Uncategorized

The SlitherBot Threat is Real!

24 Comments

Today’s post comes from Congressman Loomis Beechly, representing Minnesota’s 9th District – all the water surface area in the state.

Greetings Constituents,

With the mid-term election less than one month away I have been looking in vain for an issue that will give me enough traction to wriggle back into office.

Many of my House colleagues are going nuts over Ebola, Immigration, Benghazi and Obama Care with varying results. Some high-minded politicians have tried to make a big deal out of Net Neutrality, and in the process have put their constituents to sleep.

I decided I wanted to go my own route and have been trying a few things on for size.

Most recently I decried President Obama’s admission that he didn’t have a strategy against ISIS. That critical angle really started to work for me and people were even sending money to endorse my assertion that the president should have started word-bombing Syria immediately, but when he began bomb-bombing instead, the contributions just fizzled out.

An earlier attempt to generate some genuine outrage fell flat when people simply refused to care that legions of robots are being programmed to cooperate.

I thought it would generate waves of concern among the populace that our beloved Congressmen could someday be replaced by machines that will compromise their personal needs in favor of getting things done. I guess I overestimated people’s fondness for partisan bickering. I really thought it was popular!

Now I’m second-guessing that, but I’m still pretty sure there’s a strong anti-robot feeling out there. I’d still like to exploit that fear, if possible. The key was to find something people hate as much (or more) than robots.

Fortunately, I just discovered something so alarming I think you’ll agree that Congress should pass a law restricting it as soon as possible – Robot Snakes!

Apparently some scientists (thank God they continue to tickle our worst fears with their outrageous experiements) developed a robot snake that will slither up a sand dune like a sidewinder. Through careful research they learned that sidewinders flatten their bodies out to get a better purchase on an unstable surface. Ugh!

Don’t get me wrong, this is probably useful knowledge that will benefit mankind somehow in the future, but for now I feel I’ve been gifted with the extremely sinister image of a robot snake with an eerily flattened body speedily writhing its way towards you (and your children!) across an otherwise peaceful and secure beach.

This must never be allowed to happen!

My opponent, and everyone else in Congress and the nation, have been silent on the looming SlitherBot threat! But if I am re-elected to represent the 9th District, I promise I will introduce legislation to prohibit the release of autonomous sidewinder robot snakes into the wild! Especially near bodies of water, which, as you know, is primarily what you’ll find in my district.

My critics will say no one anywhere is on record with a plan to do this, but as far as I’m concerned, that means the planning must be happening in secret, which is even more dastardly! Why go underground with it unless your aims are nefarious?

OMG. Could there be Underground SlitherBots?

Respectfully,
Your only anti-cyber-snake candidate,
Loomis Beechly

What election issue has your attention?

History

Up In A Plane!

48 Comments

Much has been made of recent security lapses surrounding the President of the United States and his family. The modern presidency is a luxurious cage, and anyone with the funding and the fortitude to get elected must willingly climb inside for their own safety. We expect that the people surrounding the President will anticipate every possible threat and will act with integrity to head off a calamity.

But it used to be different. Example: today is the anniversary of the day in 1910 when another great landmark in the history of Presidential security occurred – in what appears to be a “what the hell” moment of exuberance, sitting president Teddy Roosevelt decides to let some guy take him up in a plane.

Really. And there’s video.

Imagine any other President deciding to do this while in office. In an age where we weld down the manhole covers so the chief executive’s motorcade can pass over them unmolested, letting the POTUS go for a joyride in some relatively new piece of technology is unthinkable.

Theodore_Roosevelt_and_Archibald_Hoxsey_(1910)

Doing this cemented another milestone for T.R. – he became the first U.S. President to fly. And seeing him in the video as he climbs through the bracing wires between wings so he can settle, uncomfortably, into his seat, makes me wonder if he also became the first exasperated American air traveler to ask “Why is this so uncomfortable?”

Those deep, ground-challenging dips at the end of the flight are breathtaking even today. No aircraft should have its nose pointed ground ward at such a steep angle.

Within three months, Roosevelt’s pilot, Arch Hoxsey, would be dead.

In an air crash, of course.

What do you remember from your first airplane ride?

Uncategorized

An Eye On Octopi

24 Comments

You know how your eye is sometimes caught by a familiar word in an unexpected place?

That’s what happened to me when I saw I link to this National Geographic collection of articles that appeared under the heading: Beautiful Octopus Pictures: Masters of Disguise and Agile Hunters.

I am well aware that Octopi are Masters of Disguise and Agile Hunters to boot. What I hadn’t considered before is that they are Beautiful.

But if one octopus can be beautiful, does that mean a different octopus might be considered ugly? What would an octopus Standard of Beauty be?

If you were an octopus being judged at the State Fair, for example, would it work for or against you if your tentacles were thick and muscular or thin and noodly, or if your head was pear shaped or unusually soft looking?

What’s it worth in the underseas society to be a gorgeous octopus? Is it a matter of vanity, or are there real advantages? How much time and effort are you going to put into primping those suckers, suckers?

What makes a thing beautiful?

Science

Ask Dr. Babooner – Comet vs. Lohan

22 Comments

We are ALL Dr. Babooner

Dear Dr. Babooner,

I try to keep up with current events but I am usually disappointed at the top stories on Google and the most recent trending items on Twitter.

Why?

Invariably these most popular stories have to do with movie stars, athletes, psycho killers and the most alarmingly dangerous  things in the world.

I admit some of this exasperation is a matter of selfish pride.

Because while the world is looking closely at what’s up with Lindsey Lohan, I’m involved in a years-long effort to land a probe on the face of a comet.  I played a small role in planning the project, and so did many, many others.  And yet I’m just not seeing very much news  coverage of what I think is the most important story out there.

Am I wrong to feel slighted?

Think for a minute about how you would go about this task if it were your assignment.

    1. Design a machine that can learn something meaningful about a completely foreign object.
    2. Launch that object into space.
    3. Catch up to a comet.
    4. Figure out where to land on a duck-shaped object going 83,000 miles per hour.
    5. Land, understanding that the surface you’re plopping down on is something you can only guess about ten years before you actually have to do it, and your guess has to be good enough to make it all possible.

      6. I think that’s pretty special, and it leads me to the conclusion that people are incredibly silly because they just don’t care about truly important stuff as much as they should.

      And yet I want their approval SO MUCH!

      Dr. Babooner, what is wrong with me?

      Sincerely perplexed,
      Rosetta Stan

      I told Rosetta Stan that he is suffering from a normal human tendency to feel slighted by a world that inexplicably overlooks one’s exceptional achievements. I commiserated with him, offering the opinion that his effort directed at learning about comet 67P/Churyumov-Gerasimenko is indeed a major event in the history of human achievement and its outcomes will be remembered forever.

      Unfortunately, Lindsey Lohan and her many fans feel exactly the same way about her West End Debut.

      But that’s just one opinion. What do YOU think, Dr. Babooner?

The Baboon Congress, Travel

View Point Ahead

54 Comments

Today’s guest post comes from Barbara in Robbinsdale.

One of the reasons I like to travel – especially when it’s “over the surface” of the country by car or train, is that I always come home with a slightly different perspective on my life.

Being in touch with all that space just gives one pause, and last month’s road trip to Utah is no exception. The highway (I-70) that we drove through Colorado’s Rocky Mountains was lined with aspens that look like yellow flames in the dark evergreen forests.

In southern Utah, one canyon made you think you’re in a cathedral, and the second must have been dropped there from another planet.

We noticed all kinds of little differences between there and home – names like Grizzly Creek and Hanging Lake; towns called Eagle, Leadville, Rifle, Yellowcat. Road signs warned of “Falling Rocks” or “Avalanche Area”.

And sure enough, several times along Utah’s scenic Highway 12, we slowed for small groups of cattle grazing in the ditch.

The Cathedral-like Zion National Park, Utah
Undeniably True
Bryce Canyon – Extraterrestrial Scenery

My favorite road sign, “View Point Ahead”, echoed my mood.

I am prepared to come home from any journey with a change in point of view – I look forward to it. This time I’ve arrived with shifted priorities, ready to explore what I can and cannot do with my life.

When have you known a change was coming?

Science

Red Moon Rationale

17 Comments

The following message was found scrawled in fiery hot red sauce on the underside of a scraped-clean leftovers container outside a barbecue joint in Memphis, Tennessee. The partly-melted Styrofoam was sent to Minneapolis for analysis in the FBI’s Mississippi Watershed Crime Lab, but when it got switched up with a lunch container brought to work by an agent from Eagan and was subsequently dropped (erroneously) into a recycling bin, it got separated out with other materials that were contaminated by food waste and came to the attention of the agency’s Midwest Director of Suspicious Debris, who immediately forwarded it to the Department of Homeland Security, who gave it to the CIA, who handed it over to the Secret Service, where they set it out on the North Portico of the White House because it smelled too funky to bring inside. A gust of wind caught it and the Styrofoam wound up landing at my doorstep. I probably shouldn’t have read it, but I did. And now I share it with you.

Ahoy, Landlubbers,

I has it on good authority that there’s gonna be a Red Moon on th’ mornin’ of October 8, 2014.

Lots of guesswork is goin’ on as t’ th’ possible meaning, an’ none of it ’tis good since red is th’ color of emergency an’ danger an’ blood.

Several of me boys has become quite excited about this, thinkin’ that perhaps th’ advent of a prominent Red Moon might mean some kinda change in their otherwise miserable an’ monotonous lives. Fer them what sees it, th’ shade of th’ lunar orb is supposed t’ be a tad dramatic though any actual lasting effect is highly unlikely.

Here’s a lovely chart about th’ event, made by a sober individual wi’ a scientific mind.

Graphic via Eclipsewise / Fred Espenak
Graphic via Eclipsewise / Fred Espenak

Me boys is a bit too fanciful t’ put much stock in a scientific document like th’ one above. They’s much more influenced by folktales and sayins, ‘specially them what is easy t’ remember.

An’ rumor has it that there is plenty of popular sayins regardin’ sky color an what sailors is likely t’ expect as a result. So of course I Googled ’em an found some on th’ nautical website gCaptain.com.

Red sky at night, sailor’s delight,
Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning.

Evening red and morning gray, help the traveler on his way
Evening gray and morning red bring down a rain upon his head
Orange or yellow, can hurt a fellow.

I ain’t never heard none of these sayins, so I surveyed th’ crew an’ sure enough, several of me boys swears by ’em, especially that one about sailors an’ delight. An then they tells me there’s some extra sayins what is especially about a Red Moon as it relates t’ its position regardin’ the vessel.

Red Moon rising before, pirates should all be sent ashore.
Red Moon falling behind, pirates should not be confined.
Red Moon beside, extra helpings of grog should be tried.

I allowed as how I’d never heard none of this, but rather I had a different set of sayins in mind.

When the Moon rises Red, I’ll swat yer head.
When the Moon rises Scarlet, no fun fer the bar lot.
When the Moon rises Ruby, just do yer duty.
When the Moon rises Crimson, yer at my whim, son.

Th’ boys was not impressed wi’ them sayins, an’ Gimpy claimed I made ’em up. But what if I did? All sayins has t’ be made up by someone at some point – so why not me, an’ why not now?

Make up a new saying about the meaning of a Red Moon

Uncategorized

Enjoying the Anthroposcenery

64 Comments

Today’s post comes from Bart, the bear who found a smart phone in the woods.

H’lo, Bart here.

We get a lot of scientists out here in the woods. I mean lots. More of them than normal people, almost. I think it’s ’cause scientists get paid to come out and do experiments in the chill and the damp with bugs all around, so they have to stay until the work is done even if the weather gets horrible, which it eventually does.

So we can always be pretty sure there’ll be a scientist in the woods, no matter what time of year.

By contrast, normal people who climb into their campers and come to the woods for some R & R will turn tail and get out as soon as it stops being fun, which usually takes 48 hours, or just about one day if they have kids.

People are funny that way, which is why I decided to text you on this since you are one and maybe you understand this.

I’m not really too keen on knowing the name of the geologic age we’re living in, but I couldn’t help noticing the Smithsonian has declared this “The Age of Humans” as a way to drive home the undeniable point that humans have changed the climate with all their activity, and especially their gasses, which they emit at an alarming rate.

Humans also emit a lot of attitude, which is what you need to name a whole epoch after yourself. And by “epoch,” I mean tens of millions of years. That’s pretty bold! I’m not saying it’s a lie, but couldn’t you find someone else to give you the award, so it would at least seem like a surprise?

That’s all I’m saying. I’m a bear. We’re friends. If you’d asked me, I would have given you the “Anthropocene” award and it would have been genuine and heartfelt. And you wouldn’t have seemed to be so self-absorbed. As it is, you’re looking like the guy who throws a surprise birthday party for himself. Not too cool.

So here’s the deal – I’ll say this is “The Age of Humans” if you’ll return the favor, and in a few million years from now make a spontaneous declaration that “The Age of Humans” has ended, and we’ve transitioned into “The Bear Era.”

That’s politics – I’ll scratch your back and you scratch mine. Even though in reality me scratching your back would probably be physically catastrophic for you, and you scratching my back would maybe shake loose a few ticks.

But anyway, you know what I mean. It’s a quid pro quo with the payoff (for us) impossibly far away.

But I’m pretty confident there will still be bears by then, and having a geologic era defined by bear activity would be incredible! Imagine it – the whole planet’s surface, covered with berries and turned into a hibernatorium! Sounds like paradise!

Your pal,
Bart

What should be named after you?

Poems

On Top of Mt. Salty

57 Comments

Word that a new topographical map of the sea floor has revealed the existence of thousands of mountains rising from the bottom of the world’s oceans sent me scurrying to the local tavern, where I found Trail Baboon poet laureate Schuyler Tyler Wyler in his usual spot in the dark recesses at the back of the establishment, once again trying to extinguish the tragic flame of disappointment which burns at the center of his tormented soul.

He greeted me as he always does, with these words:

“Go away. I have no poems.”

This is a self-defeating theme for S.T.W., who believes he was born 100 years too late, long after Americans stopped appreciating poems that rhyme.

“Every possible word combination has been tried already,” he whined. “I have arrived at the scene too late, just like an explorer who discovers his mountain has been climbed.”

But when I told him that there were now thousands of new mountains that haven’t been seen or conquered, he brightened up. When I commissioned a few lines of verse to commemorate the discovery, he positively beamed. And when I paid him half the total as an advance, he immediately used the money to buy three more drinks so he could get to work.

A giant lurks beneath the waves – a monument to time.
As stately as a mansion and as as silent as a mime.
I see its summit shimmer – such a distant, lonely place.
I resolve to face this monster and to climb it to its base.

Every mountain is a challenge to go where no one has been.
So the brave heart makes provision – boots, a backpack and a fin,
and with stiff determination not to falter, fail or drown
the adventurer approaches and proceeds to scale it down!

On the summit of Mt. Salty I’m exuberant. I brag.
On the pinnacle of Salty I have placed my simple flag.
I drink in the scene around me as I relish my moment,
then embark upon the process of a swift, controlled descent.

As I climb it becomes darker. It gets colder as I go.
But I’m grateful it’s not windy and there isn’t any snow.
With each step I feel the pressure to achieve this mountain’s root.
Do I have the strength and courage to ascend it to it’s foot?

It is nighttime on the mountain when I make my little camp,
I am tired but determined. In my tent, it’s rather damp.
As I close my eyes I see how I’ll defeat this pile of slag.
At the bottom of Mt. Salty I’ll look up to see my flag.

But my sleep is so unsettled. I’m untethered and alone.
I am tossed about in waves of doubt and buffeted by foam.
In my dreams I feel I’m floating far away from what I seek.
When I wake, I see my banner – far below me, at the peak!

What’s your mountain?

History, The Baboon Congress

Miles

50 Comments

Today’s guest post comes from Chris Norbury.
Chris blogs at A Neo-Renaissance Writer.

This is my good friend, Miles.He's reached the age where he's comfortable about his appearance

He’s got Japanese roots, but was actually born in Georgetown, KY. He was named after Miles Davis, one of the greatest jazz musicians of all time.

He's reached the age where he's comfortable with his body.
He’s kind of blue, and he’s reached the age where he’s comfortable with his body and his looks

Miles has visited each coast, been to Canada several times, and almost been to Mexico. He’s traveled nearly the equivalent of a one-way trip to the Moon. He’s gotten a few bumps and bruises along the way, suffered a few minor internal ailments, but otherwise has aged pretty darn gracefully for being 23 years old.

He's an interesting person with many and varied interests.
He’s into the Neo-Renaissance thing, and has many and varied interests.

He’s been a good friend for all the right reasons: faithful, reliable, and dependable. He also gets along great with my wife since he spent a lot of time with her the first half of his life, and they’re still on good terms with each other. He can keep a secret better than anyone I’ve known (when we’re out together with the windows closed and I rant about bad drivers or outrageous/stupid/ignorant things I hear on the radio). Based on a few close calls we’ve had, he’s always been willing to put himself in harm’s way to protect me.

He's Health conscious but also has a sense of humor
He’s health conscious, but also has a sense of humor.

Sometime in the next year or so, Miles will retire, hopefully to a good home that will take care of him in his last years. I don’t want to be the one to pull his spark plugs, so I’d like to either sell him to someone who will use him gently for his remaining time, or donate him to the radio station he learned to love after all those years, Minnesota Public Radio. His favorite show was Leigh Kamman’s The Jazz Image. Yeah, late Saturday night drives home while listening to all those great jazz tunes were some damn good times together.

He's interested in politics and able to discuss it in a civilized manner
He’s interested in politics.

His politics were always a little bit different, but he’s a live and let live kind of car, so that’s cool.

He's a long-time supporter of worthwhile charities
He’s a long-time supporter of worthwhile charities

But his heart (engine) has always been good and true, and he believes in helping those less fortunate, (maybe getting a good meal out of the deal after taking the Big Brother (owner) and his Little Brother up to the BWCA for some canoeing and camping.)

When he slowly rolls to his final stop, I hope he’ll be c(a)remated rather than tossed into an open graveyard with hundreds of other rusted old heaps. Better to recycle his useful elements ASAP than have him slowly decay and pollute the ground water.

As his final day approaches, I find myself feeling sad and melancholy. I took him for granted for the first twenty years or so. I always assumed he be there, start on command, get me where I wanted to go fast and efficiently. I would let him go weeks, even months without a shower; throw trash in his backseat; let dust, dirt, mud, and a multitude of food crumbs accumulate in his cracks and crevices; and delay taking him in for regular checkups. At least I made sure he got his annual or biannual oil transfusion. I wasn’t nearly as good a friend to him than he was to me.

He loves to visit wild places in order to connect with his spiritual self, and he's a firm believer in self-reliance and personal responsibility.
He loves to visit wild places, and he’s a firm believer in self-reliance and personal responsibility.

Yet Miles never complained, always had a smile on his grille, always purred like a tiger when I started him up each day. But only rarely would I pat him on the roof and say, “Nice job, Miles. That was a bad storm you just got us through,” or “Thanks for a smooth ride.” Even though I ignored him a lot, I was grateful for every safe trip we ever took, even the shortest trips down to the local convenience store for gas, or bananas and milk, or a late-evening summer ice cream run.

So thanks Miles. For everything: Every new mile. Every new road. Every new town. Every new vista. And all the old ones, too.  I’ll miss you when you’re gone. Ashes to ashes, rust to rust.

My question: Why do we anthropomorphize and befriend inanimate objects such as cars? Tell me about your most trusted and rusty friend.

Uncategorized

Skipped a Step!

35 Comments

Today’s post comes from perennial sophomore Bubby Spamden, who, as the poster child for the campaign against social promotion, has spent 20 years in the 10th grade at Wendell Willke High School.

Hey Mr. C,

Did you see what Microsoft did yesterday?

It’s awesome, and it fills my heart with hope. They decided to introduce a new version of Windows – “Windows 10″! But here’s the cool part, and believe it or not I first heard about it on your blog when “Happy Valley Steve” made this comment –

Screenshot 2014-10-01 at 6.54.55 PM

How about that – ME learning tech stuff from YOU! Pretty amazing. I guess old people aren’t a total waste after all. Who knew?

That’s almost as amazing as the other part of the story – Microsoft totally disrespecting the number 9 by jumping over it! A lot of people are upset about this, but I think it’s cool because skipping steps is why I keep getting held back.

Like in Mr. Boozenporn’s history class two years ago. I was just barely making it. Everything was riding on the grade for this class, and Mr. B had everybody do a final project, which was supposed to be a six page, single spaced, typed report about a historical event or thing or person, and I chose William Henry Harrison who was the first U.S. President to die in office (after only 32 days!) and whose brief term helped people work out all the rules about what to do when the president dies in office.

It was actually a pretty good report. I worked kinda hard on it, which is strange for me! But then I didn’t hand it in. I don’t know what happened. As soon as the report was finished I kinda lost interest and I never even brought it to school. I’ve still got it in my room – it’s under the goldfish bowl where it soaks up condensation that drips off the tank sometimes.

Anyway, not handing that in got me an “F” and another year as a sophomore at Willke. My folks complained but Mr. B was firm. “Bubby skipped a step,” he said. “Giving him a passing grade wouldn’t be fair to the other students who completed their work.”

I tried to argue that not handing the paper in was really a clever way to mirror the Harrison presidency – all potential with no actual follow-through, and a sense of disappointment all around. But Mr. B. saw through that one. He told me to quit trying to sabotage myself.

So here I am trying to pass my sophomore year again. I’m not saying I’ll do the work and not turn it in, but I wonder if he’ll let me write a report on Windows 9?

Your pal,
Bubby

Ever skip a step?