him feeling lazy. At the top of this road, we were about 2,300 feet above the ocean — much higher than the very highest place in all of Rhode Island. And in other parts of California, there are huge mountains that are almost seven times taller than where we walked with Flat Stanley.

In any case, Flat Stanley seemed to enjoy sitting in these Mountain Mahogany bushes more than anywhere else. These are a very common chaparral shrub, and very pretty this time of year when their seeds are out. If you touch the seeds, you’ll see that they are very soft — they make a very comfortable resting spot for Flat Stanley. When the sun shines from behind them, the Mountain Mahogany seeds are bright white, and from a distance they look like flowers. This time of year, if we look out over the chaparral, we see these white “flowered” bushes everywhere we look.

All three of our dogs (Miki, Mo’i, and Lea, front-to-rear) got along just fine with Flat Stanley. Mo’i (in the closeup) and Flat Stanley had several long conversations while on our walk. As best we could tell, Mo’i was asking Flat Stanley whether he’d make a good snack (Mo’i is always thinking about food!), and Flat Stanley was telling Mo’i how awful he would taste. Mo’i didn’t eat Flat Stanley, so he must have been persuasive!

Mo’i and Lea run in agility competition (Debbie is their trainer and handler). In these competitions they have to run through a complicated obstacle course, with jumps, tunnels, poles to weave through, and other challenging things. To win, they have to go through the entire obstacle course perfectly — and do it really fast! Mo’i is currently the #2 agility field spaniel in the U.S., and because of that he’ll be travelling to Long Beach, California in December to be part of a nationwide contest. He’s real excited about that (and so is Debbie!). The rest of us are very proud of the two of them.

After he climbed this bush, Flat Stanley could see the view out toward the Pacific Ocean. This morning, like many summer mornings, the lower altitudes toward the shore had a layer of low clouds over them. From our higher vantage point, all we could see was the cloud tops. If we were at the beach, we wouldn’t see the sun at all — just a layer of gray clouds.

Sometimes this layer of white clouds looks to us like a kind of fantastical ocean, with the mountain tops poking out as though they were islands in the sea. These clouds are especially beautiful in the light of a bright full moon — they have a wispy look, like the poufiest meringue in the world.

Anybody who knows the chaparral knows the manzanita tree, one of the most interesting and most beautiful plants that grows here. Flat Stanley took one look at this little manzanita and immediately jumped up to rest for a while in its shade. Manzanita trees are very common in the area immediately surrounding our home. We live in exactly the kind of area they like: the north-facing slope of a hill, with soil made from decomposed granite that drains extremely well. Manzanitas are very well adapted to the hot, dry climate we live in. They have a very broad system over hairlike roots just under the surface of the ground — these roots catch every drop of rain (or dew) that falls on them. The manzanita’s leaves are covered with very fine hairs, almost like velvet. These hairs act as a layer of insulation, keeping the hot sun off the leaves and helping them retain water. The light green color of their leaves also helps them stay cooler — and they are beautiful against the deep red bark.

Climbing a different bush, and looking in a different direction, Flat Stanley could see Cajon Mountain. It looks very big and rugged in this photo, but it’s actually only a medium-sized mountain in our area. The rocky faces of Cajon Mountain are a famous landmark here, especially from the town of El Cajon, which is named after the mountain.

Three years ago, a terrible wildfire burned large parts of the county (San Diego County) where we live. Hundreds of houses were burned down, and many square miles of wild forest and chaparral were also burned. All of Cajon mountain was burned in that fire, and even though it’s 15 miles away from us in that picture, you can still see some of the black, charcoal-like marks the fire caused on the rocks.

For people, these wildfires are awful things, and we do our best to prevent them and put them out. But it is interesting to know that the chaparral plants and animals actually depend on these fires occurring, usually every 50 to 100 years. Many of the shrubs and trees that live in the chaparral have seeds that will not sprout unless there is a fire (the manzanita tree is one of these).

Flat Stanley got really tired on this walk, and now he’s taking a nap in his envelope. We’ll have another Flat Stanley adventure tomorrow…

Friday, August 25, 2006

What Lock?

Think again.

As this article explains, a old technique for opening almost any pin tumbler lock has recently been rediscovered and greatly improved — to the point where just about anybody can open just about any keyed lock quite easily. As noted security expert Marc Weber Tobias reports:

I interviewed and videotaped the eleven year old girl at the lock picking village at DEFCON who demonstrated how she could quickly open a popular cylinder. She had no prior experience with locks and did not understand the underlying theory.

Nice.

I read the article — it really does look like a trivially easy way to open keyed locks…

Jamul Casino EIR

The EIR (Environmental Impact Report) for the proposed Jamul Indian Casino has been long awaited by the majority in the community who oppose this project (including us). An article in this morning’s San Diego Union-Tribune says that it is due to be released today sometime, and will be made available on the Jamul Indian Village web site. The newspaper has a copy of the report already, and according to them there are only two unmitigatable impacts listed. One is a traffic impact, and the other is how the casino would change Jamul’s appearance:

The only other such impact was described as the project’s “visual transformation of land within the Jamul valley.” However, the report adds that “this is a trend that began long ago with San Diego County’s approval of residential subdivisions and commercial facilities” in Jamul.

That finding is as close as the report comes to addressing a primary objection of opponents – that the casino would alter the fundamental character of Jamul, a bedroom community that considers itself a rural enclave despite its 20-mile proximity to downtown San Diego.

Lead consultant Joe Broadhead of Environmental Data Systems said the report does not analyze potential changes in community character because that is difficult to gauge and subjective to assess. Instead, he said, “We break all of the (related) issues down to their component parts – air quality, traffic, noise” and other factors that can be quantified.

In other words, they completely bypassed one of the major objections of the community — that the presence of the casino would irrevocably change the rural character of Jamul. It looks to me like they’re setting up their legal arguments with the claim that Jamul’s rural character has already changed.

I don’t know whether a change in the rural character is actually something that could be successfully used to challenge an EIR. But I can’t imagine any other species than lawyers who would make a straight-faced claim that the monstrous proposed casino would NOT change Jamul’s character. There must be a significant part of law school devoted to thrashing the common sense out of every lawyer…

Thursday, August 24, 2006

Light Blogging

You may remember a post a few weeks ago, telling you about the 2,996 Project (see the graphic “Join The Tribute” at right). Dale Roe (the project’s founder) set out to sign up a blog to honor each of the 2,996 victims of 9/11 with a web tribute. All 2,996 tributes would be unveiled on 9/11/2006 — the fifth anniversary of that awful day.

I signed up about two months ago, when just a few hundred blogs had signed up. Dale has been out publicizing the project, and the blogs have been regularly signing up. Just a few days ago, we looked at the rate of signups and — with some satisfaction — concluded that we were likely to have every victim assigned to a blogger before 9/11/2006.

Yesterday something happened that dramatically changed the dynamics of the project: Michelle Malkin signed up to do a tribute, and publicized it on her very popular blog. The result was a “Michelle-o-lanche” — a flash flood of people reading Michelle’s post and clicking over to the 2,996 Project’s web site. And hundreds of these visitors signed right up to honor a 9/11 victim.

The chart above shows what this did to my web site’s traffic. You’re seeing a graph of bandwidth consumption — basically just the number of bits per second that my web server is spitting out. You can see exactly when Michelle mader her post, about 11:30 yesterday morning — because the bandwidth consumption immediately jumped right up to the max (about 340,000 bits per second). At one point I had over 1,000 people simultaneously using my web server, by far the most I’ve ever had on my little site. The result of all this (aside from the wonderfully high rate of 2,996 Project signups) is that my web site was very slow yesterday.

And this morning, the traffic is starting to pick back up, already at nearly the high rates of yesterday. So…until things settle down a bit, I’m going to lay off any more posts on my blog (which is on the same web server), in the hopes of freeing up some more bandwidth for the project.

Oh, and if you’re a blogger, and you haven’t signed up yet, then get theeself over to the 2,996 Project and sign up right now!