Gift of Blab?

Wish I had it, like to learn it, but there it is; I don't have the skill yet to write hundreds or thousands of words a day.  Sometimes this not-so-large blog entry takes two or three hours, something like 50 to 100 words an hour.  I know professionals who can produce 20 times that all day long.  Why?  


I edit as I write, and that's bad.  Putting down the words that approximate an idea should come first, errors and all.  Once things are out, then proofread, edit, and rewrite.


I don't put aside enough time in a day to write.  Like any skill, the more you do it, the better you become.  I took up this very blog to motivate myself to write every day.  If I want this to be more than a hobby, I need to devote a daily 'shift' to writing.


I don't plan enough.  Maybe I'm impatient, perhaps it's Adult Deficit Disorder, but I jump into a story with little more than an idea in my head.  There are steps that can make the process easier; thematic statement, plot outline, character 'bible.'  I must practice these basics.


If I want my writing to be more than a hobby, there is a path - the path that leads to the Gift of Blab.

Evolution Rules

Everything has rules.  Evolution works, but not because of faith or miracle, but thanks to rules.

Rule one: Sex.  Without procreation there is simply no evolution.
Converse: Barriers.  Separating populations results in speciation.

Rule two: Mutability.  Without variation improvement is impossible.  Failure to adapt means other species will improve and out-compete, forcing the unchanged to extinction. 
Converse: Stability.  Change can be dangerous.  Too many mutations drown positive, useful adaptations in a flood of useless limbs, maladaptations, and tumors.  It's a balancing act with extinction on both sides.

Rule three: Death.  It's no good for favorable mutations to occur if previous generations keep passing along the old-fashioned, less favorable genes.  Even asexual microbes must self-destruct to divide into the next generation. 
Converse: Survival.  Adaptation to the environment isn't enough; nature shakes things up now and again with extinction events.  To stay in the evolution game, species must possess some strategy to pass both tests and survive.

Scary Speed

It is damned hard to figure out how fast you're going without a speedometer.  Apparently, that goes for astronomers and cosmologists as well.  A new(ish) theory proposes that present observations of our Universe's speed are skewed.

For decades scientists of varied disciplines have struggled with a physics-busting problem.  Careful observation of our Universe seems to show it is expanding ever faster.  This is completely opposite of what standard Newtonian theory demonstrates.  Gravity should pull the Universe together, steadily slowing everthing.  Instead, scientists are calculating from observations that the expansion of the Universe is actually speeding up.

Much work has been done to explain those observations and calculations.  The observations date back to Mr. Hubble, a fellow with a constant and a space telescope named after him.  Since then science has slowly improved distance and speed measurements of stars and galaxies, allowing better models of the expanding Universe.

More and more clearly, it seems the expanding Universe isn't coasting to a stop from the Big Bang, but somehow speeding up.  Dark Energy and Dark Matter are popular explanations for accelerated expansion; Dark Energy is a pushy anti-gravity and Dark Matter accounts for missing mass in acceleration calculations.

All this depends on accurate measurements of the direction and speed of distant galaxies.  It also depends on an assumption that everything in the Universe is moving in a more-or-less even fashion, including us.

Christos Tsagas, a cosmologist at Aristotle University of Thessaloniki in Greece, proposes an elegant alternate theory dubbed 'Dark Flow.'   What if our local bit of the Universe was moving rapidly in a somewhat different direction from most of the rest of the Universe?  Taking into account a different vector of Earth and a 'bubble' of local galaxies, his calculations show the Universe is obeying gravity.  Dark Matter and Dark Energy would no longer be needed.  Accelerated expansion is an illusion of our own atypical motion.

Mr. Tsagas theory is not being met with open arms, but also not with total dismissal.  However, my question is this - just what is sucking us away from the rest of the Universe?

Scared?

Beats For Pain?

You'd think I'd have heard of a phenomena 180 years old, but here I am, learning.  Thanks, Harmoni 8)

The phenomenon I'm writing about is binaural beats.  We're all familiar with two slightly different musical notes creating a 'beat' which is caused by the two tones interfering with each other.  A fellow named Heinrich Dove first discovered the patterns, but it was simply a curiousity until some other fellow named Gerald Oster worked out that there seemed to be promise of medical use in binaural beats.

What Oster saw was possible correlation with an ability to detect these sounds and physical conditions.  He found certain beats couldn't be detected by subjects with Parkinson's Disease, and women subject's ability to detect certain beats varied with their menstrual cycle.  While many other diagnostic and therapeutic uses were investigated, binaural beats haven't entered mainstream medicine.  However, there are many (mostly undocumented) claims now of more useful effects.

As the brain works to percieve two slightly different low-frequency tones, a binaural beat is also detected.  With extended exposure, the brain begins to synchronize with this beat, actually altering the signals detected by EEGs.  This is called brain wave entrainment.  We already know meditation can alter brain waves, which can lead to health benefits.  Brain wave entrainment can target specific brain wave patterns, such as Theta or Alpha waves, producing specific results such as relaxation or alertness.  Another claim is that binaural beats can activate regions of the brain controlling the release of pain control hormones like beta-endorphine and dopamine. 

We are going to try this at home.  I bought some tracks from Amazon with pain control claims and my Wife will see how this works on her chronic back pain.  If you want to know more, this Wikipedia article is a good start.  If you already know more, I invite you to share what you can in comments below.

Confusion Rules

Sometimes the spin must be such a rush that the media and government just do it for fun.  For instance:

The United States of Our America has been working for decades to bring some peace to Israel's neighborhood.  In particular, we've spent a lot of time, words, and money to get Palestine and Israel to come to some agreement over a Palestinian state.  At the same time we have fumbled, if not outright torpedoed, positive results in the same arena.

Now Palestine, not Hamas or other terrorist group, goes before the UN seeking official statehood so they can determine their own fate.  What are we doing?  Spinning so fast sparks are flying.  Block them, back them, veto, or negotiate.  It's enough to make us dizzy.

Two young men accompany a young woman on a journey to experience family roots in Iraq.  While hiking near the border between Iraq and Iran, they ran into Iranian 'border forces' and were taken captive.  This happened over 2 years ago.  Since then the story of their kidnap by an enemy of America has spun 180 degrees.

When the three were first captured, neutral representatives delivered their story of following a trail on the Iraq side of the border and being kidnapped at gunpoint.  A few months later the story changed; the three young Americans 'weren't sure' where the border was.  A year in prison, and the media begins to spout something else; the three inadvertently crossed the border.  Almost immediately, in a 'humanitarian' move, Iran accepted a $5 MILLION dollar bail to free the woman while awaiting trial.  This week the two young men were released after conviction for $1 MILLION dollars each.  When poor Somali punks do this, it's called piracy; when it happens here we call it kidnapping.  When Iran does it, the media calls it humanitarian.

Dizzy, I tell ya.

Imagine If. . .

Dino Feathers, Phage Therapy, Cure Cancer With HIV


Dinosaurs had feathers.  Actually we don't need to imagine that any more.  We've had plenty of fossil evidence of feathers over the years, but for the first time I know of, dinosaur feathers have been found in amber.  In this Discover magazine article, they explain that amber collected years ago had finally been scheduled for examination, resulting in this cool find.  I doubt this discovery will end up creating dinosaurs for our zoos, but we can dream.


We use innards-bursting, Alien-like attackers on germs.  Viruses prey on single cells, and some viruses only attack bacteria.  Early research on using such viruses to fight infections was mostly abandoned when modern antibiotics became common.  Now that antibiotic resistant bacteria are becoming more widespread, interest in bio-warfare on germs or 'Phage Therapy' has returned.  By bonding viruses to polymers like nylon, the lifespan of these viruses increases from hours to weeks.  Bandages, sutures, tape, even cleaning materials will actively attack invading infections, speeding healing and reducing the chance of secondary infection.  Phage therapy isn't in common use in the US, however.  Hurry, already!


In a similar vein, we reprogram the body's own T-cells (pit bulls of the immune system) to destroy cancer - using HIV!  HIV infects T-cells, hiding inside the immune system.  In this NY Times article, University of Pennsylvania researchers use altered HIV to inject DNA into a patient's own T-cells, DNA that teaches the T-cells exactly what cancer cells to seek and destroy.  Only a few cancer victims have tried this experimental treatment but in a small research study, 2 of 3 leukemia patients had complete remission and the third partial remission.  This could be a cancer game-changer, though it may take years of further research before approval.


I sure love being alive today!

Milestone and Webcomics

Topped 100 blog entries!  Number of views is about 850.  Subtracting my daily check to make sure the post looks right, that's about 7.5 views a day.  A big 'thank you' to those 7 regular readers and I hope your eye gets better, Mr .5 reader.  8D


Call them web comics or online graphic publications, but make sure you include 'free fun.'  Folks that read them already know what wonderful talent is out there on the Net trying to make it.  Folks who haven't are missing out.  Whatever your subject of interest or taste in humor, there is an online graphic publication for you.


If you're a gamer, OOTS is a must see.  The hilarious Order Of The Stick by Rich Burlew is loosely based on Dungeons & Dragons.  The comic is done in a stick figure style (playing on the title), following the adventures of a doughty group of heroes (and anti-heroes) out to save the world.  The humor is broad and quite often requires a basic knowledge of gaming in general.  Posting every week or two, I'm always looking forward new adventures.


My present favorite is Schlock Mercenary, by Howard Taylor.  This comedic military science fiction space opera is one of the best recognized and loved of online comics.  Mr. Taylor quit a lucrative but smothering career 5 years ago to follow his dream of being creative and working happy while making a living.  He hasn't missed a daily post in all that time, writing and drawing a one-man avalanche of fun.


From steampunk to daily life, zombies to westerns, even a steampunk-daily-life-zombie-western,there are free web comics by the hundred waiting for your Google search.  Have fun 8)

Face Shot (finale)

     When the Landcruiser pulled into my field of view I was steady.  The compound was about ten dirt-road kilometers from the tiny hamlet of Ra's ar Ru'ays.  I expected the target would want to exit the vehicle right away and do some polite greetings on the porch before going in the main house.  At best I had a minute to pick my shot.
     Of course the best was not to be.  Apparently Saif was cranky about something.  I watched the back of his head as he threw a brief tantrum, pushed aside his men, and stomped up the stairs.
     It took me a split second to weigh my options.  I could wait for a better shot, but my new friend would tell her warcriminal-hunting bosses and they would surely spill the beans thus ruining my payday.  I could kill the girl and hope it didn't alert the target.  I could take this shot and also take the pay cut for not getting the target's face.
     Then everyone turned around and looked to my right.  I squeezed the trigger and the-
     -Confirmation camera whined as it captured two seconds of digital HD.
     -Stabilizer hissed like a leaky tire as it absorbed Baby's recoil.
     -Tri-laser 'flash' on the gun-cam lit the target's face for one second, both for illumination and to attract the target's attention for his last living photograph.
     Still traveling at over twice the speed of sound, the .300 Win Mag slug slammed through his head like it wasn't there - and a good part actually wasn't there shortly thereafter.  He kinda stood there for a second, a halo of blood, brain, and shattered skull framing his final, open-mouthed expression.
     Jackpot!  Perfect face shot.
     I put the rest of the magazine into various other warm bodies, then another mag into the Toyota's engine and tires.  Heck, I figured it was the girl running to her boat that had got their attention and turned them around for me; the least I could do was give her a chance to reach her dinghy.


     It took me most of a month to track her down, but I had the time and the money.  Her name was Sharah Kalid and she worked out of ICC offices in Alexanderkazerne, Netherlands.  Soaked from the cold rain, I barged into the lobby and asked for her.  Five minutes later she marched out the elevator; she looked fine in a black pantsuit, but didn't seem happy to see me.
     "What do you want," she snapped.
     "Well, hello to you, too."  My mouth went dry.  "I just wanted, ya'know, to check up."
     "You murdered four men and you think that makes us friends?" she said, fists going to her hips.  She was cute, all mad like that, but her tone bothered me.
     "I saved your life, I reckon, so what the hell's wrong?"
     "If you don't know, I doubt I can explain."  She snapped her fingers at the chumps behind the security desk and one of them started toward us.
     "Look, Sharah, I don't know what bug is up your ass."  I took a deep breath and held my temper.  "Those guys were all terrorists and war criminals.  I did the world a favor and I got paid for it, legal and aboveboard.  Ain't no shame in that."
     "Bounty hunting, that is what you do, made legal by blood money and corruption," she said and put a soft hand on my arm.  "I could forgive you for Saif, but those others were wrong.  Goodbye"
     Standing in the rain waiting for a cab, it struck me as funny; they all wanted to see the blood for some reason or other, but nobody wanted to know the reaper.
     Screw it.  I went to Amsterdam and got laid.


The End

Face Shot (part 4)

     Adrenalin isn't good for shooting straight, but there it was anyway.  The girl yapped at me about something, but I ignored her to check the c-cam.  Guards and servants swarmed the front porch - the clock was ticking.
     One minute later the stuff I wasn't using was packed.  The confirmation camera and stabilizer would fold into their integral pack after the shot.  Moving as quickly as I dared, I got Baby out of the case and mounted on the stabilizer.  
     I didn't like using the stabilizer, but it was the best way to insure my gun-cam caught every blood-spraying detail.  The confirmation camera took much better pictures at 100 frames/second, but people really dug the crosshairs of the gun-cam, I guess.
     Ready with time to spare, I turned back to my captive.  No time to really think it out, so I went with my gut.  I knelt beside her, knife out.  That shut her up, finally.
     "Look, lady, I don't want to kill you."  I about laughed when she nodded eagerly at that.  "But I can't let you get in the way of my payday.  How about I cut you loose and you get the hell out of here?"  That almost made her look happy.
     "I want Saif to face justice," she said.  "If you will do that, I have no need to stay."
     "Good," I replied and cut the zip cuffs.  "Trust me, he's about to get all the justice he can stand."
     She rolled to her feet, threw off the shaggy ghillie, and grabbed her camera out of the dust.  Instead of just heading out, she looked at me; maybe she had potential after all.  I took her by the arm and walked her a few steps down the back side of the little hill, pointing out the shallow wash I'd used earlier.
     "Keep low, move fast, and  you'll be okay," I said as friendly as I could in a hurry.  "They're about to be busy up at the house."
     "Thank you."  She hesitated, then kissed me on the cheek and bolted.  She was a bit short-legged for running a marathon, but she was good to watch anyway.  Maybe I'd look her up sometime.  About then I realized I hadn't got her name.  
     No time to worry now; payday was here if I didn't screw it up.  I took a couple of deep breaths as I returned to my rifle and settled in.  After a quick eyeball check of equipment I input the windage profile, put the crosshairs on the porch, and waited.

Face Shot (part 3)

     I shouldn't have called Vince.
     "Yadda-yadda, yadda!"
     "No, I can't chill, okay?  I'm in Oman, it's a hundred degrees here, and I have a prisoner!  What do I do?"  It went on like that for a couple of minutes, but he had no more idea what to do than me, less even, so I finally just hung up.  Maybe I shouldn't have dragged her up here.  Now I had to figure out how to handle the situation.
     While I was thinking I inspected the hide.  Solar cells were good, active camo arrays good, everything was in place and ready for the party.  Last I pulled Baby from the case; Baby was my XM2010 Enhanced Sniper Rifle.  I checked the fat telescopic sight/gun camera for power and bluetooth connection.  
     If everything went right, within ten seconds of me pulling the trigger an image of my target's head exploding would be in my editor's email via the sat-link.  Shortly thereafter my big check would be in the bank.  Baby was ready, but I still had something to do.  I squatted beside the woman and got out my knife.   
     "Look, I'm gonna be straight with you and you better be straight with me."  I waggled the blade close to her face.  "I'm a gun-cam paparazzi.  I'm here to get the shot and make some money.  If you mess me up in any way, shape, or form, I'll kill you.  Got it?"  I didn't wait for her response, just ripped the duct tape off her mouth.
     "Mercenary bastard," she practically spat.
     "Guilty on both counts."  I worked up a good glare.  "Tell me who you are and why you're here, or we add 'murderer of girls too stupid to answer questions' to my crimes."  She glared back without fear.  Under the sand and bruises she wasn't a bad looking girl.  Dark eyes, dusky skin, wavy black hair - I figured she was maybe Palestinian or Israeli.  I could tell pride wouldn't let her stay quiet.  Finally she tossed her hair and spoke.
     "I am an investigator for the International Criminal Court," she announced calmly.
     "Really?"  That might explain the lack of weapons.  "Then why are you here without an arrest team?"  That struck a nerve.
     "Nobody believed my intelligence that Saif Gadhafi was in Oman," she snapped, then looked away.
     "Well, the good news is you're right, bad news is me."  I still didn't have any idea what to do with her.  Actually, I had plenty of ideas, but most of'em weren't pretty.  
     Then the road sensor buzzed again.  Son of a bitch.

Face Shot (part 2)

      Extreme photographers like me were rare enough that I'd only run up on one other in the field.  I got the front page face shot, he got a page four eyewitness left-over pic and a 'get well' card from me during his recovery.  Those herds of pussy paparazzi back on the boulevard think they're hardcore, but in the bush don't nobody scoop me.
     My target could show up any minute and he spooked easy.  I studied my competitor a bit more then backed up to my hide.  He was a small guy with no equipment other than what he carried.  Probably an amateur; you can't just squat by the road like that without something to stop the subject's car and enough firepower to down his entourage.
     One thing did interest me.  No active camo, no camp, and no attempt to build a hide.  For Oman the afternoon was moderate - no clouds in the pale sapphire sky, temp nearly 38C or just about 100F in the shade.  That meant whoever-he-was was either crazy or expected my subject to be here very soon.  Time to make a move.
     I couldn't just put a bullet in him; that wasn't sporting and would leave a body where it might be spotted.  Still, I was tempted more than once during my crawl to the road.  Active camoflage hid my camp from the thermal imagers I assumed were part of the compound defenses, but only a bit of terrain elevation would allow me to move to the road unseen.  I spat sand and tussled with scorpions over shade the whole way.   
     Discomfort aside, I was feeling pretty good about about my stalk.  Wind covered my noise profile and scattered vegetation let me close with minimum deviation; I got really close.  I couldn't see anything on him; he was wearing a passable ghillie suit.  Definately a noob, though; he didn't check his rear.  He never knew I was there until I jumped.  
     It was like wrestling a kid.  The guy was light but wiry, and didn't seem have any give-up in him, so we kicked up a little sand.  Still didn't take me long to get him face down and cuffed.  While he grunted and squirmed I did a quick pat-down, then checked the area.  No weapons, nothing but a camera and a light plastic screen facing up the road.  What the hell?
     "What the hell," I repeated out loud.
     "Get off me," he said, muffled a bit by the sand in his face.
     "Not happenin', dumbass."  I ground his face in it a bit more, then let up.  "Who are you?"
     "F-fuck you," he sobbed brokenly.  "Go ahead, kill me."  
     Crap.  I flipped the noob over and pull back the ghillie's hood.
     He was a she.

Face Shot (part 1)

     Jeez, sometimes I wished the Army would have me back.  This paparazzi gig paid way better, but being a sniper rated higher.  Respect, however, didn't pay the bills.  If I nailed the pic on this Saif Gadhafi war-criminal guy, the check from World of News would be more than two years pay from Uncle Sam.
     Also I didn't have to lug as much shit around in the Army.  On top of 50kg of mission gear I now had to pack in the confirmation camera, stabilizer rest, and damned satellite com-link that let my editor bug me whenever the hell he wanted.
     Like now.
     "No, Vince, I got no idea how long."
     "Yadda-yadda-yadda!"
     "I know, I know.  Look, ya gotta trust your intel and ya gotta trust me, okay?  He'll be here today."
     "Babble-babble-babble.  Babble?"
     "You got it, chief.  Consider that shot got.  Ahmed out."
     I was tempted to turn the thing off or maybe throw it down the hill, but re-acquiring the satellite in a hurry wasn't advisable procedure.  My paydays depend on prompt delivery; news has a very short shelf life.  Still, it made me happy to disconnect the audio and get back to being alone.
     Alone wasn't easy for most men.  Some men learn to deal with it, others never did.  I liked being alone; it was one of the things that led me into sniper school in the first place.  Which, eventually, led me to Oman.  If I got the pic, when I got the pic, I could afford to stay off remote, arid ridges for quite a while.
     For a while I kicked back and considered what nice, remote places I'd like to go, preferably somewhere I didn't need to dig a hole within three meters every time I had to take a shit.  The list was long and pleasant, and I wasn't done yet when the driveway sensor buzzed.
     A look at my watch told me it was too early for the regular guard patrol; a peek through the c-cam zoom revealed no irregular activity at the compound.  Well, hell.  The little WalMart wireless motion sensors were ten times cheaper than military-issue stuff, but just as trustworthy.  I'd have to put eyes on.
     I popped the lens cap back on and low-crawled around the jumble of stones that concealed my hide from the compound's dusty driveway.  No car on the drive, nothing at all as far as my eyes could tell, but thermal showed a figure crouched in the brush by the sensor.
     Fear prickled the back of my neck before reason spoke up; if it was one of guards the compound would be going crazy.  I scanned the horizon; cliffs west, compound in the wadi north, beach on the Arabian Sea to the southeast - and a tiny boat on the beach.
     Someone was trying to scoop my shot.

20 seconds

People ask me "what's up?" and I usually respond with "another beautiful day."  That's because I like being alive in a world where people will do things like this for each other:

The young motorcyclist survived, amazingly enough, and nobody else was injured.  Just look at the people who jumped into danger to help - construction workers from a nearby job site, students passing by (some foreign students, apparently), other drivers who stopped to help - random people becoming a team of heroes in an instant.


When the slender girl locates the trapped motorcyclist, it only takes these strangers 20 seconds to rescue the victim.  Each of them knew they couldn't lift that car by themselves, knew the fire could spread in a deadly instant, knew each second they spent in the road endangered them, but instead of standing back safely, they acted.  


There was no motion on the floor, no second, no vote.  They each did what was needed, trusting that the others would, too.  It makes me glad to be human.

Laser my what?

Lasers.  Not much cooler than that in the first place.  You'd think they couldn't get cooler, but you'd be wrong.  


A team from the University of Geneva, Switzerland, has tested lasers as rainmakers.  Traditionally, rainmaking involves a lot of small particles scattered above the area to supply 'seeds' for raindrops to form around.  Smoky bonfires, exploding gunpowder, and silver iodide are some of the methods used in the history of rainmaking.


The scientists from UoG took a mobile laser and blasted very humid air (70% relative humidity).  The results were good in two ways: first, particles of nitric oxide, thought to be a natural seed, were formed; second, the energy induced condensation, forming tiny droplets too small to rain but ready to combine into bigger drops given the right conditions.


They hope to test more powerful lasers, hoping more heat will make more, larger droplets.  If this works, groups of large mobile lasers could trigger rain for drought stricken regions, force dangerous coastal storms to drop excess rain at sea or even change course, and even prevent rain over humid, flooded regions by forcing droplets to 'compete' and remain too small to reach the ground.


That's not the only cool recent development.  Tuneable infrared lasers are being tested to shatter the skin of viruses and bacteria without affecting surrounding human tissues.  Cheaper, smaller nanowire ultraviolet lasers will soon lead to minimally invasive directed energy procedures, letting surgeons aim pin-point blasts at cancer cells.  Arrays of these UV lasers could quickly purify water without using chemicals.  


Cool, huh?

Imagine If Again

Imagine if. . .


Aliens actually travel to Earth to examine and study humans.


Why would they use silly things like flying saucers?  All the rest of the phenomena isn't unbelievable assuming alien visitations - the abductions, the lost time, the (ouch) probings - but that bit with the flying saucers ruins the whole thing.  


Stealth technology isn't perfect, but aliens with the know-how to travel between stars might know a bit more about it than us.  Still, if we consider what interstellar travel could cost, maybe they have weight restrictions.  So given that aliens zoom-flash to Earth from some other planet with a team of probe-bearing zeno-scientists, they'll need some way to get around that is light, cheap, quiet, and able to stay aloft for long periods.


Yup, alien dirigibles for the win!  A couple of entries ago I mentioned Hybrid Air Vehicles (HAV).  Most HAVs have a distinctly saucer-ish shape when seen from afar, and being mostly a bag of gas they start with a stealthy advantage.  Add on some advanced alien radar absorbing paint, improved alien non-metallic structural materials, and powerful alien engines, you get the perfect alien stealth transport and nature study vehicle.


And it still looks like a flying saucer, darn it.  Whoops 8)




Imagine if. . .


Quantum theories predicting infinite multiple universes could be true.


Some theorists claim every random event, every decision we make, generates a new universe.  Others think two or more universes are created, one for each possible outcome or decision.  These alternate universes get layered one on top of the other like pages in a book or infinite highway junction overpasses.  We only see the universe we chose, but another  


Now turn it inside out.  To the eye it looks like water flowing along a rocky stream bed takes every possible path.  In reality, the separate molecules of water each takes a unique path, winding randomly around the already-present obstacles.  It is the sheer number of random movements that create the illusion of smooth flow through multiple paths.  Like the stream bed, all possibilities already exist and we choose which universe we want to live in with every decision we make.


This thought leads me somewhere I didn't intend to go.  An infinite array of already existing universes, each universe a fixed set of events, sounds suspiciously like predestination or omniscient beings of various religions.  I've always questioned the viability of both, because free will in a single universe can't exist if the future is fixed by fate or God.  


But here is a way for both states to coexist - our free will lets us choose our own path from universe to universe, but all possible futures are already there, each unchanging as it waits to be chosen.  This can make dieties the know-it-alls religions claim them to be while still allowing us the freedom to decide our own paths.


Let me think a bit before I make a decision on that. . . 8)

10/90 Violation

As I stare at a blank page again, I must decide to either skip again and hope for tomorrow's inspiration, or write something like this.  Is anything better than nothing?


In this case, yes.  I know my desire is to write something substantive each day, but I must remember the true object of this exercise is to write SOMETHING each day.  My distraction or lack of inspiration or simple lazyness must not stand in the way.


Yes, this casts writing in the role of a daily chore.  You might think that creativity wouldn't be a good choice for the role, but writing is only part art.  The rest is knowledge and skill, learned like any other craft.  


With a chef's carefully prepared entre, there is much more to consider than what's on the plate.  Inspiration is followed by choosing the best ingredients, preparing them using a recipe to get the desired dish, and presenting the dish just so.


Waiting for inspiration, then, is a cop-out for me.  The 10/90 rule applies to writing as much as any endeavor - 10% inspiration, 90% perspiration.  


Reckon I got some catchin' up to do.


PS.  To those who read this (you know who you are), please feel free to comment or suggest topics.  I will be happy to become an insta-google-expert and write my thoughts on just about anything.  And, thanks 8D

Say Hello To The Amazing Lockheed-Martin P-791 HAV

This thing isn't a surprise, but I hadn't seen this 2010 video of one of her test flights.  By next year her sisters and cousins will be hauling cargo in remote parts of Canada and serving in Afghanistan for the US military.

HAV stands for Hybrid Air Vehicle.  She's not just a helium gasbag; the shape is a lifting body, providing lift from the forward motion of powered flight.  Vector thrust engines makes the ship more agile and controllable than previous designs, and even limited hover capability. 
She also is easier to land.  The landing gear are air-cushions that allow safe landing on any relatively flat area.  And by reversing the fans, the air-cushions become suction grapples, locking the HAV down without cables or towers.

I can imagine a fire-fighting model for cities with skyscapers, a smaller bush pilot model for solo operation in Alaska, and a sky-bus model for rural travel routes.  Such possibilities.

Imagine if. . .

For all technological species across the galaxy there are key moments in the timeline of invention that are pass/fail tests.  From standing up so hands can use tools, to scientific advancment creating nuclear bombs, we have seen turning points that lead one way to extinction and the other to new eras.


We humans take for granted our successes; it's as natural as breathing to feel a string of good luck is the hand of fate or the will of the gods.  "We earned it," says the championship-winning team, never mind the random events that helped along the way.  


What is humanity's next key moment, the next pass/fail test?  Global climate change?  The so-called singularity?  Pandemic?


The 185 million-year-long age of dinosaurs ended abruptly.  Most fingers point the blame at a giant meteor strike.  However, some evidence seems to show this single event did not actually kill all dinosaurs at the same time.  Some experts believe the dinosaurs were truly driven to extinction by an unfortunately timed series of events, a domino-effect of disasters.


Like the great lizards, could our most important turning point be a similar concatenation of events?


Mankind has so far survived whatever Nature has thrown at us.  Someday, we may expect a run of bad luck, a series of disasters that will amount to global armageddon.  This isn't prophecy; it's just an expression of the odds.  The question is, how will we survive the kind of bad luck that finished off the most successful animals to yet walk the face of Earth?


Keep listening, SETI.  Maybe someone out there learned the answer and is willing to share.

Is It Good News If For Bad Reason?

Welcome to a hot September with a very cool headline:


U.S. to sue big banks over mortgage securities


It seems Freddie and Fannie blame part of their problems on those sub-prime mortgage pool securities various big banks sold them just before it all went crash.  Imagine that.  And so you know, the suit is for their losses, not ours.  Oh, and I got this off the British media outlet Reuters online.


I find this good news, anyway, simply because those perpetrators of that mortgage scam that hurt so many have so far not been punished.  In fact, most took our bailouts and proceeded to make huge profits instead - getting rewarded for for their crimes.  This small bit of payback warms my vengeful heart.  Except. . .


The suits are for a pittance, around $900 million.  The bail-out fund handed out over $700 Billion, and there is no knowable value on the damage these banks and our government caused US citizens.  I imagine pursuing the suits will cost millions more of taxpayer dollars.  Why bother?


One year from now the 2012 elections will be at full steam.  Am I being too skeptical if I think that's about when those suits will be very publically settled?


Is it still good news if it's news for a bad reason?