Category Archives: Education

Climate Change – A matter of perspective

Morning to you, readers. Thanks for coming by for a read this morning.

Now that the planet’s finally recovering from that last ice age, all the glaciers and permafrost finally melting, maybe things can get back to normal, the way things used to be in the good old days.  All that ice covering things up has been one hell of an inconvenience.

We’re lucky to live now instead of a while back when the Great Lakes were covered by half-mile of ice.  But things are getting better, just as they’ve been getting better all along as the ice receded.  Imagine how tough it would have been for all those automotive manufacturers to turn out cars if Detroit had been under half-mile of ice.  And those super-highways?  Heck, how do you build an Interstate on top of melting ice?  Same with all sorts of other things we spent the past few centuries doing.

Sure, things are going to change when things get back to normal.  And nobody can guess what those changes are going to be, how a normal climate’s going to manifest itself.  Nobody who lived during normal times was writing anything much down about the situation at the time. 

But the good news is that the planet goes a longish while between ice ages usually.  So once things are back to normal folks living then will have all kinds of time to get used to it.  Besides, they’ll be busy as hell working to pay off the debts the people living today are promising they’ll pay.  Maybe they’ll find some new ways of doing it in places where the ground’s covered with ice.

Running around screaming and setting our hair on fire isn’t going to keep this planet from doing what it’s going to do.  Those glaciers are going to keep receding.  No stopping it.

And there aren’t any laws, any human behaviors anyone’s going to change to keep it from doing it.  Any more than humans before this ice age came along could have done anything to keep it from happening.

Might as well relax and enjoy it.  The forward thinkers will find ways to make money from it, get rich off it one way or another.  The stainless steel agers will find ways to exploit whatever’s been hidden under all that ice.

Cultures, religions and civilizations will rise and fall, same as they always have.  Everyone will think it’s perfectly normal.

Nothing to get excited about.

Old Jules

The conspiracy theory of mechanical advantage

Hi readers. 

I’m here to breathlessly tell you Paul Revere-like about a matter you might need to be aware of if you’re ever the target of God’s punishment.  Physicists, Rosicrucians, Illuminati, unreconstructed NAZIs, Zion Elders and other conspirators will try to convince you mechanical advantage is mere physics.  They lie.  It’s done to lure you into a false sense of uncertainty.

Mechanical advantage isn’t about moment, arm, fulcrums and all that other crap they try to fill your head with when you’re vulnerably youthful and open to big headedness.  Mechanical advantage is about heavy breathing, taking a lot of breaks and not giving yourself a damned coronary.

Don’t ever let anyone tell you you can’t rock a 5000 pound RV sitting on the ground with the wheels blocked and the emergency brake on, rock that mama with a long-enough cheater on a lug-bar.  You can practically roll the SOB over the blocks.

But also don’t be gullible enough to believe you can’t eventually break the lug nuts crack  CRACK CRACK.  Eventually far enough so’s you can turn them with a T Bar.  No matter what those people with their fancy impact tools thought when they put those tires on.

It ain’t about mechanical advantage, though.  It’s about taking a lot of breathers, not getting into any heart-stopping hurries.  It’s also about getting them loose enough so’s when that 5000 pounds is poised atop a 2-ton hydraulic jack with a 1-inch diameter knurled coin atop it, you don’t tip it over when you loosen the nuts the rest of the way.

Which is the next step in this conspiracy theory.  During that step I recommend the mantra, “Ahtay Malkuth Vegeverah Vegedula Layohhlum!”  [Four-two breathing if you can manage it]

Being punished by God can be a growth experience if a person holds his mouth right and he’s careful which God he’s going to allow to do the punishing. 

Old Jules

Alas Babylon, by Pat Frank – sculpting post-1959 culture

Before Alas Babylon hit the bookstores and was made a movie the US population hadn’t yet done any heavy thinking about the implications of Sputnik 1 and hydrogen bomb arsenals capable of being delivered to the US heartland.  Strategic Air Command was centered in Omaha, NE, and B47 bombers filled the skies.  Civil Defense was mostly the local mortuary because they owned the ambulances.  Complacency with having been victors of WWII, affluence, abundance and confidence in the future were the rule of the day.

Then along came Alas Babylon.   The story of a small piece of Florida spared the bombs and fallout from an attack by the USSR and a prolonged nuclear war.   Because it was early in the day the post-nuclear-holocaust genre hadn’t yet decided everyone had to die or turn into mutant barbarians.

The story was subdued enough to be believed.  And Americans believed it.  Beefed up Civil Defense, began the individual preparedness planning that would be required if they were to survive.

The first 20 pages of Alas Babylon describes the days leading to the war, all the usual suspects you’d hear tonight if you watched the evening news, minus the USSR.  A buildup of tensions, a US Navy fighter-bomber pilot mistakenly releases a bomb over a port in Syria destroying an ammunition train.  Secondary explosions and the beginning of mutual destruction for the US and USSR.

The book is a microscope look at the minds of the US citizenry as they existed in 1959, before ICBMs, before the moon launch, before the oceans were filled with attack and missile launching submarines.  Martin Luther King was still in the future, along with the Vietnam War, race riots in US cities, Kennedy assassinations. automobile seat belts, gas mileage and foreign cars.  Women were there to be protected, first into the lifeboats of whatever safety could be constructed during and after a nuclear war.

Alas Babylon is a good read, a great study in sociology and a particular slice of history frozen in time. 

Old Jules

 

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Tags:  alas babylon, pat frank, nuclear war, books, book reviews, reviews, history, society, sociology, human behavior, movies, psychology

The Smallpox People Project

The Whale and Dolphin People Project got me talking it over with the topcat around here.

http://thewhaleanddolphinpeopleproject.org/

Me:  So, Hydrox, what’s your thinking on this thing of trying to save dolphins and whales by making people of them?

HydroxDoes it concern you at all that if dolphins and whales began behaving like humans there wouldn’t be room in the oceans for any other species?

Me:  Hell Hydrox.  You know better than that.  They’d starve.

Hydrox:  Think about it a minute now.  Try the perspective of a domestic cat.  Back earlier than I can recall you cut my chorizos off so’s I wouldn’t be a part of what human beings think of as a cat-over population-problem.  Same with the rest of that litter.  When you protected all those chickens, both back in Y2K, and later here, killing coons, coyotes, skunks, you got an over-population problem.  Meanwhile you humans, during my own feline lifetime, have possibly doubled your population.  Does that tell you anything?

Me:  I think I see where you’re going with this.  What you aren’t taking into account is that we value human life.  We don’t believe in going around cutting the nuts off human beings and clipping the whatchallits of our females.  We rely on disease, war, hunger and other natural causes to keep our population down.

Hydrox:  Does it occur to you that the natural forces aren’t doing the job?  That the reason dolphins and whales need to be made into people so you can’t kill them legally might be going backward into the problem instead of approaching it head-on?  For instance, if you really want to save those whales protecting them from humans by calling them humans would be a lot less likely to actually save them than calling Bubonic, Ebola, Cholera and whatever other disease you can invent ‘people’ and protecting them.  Get rid of all those damned shots and pills and the whales will do fine just being whales. 

Me:  You’re saying …. hmm.  You’re saying make diseases PEOPLE?

Hydrox:  Actually I’m not.  If you change the wording around a bit you’ll see what I’m saying about what’s a disease.  Heck, if you could just find a disease that would kill off heart surgeons and fast food workers you could take care of a huge part of the problems of dolphins and whales through starvation and heart failures.  Whale and dolphin people my ass!  Tell those folks they’re human, convince them of it, and they’ll be beaching themselves into extinction!  Maybe that’s already what’s causing them to beach themselves to death.  Someone told them they’re people and they believed it. 

Me:  Seems to me we’ve got a failure here somewhere, to communicate.

Old Jules

Have Spacesuit Will Travel – Robert A. Heinlein

Came across this book in a thrift store in Kerrville recently and couldn’t resist it because they were having a dime-a-book sale.  As nearly as I can recall it was maybe the 3rd, or 4th science fiction book I read when I discovered the genre in the Portales Junior High School Library around 1958 or ’59. 

I’d qualify it as ‘middling’, probably nowadays young adult, Horatio Algeresque, and a nice evening read if a man has three cats interrupting to punctuate things.  Those times were full of first in orbit Sputink Explorer Cape Canavaral fizzles and it’s clear Heinlein, along with almost everyone else in the US, suddenly realized what an ignorant, poorly educated society we were becoming already.  Spends a considerable while early in the book with a father discussing the shortcomings of the education the young main character was getting for himself and how he, the kid, was going to have to take responsibility for changing that.  Assuming the kid wants it changed for the eventual outcome of his goal to go to the moon.

But there’s also a lot of other social commentary about responsibility, goals, paternalism, and finding a place outside the ‘normal’ shortcomings and flaws of humankind.  Surprising lot of insight as to where science and engineering were going to go, though it naturally overlooked the prospect of the field being increasingly dominated by Asians.  Even though RAH saw the social and educational conditions in the US that led in that direction, in those days nobody’d noticed whatever it was in Asia that would bring it to fruition.

All in all I doubt it would appeal much to the readership of today.  But most would never find it anyway.

Old Jules

I’d love to have this guy for a neighbor

Good morning readers. Thanks for coming bvy for a read this morning.

I don’t have anything much to report, other than cat news, weather news, and various skeletons beating on the doors of the closets of my past life.  All of which are causes for unsettling consternation on my own part, but better left hanging out to dry until the moisture’s dripped out of them enough to allow me to make emotional sense of them.

So I’m going to introduce you to someone you mightn’t have encountered, might feel, as I do, you’d like to have him for a neighbor.  My personal experience with neighbors is that they’re mostly uninterested in anything I might have to say, except as it serves as a lead-in for something they wish to say.  Fred doesn’t appear to be much different in that respect.  You won’t get to say anything much back to him, which is typical of neighbors.

However, Fred differs, in that what he says is always interesting, thought provoking, almost never venal.  He doesn’t need anything I might say to lead in directions I find mind expanding and challenging.  Never inane and never boring:

Fred On Everything —
Scurrilous Commentary by Fred Reed
http://www.fredoneverything.net/MakingSense.shtml

Making SenseA Guide to Our Times July 8, 2013
For reasons of voume and poor vision I cannot answer much of my email. I know that it is offensive to write and not get a response, but I can’t help it. My apologies.

In 1950 America was conservative, prosperous and, superficially anyway, happy. The war had been won. America had no competition of any kind anywhere. Calm prevailed. The races lived separately with little conflict. Men went to work and women stayed home to raise the kids. The schools saw their job as teaching reading, grammar, spelling, and arithmetic.

Divorce was almost unheard of, bastardy—as it could then be called—close to zero. Drugs, pornography, free love and perversion—as homosexuality was then said to be—were at most distant rumors. Perhaps they could be found in Paris and New York, where such exotics as William Burroughs and Henry Miller abode. These things were mere frissons around the edges.

But change came. Women wearied of substantially empty lives in the suburbs, making peanut butter sandwiches and perhaps secretly drinking themselves silly. They wanted to be lawyers and biologists. It made sense. No moral or legal principle prevented it. Men didn’t want to be Little League slaves, so why should women? The country could use their intelligence. Anyway, it was their business.

So women went wholesale into the workforce. Which meant wholesale out of the home. Thus the latchkeys came into being, unsupervised and wondering whether their parents cared.

Next it was thought desirable to make divorce easier. It was better for all concerned, the thinking ran, to end the union of miserably unhappy couples than to leave them to stew. It made sense. Who wanted to be forever unhappy? Before long, the rate of divorce hit fifty percent.

Pornography became acceptable. It made sense. There was the First Amendment. Besides, what right did a bunch of shriveled prudes in Boston or anywhere else have to tell me that I could not read Tropic of Cancer or The Naked Lunch or The Canterbury Tales? It was a matter of personal conscience. Soon you could see photos on the web of bleeding genitals pierced with fish hooks.

Next it was said that segregation amounted to South African apartheid, which it did, and that it inflicted grave disadvantages on blacks, which it did, and gave America a bad reputation in the world, which it did. So the Supreme Court ended segregation. It made sense. There followed racial hostility and endless problems as the races proved immiscible.

Sexual cohabitation came. Urbanization made it less conspicuous. The Pill made it safe. What was wrong with it? Surely a matter of personal conscience, it was better than leaping into an ill-advised marriage. It made sense. With college and graduate school delaying marriage, living together provided a needed sexual outlet.

Next the divorce courts took cognizance of the propensity of men, who were perverted, brutal, and unconcerned about their children, to wreak havoc if granted custody following the divorce. They had to be controlled. It made sense. Who wanted to sentence kids to that? The description of fathers was credible since it was attested by Lesbian feminists with no interest in either children or men. This ensured objectivity. Soon countless children were growing up without fathers in the care of mothers who couldn’t control them.

Bastardy came, being quickly softened to “illegitimacy.” The perky phrase “single mom” came into style in for whites and “love child” for blacks. It was said, reasonably enough, that nobody had the right to tell women when they could and could not reproduce. It made sense. Anyway, it was a matter of personal conscience. Soon the bastardy rate hit thirty percent among whites and close to eighty among blacks.

Homosexuality then changed from being a perversion to being an orientation, and gays, as they came to be called, came out of the closet. It made sense. Anal sex like any other kind was a question of personal conscience. What business did the government have in the bedroom? Gays were harmless and productive. If Lesbians tended to be disagreeable, they would be as much so in as out of the closet.

What with porn, the celebration of homosexuality, the pill, and relaxation of censorship, society became sexualized to a degree unimaginable in 1950. Scenes of copulation became common in film. But what was wrong with this? Sex, God knows, is natural. Everyone is interested in it. Who wants to live in a prissy atmosphere of Victorian repression? Soon middle-school girls were giving blow jobs to their boyfriends.

Homosexual marriage came. It made sense. Surely people of the same sex can love each other, and what business does society have in telling people who they can marry? It is a matter of personal conscience.

One might ask with an eye to the future, why not polygamy? It makes sense. The same arguments apply as well to it as to homosexual marriage, a point which has not been raised because there are more gays than Mormons. Polygamy is not a perversion, and has a long history in Christianity. Consider the wives of Solomon. Legalizing it makes sense.

Anyway, the schools became feminized, taught by mental dregs since all the smart women were now lawyers and biochemists. Having little interest in learning—the dull never do—they focused on inculcating Appropriate Thought and on turning little boys into little girls. In its way it made sense. Who wanted young Bobby to learn violence from dodge ball and grow up as a rapist and wife-beater?

Drugs? Almost unheard of in 1950, they came to be accepted by all regions of society. Soft drugs, such as grass and Prozac, flowed freely in respectable society. Acid was great fun. Why shouldn’t people use these reality-enhancers if they chose? It made sense. They did less harm than alcohol and tobacco, which were legal. Soon middle-school kids were selling crystal meth.

As it turned out, there were minor downsides to these sensible policies, but nothing serious. Our children are unattended drug-ridden mall rats, often divorce wreckage, our daughters sexually used at thirteen and growing up hating men, our sons drugged by their teachers and shaped into unhappy transgendered puzzloids. Men avoid marriage because of vindictive feminist courts, the young avoid marriage because of assured divorce. The schools and universities have been enstupidated to hide the failures of particular groups and genders, merit has been superseded by group identity, and here come the Chinese.

But it makes sense.

“Six-million focking dollars!”

The Dollar Tree store in Kerrville is located in a strip mall across from the high school stadium.  As I drove by on my way into the mall parking lot I noticed the stadium parking lot across the street was almost full of over-sized white grocery-bags.  Hundreds of white bags taller than a man about four feet to a side.  I squinted, but couldn’t fathom what they were.

After I finished in Dollar Tree I crossed the lanes of traffic and pulled into the stadium parking lot for a closer look.  Still couldn’t figure it out.  But a tree-trimming crew was taking a break there in the parking lot, half-dozen Hispanic guys.

I drove over and rolled down the window, guy in charge strolled up.  “What is all that?”

“Six million focking dollars!  Six million focking dollars of MY money!”

Eh?  You’re saying those bags are full of money?”  Shaking my head.

He laughed.  “They might as well be.”  He pointed to a pile of rolls of Astroturf at the other end of the lot.  “They’re replacing that stuff with the stuff in the bags.  REAL grass is against the law!”  He guffawed and the rest of the crew laughed with him.

  I guess the Kerrville School District must have all the books, computers, teachers, everything else it needs to teach those kids to balance their checkbooks, read, write and cypher.  Got everything it needs to prepare them for life after the nest.

Got $6,000,000 focking dollars lying around to put a new ersatz grass floor on the stadium for the jockstraps to run around on.

Old Jules

Disambiguating Phobos

phobos

If you’re like me you’re probably getting fairly impatient with all this shilly-shallying around that’s been happening with finding out what’s going on with the Mars moon, Phobos.  That thing has been out there making people who know everything feel less good about themselves than they want to almost since it was first discovered.  Forcing them to use terms such as, ‘poorly understood’, ‘not completely understood’, ‘not yet fully understood’, when they write things about the way it behaves.

Problem is the thing refuses to behave itself the way the people who know how objects in orbit ought to behave.  As I recall it’s the fastest moving object in the Solar System, and I mean FAST.  And it isn’t anywhere near as dense as it ought to be.  Just for beginners.

If there’s an ‘artifact’ anywhere in the Solar System, Phobos probably stands a better chance of being it than anything else anyone knows about does.

NASA Eyes ‘Hedgehog’ Invasion of Mars Moon Phobosby Elizabeth Howell, SPACE.com ContributorDate: 19 January 2013 Time: 10:35 AM ET

http://www.space.com/19342-space-hedgehogs-mars-moon-phobos.html

A daring, “Angry Birds”-like NASA mission could bombard a Martian moon with robotic “hedgehog” probes in the next few decades, scientists say.

The space hedgehogs are actually small, spiky, spherical rovers that form part of a novel mission idea called Phobos Surveyor. The rovers would take advantage of the low gravity on the Mars moon Phobos, its sister moon Deimos, or asteroids in the solar system. Engineers have designed the devices to work in concert with a nearby mother ship.  

The hedgehogs would work well in the low gravity of the 16-mile-wide (27 kilometers) Phobos, a force 1,000 times weaker than the gravity on Mars itself, where NASA’s Curiosity and Opportunity rovers currently explore, said researcher Marco Pavone of Stanford University. Gravity on Mars is about one-third that of the Earth.

Okay, fine.  But the fact is, I’d like to see some questions answered about this thing before I get dead, or much more senile than I am already.  I want to know whether that thing is hollow.  And going about it in slow steps, using things that haven’t even been invented yet is going to take a long time. 

We spent all that money during the 1950s and 1960s inventing hydrogen bombs we never got any use out of.  Maybe it’s time to put them to some useful work.  We probably have the technology today to get a hydrogen bomb delivered right there dead center of Phobos within the next couple of years.

Time someone, hopefully the Chinese or the Japanese, launched a hydrogen bomb at phobos to see what happens when it hits.  And whether it shoots back.  Time for some serious disambiguation.

Just saying.

Jules

Edit:  The thing’s obviously not able to defend itself anyway and the chances of it shooting back are almost certainly not all that likely.  Whatever made all those dents in it, the impacts are bound to have generated a lot of heat inside and rattled the eye teeth of the might-have-been computers and defunct Buffalo Bills aiming rockets and pushing buttons of weapons systems.  Knocking a nice hole right in the middle a person could focus a telescope on for a looksee would improve things enough to make it worth the risk and the cost.    Easily enough to make it worth the miniscule risk of it raining down nukes on the Japanese or Chinese launch sites.

Toyota leaf spring enigma

Good morning readers.  Thanks for coming by for a read this morning.

I spent an unanticipated lot of time yesterday learning about leaf springs on 1983 Toyota Motor Homes.  I knew I’d have to do something about those sagging springs and began the day knowing pretty much what it would be.  Namely buying some helper springs or spring supports from JC Whitney, installing them, then going on about my business.

Except JC Whitney doesn’t have them.

So I visited the Toyota RV Discussion group with the intention of finding out what others who don’t know as much as I do have handled these problems I’ve never handled.  Got a lot of knowledgeable, helpful suggestions gradually indicating the problem isn’t so inexpensively solved, the solution so patently obvious as I’d originally believed.

But before any solution a person’s got to know what’s under there now.  Airbag spring supports?  Retrofitted helper springs?

None of the above, turns out.

But new springs, helper springs, or airbags are clearly the way to resolve the issue.  On the forum there’s disagreement as to which.  As time allows, today I’ll spend more time at non-JC Whitney sources for the options, learn as much as I can with a head full of already knowing so much at dawn yesterday I thought it unlikely I’d be learning much else between now and dying.

But sometime soon I’m going to have to lift that house up and get under there with a tape measure and find out how long, how thick, how something else I can’t recall at the moment, those springs are.  Then spend some time on long distance phone calls with [probably] people in China or India who answer technical questions for suppliers in the US.

Meanwhile, it’s quiet outside these batwing doors.  Too quiet.

Poor old silky rooster outsmarted himself yesterday, missed an adventure a lot of chickens would pay the poultry equivalent of good money to experience.

Old Jules

21st Century King-Election Weenies Got Nothing on 1968

No way you could manage it.

The Vietnam War raging in a daily bodycount to see if we were winning right now; half- the cities in the US on fire with race riots.  Decision time for America:

So the Democrats ran Humphrey Dumprey, pledged to keep the War going, continue with LBJ strategy counting bodies.

The Republicans ran Tricky Dicky Nixon, pledged to get us out of Vietnam, but only with ‘honor‘.  [Same as he ran on four years later.]

And on a third party campaign, pro-segregation, former Alabama Governor George Wallace ran to ‘Take Back America’.  And get out of Vietnam in 90 days if it couldn’t be won.  And he carried five Southern states.  I’ll leave it to your imagination identifying ‘take it back from whom’.

Hell, Humphrey Dumprey only carried eight states that election.

So the outcome was we got peace with honor for four years with Tricky Dixon and the war killing them off like flies, counting bodies.  Dixon elected again, four years later and everyone in sight fleeing Vietnam hanging from helicopters off the top of the US embassy in Saigon. 

But honorably.

I think I voted in the 1968 King Election, but my mind won’t allow me to examine the memory in enough detail to recall whom I voted for.  Seems clear to me today I should have just given it a miss.  I think I’d remember that.

One of my favorite Playboy limericks of the time:

There was a young man named Hollis
Used snakes and snails for his solace
The offspring had scales
And prehensile tails
And voted for Governor Wallace.

Wish I’d written that.

Yeah, we were weenies in those days, but REAL MEN weenies.  We knew how to do it up right.

Old Jules