The Last Mile - 2007 in review

Well, today is my last full day of work this year. I say "full day" becuase it turns out I'll need to do a few hours here and there over the holidays, though I'll be able to do those from home.

As of the end of today, I will have worked 573 hours of overtime, making over 31% overtime for me this year. I've taken 7 vacation days, three of them connected to the house, and 12 sick days.

I attended two weddings, and was invited to two others.

I bought a house, and moved into it.

I paid off my car.

I recieved a patent (for work done several years ago).

I recieved a promotion at work.

I started this blog.

I recieved the Golden Ribbon, and passed it on.

I took a trip out of state just to visit a friend.

I read dozens of new books, including Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

I bought another sword (and matching dagger).

I attended two RenFaires, and a bunch of SCA events.

A few of these things were expected; most were not.

I wonder what 2008 will bring.

Recovery

Well, the co-"worker" from hell is gone, perhaps back to the middle tier where they belong.

The christmas... tree? shrub? dwarf pine with delusions of elfhood? is up and decorated.

The lines at the department of licenesing weren't bad.

Cable modems are FAST.

The army of boxes continues to suffer casualties.

Christmas cards are pretty!

Unpacking

While I've done a little unpacking, the computer is still on the floor, and when sitting at it I'm in a little corner surrounded by boxes piled higher than my head.

This reminded me...

http://www.reallifecomics.com/archive/051206.html

http://www.reallifecomics.com/archive/051207.html

http://www.reallifecomics.com/archive/051208.html

And, though I hate to admit it...

http://www.reallifecomics.com/archive/051209.html

The first thing I set up was the TV/DVD player. :-}

Not just the weekend

OK, did I piss off a witch? Is the house on an indian burial ground?

Today:

I have a net connections! Which won't work if I'm running any of my anti-virus or anti-spyware software.

Injured myself again.

The usual fun and frivolity of work.

A box of oranges came in the mail! Or rather, a box of moldy oranges came in the mail.

Look, whatever I did, let me know what it was and I'll try to make up for it.

The Weekend of Minor Annoyances

Four self-inflicted minor injuries. Including managing to cut myself on an inflatable ground pad. I mean, come on!! Whacking myself with the hammer was kindof predictable, but a ground pad shouldn't be hazardous.

30 minutes spent making wrong turns in downtown Seattle. If they hadn't started the Nutcracker late I would have missed the curtain. The number of times I turned onto Mercer street alone...

Speaking of the Nutcracker, how do you do a production of that show where the Russian Dance has no Russians and the Dance of the Sugarplum Faeries has no Faeries? It was a good show, but that really threw me.

Again, having one of the people I was going to the Nutcracker with be too sick to go. Worse for him than me, of course.

Where the heck are my nail clippers? The good ones. I found the bad ones, and a set I didn't know I had, but where are the good ones?

Two days without a net connection (cutoff at the apartment, not yet up at the house). I never notice how much time I spend on line (or at least how often I check something online) until I don't have access for a day or two.

Look, if you're going to make adjustable shelves, the pins that make them adjustable should be able to be removed without needing to lever them out with pliers.

Why couldn't I sleep last night?

How does Target run out of Christmas lights? Nine days before Christmas?

The apartmnet complex office, at which I now have two packages waiting... wasn't open Sunday.

The movers managed to break the set of slats on one side of the master bed. Thank Azel for Duct Tape.

Melt, microwave pizza cheese, melt already!

OK, attention all Seattle-area drivers. It is called rain. It happens, like, four times a week or something here. You really don't need to drive like you're on black ice. Really, just go, say, the speed limit, and we'll all get where we're going.

AND STOP SLOWING DOWN TO GAWK AT ACCIDENTS. Yeah, I do it sometimes, but I'm checking accidents where there isn't an ambulance in attendance to see if there are apparent injuries. Because if there are, I'll stop to assist. I've actually done that more than once. What's your excuse?

Ah, "nibbled to death by ducks"; that's the phrase.

Moved!

OK, I now officially live in a house again.

Murphy, however, had to prove once again that he rules the world.

I carefully put my Boeing name badge in a small box along with my alarm clock and a few other things and put it to one side so the movers wouldn't put it in a box.

Of course, while I wasn't looking, the movers put it in a box.

I spent over an hour trying to find it, with help, last night.

What's on your desk?

Here's whats on mine:

A dish of mints, for general consumption.

A plant that I'm taking care of for a co-worker who's on vacation.

A small container of granola as part of an experiment (how long before someone takes it?).

Some seals I'm going to use for a fit check.

A picture of Cricket (the wolf I'm a sponsor for).

A box of "WypAll" paper towels, along with a spare box.

My phone.

"To do" list on post-its.

Computer (laptop & docking station), keyboard, Evoluent mouse, monitor, cables, etc.

Several bolts, a rivnut, an E-nut, and some washers accumulated from various part searches.

My water bottle.

A pencil holder with half a dozen pens, some sharpies, highlighters, and a lonely pencil.

An origami phoenix.

A box of tissues.

A portable chess board (actually belongs to a co-worker).

A tab and slot test coupon.

My empty lunch bag.

A rendering of the ISS.

My nametag/status/assignment thing.

A 2007 calender.

A 2007-2010 M-Day calender.

A couple of cheat sheets.

A napkin with a US flag on it.

My evacuation assembly area card.

A crystal (on loan from the same person as the plant), which has markedly improved my computer's performance.

Two pictures of people (I'm in one of them).

What's on yours?

The End is Near!

A variety of things (reading online, playing Nuclear Proliferation yesterday) have made me once again wonder why so many people take such pleasure in predicting the end of the world/civilization/universe/etc.

What really gets me is that, in the end, the only way they can be vindicated would also involve having no one around to acknowledge that they had been right.

Perhaps it comes down to the long view I take, and that despite my surface pressimism, I'm not a pessimist at heart.

If the world does end, if the human race never gets beyond the heliopause of this one star, what was the point? Our sun will eventually go nova, leaving no trace of our existance but some fading radio-frequency radiation.

I see human history as a march forward. There have been setbacks along the way, but sometimes they've turned out to merely be the pause you take to prepare yourself for a jump forward. Think about it sometime - look at human history from a distance.

The curse of Babel didn't stop us. The Black Death didn't stop us. World War II didn't stop us. We've lived under the threat of NBC (Nuclear, Biological, Chemical, for those of you who didn't know) warfare that could all but wipe out the human race for half a century... yet we're still here.

People delight in claiming that nuclear weapons are unsafe... but there's never been an accidental detonation. People delight in claiming that a supervirus is coming that will wipe out humanity... but we're still here. People delight in telling me that global warming will destory the Earth... but its been hotter than the worst-case predictions call for it to get, and these models are the same ones that can't tell me whether it will rain tomorrow with more than 70% accuracy.

So perhaps I'm just a skeptic. I see human history as a river, flowing onward. You can damn a river, you can put up walls to try to channel it, but in the end it will escape your control. The Earth, the solar system, the universe is a lot bigger, and our effect on it a lot smaller, than we think, yet our own momentum, by our scale, is very large indeed compared to the things most people are afraid of. I think that we'll continue to react, adapt, and overcome for as long as we think we can, and perhaps a little longer.

Maybe

I think maybe is the most evil word in the english language.

Maybe means uncertainty. When you're uncertain, you start to use humanity's greatest blessing and worst curse - imagination.

Imagination leads you to the many things that might, maybe, happen. But only one of them will. There is only one future you will experiance, just as there is only one past.

Maybe it is different for other people.

Maybe I'm wrong.

Maybe I'm insane.

Maybe I'm just too tired.

But maybe we get closer to ourselves when we're tired. Not "a long day" tired. Not running a marathon tired. When we're worn down by weeks and months and years of maybes.

Do or do not, there is no try. I've never liked that phrase, but now I do see its appeal - it takes a way the may be. It WILL be or WILL NOT be, but not MAY be.

Whatever will be, will be. Whether it is what we want or not, whether it is what we need or not.

So it is time for certainty. It is time for forward motion, even if leaving the past is painful.

This I will say - thank you for not saying maybe. Thank you for making me say what I needed to say to you, what I should have said to you a long time ago, and not saying "maybe it will happen."

I jammed myself up in the maybes, but I will move on.

Maybes are freedom, and too much freedom too quickly is dangerous. We need to be eased into it, or we spend ten years as wanderers, jacks of all trades, never really finishing anything.

Some people thrive in the chaos, even love it. I am not one of them. It is not my nature. I am not a fan of maybes. They are seductive, but they're just... not real. They're at best there to cushion your fall.

I am a creature of law. Of duty. Of responsibility. It is dangerous to give us freedom - we don't know how to use it safely. We will, in the end, tie ourselves back down safely, and get to work, but on the way we can hurt a lot of people.

Maybe more than we help in the long run.

I hope not. As engineers, we kill people too. We tell ourselves we help more than we hurt.

I hope to everything in the universe that's true.

Maybe it is.

House!

Closed on the house and got the keys today - Quadrant also gave a pair of fluffy towels and a $50 Macy's gift card along with the six (!) keys.

More later, it was a really, really long day, but I wanted to share.

Tomorrow

Well, tomorrow if all goes according to plan I will sign the paperwork and do final inspection on the new house.

I'm having a hard time absorbing all the changes this is going to make. OK, I've moved before. Many times, in fact, and I've lived in my current apartment for over two years, which makes it the second-longest I've lived in one place since I moved to Pittsburgh in 1997. (Total of eight residences in that time, not counting the time I lived on a friend's floor for a couple of weeks, or intervals living at 'home' back in Boston.)
Maybe its the money? This is, by two orders of magnitude, the largest chunck of debt (that's how I view the mortgage) I've ever assumed.
Perhaps it is moving from the rent to own catagory of living.
Perhaps it is that I will be living in the sub-urbs again for the first time... since I moved to Pittsburgh in 1997.
Hmm. Sensing a pattern here.

Perhaps I've just been a wanderer, a short-timer, a person of no fixed address, for a decade and I've come to view it as the natural state of life. I've never had anything I couldn't move. A computer? No problem, pick it up and carry it. A big TV? Well, friends help you move (real friends help you move bodies.) A car? Heck, you can use that to move other things!

A house?

Er... not so much.

Land?

Well, pretty much by definition, no. Earthquakes have trouble upsetting surveyed land boundaries. Moving companies don't even answer questions about them.

Enchanted is Enchanting

Yesterday I saw Enchanted. Once again, going in with limited expectations pays off.

If you are looking for a light comedy with some truly excellent acting and minimal plot to confuse you, this movie is a good choice.

The part animated/part real shtick works very well, and provides a wonderful opportunity for Disney to poke fun at its own animated movies.

I imagine the director must have gotten a little tired of saying, "OK, Patrick in this scene I want you to be bewildered and in disbelief, and Amy I want you to be incredibly sweet and naive," but we do get some actual character development (remember it is a light comedy - you can probably predict most of the character development within 30 seconds of meeting each character).

I'm a sucker for a good "Lassie" (or anti-Lassie) moment (i.e.: "Arf! Arf! Bark!" "What's that Lassie? You say three miners are trapped in the abandoned coal mine, one of them has a broken leg, and the water is rising to drown them?" or anti-Lassie "Arf! Bark! [Highly explicit and clear pantomime indicating the direction the lost child went]" "I think he's trying to tell us something." "Yeah, he's hungry, right boy?"), and Enchanted has a chipmunk that goes in my personal Disney hall of fame with the Sugarbowl from The Sword in the Stone and the Magic Carpet from Aladdin.

Add in some catchy songs (though I'm not sure how well the sound track would hold up on its own), and you've got yourself a movie.

I was strongly reminded of Terry Pratchett's Guards! Guards! where Carrot comes to the city, or perhaps more accurately Men At Arms, where Angua muses on the odds that Carrot will burst into song and the random street people will suddenly demonstrate a flair for choreography as part of his number.

Optimist, Pessimist, and Me

The Optimist: The glass is half full.

The Pessimist: The glass is half empty.

The Engineer: The glass has a factor of safety of two with respect to water storage.

Me: You realize the glass is cracked and is dripping water all over the table, right?

How does the glass look to you right now?

Racoon Eyes

I looked in the mirror today and noticed, as I often do, that I have dark circles under my eyes.

The problem is that today I tried to remember the last time I hadn't had dark circles under my eyes... and I couldn't.

I wonder how much sleep it would take to get rid of them? Or are they permanent now? When WAS the last time they weren't there?

Part of the problem is that my glasses tend to hide them; I only notice when I look in the mirror without my glasses. Which isn't very often.

Illuminati

Illuminati is a card game from Steve Jackson games. I played it for the first time Saturday night, and it was really fun.

You control a secret society bent on world domination. Very little stands in your way... except for the other secret societies bent on the same thing. You don't fight each other directly, but you're all trying to take over the same power blocks - ranging from the Mafia to the US Post Office to the Trekkies.

I played the Bavarian Illuminati in the first game, going against the Servants of Cthulhu (SoC), the Bermuda Triangle, and the Society of Assassins. My early control of the Mafia and the Loan Sharks, along with the Phone Company, gave me an edge, and halfway through I almost won; but I failed to use my special ability in an attack and wound up loosing control of the Mafia on the rebound. I slunk off into the shadows as the other three battled for first place. As all four groups closed in on their victory conditions, I grabbed the Democrats and used their power to snatch the Orbital Mind Control Lasers for the win.

In the second game my performance was... less impressive. I drew the Bavarians again on the initial deal, and the player who'd been the SoC got THEM again, so we did a re-deal and I got the SoC. Sigh. One of the first groups out was the Federal Reserve, and everyone made a play for it including me, but the Network managed to hang onto it. the UFOs made good use of their mystery, and the Assassins (also in play again) built up slowly but steadily. Sadly by turn three I had failed to grab any groups and was thus eliminated. Even watching the game was amusing - the UFOs had a rough time (their groups kept getting taken away by the Network), but the Assassins managed to pull off the win, despite a close call from the UFO - their victory was foiled by a special card.

http://www.sjgames.com/illuminati/

A Colonel Announcement

Well, you can make a General Announcement, and a Major Announcement, so its logical enough...

Anyway, just a note: I almost invariably reply to comments that people make on my blog entries.

I mention this because very often I ask a counter question, and it almost never gets answered.

Google now has a box you can check when you leave a comment to be notified when future comments are posted, so, check it!

That is all.

We now return you to your previously scheduled reality, already in progress.

Why I'm an Engineer

Today we finally built our flight test unit. Seeing it go together, and without any major problems at that, was really cool. It reminded me why I sit in a windowless, chilly building with a group of people most of whom I would not freely associate with. I do it because every so often, I get to see the things I helped design turn into real hardware, with a real purpose.

Have you hugged an engineer today?

Feverish or drunk?

I have come to the conclusion that having a fever is in many respects like being drunk, or some stage thereof.

In my 101+ degree haze yesterday and before, I noted that I had a somewhat lowered set of inhibitions, particularly on speech.

The fact that I was simultaneously light headed, apathetic, sleepy, etc. contributed significantly to my conclusion. Oh, and the headache and chills brought to mind other stages of alcohol overdose.

There is, however, nothing like being called two hours after you called in sick because they really can't do without you for a day.

Nor, in another way, is there anything like getting yelled at twice for something that happened while you weren't there.

And this is too important not to pass on

The US Supreme Court may soon hear a case about the 2nd Amendment.

A Washington DC security guard is claiming that the city acted unconstitutionally when it denied him a handgun permit. The city claims that despite spending over a decade as the murder capitol of the country that its extremely tough firearms restrictions are necessary.

FOX coverage here: http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,311276,00.html

The court hasn't heard a case on this issue since 1939, according to the article, and ruled then based on a technicality, not the hot question of what or who constitutes a militia.

My own take is quite simple - the citizens of the US, in the absence of locally organized militia (the National Guard does NOT count since they can be federalized without local approval), constitute a de facto militia and thus have the right to keep and bear arms. Remember, that "well regulated militia" is NECESSARY to the preservation of a free state. One way or another, we clearly need it. If the local governments do not organize such a militia, it is the duty of the citizens to do so, and the state has no right to take away their means of doing so effectively (i.e. limiting the right to bear arms).

To the inevitable challenge that "more guns means more murders" I will say right now: IMO a partially armed society is the most dangerous form, and it is far, far too late for the US to become an unarmed society. That leaves the status quo, and a fully armed society (which I'm not in favor of either, but which I have no constitutional basis to object to at the present time) as the only options.

Also, I'll throw this out there. In my time in EMS I saw a number of gunshot victims. Three stand out in my mind:
1. A drunk who grabbed a police officer's side arm during a fight and was promptly shot with her backup weapon. (DOA, and, forgive the dark humor, a really nifty X-ray.)
2. A child who was shot with her father's .22 by her younger brother - the father had left the firearm in a drawer and had dropped the magazine but not checked the chamber.
3. A, I believe the term is "suspect", who was the victim of a drive-by shooting.

IMO, #1, the guy got what was coming to him, and only disarming our police (anyone in favor of this, please speak up?) would have prevented it. #2 was a terrible accident, which would never have happened if the father had followed firearm rule #1: any firearm is loaded until proven otherwise. #3 was a criminal activity - I somehow doubt the shooter had a PA concealed carry permit. I know the victim didn't, and he was carrying as well.

So, ask yourself this question: what law would have prevented any of these three shootings? The .22 had been in the drawer for years - it seemed the father had actually forgotten about it. He's the only one who would conceivably turn in the offending weapon, and he's not likely to have done so even given a total recall on handguns simply because he'd forgotten it.

OK, this is too funny to not pass on

http://davies.lohudblogs.com/files/2007/11/110907davies.jpg

In other news I'm sick (again!!), the Boeing Everett plant lost all heating yesterday for several hours and is still so cold today that I'm wearing a thermal layer, shirt, sweater, AND jacket and I'm still cold (OK, I've got a fever too, which isn't helping), and our schedule continues to slide like skates on slick ice.

A Toast

My friends, to absent companions.

I wrote the verse below some years ago, remembering a day now nine years gone.

Some will be remembered. Some will be cut down.
Some among their comrades lie. Others all alone.
My friend is not remembered. Her name is on no wall.
No medal struck for her. No tales they'll ever tell.
But wherever tales of bravery are told,
And Heroes praised by name.
She ever will look down and smile;
Her deeds shall live with theirs.
At Meggido they will all stand tall.
Legend - unknown - side by side.
Rally to the single call:
Follow me!

WGA Support

Two links to spread around if you're in support of the WGA strike:

http://unitedhollywood.blogspot.com/

Unofficial blog by several strike captains and other WGA members. No one writes like the professionals. :-)

http://www.petitiononline.com/WGA/petition.html

Sign the petition to show your support for the WGA.

Grey's Anatomy

Zarth.

I was really, really, really hoping George and Izzie would work out. I didn't acknowledge even to myself how much I wanted them to work out until that last shot before the fade to black last night. Hopefully this is because my subconscious recognizes that it is a TV show, George and Izzie aren't real and there is no hidden message or divine guidance in the show meant for me.

Regardless, I was really upset and disappointed.

Usually when I've been disappointed with Grey's it has been because I wanted to walk onto the set with a piece of medical/rescue equipment and say, "No, THIS is how you do it!" Probably never more so than the episode with the pole through two people - sweet Azel, don't your rescue trucks carry hacksaws? We had several different ones on ours. Yeah, you might cut them a little bit, but it is your job as a paramedic/rescue tech to deliver the patient prone, supine, recumbent, or sitting. Walking may be acceptable in unusual cases, and babies may be carried/held by family members who are holding it together. Otherwise, no more than one patient to a stretcher.

All episode last night, I kept thinking: you're trying too hard. Which isn't really surprising, since they both, for their own reasons, really need this to have been the right choice. I kept hoping they'd relax, and it would be good. Maybe not great - great takes time, IME. But, good. Comforting, and healing. They both deserve some happiness after all they've been through. (Fiance dead, baby has cancer, father dead...)

And at the end, for a moment, they fooled me into thinking they had finally relaxed, and it had been good. That was a really incredible piece of acting by both of them, BTW - watch their expressions. The actors are playing someone who is trying very hard to act like it was great, but how it really was starts to leak through, and... it was terrible. And they're both crushed by the fact that it was terrible, even more than they were embarrassed about some of their prior experiments.

Well, we get an episode next week, and probably for a week or two after that. But with Shonda on strike (and I fully support Shonda's decision and respect it, but Zarth I want this season's story arc to get written, not dropped!), I have this horrible feeling we're going to get broken off with no clue what's going to happen.

Like Firefly, ending just as the arc was really starting. Like Crusade, ending right before the real arc started.

Unexpected gifts

Today I was given an IAM 751 pen - which I put a "Test Use Only" stick on so I could carry it :-). (For those who don't know, non-IAM folks aren't allowed to carry parts, with the exception of test parts which must be marked "Test Use Only." Its a union thing.)

Someone also left a small fuzzy blue thing with two plastic eyes on my desk - the black-disk-in-clear-bubble type often used for hand puppets. It looks like a small tribble with eyes. I have no idea who put it there (or similar ones on the desks of several but not all of the people around here), or why. All I know is that it is copyright 2005 by Popcap games of Seattle, WA, and was made in China.

I think it is a Chinese spy trying to steal the secrets of the 787. The joke's on him - I don't have any of the secrets of the 787!

Well, I do, but I'm not allowed to talk about that.

We were told at an all-hands meeting that we are supposed to take the Thanksgiving holidays off, so I will get a little break from the 45% OT. Of course, they also strongly hinted that we will not get all of the Winter holidays off.

WGA Strike

Well, in general I think strikes today are overused. Granted, managers and executives are monstrously overpaid. Granted, they almost invariably think short term while unions tend to think long term. Still, a strike isn't good for anyone.

But... sometimes it is still the right thing to do.

I'm a big fan of Grey's Anatomy, and with creator/producer/writer Shonda on the picket line, it is going to be a miserable season unless the strike ends quickly (not likely).

The WGA isn't really asking for much - they want 8 cents a DVD instead of 4 (the studio's profit? About $10 per DVD.). They want some residuals for internet distribution instead of what they currently get: nothing. That's right, all those podcasts and internet broadcasts put no money into the pockets of the people who's creativity gave birth to them in the first place.

This seems like a reasonable demand to me; if your TV show is caulously and stupidly cancelled after one season, but is a hit on re-runs and is still being showed 10 years later, you're entitled to more than just one season's paycheck. Most writers spend more time out of work than working; residuals, royalties in any other trade, keep them going to write again.

OK, I'm prejudiced. My sister's a writer and I'm in the intellectual property business myself (engineer, remember?).

The internet, however, seems to me like it is only going to grow. Personal media players are becoming as common as cell phones - in some cases they ARE cell phones. Digital storage of movies and TV shows has already begun, and as data storage continues to become more dense and cheap at some point the DVD is going to fade, just like VHS tapes have. Sure, you can still buy VHS tapes, and VCRs. However, the DVD standard is now over a decade old. In the computer world, that's the same as saying obsolete. I can store a movie on a thumb drive already, which is easier to carry around and MUCH easier to play a movie off of. I don't need to watch Grey's Anatomy on TV; it is simulcast over the web - and Shonda doesn't get any money if I watch it that way. How long before that becomes the standard, not the exception?

No, the writers have a legitimate demand, and they are fighting for the economic survival of their trade, not just themselves as individuals.

Go WGA!

Voted!

I voted today (via mail-in ballot, the only type the county is currently using).

I consider it a little odd that in several cases "non-partisan" candidates were endorsed by the Democratic party. Doesn't that kindof make them Democratic candidates?

A few interesting ballot measures, one for public transit (poorly worded enough that I wasn't sure whether to vote for it or not), and one requiring the state to do something it seems to already be doing with regard to referendums on taxes. I'm still not sure what was going on with that one.

I'm always dissapointed when I see an office with only one candidate. I mean, really, what kind of election is that? How does that make the person feel? "Well, you were better than having no one in the office." And, seriously, no one else wanted the job?

Star Wars

Last night I watched Episode IV for the umpteenth time.

I tend to think of Ep IV, V, and VI not in terms of plot, but in terms of the lasting nature of their special effects. In a lot of Sci-Fi movies, you can look at their special effects and you immediately know they are fake. They just look fake.

In Star Wars, quite of lot of the SFX still look real. The planets, the spaceships, even some of the aliens look like real planets, real spaceships, real aliens. I look at the Imperial Star Destroyer gliding past the top of the screen and it looks like a ship, not a model.

A lot of that reality, I think, comes from the design. The ships look like they were engineered, not slapped together purely from imagination with unobtainium materials and magic engines.

This comes out most clearly, I think, in the 'scramble' montage when the rebel fighters are about to launch their attack on the Death Star. The pilots are shuttled to their ships by little carts, and climb access ladders to get into their ships. Ground crews detach hoses, hand the pilots their helmets, and in general look like ground crews should. All too often in Sci-Fi the pilots just appear in their cockpits, and you often look at them and wonder how on earth (or Mars, or Barsoom) they got in there. In Star Wars, they show us.

I think ILM deserves a lot of credit, and my hat remains off to them for the original series.

787 Static Test Rig

Many if not most engineering, myself among them, enjoy breaking things. We frequently defend this as a professional necessity - after all, if we don't test to destruction, how do we know that the things we design won't fail in a dangerous fashion, or if they are over engineered?

Today I got to look over - and climb on - the 60 foot tall, several million pound, test rig that will be used to break the 787. Or, rather, to ensure that the airplane won't break under conditions it is supposed to survive.

There are a number of engineers who've been working towards this series of tests - still months away - for years. Breaking a commercial airplane is probably the ultimate in test engineer coolness, and I must admit that I'd be quite happy to work for half a decade in order to sit in their control room (a lexan-protected trailer several stories off the ground inside the main factory; a building on a building inside another building) for that test sequence.

Roman Auxiliaries

A Roman legion contained or had attached a number of allied troops, organized into their own cohorts with similar equipment to the regulars. Here is a century of these troops, represented at 6 men to 1. The centurion in the back is from the HaT Punic Wars Roman Command set, the troops are from the HaT Roman Auxiliaries set, and the magnetic bases are from Litko.

http://www.plasticsoldierreview.com/Review.asp?manu=HAT&code=8051

http://www.plasticsoldierreview.com/Review.asp?manu=HAT&code=8065

http://www.litkoaero.com/mag_bots.php

Where have you been, where would you go?

I've been to Italy, Greece, Turkey, and Canada [edit: and the Vatican]. I've sailed the Atlantic and the Aegean.

I've visited or passed through about half of the states in the continental US, plus DC.

I'd like to go to Australia, New Zealand, Africa, Switzerland, Scotland, Ireland, Scandinavia, and Antarctica. I'd like to sail every sea and ocean, especially the Mediterranean and the Pacific. I'd like to visit Alaska, Hawaii, and the rest of the lower 48.

I'd like to travel to Luna, Mars, Europa, and Ceres, plus at least one other solar system. OK, that's more than a bit of a stretch.

How about you?

Halloween

I decided to come in 'costume' to work today.

I'm wearing an old paramedic uniform, augmented with my ham radio as well as normal accessories (trauma shears, stethescope, etc.).

Comments on this uniform led me to answer, for the 2,456,125 time, what the difference between a paramedic and an EMT is.

Technically, of course, a paramedic is an EMT, but we don't like to be called that. EMT generally refers to an Emergency Medical Technician-Basic, while we are Emergency Medical Technician-Paramedic(s).

Back when I did it in Pennsylvania, to become an EMT-B you needed to take about 100 hours of classroom training, spend about 8 hours in the field with an ambulance service, and pass a few hours of practical and written testing. To become a paramedic, you need to already be an EMT-B, usually for at least a year, take an additional 200-300 hours each of classroom time, field training, and hospital rotations. In the field you had to perform various procedures, including doing a minimum number of IV starts, intubations, interpreting patient EKGs, and so forth. Your field time had to be graded by a veteran paramedic who'd gone through additional training to be a "preceptor" and your hospital time had to be reviewed by a doctor, nurse, or tech, depending on the rotation (OR, ER, labor and delivery, psych, ICU, Cardiac ICU, burn unit, pediatrics, respiratory, among others). At the end of all that you needed to go through several days of practical and written testing.

I took my EMT-B test with a group of firemen and coal miners. Almost everyone passed.

I took my paramedic test with a group of people who ranged from professional city EMT-B's to rural volunteers, and less than half of us passed.

EMT-Bs can administer a handful of medications. Paramedics can start intravenous lines, intubate, interpret EKGs, and administer dozens of medications, including fun things like morphine.

So why do paramedics tend to get a little bit annoyed when we're called EMTs? Because we were EMTs, and now we're better than that, usually through a great deal of sweat and often some blood.

Bring the ransom in small bills...

This is just a little odd.

I went to the airport the other day, and paid for parking. Having only two $1 bills I gave the machine a $20. It gave me my change - 17 $1's.

I went to the ATM today. I asked for a hundred dollars. It gave me ten $10's.

That's twice in a row that a machine has given me smaller bills as change than I would have expected. I wonder how long this will continue?

House update

The drywall is in. I didn't get any inside photos, but here's the latest of the outside.

Rube Goldberg would be proud

This is the second-coolest Rube Goldberg device I've ever seen.

http://www.chilloutzone.de/files/player.swf?b=10&l=197&u=ILLUMllSOOAvIF//P_LxP92A42lCHCeeWCejXnHAS/c

Reflections on Firefly, Part 1: Guns 'n Hosses

No, that’s not a typo, that’s me getting into the spirit of things, dong ma?

I, like many “Browncoats”, was first exposed to Firefly in DVD form. I was lured into watching it by the promise, given by some much more rabid fans, of a sci-fi series where there was no sound in space. That taint of reality intrigued me, so I sat down to watch the pilot episode.

And then I watched Jaynestown.

And then… well, they got me off their couch eventually.

I was hooked. Not just by the witty dialogue, cute girls, and interesting villains, but by the realism of it. Not just that there was no sound in space. Not just that the future had slums in addition to its flying cars and gleaming buildings. No, I was hooked by the horses riding to the spaceship, and the cartridge firearms.

FOX’s execs, along with many other people, apparently were turned off by these very things. Why weren’t our sci-fi heroes using laser pistols and riding Star Wars-like speeder bikes? This is science fiction!

Well, it is science fiction. I’ll turn to Robert Heinlein’s “Starman Jones”, in which a character explains why a starship is taking horses to a colony world instead of tractors: “Horses make more horses, which is one trick that tractors have never learned.”

The bottom line is that it all depends on how we go into space.

It appears that the Alliance has a number of highly developed worlds (the Core), and a number of developing worlds. The latter appear in many cases to be at or below subsistence level, with large undeveloped areas. In such places, horses make more sense than tractors; it is a basic function of logistics.

A community with no outside support must be able to make or trade for everything it uses. Trade requires the community have a surplus of something. In the case of a colony, this has historically been raw materials traded for finished goods. If transport between the colony and the developed community making the finished goods is cheap, this can work fairly well. If not, the colony may be more or less on its own. If a tractor breaks, it could take several tries and many months to ship in spare parts. If that happens during planting or harvesting, the colony is in trouble. A horse can die, or get sick, too, of course. But it takes many more horses to work the same land. The loss of any one is a smaller impact. And while progressive failures will slowly reduce the tractors to scrap, there is no real limit to how long a large herd of horses, carefully managed, can keep working the land. Horses make more horses. All they need are food, water, and (for best results) a little human guidance to breed the desired traits. A tractor is the end result of a mass of machine tools, a complex fuel source, multiple complex materials, and a great deal of skilled labor.

We might postulate that just as an 18th century colony town had a blacksmith, so a 28th century colony town might have a machine shop. Sure. Until the milling machine breaks. Until someone loses the dial calipers. Until all your cutting heads are worn down. An 18th century master smith could, given unprocessed raw materials, MAKE a workshop and its tools. Not as good as ones from the mother country, to be sure, but good enough to get the job done. A modern master machinist, given nothing but raw materials and even a power source, would probably be unable to make a 3-axis milling machine. He could start the project, but it would be his grandchildren who would need to finish it.

Some of the same arguments apply to weapons. A cartridge firearm will last for a long time with only a tiny trickle of spare parts and maintenance. Ammunition kept in crates for fifty years can still be fired with high reliability – I’ve fire ammo twice as old as I am, with no higher failure rate than from modern manufacture. If a firearm is designed for reliability, as the Glock family of pistols, they will fire, reliably, after being immersed in sand or mud. The AK-47 is notorious, but also famous for the fact that illiterate peasants who never clean their weapons, living in a jungle or a rainforest, can still fire them after years of abuse. Can a laser pistol be designed to take the same abuse? Maybe, maybe not; electronics are more fragile than steel. But what would that make it cost? We do see handheld laser weapons in Firefly, along with stun guns, in the hands of developed group’s military and police forces, as well as rich men’s toys. But a stun gun can’t blow open a door, not even with Jayne using it, while an “old fashioned” bullet from a brass cartridge can.

But if they can maintain a spaceship, surely they can maintain a laser pistol! Now we’re getting somewhere, but the economic pinch bites us. Mal CAN’T afford to get spare parts for his ship, or the episode “Out of Gas” would have lasted about eight minutes. If he was a little better off, he’d buy parts for his ship. If he was a little better off than that, probably some real food; fresh fruit, perhaps? I won’t speculate on where replacing a perfectly workable and reliable weapon would fall on Mal’s priority list, but I don’t think it would be anywhere near the top.

That’s part of the key; weapons may be a necessity (to fight off criminals if not predators), but high-tech weapons are a luxury if low-tech ones will do the job. High-tech weapons will thus be bought from the same funds other luxuries, and a colony will only have so many luxuries. There’s also the legality issue; the Alliance may be unable or unwilling to ban weapons altogether, but that doesn’t stop it (much like ours) from restricting advanced or military-grade weapons. A rich man like Rance can buy his way around the problem, but what if Mal, one of the many times he meets face to face with the Alliance, had an illegal laser pistol?

So take me out, to the black – if I ain’t commin’ back, I’m brinin’ ma hoss and ma gun.

Improving, slowly

Well, my pink eye is fading, and while work is a real pain it beats sitting at home alone. Mostly.

I did spend some time writing up some thoughts on Firefly; I'll try to remember to post them tomorrow.

The Perfect End to a Perfect Week

Well, the week hadn't been great - all alone here in the apartment (my cat is at the vet), even more insanity and work destroyed than usual at work, and being sick with the cold/flu/whatever.

Then, yesterday evening, my eye started tearing up for no aparent reason. I thought it was a side effect of the congestion and nose-blowing I'm STILL doing, but, no. I took a look at it, and made a guess. Granted, being very glass-half-empty about it, but...

Well, today I went into the clinic, and I may have been glass-half-empty but I was also right.

I have pink eye in my left eye.

I got a perscription for antibiotic eye drops, and it should be fine within a few days (always assuming I can keep one of the most contagious infections around from spreading to my right eye).

Still. Pink eye. I've never even gotten this before. I managed to spend SEVEN YEARS hanging around C-MU's campus. I spent SEVEN YEARS as a medic. And I never got it. But now? When I'm supposed to be working 45% overtime? NOW I get it. NOW I get to sit in my apartment, with miniatures that I can't concentrate enough to paint. I can't have people over because I'll spend all my time worrying I'll give it to them, because it is, as the doctor kept reminding me, HIGHLY INFECTIOUS.

I vented to my mother when she called today. I've lost control that badly.

I'm bleeding each time I blow my nose.

I'm bleeding.

All bleeding stops eventually.

Dilbert is NOT a leadership course

What's an instructive maxim you would tell someone if you could?

Wow

I am arguably tied for the second geekiest person in the world.

Search: http://images.google.com/images?q=geeks

Currently, this picture is the second hit you get.

Now THAT's Ironic

The NTSB has issued a report on its first investigation on the crash of an unmanned aerial vehicle.

The bottom line on the cause? Pilot error.

***

An official from the FAA has announced that, in regards to space tourism: "We authorize launch and re-entry," Montgomery says. "We have no jurisdiction in orbit. Going up and coming down, that's us."

So, the FAA can tell a spacecraft in a sub-orbital trajectory not to land? 'FAA to Space Tourist Flight 7, please violate the law of gravity, you are not cleared to land.'

Sick

Well, I've got the flu. How is it that every year they manage to leave at least one flu out of the flu shot that I get exposed to? I mean, you'd think at least one year it would work out for me.

From the sounds of things at work, I'm far from alone. They say misery loves company (does that mean The Company loves misery?), but I'm not really feeling any positive vibes.

Of course, that could be the string of painful meetings this morning.

Sleepless in Seattle

Its not just a movie anymore!

So here I am, its 3AM, and I can't sleep.

I don't really know what else to say.

Zarth.

I don't even know WHY I can't sleep.

Space solar power plants?

The Toronto Star is reporting that a US government study is recommending a more detailed study of solar power plants in space to beam power down to Earth.

The article, in a burst of technical understanding surprising from today's mainstream media, raised the question of whether the resources spent creating such power plants and putting them in space would exceed the power they produce.

For comparison, I've seen studies which suggest that the total lifecycle power output of a solar power plant on Earth is negative - that it does take more power to build it, run it, and decomission it than it produces. A plant in space, of course, wouldn't need to worry about cloud cover and thus could be much smaller for the same nominal power output, and could dispense with the necessary power-storage systems a terrestrial plant must have as a bonus. To balance that, it would take considerable energy to lift the plant into space and construct the ground stations to recieve the power. What would the net effect be? Well, I have no idea, but it seems that studying the problem would be a good thing.

The article also stated that over the past 50 years the US government has spent $21 billion on research into fusion. I'm glad we're looking at that, but dissapointed that at $400 million or so a year we haven't come up with anything. Especially since a 1st-order estimate for the cost of a space elevator (which, BTW, would massively reduce the cost of setting up, say, a set of orbiting solar power stations) is only $10 billion.

Personally, I'm inclined to favor any project that increases our presence in space - that's our future, and the sooner we learn to live and work there, the better.

Evolving or devolving?

How can anyone look at the human body and believe that we're the product of a 'survival of the fittest' process?

Sure, we're an intelligent (in theory, at least), tool-using species. Wonderful. How did we survive long enough to make tools?

It takes well over a decade for a human to reach adulthood. I'm not speaking of a legal age, here, but of reaching physical maturity; the ability to breed and work. Most species do it in well under half the time. Wolves reach maturity in two to three years, lions in three to four. Natural live births in humans are almost always singletons, and take up most of a year. So a man needs to protect a reduced-capability woman, and then a helpless child, for over a decade when he himself is inferior to his competition! We don't survive by reproducing quickly, nor by having offspring that can survive on their own and add to the ability of the group to survive in short order.

The human body is unbelievably fragile, and most of it is a 'kill zone'. This is true in regard to both trauma and environmental conditions. Sure, we can build tools to survive in almost any environment on earth, but there are only a handful of places on earth we can survive, without tools, to make those tools. Again, we can make weapons that can flatten entire cities, or kill off entire populations, but in a one-on-one fight almost any man-sized predator can defeat an unarmed human. How did we survive to make the tools?

For that matter, we must examine not only how we survived without tools, but why tool-using ability should be a positive evolutionary selection. Sure, even simple tools greatly enhance human ability, but that's starting from quite a low baseline. Does a 1st-generation weapon (made from natural materials with tools themselves made from natural materials) make a human superior to most predators? No. A wooden spear or a flint knife isn't a match for the natural armament of an alpha predator.

Granted, most alpha predators don't pick a fight with humans. However, the modern forms of these creatures are generally the descendants of those who learned that firearm-equipped humans ARE superior to most predators. That is, humans POST-gunpowder (arguably post-steel) have achieved a super-alpha predator status, which has been true for scores of generations of most alpha predators. The modern rule of thumb is that a healthy wolf won't attack a human, but a huge mythology of wolves as man-killers exists for much of recorded human history. The balance of evidence seems to indicate that many alpha predators were man-eaters, but not eating people became a positive evolutionary trait at some point. Probably about the time our fighters and hunters started wearing armor and wielding second and third generation weapons. That took centuries if not millenia. How did we survive in the meantime?

So how did evolution 'know' that eventually tool-using would lead to super-alpha status? How did we protect our helpless infants with 1st-generation tools? How did we reproduce fast enough to offset our casualties? How did we convince alpha predators that we shouldn't be part of the food chain, except at the top? Most importantly, at each step of developing tool-using and intelligence, how was that ability superior to other available mutations? Why was a bigger brain superior to a tougher skull? Sure, in ten or twenty generations the bigger brains will invent helmets, but they're inferior to the thicker skull mutation for over a hundred years. Even once they invent helmets, they're still inferior when they're not wearing them.

I'm not saying that evolution doesn't play a factor in our past, just that by itself it appears to be an insufficient explanation for our physical construction.

Deliver us!

So as I mentioned before, Boeing will be delivering the first 787 about six months late. We are still going to build planes to schedule however, we are told, which will result in a mass delivery (~30-40 airplanes) as soon as we get them certified. This will also result in a very crowded flightline. This image sparked something in my brain, and below is the result.

(To the tune of the obvious song from Prince of Egypt):

October 2008, Everett, Washington
[As rain drives down on the flight line, we see a group of 787s rolling slowly down an assembly line and around in circles. They begin to chant:]
Wings!... Tail!... Barrel!... Nose!
Wings!... and lift. Tail!... and join. Barrel!... and rivet. Nose! Faster!

[They sing]
With the gloom of the clouds on my windows,
With the weight of the ground 'neath my wheels,
FAA, let us fly! Give us type cert for the sky!
Loose our wings, say to Boeing:

Deliver us! Hear our call, deliver us!
BCA remember us, here in this pouring rain.
Deliver us! There's a route you promised us.
Deliver us, stop the airlines' pain.

[A large cargo freighter speaks as she unloads a barrel section]
My child, there is nothing I can do
But to pray there's space for you
For I must fly away, I hope they will

[The chorus of 787s breaks in]
Deliver us! Hear our call, Deliver us!
After all these months of waiting, crowded nose to tail
Deliver us! There's a route you promised us!
Deliver us! Certified and light
Deliver us! For a magic flight!

[The LCF sings softly]
Hush now, my barrel, wait calmly for me
Don't let the rain melt your glue
I'll soon return, with a Section Four-Three
Wait and FAD will get to you

Everett! Oh Everett! Clear runways for me!
Such precious cargo I bear!
Store all the barrels, the wings and the tails
Soon they will fly everywhere

[The 787s sing softly]
Deliver us! Send inspectors to inspect us!
Deliver us! To the world's airlines.

Deliver us!

I think I've finally gone completely 'round the bend.

Fears

Prompted by a post on randomgirl's blog. This is part of the monthly write-away contest, viewable here: http://scribbit.blogspot.com/2007/10/octobers-write-away-contest.html

What do I fear? Many, many things.

I'll start off with an easy one. I have a mild/moderate case of arachnophobia. It isn't reasoned, nor is it something I can easily control.

I have all the usual "rational" fears, of course - generally easily controllable. Heights, fire, etc.

For several years I feared flying - I blame the Mech E professor who kept bringing in broken turbine blades and talking about how the factor of safety for commercial aircraft is close to one (!). Working in the industry has mitigated this slightly, though I still tend to grip the armrests on takeoff and landing - mostly because my brain is running through a long, long list of everything that could possibly go wrong. It is still nearly impossible for me to fall asleep on a plane; the best I can usually do is a trance.

I frequently approach social situations with some amount of fear. I think that's because I'm not very good in social situations, I know it, and I'm afraid of making myself look like an idiot, or a jerk, etc.

I fear losing my job, though based on my performance reviews I really have no grounds for that right now.

I think the thing I fear most of all is failing someone who needs me. Sometimes I've been there when people needed me; I've even got one clear "save" to my credit. Other times... I haven't been there. I've also got "losses" in my past. Luckily none of them are recent (or at least none I know about are), but they still haunt me. How many can I lose before it breaks me? If I lose more than I save, can my life possibly have any positive meaning? Another aspect that bothers me is the people who know me, and that I could help, but who don't ask for it, even when they need it. What if I lose one of them?

Wow, three posts today.

What happens to a Dreamliner deferred?

Well, it is now official. After stating yesterday that the first 787 would deliver on time, Boeing today announced that first delivery will slide from May '08 to November/December '08. First flight is now sliding to first quarter '08.

I can't say I'm surprised, except that its taken this long for company officials to admit what industry analysts have been saying for months.

Hopefully our senior executives haven't been selling their company stock lately, or we'll be copying Airbus in yet another negative fashion.

Strange dream

Last night I dreamed that I was involved in a gang war. I remember hastily loading a rifle in order to join in the gun battle happening out in the street.

Now where did that come from?

What do you do?

What do you do when someone you care about is upset, and they don't even know what they're upset about? How do you help them?

Promotion

I was notified today that my promotion went through - I am now an Engineer 2. So now I'm doing work that is only one pay grade above my level. :-}

As of the end of work today, I will have worked exactly 5,000 hours for Boeing (not counting 416 hours of paid time off, but including 840 hours of overtime).

From the Training Field: Rapier Jam

Saturday I went up to Bellingham (Shire of Shittimwoode) for a multi-barony/shire rapier practice. It was nice to fence with some new people. In particular, for the first time, I fenced with two people who I was measurably better than; I actually am getting better and gaining experience. :-)

Afterward we went out for food, and I experienced a potato burrito - it was surprisingly good, going well with cheese and pinto beans.

Exhausted, sick, and tense

Well, this week has really kicked my butt and it isn't even over yet.

I'm actually feeling lightheaded, despite being adequately hydrated and fed. Partially being sick most of the week, partially getting very little sleep last night, possibly partially due to the unexplained anxiety - I've never knowingly had an anxiety attack, but I think I came close last night, and I don't know why.

I watched Grey's Anatomy last night - been a fan since the second season, and so far I'm enjoying this one, though I'd like a little more medicine and a little less soap opera.

We were informed at work this week that we are "strongly encouraged" to work 45% overtime for the next month and a half, possibly longer. I'm still over 30% so far this year, so this is a step up.

Not really capable of putting together a coherent post today...

From the Front Lines: Banner War

This weekend was Banner War; I've never felt so conflicted about an event.

Well, we'll get there. Banner War is a mostly intramural competition between the various households of Aquaterra (and whatever allies and mercenaries they can assemble) in a wide variety of competitions, ranging from the inevitable heavy fighting to dance.

The site is large geographically, but most of it is covered in trees, and the large open areas are needed for things like archery and erics, so tents get shoehorned into whatever space is left - which in my case meant being camped on top of a bunch of rocks. On the plus side, I was close to everything, including being fairly close to the permanent bathrooms.

Saturday I went to court, where the households declared their intent and I agreed to 'fight' for house Medelstede. House Redstone and the Red Plauge were also up, Redstone launching an all-out offensive to claim the title in honor of a fallen member of their household to end their year of mourning him. Next for me was rapier. I thought I did very well - fought cleanly and got complimented, for Azel's sake! I managed to pin down some fighters much better than I in melee, and for once got almost as many kills as deaths. Medelstede came away from rapier with two of the three available war points.

After rest and lunch (trying out my new Esbit stove) came Dance. I learned to brawl. I'm sure that's not how its spelled, but that is how it is pronounced, and I can't pass that up, now can I? Sadly Redstone came in force, and outnumbered five to one Medelstede was defeated for the dance war point.

Another court (with rice crispy treats!), dinner over the Esbit again, and hanging out with various folks followed. I got another mental conflict here - found out something about someone, or rather probably about someone - this is really bad writing, but the point is it was something that I didn't suspect at all, and which rather bothers me.

In the evening was a three-point bardic competition. I made it about halfway through pass the rhyme (first round free-form, second round partially in context, third round fully in context, and after I was eliminated a coherent story was required). Next came "performance under pressure" - do your piece while being beat on with pool noodles, or standing on one foot (mine). I got through mine, got a good vibe from the crowd, but fell victim to sequence again - I was the first to complete their performance under pressure, and by the time the crowd was polled for judging they'd forgotten me. I'm not saying I should have one, but given the comparative audience reactions during and immediatly after our performances, I should have polled much higher. The third and final contest was "crack the noble"; we had to make the Baron laugh in under a minute. Most people were unable to do this, but three of us pulled it off. I cracked him in twenty seconds, using only one word (jelly). :-) The Baron was then asked which of the successful crackers had entertained him the most, and wisely chose the guy who had explained his new heraldic device (featuring a flamingo, and asking for advice on whether it should be rampant, counterchanged, etc.), even though he did take 35 seconds. While I give myself credit for art and speed, I must say that if I'd been polled on entertainment value, I would have voted for him too.

After some more socializing and a little more open-form bardic, I returned to discover that while the rain fly on my tent may be waterproof, the doors apparently are not. Being set down on an irregular surface worked for me - very little gear got wet, all things considered. I had left the remaining tent stakes in my car, parked quite a ways away, so I got the rain fly partially reset over the door, but still took on more water during the night. Hopefully this was due to the defective setup, not a defective tent.

Sunday was all about packing up gear in the rain, trying to dry things once home, and feeling somewhat sick. This morning I'm feeling somewhat worse - perhaps something I ate?

Overall it was an event that should have been very good for me, but leaves a poor aftertaste.

Numidian Cavalry: Before and After

As I've mentioned, I'm working on a 1/72 scale Roman Legion for miniature gaming. As the auxiliary cavalry, I've chosen to use Numidian mercenaries. The Numidians were elite light horsemen (who rode bareback, according to accounts), and fought for and against Rome, for and against Carthage, and at Zama fought on both sides in the same battle.

The cavalry will be represented by figures from HaT and Zvezda. Here you can see the HaT unpainted figures still on sprues, and the painted and assembled figures in the background (one box of 12 figures each). Eventually I plan to have 154 Numidians in the legion (144 troopers, 8 junior officers, 2 senior officers, and 2 standard bearer/musicians). Zvezda's set includes the officers and musician, while both will supply troopers. This will represent the two cavalry Ala attached to the legion (real strength ~960 troops).

Plastic Soldier review links:
http://www.plasticsoldierreview.com/Review.asp?manu=HAT&code=8024
http://www.plasticsoldierreview.com/Review.asp?manu=ZVE&code=8031

Its a bird! Its a plane! Its yummy!

Yes, that's a chocolate 747, a product of the Rose Hill Chocolate Company here in Everett. It comes in milk or dark chocolate, but does not comply to CFR part 25. :-)

On the plus side, they are rather cheaper than the aluminum kind of 747.

House Status

A little out of date, but the house is definately coming along.

Planeshift?

OK, did the world suddenly move to a plane of chaos or something? I'm used to getting things in waves at work, but this morning has been utterly insane! I've gotten more phone calls in the last four hours than I usually get in a week, more RFIs than I would expect in a MONTH, and random meetings happening on top of it all.

From the Almost-Frontlines: Kingdom Bardic

This weekend was yet another SCA event (and another is coming this weekend, what can I say, it is campaign season).

Kingdom bardic is a competition to determine the Kingdom's Bard Champion. While this person ranks equally with the heavy fighting champion, rapier champion, archery champion, etc., there were only two entrants this year (for comparison, I was told there were over 100 fighters up for the Crown tournament, drawing from the same area). A third candidate had to drop out at the last minute due to family issues. Despite my limited knowledge of SCA people, I knew and was known to all the entrants, certainly a first for me.

Each entrant had to prepare four pieces, either period or in period style, and was called on to do improv work at the event feast (which, sadly, I missed). I sat in on a period English song about a male prostitute offering himself for 'rent', a Norse tale created by the bard, a Morrocan dance, and the introduction, in Latin, to a lecture on mathematics. The latter two were one-off entries by people who were not competing for the champion's slot. After each the judges discussed the piece with the performer, asking about documentation, performance style questions, etc.

I found this event quite interesting, as the portions I witnessed are about as completely different from, say, the Shittimwoode bardic championship as it is possible to be. Prepared pieces for judges vs. winging it for an audience, period-restricted vs. free choice, solo objective judging vs. head-to-head doulbe elimination, scholarly vs. crowd-pleasing, scheduled simultaneous vs. sequential.

Sadly due to latent exhaustion I didn't make it back Sunday for the final round and announcement of the victor.

Eyesight

Some of you may know that while I was growing up I wanted to be a navy officer. My eyesight has always been poor, however (I had eye surgery while still an infant, but I still have a weak eye and generally poor distance vision and depth perception, though oddly my low-light vision is above average). I abandoned those plans after talking with my opthamologist, who assured me there was no way into the navy's combat branches with my eyes, even with additional surgery. I moved on, but I never quite reconciled myself to the illogic of insisting on near-perfect vision and denying laser surgery in this day and age.

I was thus rather floored by irony today - NASA has relaxed its vision standards, among a quiet but broad relaxation of the military's standards in several catagories. The Wall Street Journal reports that two surgeries have been added to the acceptable list (the first two, AFAIK), and standards lowered slightly across the board for astronaut candidates.

It is, of course, far too little too late for me. My sight continues to slowly deteriorate, and I'd have to make a serious effort even to get back into the shape I was in high school (in appropriate gear, I could run 8 miles in an hour over broken terrain). While I am in the aerospace industry, I rather doubt that experiance in designing aircraft interiors will stand out in a NASA application.

Still, it does cause a bit of excitement. I still have the goal of seeing Earthrise before I die, and for once the trend is working in my favor.

Apple unveils new product

http://www.theonion.com/content/news/apple_unveils_new_product

Well, it was inevitable...

Guiding eager young minds...

...down the path of DOOM!

Carnegie Mellon (my alma mater for those who didn't know) has invited me to become a member of the Carnegie Mellon Admissions Council, basically a bunch of alums who interview potential students and answer questions about what C-M is like. I've filled out my application, but I have very little idea of what to expect.

I'm also curious if this is something they ask everyone about (perhaps a year or two after graduation), or if there is some flag I tripped or profile I met. I can't imagine what the latter might be, however. Anyone else gotten this invite? Anyone else applied?

100 Posts!

I suppose I should do something special for my 100th post, but I really can't work up the emotional reserve for something upbeat right now.

Saturday was OK; went to work for a while, rested, bought a 1/72 galley kit and did some assembly work. Sunday was good - a lot more modeling and a leisurely dinner out.

But this morning at work hit me in the face with a shovel. I won't comment on the most likely previous use of the shovel.

I think the thing that is the root of my frustration is that I'm getting paid less than a guy in my group who does no work whatsoever. It takes me longer to explain something to him than it does to do it myself, and it isn't even the case that he can then do that task in the future - if it needs to be done again, someone has to help him again. He can't answer even simple questions from our manager about what he's supposed to be working on. But he still gets paid. He still gets overtime.

It makes it really hard to do my own job.

Link Highlight: Plastic Soldier Review

My link highlight for today is a brand-new one: http://www.plasticsoldierreview.com/Index.htm

This is a web site that reviews the quality and historical accuracy of 1/72 scale plastic figures.

The site is interesting because, unusually for the web IME, it covers its subject quite broadly and deeply, with no errors I have been able to find. Actually, that may make it unique.

Of course, it is a niche site, but for me a useful one.

Back in the fall of 1997 I decided to build a diorama for Latin class showing the battle formation of a roman legion. To this end I bought a set of 1/72 Roman Legionaires from Esci http://www.plasticsoldierreview.com/Review.asp?manu=ESC&code=224 at a local hobby store and painted them.

This led to me digging out an old Atlantic set of Egyptians I'd gotten years before as opponents. That led to needing more Romans to fight them. That led to needing some additional barbarians for the other side (Esci). That led to needing cavalry for the Romans, as I did more research into the topic. By the time the first wave of interest faded several years later I had over 500 figures including two elephants and a 1/120 war galley, about a quarter of them painted.

College rather interrupted this military build up.

A month ago, I visited a new hobby store that had recently opened within easy walking distance of my apartment. There I found a reasonable selection of ancient-era figures, including some I'd been keeping an eye out for to rounding out the legion.

Addiction is a downward spiral. I've now visited another area hobby shop, buying figures at both, as well as investing in paint, and a new Osprey book on the tactics of the Roman legions. I've developed a TO&E for a model legion that will have 848 figures, including 745 men, 97 horses, and 6 ballista, and ordered or purchased almost all the sets needed to complete it. I've also aquired additional troops for the opposing forces, and investigated a new line of 1/72 galleys by Zvezda.

When I've got more complete units together, I'll post pictures.

Conspiracy Theories

"If there is no evidence, it means the conspiracy is working."

In general, I don't believe conspiracy theories. Usually this is becuase they seem to me far less likely than the official explanation.

"Stupidity is much more common than evil."

I'm also amazed at the ability of many of the theories to cherry-pick one thing and claim that it "proves" there was a conspiracy, without being able to offer a coherent explanation of that thing themselves.

I think the thing that is most commonly forgotten by the conspiracy theorists is that people are lousy observers, closely followed by the inevitable variability of life. Almost no-one has a watch that is actually within a minute of the time set by the naval observatory. Almost no complex assembly is built precisely to spec and with all its parts.

"And in this exclusive footage you can clearly see the driver turn around and shoot Kennedy."

I'm also frequently puzzled about the motivation for most of the conspiracy theories out there. Why did all these people go to so much trouble to create a cover up? Sure, you can fake almost anything if you try hard enough and have enough resources. But what's in it for you? Yes, people often do things for no apparent rational reason, but conspiracies by definition require the cooperation of many people, and not usually from the chaotic sections of society.

"We can't even cover up the fact that the president got a blow job in the oval office, and someone thinks we can cover up alien autopsies?"

This is not to say that I don't believe that there have been conspiracies, in fact there are some I do believe. But don't waste your time trying to convince me NASA faked the Apollo moon landings,

Domestic Disturbance

The AP is reporting that the Russians have developed the "dad of all bombs" which they claim is equivalent to 44 tons of TNT, four times more powerful than the US "mother of all bombs."

Because what the world really needs now is another pure-offensive weapons arms race.

Maybe with any luck it'll kick off a new space race too...

The Strangest Idea Ever

Major Appliance Wars:

Pit your air conditioning against your furnace to see who will rule the apartment.

Really, I have no idea where that came from.

Link Highlight: User Friendly

User friendly is a webcomic about a bunch of guys (and one or two gals) who work at a tech company.



The cast also includes "dust puppy"; a creature with legs and a fuzzy head but no other body parts, and an intelligent computer.



Most of the jokes are geek-related, and although a group of strips may be tied together, there is no real overarching plot of any kind.



I'm not sure when I discovered this comic; I suspect it was sometime in 2002/2003, but I can't even narrow it down to a particular year.

What is "real" food?

What is real food?

Beef jerky isn't generally considered real food, steak usually is. Why?

Potato chips are not real food, but mashed potatoes are. Why?

Is it just a "hot/cold" thing? But then ramen is real food. Or is that OK? And an apple isn't real food.

Is it a measure of nutritive value? But then power bars should probably be real food, right? And a lot of 'real' foods are very fatty.

Is an MRE (Meals Ready to Eat officially, Meals Rejected by the Enemy unofficially, a.k.a. three lies for the price of one...) real food? Is it real food only if you cook the thing?

Is it the setting? Is anything eaten in a restaurant real food, and something you eat in the car with one hand while you watch the road not?

Is it the intent? Real food is for enjoyment, non-real food is just for calories? But then, most people eat junk food for enjoyment.

Is it the prep time, the effort involved? But does that rule out food that comes from the microwave, which these days can be both healthy and tasty?

Is it the amount of food? A snack is not real, a meal is real? Does that mean one bite of steak is not real food, or an entire bag of chips in one sitting is?

People say "I can't define it but I know it when I see it." Well, I don't know it when I see it. Can you help me define it at least?

Healthy but Scary

I did a wellness screening today, and added a third person to the list of health professionals I've freaked out with a low medical stat (cholesterol of 110 in this case).

I'm apparently healthy.

The nurses had a machine I hadn't seen before - a portable blood analysis machine about the size of a toaster. It computed my cholesterol and blood glucose levels in about five minutes from just a few drops of blood. I asked the tech who was supporting the machines about it, and apparently they can't do anything like white count or electrolytes yet, but they can do a 3-month glucose level from a single sample. (!)

I also used another new machine that computed my body fat and BMI just by holding it in my hands, arms extended. Apparently that one works by conduction analysis or some such.

The wonders of modern medicine...

From the Frontlines: September Crown

As the worthy king and fair queen of An Tir prepare to step down, the people of An Tir came together at tourney to witness the bravest and strongest in the land battle for the title of crown prince. Over a hundred champions met to fight for the honor and glory of their inspirations. Under the blazing sun they met and, after five hours, by the slimest of margins, the winner was chosen. (Really the slimest of margins - best of three in the final, each won one bout, then both of them lost their legs in the third bout.)

I did my fighting on the rapier erics. I fought in a hold-the-field tourney, a Sable Rose tourney, and passed on the golden ribbon after an hour and ten minutes of almost continuous combat to Maria Theresa, who was very psyched to receive it. I now bear a blue and black celtic knotwork ribbon on the hilt of my sword as a former bearer of the golden ribbon. Doing over an hour of fighting in the sun was an amazing rush for me, though at the end of it I could barely lift my sword. I drank about two-thirds of a gallon of water in a three-hour window centered on the fight. There were about eight people rotating to fight me, and even some of them were visibly weakening towards the end.

The site was only so-so, but being quite far away from any major light polution the night sky was incredible - stars shining out brilliantly all over the place.

I had one really good "SCA moment" - I was walking back to site from the parking lot (I ran out of water and needed to get more off site), and a guy I don't know pulls up in his pickup and offers me a lift into camp. Only in the SCA would I accept a ride from a stranger. :-)

Link Highlight: The SCA

I'm running low on links to highlight. Of course, I really should add a bunch more links...

The SCA is the Society for Creative Anachronism. We're a bunch of pre-1600s re-enactors/re-creators. The SCA has been around for over 40 years, has over 30,000 members, and has been described as the largest paramilitary organization in the world.

You'll note that we were started in the 1960's, and if you think about it that's not very surprising. The SCA is composed of people who would rather spend time in a different era - though the vast majority of us would rather bring modern plumbing along.

The 30,000 comes from the SCA's official website. I think that number is based on official membership, which is not required for most activities, and thus significantly understates our numbers. Quite a lot of people more involved than I am are not official members. Pennsic, our largest event, annually has over 10,000 people in attendance. True, we draw some people from other groups for that event, but still - that's a third of our membership.

The paramilitary thing is even more questionable. True, we teach and practice the use of various martial arts, most of which are much closer to the realities of combat than, say, modern fencing. On the other hand 'paramilitary' to me implies organization. Now, in theory, we've got organization. There's the SCA as a whole, its 19 kingdoms, their hundreds of baronies, shires, and principalities, and so forth. Despite that, I have never seen a large group of people less well organized than the SCA. If you're lucky, the rough schedule for an event will be available a week beforehand. If a moderate miracle happens, the schedule will be accurate to within half an hour. More frequently, some things on the schedule won't happen, a lot that weren't scheduled will, and at least one or two things will be off by more than an hour. And this is considered normal and acceptable. Some people fight for their household, some for their barony, some only for their kingdom, and some for whoever gives them the most cookies and beer that day.

Now, can you imagine trying to get a group like that to do, well, anything as a coordinated whole? A well regulated militia we ain't.

The thing I love about the SCA is the feeling that I am in a place that is much more positive than the world tends to be. More courteous, more chivalric, happier, more free. Salute your worthy opponent before you fight. Share a drink with them afterwards and laugh about how you really blew THAT move.

This is not to say that the SCA is composed only of the best people, simply that the bell curve of human quality is noticeably shifted from what I find in everyday life. Are we insane? Possibly. But perhaps, to quote Man of La Mancha: "To surrender to dreams - this may be madness; to seek treasure where there is only trash. Too much sanity may be madness! But maddest of all - -to see life as it is and not as it should be. "

Bodies

I had a discussion with some co-workers yesterday about burial, organ donation, etc.

Now, I'm an organ donor. I'm a donor for anything they can find a use for when I die. Heart, eyes, skin, whatever. If there's a way to drain my blood and use it for transfusions or for research, that's fine with me.

Part of all that, of course, is because doing that can help save lives, or greatly improve them. But part of that is because I simply don't care what happens to my body after I die. My body is not ME. I am a collection of thoughts, experiances, dreams, opinions, hopes... and none of that is about my body.

I don't care if I'm buried, cremated, or mummified. I believe that when I die my spirit leaves my body. I'm not sure where it goes, or if it just ceases to exist, but I'm sure it has nothing to do with my body anymore. I've seen people die. I can't describe what I saw, but I could sense that their body was just a bunch of flesh at that point.

What do you believe happens when you die?

Numerology Again

Today my total overtime hours worked at Boeing reach 787.

My total work hours (OT and regular) are 4,747 (note last three digits).

Shoggoth on the Roof

Yesterday I listened to the score of "Shoggoth on the Roof." SotR is a parody/filk of Fidler on the Roof set in the Cthulhu universe.

Somewhere, HP Lovecraft is rolling in his grave. The music shows great creativity, intelligence, and is a very high-grade work of filk. As such, it is highly funny and equally highly disturbing. "How does the Shoggoth balance on the roof? I can tell you in one word: Tentacles!"

Overall, it left me with a desire to play Cults Across America again - much the same attitude of light-hearted Lovecraftian horror.

Save me a Seat in Valhalla

This is a filk I wrote to the tune of "The Piano Man"

Its just before dawn on a summer's day
Loading the longships for sea
And Sven he comes up with an idea
And walks up to the captain and me
He says "I know a land not to far from here
"Where there's liquor and women galore
"Oh there's mead and there's meat
"And the waters are sweet
"The town's just a stone's throw from shore."

Chorus:
Save me a seat in Valhalla's Halls
Save me a seat by the fire
For we're all going to die before morning
So send down a Valkyrie Choir!

Well we loaded our boats and we sailed away
Ready to pillage, THEN burn
We sailed down the coast
And we landed our host
But that's when our luck took a turn
For this town had a full hundred warriors
Who ambushed us far from the ships
The first sign was a volley of javelins
Half our men died on their tips.

Chorus

Now we knew we would live if we ran away
And we'd probably die if we stayed
But we're true vikings all
And we answered the call
And we sang as we ran to the fray:

Chorus

From the Front Lines: Warren War

This past weekend, a fierce battle raged between the Baronies of Aquaterra and Lion's Gate. The glorious forces of Aquaterra met the invaders from the north in the Shire of Shittimwoode, engaging them both in deadly battle and in contests of arts, games, and bardic skill.

My own part in this contest was as a rapier fighter (fought for Aquaterra in the traditional "sheep stealing" scenario, victory to Lion's Gate despite our best efforts and superior numbers), and as one of the seven competitors for the bardic championship in a double-elimination tournament (I was eliminated single-handedly by the eventual victor, Darcy (sp?), also from Aquaterra).

Our other rapier scenarios included the "papal ascension" scenario, in which we divided into three teams of five (French, Italian, and Spanish), each with a pope. The goal was to have the last remaining pope. We also did a "street battle" on a road all of five feet wide, which was notable mostly for the guy who, faced with five to one odds towards the end of the scenario, managed to take down four of his attackers before being finished off.

At the bardic I performed:
1st round, win, "Save me a seat in Valhalla" (filk, mine)
2nd round, loss, "The Impossible Dream" (from Man of La Mancha)
3rd round (theme: Puppies), win, an improvizational filk of "Hap'n Frog of Cambreath" (which became "Puppy Dog sittin' by the trail/his tongue's hangin' out and he's waggin' his tail/... How Many Fleas Are On Your Hide!")
4th round (theme: friends), loss, "Man of La Mancha" (from "Man of La Mancha).

I was rather proud of the filked filk, since I had about twenty minutes to come up with it (from the time the round theme was announced to the time my turn came up). Chris came up with some of the words, including the "how many fleas are on your hide" bit, and I was very happy with the result, even if it didn't hold a candle to the improvised entries for the final round (double theme: doughnuts and stars). Three of the four previous "bunny bards" were present for the tournament: Nicholas (BB1), Caiaphas (BB2), and Quentin (BB4, outgoing champion).

Link Highlight: Sluggy 10th Anniversary Tribute

Sluggy has had its ups and downs over the years, but what doesn't in 10 years, especially on the Web?

Sluggy won't officially turn 10 until tomorrow, but I'll be at Warren War tomorrow, so... anyway.

I was actually a member of the sluggy.net bboards for a while - active enough that I actually earned a title: the Nitpicking Official Unofficial Strip Finder. Some of the milestone posts I saved:

First Sluggy message, 4/24/02

Security Breach. An unidentified user has been detected. Designate target "Gridley."

Proceed with check for evilness.

Affiliation with HeretiCorp: Negative.
Affiliation with Microsoft: Negative.
Politician/Lawyer: Negative.
Undead/ethereal: Negative.

Proceed with background check.

Primary occupation: college student, engineering.
Secondary occupation: paramedic.
Location: Pittsburgh, PA

Proceed with substance abuse test.

First exposed to sluggy: May 26th, 2001 http://www.sluggy.com/daily.php?date=010526 (scratched head, went about business)
Addicted to sluggy: February 18th, 2002 http://www.sluggy.com/daily.php?date=020218 (read all posted sluggy within three days)

Caffeine: trace. Negative addiction.

No other addictive substances detected.

Alert: began college on same day as first Sluggy publication. Possible conspiracy.
Alert: significant personality correlation with Torg. Possible clone.

No other significant factors found.

Begin routine monitoring.

Sluggy Post, 5/3/02

Hmm...

Three strips for the Vampires, under the moon,
Seven for the Demons in their place of Pain,
Nine for minor characters doomed to die,
One for the Dark Author on his dark computer
In the land of Sluggy, where the Shadows lie.

One Bun to rule them all, one Bun to find them,
One Bun to bring them all and with a switchblade blind them
In the land of Sluggy, where the Shadows lie.


A Tribute to Sluggy Freelance Book 6

All that are dead are not finished
Not all those who wander are lost
The plane that is old can’t be EMP’ed
The brainwashed won’t think of the cost.

In the dreaming a soul shall awaken
In the darkness a new fire will burn
Renewed shall be ‘bot that was broken
The Vowelless again shall return

King Rorik the Brave, Revised

I've always felt that the transition in King Rorik to the charge was weak, and needed another verse. Now I've got it.


Upon the field of battle are great tales of valor borne
Of knights so brave and squires true
Of banners raised or torn
Unto the field of Pennsic War there came a mighty lord
King Rorik was his noble name
And thirty men his hoard.

An Tir! He shouted loudly
An Tir! He called our proudly
An Tir! King Rorik came
With thirty men behind him.

King Rorik came to Midrealm's King and said what shall we do?
I've come to fight and to have fun
My men want glory too
But Midrealm's King was not impressed by thirty men, nor King
He said "just go and fight someone
Of you they'll never sing"

Poor King Rorik was so sad, his crown did all but droop
Until a lady rallied him
He went to lead his troop
He led his men into the trees but no one could they find
He split his force into three parts
"On now!" With seven men behind

An Tir! He shouted loudly
An Tir! He called our proudly
An Tir! King Rorik went
With seven men behind him.

Now in a grove of trees he stands, the base of a small hill
He looks up to the top and says
"Next thing we see, we kill!"
Their patience is rewarded by the site of banner then
Now o'er the crest a shieldwall comes
Two hundred fifty men

Two hundred fifty men 'gainst eight may seem a little much
But our great King was not the kind
To think of odds and such
He ordered all his men to give a great shout of "An Tir!"
And up the hill he led the charge
He'd never heard of fear.

An Tir! He shouted loudly
An Tir! He called our proudly
An Tir! King Rorik CHARGED!
With seven men behind him.

The soldiers of the Eastrealm are not given much to fear
Yet so loudly did those eight men shout
An army must be near
The banners of the East now turned, before eight men they fled
"The entire Midrealm Army's here!
King Rorik's at their head!"

Now o'er the hill our heroes charge, King Rorik at the fore
And on the other side they see
At least three hundred more
But those three hundred men have heard the shouting of "An Tir!"
They see their comrades flee in dread
And turn to face the rear

An Tir! He shouted loudly
An Tir! He called our proudly
An Tir! King Rorik charged
With seven men behind him.

Five hundred men now flee before the wrath of great An Tir
Until someone looks back and says
"There's only eight men here"
The banners of the East return, the shieldwall they restore
It doesn't matter to our king
"We routed them before!"

AN TIR! He shouted loudly
AN TIR He called our proudly
AN TIR! King Rorik charged...
With seven men behind him.

Medic 83

As this is my 83rd post, it seemed appropraite to discuss a former aspect of myself: CMU EMS Medic 83.

In many ways, Medic 83 was a throwback to my life in high school; surrounded by people who took the situtation far less seriously than I did, and who deemed me unfit for social contact but found me useful because I did the job, especially parts of it they didn't want to do.

In high school, it bothered me, but I didn't know that anything else was possible. In college, I knew that other situtations were possible.

It all came apart when I was charged with an offense I didn't commit. I proved that I hadn't done what I was charged with, whereupon the head of the organization (another student) informed me that my innocence of the specific charge was irrelevant, and that I was going to be punished anyway. This from a guy who was carrying around illegal medications in his jump bag.

For the most part, I've laid Medic 83 to rest. Part of him lived on for a time in R/WV EMSA Medic 452, but that, too, is a thing of the past.

I've been permanently changed by the things I learned, saw, and did while in EMS. For the most part, I think the changes were for the better. It has, however, made me... hardened, perhaps, to death. That hardening can be useful, but I wonder if I am quite as human as I might otherwise have been.

I'll always be haunted by a line from the movie "Backdraft." A guy is talking about how he always wanted to be a fireman. The girl he's talking to comments that he was. He responds: "I guess I should have said I wanted to be a good one."

I was an average medic at the end. I was never a good one.

The question is, is an average paramedic better than a good first responder? That's a question I need to answer - if they are, I have a duty to join the SCA Chirurgeonate. I swore an oath, and nothing since has invalidated it. But if an average medic is not better, I have no right to take up that responsibility.

I have made my mistakes, luckily none of them fatal as far as I know. And I do have one real, solid, save to my credit. One life on the scoreboard without question, and a number of assists.