-from the "Songs You'll Never Hear Sung in Heaven" Department:
My Way - Frank Sinatra
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Time for Skype? - update
I digress ...
I don't want to endorse products or services here (except Windows' dominating superiority over Mac*), so this is just info you might find useful and worth checking out for yourself.
My friend Vernon in Tanzania first introduced me to Skype two years ago during my visit to his home in Arusha. Skype is a web-based telephone system that allows you to make dirt-cheap phone calls (to another computer, a land line, cell phone or whatever) from your computer to any place in the world (so long as your computer is connected to the internet).
All you gotta do is install the software & plug in a set of headphones (with microphone).
Skype sells 7 hours of talk-time "credits" for ten bucks ... that's $1.40 per hour (or 2.3 cents per minute). That's much, much less expensive than what I'm paying for cell service ... and maybe best of all, there's No Charge for calls placed to other Skype users.
I just made my first Skype call to Ken, who reported the quality was "slightly garbled" and "definitely not a cell phone" (but then rumors persist that AVCLUB.US maintains a highly-secret labyrinth of subterranean particle-pair splitters for streaming data back and forth across space-time ... 23rd century technology you and I can only dream about).
Not bad, especially if you see lots of international phone calls on your horizon. The only caveat is that Skype is CANNOT be used to place calls to 911 emergency service.
ps. Since programming everybody into my cell I realize I don't remember phone numbers any more, and have nightmares about dropping my little Nokia into the lake and losing all my contact 411 forever.
Skype includes a Contact List, so all I've gotta do now is move all my contacts' names and numbers onto Skype (where they'll be safe from losing my phone to the lake).
* "The computers from hell."
I don't want to endorse products or services here (except Windows' dominating superiority over Mac*), so this is just info you might find useful and worth checking out for yourself.
My friend Vernon in Tanzania first introduced me to Skype two years ago during my visit to his home in Arusha. Skype is a web-based telephone system that allows you to make dirt-cheap phone calls (to another computer, a land line, cell phone or whatever) from your computer to any place in the world (so long as your computer is connected to the internet).
All you gotta do is install the software & plug in a set of headphones (with microphone).
Skype sells 7 hours of talk-time "credits" for ten bucks ... that's $1.40 per hour (or 2.3 cents per minute). That's much, much less expensive than what I'm paying for cell service ... and maybe best of all, there's No Charge for calls placed to other Skype users.
I just made my first Skype call to Ken, who reported the quality was "slightly garbled" and "definitely not a cell phone" (but then rumors persist that AVCLUB.US maintains a highly-secret labyrinth of subterranean particle-pair splitters for streaming data back and forth across space-time ... 23rd century technology you and I can only dream about).
Not bad, especially if you see lots of international phone calls on your horizon. The only caveat is that Skype is CANNOT be used to place calls to 911 emergency service.
ps. Since programming everybody into my cell I realize I don't remember phone numbers any more, and have nightmares about dropping my little Nokia into the lake and losing all my contact 411 forever.
Skype includes a Contact List, so all I've gotta do now is move all my contacts' names and numbers onto Skype (where they'll be safe from losing my phone to the lake).
* "The computers from hell."
Monday, August 6, 2007
How hot was it today?
By sundown the temperature had reached a scorching 247 degrees, and boiled most of the water right outta the lake.
Now that's hot, I'm tellin' ya. (that's me on the right)
Now that's hot, I'm tellin' ya. (that's me on the right)
Sunday, August 5, 2007
But it's not such a BAD web ...
Maybe it's something to do with water or humidity, but boats (or just marinas?) seem to attract more than their share of spiders. Sometimes it seems like they're everywhere.
The other morning I found a spider dangling from its silk thread in Calypso's salon, in the first stages of construction on a new web. I don't mind spiders too much, but this spider's latest efforts would've blocked my view of the TV: an unacceptable distraction.
He was only about the size of a lima bean, so I grabbed Mr. Ambitious and chucked him outside before he could make himself feel welcomed.
--
Another time I noticed a yellow jacket hovering over over a thin, but old and intricate, web among the fenders on Calypso's rear deck. Maybe Mr. Bee dropped by from curiosity, or maybe he was just bored ... because he was skipping and darting over the web, as though intrigued and fascinated to find out for himself what created so much danger and excitement.
Meanwhile the spider, not even the size of a BB, scampered back and forth over its web in an eight-legged frenzy. Not to chase the bee away or to protect its web: No, the spider was throttling around in high gear because it was hungry and meant serious spider business.
The bee paid him no attention, and I'm sure the bee was thinking "You gotta be kidding me" because the bee seemed like an elephant compared to the size of the spider. Certainly it chose to ignore the fate and condition of the spider's previous companions.
And after the bee's struggles to free itself had only wound it deeper and more permanently into the spider's trap; as the bee realized the wings it had always depended on for flight were useless and watched the teeny-tiny spider move in for The Big Body Bite, I wonder if the bee was thinking, "Why didn't anybody tell me this was gonna happen?"
The other morning I found a spider dangling from its silk thread in Calypso's salon, in the first stages of construction on a new web. I don't mind spiders too much, but this spider's latest efforts would've blocked my view of the TV: an unacceptable distraction.
He was only about the size of a lima bean, so I grabbed Mr. Ambitious and chucked him outside before he could make himself feel welcomed.
--
Another time I noticed a yellow jacket hovering over over a thin, but old and intricate, web among the fenders on Calypso's rear deck. Maybe Mr. Bee dropped by from curiosity, or maybe he was just bored ... because he was skipping and darting over the web, as though intrigued and fascinated to find out for himself what created so much danger and excitement.
Meanwhile the spider, not even the size of a BB, scampered back and forth over its web in an eight-legged frenzy. Not to chase the bee away or to protect its web: No, the spider was throttling around in high gear because it was hungry and meant serious spider business.
The bee paid him no attention, and I'm sure the bee was thinking "You gotta be kidding me" because the bee seemed like an elephant compared to the size of the spider. Certainly it chose to ignore the fate and condition of the spider's previous companions.
And after the bee's struggles to free itself had only wound it deeper and more permanently into the spider's trap; as the bee realized the wings it had always depended on for flight were useless and watched the teeny-tiny spider move in for The Big Body Bite, I wonder if the bee was thinking, "Why didn't anybody tell me this was gonna happen?"
Saturday, August 4, 2007
You seen that ninja, didn't ya?
-from The Anderson Independent Mail
by Pearce Adams
August 2, 2007
by Pearce Adams
August 2, 2007
A 26-year-old
Joshua Alan Webber told an
The Ford’s driver then pulled alongside Mr. Webber and began to verbally abuse him, according to the police report.
No one was injured, and no arrests have been made as of Thursday afternoon, according to official reports.
According to other details in the police report, both drivers pulled into the parking lot of a Wachovia Bank.
Mr. Webber told deputies that he walked to the Ford, asked the driver “what his problem was,” and found himself confronted with a sword.
The Ford’s driver told Mr. Webber that he had “been on acid for a week and that he would kill him,” according to the report.
No one was injured, and no arrests have been made.
Friday, August 3, 2007
The math part is easy
1. "The sun hurls 1 million tons of matter out into space
every second."
From http://www.windows.ucar.edu/spaceweather/sun_earth6.html,
University of Michigan; ©2002.
2. "The Sun converts 600 million tons of hydrogen into
helium every second."
From http://www.firstscience.com/SITE/factfile/factfile101_120.asp,
Firstsciene.com ©2002.
3. "Two people die every second."
From http://www.youdraw.com/morepop/pop.html, Youdraw ©
Louis Paschoud. [The consensus is closer to 1.8 people]
-That means 1000 people die every 9 minutes and 20 seconds.
Always Good
Fear of man will prove to be a snare,
but whoever trusts in the LORD is kept safe.
-Proverbs 29:25
but whoever trusts in the LORD is kept safe.
-Proverbs 29:25
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Thank You
I was about a half-mile from the marina just a few minutes ago, and started smelling fuel inside the truck. I figured I musta stepped in something at the gas station, so I didn't pay too much attention.
But once I stopped and parked I noticed gray wisps of smoke drifting up from the truck's bed, and when I climbed out, significant plumage was billowing out from the front fenders as well.
That's when I began to astutely suspect a fuel hose leak ... especially after I spied prodigious amounts of raw fuel dumping onto the pavement under the truck. You know, where the engine and all its hot parts live together as one happy flammable family.
Can't help but start thinking What If ... what if instead of being so close to home, I'd been on the interstate, kept on going, and got spontaneously combusted into a diesel french fry?
That would ... well, I'd rather not think about it.
But once I stopped and parked I noticed gray wisps of smoke drifting up from the truck's bed, and when I climbed out, significant plumage was billowing out from the front fenders as well.
That's when I began to astutely suspect a fuel hose leak ... especially after I spied prodigious amounts of raw fuel dumping onto the pavement under the truck. You know, where the engine and all its hot parts live together as one happy flammable family.
Can't help but start thinking What If ... what if instead of being so close to home, I'd been on the interstate, kept on going, and got spontaneously combusted into a diesel french fry?
That would ... well, I'd rather not think about it.
Wishful thinking
Taking a quick break while adding a new ground fault interrupter circuit to Calypso's factory wiring ...
A friend of mine used to work in a computer store. He told me about the time he'd sold a Do-It-Yourself Income Tax program to a customer, who angrily stormed back into the store the next day claiming Fraud! and demanding a full refund on the spot.
My friend asked the man what was wrong.
"To begin with," the man shouted, "yesterday you told me this program was all I needed to do my own taxes. But when I got home and read the instructions, it said I also needed a computer! How on earth do you people keep getting away with pulling stuff like this?"
True story.
I've got another friend who works at a marine parts store who was also forced to deal with an irate customer.
This fellow had just purchased a DC inverter/battery charger (it creates ordinary 110-volt electricity from 12-volt boat batteries; it'll also re-charge the battery when the boat's plugged back into shore power) and demanded not only a refund, but also an explanation of why the inverter didn't work like it was supposed to.
In a nutshell, this guy thought he could plug the inverter's output back into its own input ... thereby creating his own source of perpetual electric energy.
Like OK then, Issac Newton.
Both these guys were obviously adults, well past voting age and fully capable of making and accepting responsibility for their choices (just like the rest of us), and would certainly be insulted by even the most patient attempts to explain that their thinking wasn't due to ignorance ... but resulted from blindly pursuing and engaging Wishful Thinking ("I believe it because that's what I want to be true!") and avoiding what should be obvious by now: Reality doesn't adjust or adapt itself to satisfy our personal wishes and expectations.
These guys were expecting they could wish themselves a shortcut to the solution they desired ... but in each case, Wishful Thinking only pointed them to a Dead End.
A friend of mine used to work in a computer store. He told me about the time he'd sold a Do-It-Yourself Income Tax program to a customer, who angrily stormed back into the store the next day claiming Fraud! and demanding a full refund on the spot.
My friend asked the man what was wrong.
"To begin with," the man shouted, "yesterday you told me this program was all I needed to do my own taxes. But when I got home and read the instructions, it said I also needed a computer! How on earth do you people keep getting away with pulling stuff like this?"
True story.
I've got another friend who works at a marine parts store who was also forced to deal with an irate customer.
This fellow had just purchased a DC inverter/battery charger (it creates ordinary 110-volt electricity from 12-volt boat batteries; it'll also re-charge the battery when the boat's plugged back into shore power) and demanded not only a refund, but also an explanation of why the inverter didn't work like it was supposed to.
In a nutshell, this guy thought he could plug the inverter's output back into its own input ... thereby creating his own source of perpetual electric energy.
Like OK then, Issac Newton.
Both these guys were obviously adults, well past voting age and fully capable of making and accepting responsibility for their choices (just like the rest of us), and would certainly be insulted by even the most patient attempts to explain that their thinking wasn't due to ignorance ... but resulted from blindly pursuing and engaging Wishful Thinking ("I believe it because that's what I want to be true!") and avoiding what should be obvious by now: Reality doesn't adjust or adapt itself to satisfy our personal wishes and expectations.
These guys were expecting they could wish themselves a shortcut to the solution they desired ... but in each case, Wishful Thinking only pointed them to a Dead End.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Helpless?
Fran, who lives about a mile down the road, called a little while ago and told me there was a man, a woman and a wagon in her front yard.
I was already headed in that direction on my way to the post office, so I stayed on the phone as I drove to her house and yes, there was a man and a woman with their wagon resting in the shade of Fran's front yard.
Fran's mom had already spoken to the man, who said he and his mother were headed toward Pendleton on their way to Highway 29. They'd left from New Orleans with their wagon, and were on their way to Washington, D.C.
Since he's pulling their possessions by himself in an open wagon (it looked about 4x6 feet long), someone had towed their wagon behind a vehicle across Georgia (since human-drawn wagons are apparently prohibited on public highways in The Peach State) and they'd stopped to rest on the side of the road in front of Fran's mom's house.
Fran's mom asked if they needed anything and the man said No there was nothing, and they had plenty of food ... but would she mind if they spent the night in her yard? She agreed, and Fran's [Marine] boyfriend is going over to spend the night, for security ... and just in case.
Even though the man and his mother insisted they were fine and didn't need anything, you gotta wonder what it's like walking, or pulling a heavy trailer, and sleeping beside two-lane country roads all the way from New Orleans to Washington. There's a heaviness, something sad that says This isn't The Third World and things shouldn't be this way. Even though the man said they were fine and had all that they needed, I'm having a hard time believing it.
I'm not being facetious, but maybe a guy who can pull a wagon with his mother on board over country roads all the way from New Orleans to the nation's capital knows a whole lot more about himself than I care to ever find out about myself. He's sure got more heart, more persistence and more vision than me, for sure.
Kinda leaves you wondering who, or if anybody, will be waiting when they finally arrive up in D.C.
I was already headed in that direction on my way to the post office, so I stayed on the phone as I drove to her house and yes, there was a man and a woman with their wagon resting in the shade of Fran's front yard.
Fran's mom had already spoken to the man, who said he and his mother were headed toward Pendleton on their way to Highway 29. They'd left from New Orleans with their wagon, and were on their way to Washington, D.C.
Since he's pulling their possessions by himself in an open wagon (it looked about 4x6 feet long), someone had towed their wagon behind a vehicle across Georgia (since human-drawn wagons are apparently prohibited on public highways in The Peach State) and they'd stopped to rest on the side of the road in front of Fran's mom's house.
Fran's mom asked if they needed anything and the man said No there was nothing, and they had plenty of food ... but would she mind if they spent the night in her yard? She agreed, and Fran's [Marine] boyfriend is going over to spend the night, for security ... and just in case.
Even though the man and his mother insisted they were fine and didn't need anything, you gotta wonder what it's like walking, or pulling a heavy trailer, and sleeping beside two-lane country roads all the way from New Orleans to Washington. There's a heaviness, something sad that says This isn't The Third World and things shouldn't be this way. Even though the man said they were fine and had all that they needed, I'm having a hard time believing it.
I'm not being facetious, but maybe a guy who can pull a wagon with his mother on board over country roads all the way from New Orleans to the nation's capital knows a whole lot more about himself than I care to ever find out about myself. He's sure got more heart, more persistence and more vision than me, for sure.
Kinda leaves you wondering who, or if anybody, will be waiting when they finally arrive up in D.C.
The Source of All Leaks
Been trying to keep posts short; gonna try harder ...
At least three serious problems face all liveaboards, and require constant vigilance:
1. Exterior Leaks- keeping water out of the boat
2. Interior Leaks- keeping water inside, and flowing correctly
3. Fire
Here's what I've learned (and keep reminding myself):
A. 99.99% of all leaks result from a faulty connection
B. Most folks pay more attention to exterior leaks than to interior leaks (because so long as things look good out on the outside, peering around dark recesses seems like too much trouble)
C. Small leaks are often the hardest to eliminate, but are often first noticed and identified by other people, because small interior leaks are accompanied by bad smells
D. Fire is a real danger with permanent consequences. Replace all faulty parts immediately
At least three serious problems face all liveaboards, and require constant vigilance:
1. Exterior Leaks- keeping water out of the boat
2. Interior Leaks- keeping water inside, and flowing correctly
3. Fire
Here's what I've learned (and keep reminding myself):
A. 99.99% of all leaks result from a faulty connection
B. Most folks pay more attention to exterior leaks than to interior leaks (because so long as things look good out on the outside, peering around dark recesses seems like too much trouble)
C. Small leaks are often the hardest to eliminate, but are often first noticed and identified by other people, because small interior leaks are accompanied by bad smells
D. Fire is a real danger with permanent consequences. Replace all faulty parts immediately
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