Category: it could be called work

The nice folks at New Belgium Brewing are offering a deal on labeled bikewear: a spiffy jersey, hat, and go-faster socks.

All that good stuff for a mere $50.00 for STP riders. ‘Course you don’t have to ride the STP to get it . . . you need go no further than here.

NPR : Dining in the Dark:

The Blind Cow Restaurant in Zurich, Switzerland, offers up a different dining experience: Guests eat in complete darkness and are served by blind or visually handicapped waitstaff.

Heard this piece this morning in almost complete darkness, appropriately enough. An interesting experiment: how does sight outrank the other senses?

Now playing: You’re The Storm by The Cardigans from the album “Long Gone Before Daylight” | Get it

On my way back from PCC, I heard some guys on my local NPR station talking about Weed, a new online music retailer, and they made the direct comparison to iTunes. Figured I would check it out.

Weed – Download Weed V2.0 Now:

SYSTEM REQUIREMENTS
Windows PC, running Windows 98, or more recent platform. Or Macintosh with Virtual PC emulator software and Windows.

Well, that’s a buzzkill. iTunes is platform-neutral and has been for quite some time.

And part of their claim for iTunes overthrow was that you can embed a link to a track at their store and sell it on your website, with the implication being that you can’t do that with iTunes Music Store tracks. I’ll concede that you need the (free) iTunes application to get the track, but it’s not quite true that by going through iTMS you’ll end up being waylaid and not getting what you came for. If you were to click on that link, you’d go right to the track I linked to (which is also free this week).

And the fact that the files are not mp3 or mp4 — Windows Media are all I see — doesn’t do much for me.

Now playing: Western Stars by k.d. lang from the album “Shadowland” | Get it

Continue reading “not what I expected”

Kate DiCamillo and I went to the same school at the same time, I just learned. So I checked out her website.
FAQ:

Q: Where do you get your ideas?

A: Every writer in the world gets asked the question.

The best answer to that question is another question — where does a spider get its thread? From its own guts — which is a little less graphic that the image of writing as nothing less than sitting in front of a typewriter and opening a vein.

{books}

Peter scratches an itch to know what tallow is: he learns some scary details about its nutritional qualities, but doesn’t mention what it actually is.

tallow : Online Dictionary at Datasegment.com:

Tallow Tal”low, n. [OE. taluh, talugh; akin to OD. talgh, D. talk, G., Dan. and Sw. talg, Icel. t[=o]lgr, t[=o]lg, t[=o]lk; and perhaps to Goth. tulgus firm.] 1. The suet or fat of animals of the sheep and ox kinds, separated from membranous and fibrous matter by melting. [1913 Webster]

It’s the melted down fat that you get when you boil offal (the bones and otherwise inedible parts of animals). The grease that comes out of a burger or that’s left in the pan in which a roast has been cooked — the dripping, as we called it growing up — is tallow, if impure. And the addition of that is what makes Mickey D’s fries taste so good.

Flatland: Section 16 How the Stranger vainly endeavoured to reveal to me in words the mysteries of Spaceland

As soon as the sound of the Peace-cry of my departing Wife had died away, I began to approach the Stranger with the intention of taking a nearer view and of bidding him be seated: but his appearance struck me dumb and motionless with astonishment. Without the slightest symptoms of angularity he nevertheless varied every instant with graduations of size and brightness scarcely possible for any Figure within the scope of my experience. The thought flashed across me that I might have before me a burglar or cut-throat, some monstrous Irregular Isosceles, who, by feigning the voice of a Circle, had obtained admission somehow into the house, and was now preparing to stab me with his acute angle.

In a sitting-room, the absence of Fog (and the season happened to be remarkably dry), made it difficult for me to trust to Sight Recognition, especially at the short distance at which I was standing. Desperate with fear, I rushed forward with an unceremonious, “You must permit me, Sir — ” and felt him. My Wife was right. There was not the trace of an angle, not the slightest roughness or inequality: never in my life had I met with a more perfect Circle. He remained motionless while I walked around him, beginning from his eye and returning to it again. Circular he was throughout, a perfectly satisfactory Circle; there could not be a doubt of it. Then followed a dialogue, which I will endeavour to set down as near as I can recollect it, omitting only some of my profuse apologies — for I was covered with shame and humiliation that I, a Square, should have been guilty of the impertinence of feeling a Circle. It was commenced by the Stranger with some impatience at the lengthiness of my introductory process.

Stranger. Have you felt me enough by this time? Are you not introduced to me yet?

I. Most illustrious Sir, excuse my awkwardness, which arises not from ignorance of the usages of polite society, but from a little surprise and nervousness, consequent on this somewhat unexpected visit. And I beseech you to reveal my indiscretion to no one, and especially not to my Wife. But before your Lordship enters into further communications, would he deign to satisfy the curiosity of one who would gladly know whence his visitor came?

Stranger. From Space, from Space, Sir: whence else?

I. Pardon me, my Lord, but is not your Lordship already in Space, your Lordship and his humble servant, even at this moment?

Stranger. Pooh! what do you know of Space? Define Space.

I. Space, my Lord, is height and breadth indefinitely prolonged.

Stranger. Exactly: you see you do not even know what Space is. You think it is of Two Dimensions only; but I have come to announce to you a Third — height, breadth, and length.

I. Your Lordship is pleased to be merry. We also speak of length and height, or breadth and thickness, thus denoting Two Dimensions by four names.

Stranger. But I mean not only three names, but Three Dimensions.

I. Would your Lordship indicate or explain to me in what direction is the Third Dimension, unknown to me?

Stranger. I came from it. It is up above and down below.

I. My Lord means seemingly that it is Northward and Southward.

Stranger. I mean nothing of the kind. I mean a direction in which you cannot look, because you have no eye in your side.

I. Pardon me, my Lord, a moment’s inspection will convince your Lordship that I have a perfectly luminary at the juncture of my two sides.

Stranger: Yes: but in order to see into Space you ought to have an eye, not on your Perimeter, but on your side, that is, on what you would probably call your inside; but we in Spaceland should call it your side.

I. An eye in my inside! An eye in my stomach! Your Lordship jests.

Stranger. I am in no jesting humour. I tell you that I come from Space, or, since you will not understand what Space means, from the Land of Three Dimensions whence I but lately looked down upon your Plane which you call Space forsooth. From that position of advantage I discerned all that you speak of as SOLID (by which you mean “enclosed on four sides”), your houses, your churches, your very chests and safes, yes even your insides and stomachs, all lying open and exposed to my view.

I. Such assertions are easily made, my Lord.

Stranger. But not easily proved, you mean. But I mean to prove mine.

When I descended here, I saw your four Sons, the Pentagons, each in his apartment, and your two Grandsons the Hexagons; I saw your youngest Hexagon remain a while with you and then retire to his room, leaving you and your Wife alone. I saw your Isosceles servants, three in number, in the kitchen at supper, and the little Page in the scullery. Then I came here, and how do you think I came?

I. Through the roof, I suppose.

Strange. Not so. Your roof, as you know very well, has been recently repaired, and has no aperture by which even a Woman could penetrate. I tell you I come from Space. Are you not convinced by what I have told you of your children and household?

I. Your Lordship must be aware that such facts touching the belongings of his humble servant might be easily ascertained by any one of the neighbourhood possessing your Lordship’s ample means of information.

Stranger. (TO HIMSELF.) What must I do? Stay; one more argument suggests itself to me. When you see a Straight Line — your wife, for example — how many Dimensions do you attribute to her?

I. Your Lordship would treat me as if I were one of the vulgar who, being ignorant of Mathematics, suppose that a Woman is really a Straight Line, and only of One Dimension. No, no, my Lord; we Squares are better advised, and are as well aware of your Lordship that a Woman, though popularly called a Straight Line, is, really and scientifically, a very thin Parallelogram, possessing Two Dimensions, like the rest of us, viz., length and breadth (or thickness).

Stranger. But the very fact that a Line is visible implies that it possesses yet another Dimension.

I. My Lord, I have just acknowledged that a Woman is broad as well as long. We see her length, we infer her breadth; which, though very slight, is capable of measurement.

Stranger. You do not understand me. I mean that when you see a Woman, you ought — besides inferring her breadth — to see her length, and to SEE what we call her HEIGHT; although the last Dimension is infinitesimal in your country. If a Line were mere length without “height,” it would cease to occupy Space and would become invisible. Surely you must recognize this?

I. I must indeed confess that I do not in the least understand your Lordship. When we in Flatland see a Line, we see length and BRIGHTNESS. If the brightness disappears, the Line is extinguished, and, as you say, ceases to occupy Space. But am I to suppose that your Lordship gives the brightness the title of a Dimension, and that what we call “bright” you call “high”?

Stranger. No, indeed. By “height” I mean a Dimension like your length: only, with you, “height” is not so easily perceptible, being extremely small.

I. My Lord, your assertion is easily put to the test. You say I have a Third Dimension, which you call “height.” Now, Dimension implies direction and measurement. Do but measure my “height,” or merely indicate to me the direction in which my “height” extends, and I will become your convert. Otherwise, your Lordship’s own understand must hold me excused.

Stranger. (TO HIMSELF.) I can do neither. How shall I convince him? Surely a plain statement of facts followed by ocular demonstration ought to suffice. — Now, Sir; listen to me.

You are living on a Plane. What you style Flatland is the vast level surface of what I may call a fluid, or in, the top of which you and your countrymen move about, without rising above or falling below it.

I am not a plane Figure, but a Solid. You call me a Circle; but in reality I am not a Circle, but an infinite number of Circles, of size varying from a Point to a Circle of thirteen inches in diameter, one placed on the top of the other. When I cut through your plane as I am now doing, I make in your plane a section which you, very rightly, call a Circle. For even a Sphere — which is my proper name in my own country — if he manifest himself at all to an inhabitant of Flatland — must needs manifest himself as a Circle.

Do you not remember — for I, who see all things, discerned last night the phantasmal vision of Lineland written upon your brain — do you not remember, I say, how when you entered the realm of Lineland, you were compelled to manifest yourself to the King, not as a Square, but as a Line, because that Linear Realm had not Dimensions enough to represent the whole of you, but only a slice or section of you? In precisely the same way, your country of Two Dimensions is not spacious enough to represent me, a being of Three, but can only exhibit a slice or section of me, which is what you call a Circle.

The diminished brightness of your eye indicates incredulity. But now prepare to receive proof positive of the truth of my assertions. You cannot indeed see more than one of my sections, or Circles, at a time; for you have no power to raise your eye out of the plane of Flatland; but you can at least see that, as I rise in Space, so my sections become smaller. See now, I will rise; and the effect upon your eye will be that my Circle will become smaller and smaller till it dwindles to a point and finally vanishes.

There was no “rising” that I could see; but he diminished and finally vanished. I winked once or twice to make sure that I was not dreaming. But it was no dream. For from the depths of nowhere came forth a hollow voice — close to my heart it seemed — “Am I quite gone? Are you convinced now? Well, now I will gradually return to Flatland and you shall see my section become larger and larger.”

Every reader in Spaceland will easily understand that my mysterious Guest was speaking the language of truth and even of simplicity. But to me, proficient though I was in Flatland Mathematics, it was by no means a simple matter. The rough diagram given above will make it clear to any Spaceland child that the Sphere, ascending in the three positions indicated there, must needs have manifested himself to me, or to any Flatlander, as a Circle, at first of full size, then small, and at last very small indeed, approaching to a Point. But to me, although I saw the facts before me, the causes were as dark as ever. All that I could comprehend was, that the Circle had made himself smaller and vanished, and that he had now re-appeared and was rapidly making himself larger.

When he regained his original size, he heaved a deep sigh; for he perceived by my silence that I had altogether failed to comprehend him. And indeed I was now inclining to the belief that he must be no Circle at all, but some extremely clever juggler; or else that the old wives’ tales were true, and that after all there were such people as Enchanters and Magicians.

After a long pause he muttered to himself, “One resource alone remains, if I am not to resort to action. I must try the method of Analogy.” Then followed a still longer silence, after which he continued our dialogue.

Sphere. Tell me, Mr. Mathematician; if a Point moves Northward, and leaves a luminous wake, what name would you give to the wake?

I. A straight Line.

Sphere. And a straight Line has how many extremities?

I. Two.

Sphere. Now conceive the Northward straight Line moving parallel to itself, East and West, so that every point in it leaves behind it the wake of a straight Line. What name will you give to the Figure thereby formed? We will suppose that it moves through a distance equal to the original straight line. — What name, I say?

I. A square.

Sphere. And how many sides has a Square? How many angles?

I. Four sides and four angles.

Sphere. Now stretch your imagination a little, and conceive a Square in Flatland, moving parallel to itself upward.

I. What? Northward?

Sphere. No, not Northward; upward; out of Flatland altogether.

If it moved Northward, the Southern points in the Square would have to move through the positions previously occupied by the Northern points. But that is not my meaning.

I mean that every Point in you — for you are a Square and will serve the purpose of my illustration — every Point in you, that is to say in what you call your inside, is to pass upwards through Space in such a way that no Point shall pass through the position previously occupied by any other Point; but each Point shall describe a straight Line of its own. This is all in accordance with Analogy; surely it must be clear to you.

Restraining my impatience — for I was now under a strong temptation to rush blindly at my Visitor and to precipitate him into Space, or out of Flatland, anywhere, so that I could get rid of him — I replied: —

“And what may be the nature of the Figure which I am to shape out by this motion which you are pleased to denote by the word `upward’? I presume it is describable in the language of Flatland.”

Sphere. Oh, certainly. It is all plain and simple, and in strict accordance with Analogy — only, by the way, you must not speak of the result as being a Figure, but as a Solid. But I will describe it to you. Or rather not I, but Analogy.

We began with a single Point, which of course — being itself a Point — has only ONE terminal Point.

One Point produces a Line with TWO terminal Points.

One Line produces a Square with FOUR terminal Points.

Now you can give yourself the answer to your own question: 1, 2, 4, are evidently in Geometrical Progression. What is the next number?

I. Eight.

Sphere. Exactly. The one Square produces a SOMETHING-WHICH-YOU- DO-NOT-AS-YET-KNOW-A-NAME-FOR-BUT-WHICH-WE-CALL-A-CUBE with EIGHT terminal Points. Now are you convinced?

I. And has this Creature sides, as well as Angles or what you call “terminal Points”?

Sphere. Of course; and all according to Analogy. But, by the way, not what YOU call sides, but what WE call sides. You would call them SOLIDS.

I. And how many solids or sides will appertain to this Being whom I am to generate by the motion of my inside in an “upward” direction, and whom you call a Cube?

Sphere. How can you ask? And you a mathematician! The side of anything is always, if I may so say, one Dimension behind the thing. Consequently, as there is no Dimension behind a Point, a Point has 0 sides; a Line, if I may so say, has 2 sides (for the points of a Line may be called by courtesy, its sides); a Square has 4 sides; 0, 2, 4; what Progression do you call that?

I. Arithmetical.

Sphere. And what is the next number?

I. Six.

Sphere. Exactly. Then you see you have answered your own question. The Cube which you will generate will be bounded by six sides, that is to say, six of your insides. You see it all now, eh?

“Monster,” I shrieked, “be thou juggler, enchanter, dream, or devil, no more will I endure thy mockeries. Either thou or I must perish.” And saying these words I precipitated myself upon him.

Flatland: Section 15 Concerning a Stranger from Spaceland

From dreams I proceed to facts.

It was the last day of our 1999th year of our era. The patterning of the rain had long ago announced nightfall; and I was sitting (footnote 3) in the company of my wife, musing on the events of the past and the prospects of the coming year, the coming century, the coming Millennium.

My four Sons and two orphan Grandchildren had retired to their several apartments; and my wife alone remained with me to see the old Millennium out and the new one in.

I was rapt in thought, pondering in my mind some words that had casually issued from the mouth of my youngest Grandson, a most promising young Hexagon of unusual brilliancy and perfect angularity. His uncles and I had been giving him his usual practical lesson in Sight Recognition, turning ourselves upon our centres, now rapidly, now more slowly, and questioning him as to our positions; and his answers had been so satisfactory that I had been induced to reward him by giving him a few hints on Arithmetic, as applied to Geometry.

Taking nine Squares, each an inch every way, I had put them together so as to make one large Square, with a side of three inches, and I had hence proved to my little Grandson that–though it was impossible for us to SEE the inside of the Square– yet we might ascertain the number of square inches in a Square by simply squaring the number of inches in the side: “and thus,” said I, “we know that three-to-the-second, or nine, represents the number of square inches in a Square whose side is three inches long.”

The little Hexagon meditated on this a while and then said to me; “But you have been teaching me to raise numbers to the third power: I suppose three-to-the-third must mean something in Geometry; what does it mean?” “Nothing at all,” replied I, “not at least in Geometry; for Geometry has only Two Dimensions.” And then I began to shew the boy how a Point by moving through a length of three inches makes a Line of three inches, which may be represented by three; and how a Line of three inches, moving parallel to itself through a length of three inches, makes a Square of three inches every way, which may be represented by three-to-the-second. xxx Upon this, my Grandson, again returning to his former suggestion, took me up rather suddenly and exclaimed, “Well, then, if a Point by moving three inches, makes a Line of three inches represented by three; and if a straight Line of three inches, moving parallel to itself, makes a Square of three inches every way, represented by three-to-the-second; it must be that a Square of three inches every way, moving somehow parallel to itself (but I don’t see how) must make Something else (but I don’t see what) of three inches every way–and this must be represented by three-to-the-third.”

“Go to bed,” said I, a little ruffled by this interruption: “if you would talk less nonsense, you would remember more sense.”

So my Grandson had disappeared in disgrace; and there I sat by my Wife’s side, endeavouring to form a retrospect of the year 1999 and of the possibilities of the year 2000; but not quite able to shake of the thoughts suggested by the prattle of my bright little Hexagon. Only a few sands now remained in the half-hour glass. Rousing myself from my reverie I turned the glass Northward for the last time in the old Millennium; and in the act, I exclaimed aloud, “The boy is a fool.”

Straightway I became conscious of a Presence in the room, and a chilling breath thrilled through my very being. “He is no such thing,” cried my Wife, “and you are breaking the Commandments in thus dishonouring your own Grandson.” But I took no notice of her. Looking around in every direction I could see nothing; yet still I FELT a Presence, and shivered as the cold whisper came again. I started up. “What is the matter?” said my Wife, “there is no draught; what are you looking for? There is nothing.” There was nothing; and I resumed my seat, again exclaiming, “The boy is a fool, I say; three- to-the-third can have no meaning in Geometry.” At once there came a distinctly audible reply, “The boy is not a fool; and three-to-the-third has an obvious Geometrical meaning.”

My Wife as well as myself heard the words, although she did not understand their meaning, and both of us sprang forward in the direction of the sound. What was our horror when we saw before us a Figure! At the first glance it appeared to be a Woman, seen sideways; but a moment’s observation shewed me that the extremities passed into dimness too rapidly to represent one of the Female Sex; and I should have thought it a Circle, only that it seemed to change its size in a manner impossible for a Circle or for any regular Figure of which I had had experience.

But my Wife had not my experience, nor the coolness necessary to note these characteristics. With the usual hastiness and unreasoning jealousy of her Sex, she flew at once to the conclusion that a Woman had entered the house through some small aperture. “How comes this person here?” she exclaimed, “you promised me, my dear, that there should be no ventilators in our new house.” “Nor are they any,” said I; “but what makes you think that the stranger is a Woman? I see by my power of Sight Recognition –”

“Oh, I have no patience with your Sight Recognition,” replied she, “`Feeling is believing’ and `A Straight Line to the touch is worth a Circle to the sight'”–two Proverbs, very common with the Frailer Sex in Flatland.

“Well,” said I, for I was afraid of irritating her, “if it must be so, demand an introduction.” Assuming her most gracious manner, my Wife advanced towards the Stranger, “Permit me, Madam to feel and be felt by–” then, suddenly recoiling, “Oh! it is not a Woman, and there are no angles either, not a trace of one. Can it be that I have so misbehaved to a perfect Circle?”

“I am indeed, in a certain sense a Circle,” replied the Voice, “and a more perfect Circle than any in Flatland; but to speak more accurately, I am many Circles in one.” Then he added more mildly, “I have a message, dear Madam, to your husband, which I must not deliver in your presence; and, if you would suffer us to retire for a few minutes –” But my wife would not listen to the proposal that our august Visitor should so incommode himself, and assuring the Circle that the hour of her own retirement had long passed, with many reiterated apologies for her recent indiscretion, she at last retreated to her apartment.

I glanced at the half-hour glass. The last sands had fallen. The third Millennium had begun.

Footnote 3. When I say “sitting,” of course I do not mean any change of attitude such as you in Spaceland signify by that word; for as we have no feet, we can no more “sit” nor “stand” (in your sense of the word) than one of your soles or flounders.

Nevertheless, we perfectly well recognize the different mental states of volition implied by “lying,” “sitting,” and “standing,” which are to some extent indicated to a beholder by a slight increase of lustre corresponding to the increase of volition.

But on this, and a thousand other kindred subjects, time forbids me to dwell.

I have decided to pass on finding a good used Coolscan 2000 (like the one I bought, sold, and am going to re-sell).

I am going to have to save up longer (and at my work schedule, it may take me til summer to scrape together US$500 or so) but I think the 4000 is the way to go for me. I lose the issues with SCSI and Nikon’s lack of support for the 2000 under OS X (I could use VueScan, but I feel like Nikon’s drivers and software are going to be a better fit).

Reading the reviews makes for a pretty strong case.

Continue reading “what I’m shopping for”

Video of Jobs introducing the Macintosh in 1984:

That page is super slow right now, so I’ve compiled a few links to the video (QuickTime, 20.9 MB). Enjoy:

Torrent file (use this if at all possible)
Torrent file (use this if at all possible)
preinheimer.com
cm.math.uiuc.edu/~staffin/
kappesante.com
brooksnet.plus.com
bluehome.net
afsheenfamily.com
kottke.org
cluecoder.org/~bene/
publicvoidblog.de
php-schmiede.de
mac-software-updates.de
homepage.mac.com/sdomanske/

Steve when he had lots more hair and not as much fashion sense . . . but the smirk is timeless.

Sounds like a big request, but here’s the deal: I drive for Metro and I am constantly seeing the homeless lugging around tons of blankets trying to keep warm. From my old “backpacking” days I remember having a down sleeping bag that I could stuff into a bag the size of a pillow case or smaller and it kept me toasty warm. If you can part with that down sleeping bag that you swear you are going to go camping with but haven’t in like forever…………..I will along with my 10 year old grandson go downtown and distribute them. Last year this time it was sandwiches and socks………I would like to bump it up a bit. I can drive around and pick up this weekend. Peace and thanks!

Not a call to action, just an observation.