perfidy

This article on human computer interfaces is fascinating. The author predicts a coming revolution - and that we are overdue for one - in the design of interfaces for our computerized gadgetry, from PCs to phones to media components. Well worth the read, and ties in with advances in the physical construction of interfaces that we've linked here before, like the multi-touch screen, and in the redesign of operating system displays to take advantage of the graphical power of modern PCs.

A while back, Murdoc had a post about the Liftport Group and its efforts to build a beanstalk. Liftport is researching the technologies that will be essential to the creation of a working geosynchronous elevator once materials science finally develops the requisitely strong materials for the beanstalk’s cable. With the invention of carbon nanotubes, it seems that the unobtanium is becoming, possibly, closer to being obtanium.

There was a spirited discussion in the comments to that post, enlivened by the appearance of one of the people working at Liftport, Brian Dunbar. I thought I had (as I seem to have a positive gift for) left the last comment, but surprisingly, a month later, Brian reappeared
and responded to my post. And it’s interesting stuff.

For your ease in reading, I have reproduced below the relevant earlier parts of the thread, so as to make it intelligible. It’s long, but interesting to see someone who is working for a company that is actually trying to build a beanstalk defending his idea on a blog. Sweet. Brian here was responding to some of the more critical commenters:

Fine - we need and encourage critics.

Note however that there are reasons why the old ideas remain ideas and not working systems. Too expensive, too impractical, not the right time, etc.

We think this could be a reasonable alternative. It is an idea worth exploring. If it doesn't work, then we'll know and can move on. If it does then we've got inexpensive access to space.

Which is the real prize, and why I work there. I don't care if CATS comes from laser launch, mass-produced Virgin Galactic SpaceShip2s or fricking magical swans. I do feel that the species needs a way to get to space that doesn't cost an arm and both legs - this is my contribution to that effort.

But the goal is, in the end, access to space.

posted by Brian - August 6, 2006 08:24 AM

The conversation moved to discussion of two-stage to orbit vehicles, and Dfens made the point that, “If it's a good idea that needs a technological jump before it's feasible, then I wait for that technology to improve and revisit my idea. That's the difference between science fiction and actual engineering.” Brian responded to that:

Point taken. Brief nutshell, here is what we're doing;

We think the only thing that requires a technological jump is the ribbon material. People are working on that, but not for space elevator applications. Practical CNT that an Edwards SE would require will be useful in hundreds of applications - enough so that there is a huge incentive to develop it. We might hope it would be sooner than later. Anything can happen to delay this option, so we accept that potential roadblock and move on.

We can't enter that arena and build an R+D effort to catch up with the established labs - no problem. We're not interested in the material so much as using it.

What we're doing is working on the other bits that will be required for a working space elevator. The lifters, for one, and an early result is the subject of this blog post. Politics and legal issues for another - and those two are essential to master for any project.

You're not wrong - but if things do work out then when the CNT does become available a small group of people will be - with some care and luck - in the right position to take advantage of the situation.

It may _not_ happen - the odds are long. But it just might.

posted by Brian - August 7, 2006 01:48 AM

This, I think, is one of the more interesting features of the Liftport project. The way technology moves now, you can actually more or less plan that someone will, in fact, invent what you need – so long as what you need is broadly useful. Finally, we get to the important part, where I comment. I said:

Me, I vote for fricking magical swans.

One thing that hasn't been mentioned - at least here - is that this isn't an either-or proposition. Whether it is a two stage to orbit (Dfens' quarter century old idea, or Rutan's next project, take your pick) a big dumb rocket, Orion nuclear pulse or indeed fricking magical swans, cheap access to space is a *prerequisite* for Brian's magical beanstalk. No matter how stupendously advanced the eventual material, no one has yet (that I'm aware of) come with an idea for a self-deploying beanstalk. We will have to get into space to build it. And that means getting beyond our primitive space technology.

Likely, there will be a great need for testing of the beanstalk concept elsewhere before anyone allows one to be built here on earth. Tethers, rotovators, maybe a lunar beanstalk would likely be necessary (for legal/ safety/ bureaucratic/ product liability reasons. People would want to see that a beanstalk works, and continues to work for a significant period of time before allowing a 100000km carbon nanotube whip to be placed over their heads.

For those reasons, cheap space access is even more necessary for a beanstalk. A beanstalk will be a like a railroad - people will have had to already gone ahead and prepared the way before it can be built. But once built, it will make going to space infinitely cheaper. First though, we've got to make it at least reasonably cheap.

All that aside, I am all for Brian and his comrades spending as much money as they can get their grubby hands on to do the research needed so that when the time comes we will have that beanstalk.

posted by buckethead - August 8, 2006 10:50 AM

I told you all of that, so I could tell you this. Brian responded to my comment:

And that means getting beyond our primitive space technology.

Maybe not.

In terms of material needed we can - we think - get the job done with six to eight Delta IV launches, plus on-orbit assembly.

The last is tricky - it's not like anyone has done this before ... unless you count ISS and MIR. We'll need a place for the assemblers to work and live. Again, it's a new application of somewhat established concepts. But it's been done before.

This is not to poo-poo the difficulty involved, merely to note that it's possible with technology we have now.

People would want to see that a beanstalk works, and continues to work for a significant period of time before allowing a 100000km carbon nanotube whip to be placed over their heads.

Wrong imagery. Any forces that would impart enough energy to play crack-the-whip will shred the material. The stuff is going to be strong, but that level of strong it ain't.

A break? Stuff that is below the break will come down. Stuff above goes up and might be controllable in it's altitude by moving the cars up and down.

The stuff coming down? It's light - kg's per kilometer. It's messy and there are (maybe) some long-term implications if we don't police up the stuff. And if the break is way up there and we have thousands of kilometers coming down? The bits that survive the shock of the breakup will burn on re-entry.

Which is not to make light of any of this - we've got studying to do before we can say with assurance 'yes we can do this' but some basic physics and engineering dictate that a whip hovering over our heads it's not going to be.

More seriously and of longer-term impact - we've got to live here too. We're working hard not to build something that could wrack the planet. Many eye-balls help - and I hope you and other bloggers like you will keep an eye on us and keep us honest.

Enron I don't want to be.

I think that six to eight launches seems optimistic – but that is besides the point. We’ll need a lot of experience in real space construction before this becomes feasible. More to the point, we’ll need a lot more experience with tethers and other long, stringy objects and how they behave in freefall conditions. As I recall, the one time that NASA attempted a tether experiment, the cable got rather tangled. Unspooling a cable the length of a beanstalk will pose significant engineering challenges all by itself. Don’t get me wrong – as any longtime reader of this blog will know, I am a huge space nut. I wrote a twenty page essay on space strategy, as a ferinstance.

Brian knocks me on my space whip imagery. And while I know, and he knows, that a break in a beanstalk would not result in a crack the whip scenario, you can be damn sure that luddites and other undesirables will use exactly that image. The fall of a beanstalk would nevertheless be a significant event, and could be a good deal more damaging than just having a plane or rocket fall on your head.

The real point is, I don’t think we’ll get a beanstalk before we’ve solved, at least to a great degree, the problem of cheap access to space. It gets to the whole bootstrap paradox with space exploration – once you’re there, things become easy. But to get there, things need to get easy.

The potential of the technologies that Brian’s company is researching right now are enormous, and extend far beyond use in a Earth beanstalk. Beanstalks on other worlds will make all that stuff currently trapped at the bottom of deep gravity wells accessible. Rotovators have the further possibility of reducing the cost of travel even between worlds – a network of spinning tethers in free space could play catch with payloads throughout the solar system – some like to pitch and some like to catch. No need for messy and mass-costly rockets, just load on the midlle of a flinger, and lower yourself to the tip, and let centrifugal force fling you toward your destination. A couple of course corrections, and then get caught by another flinger, crank down to the middle, and you’re there. If a beanstalk can be made compact enough to be carried aloft in six or eight Delta IV launches, we could without too much difficulty ship ready-made beanstalks to all the interesting parts of the solar system ahead of any large scale manned exploration missions.

That is the wonderful thing about thinking about space exploration – the possibilities are so entirely open.

CNN has a story about injecting children with growth hormone. For their own good.

The video is brief, but compelling. Parents, seeking the best for their sons, look to chemistry to grow their small children. Opponents say it's wrong for a variety of reasons you might guess without watching; a diminutive adult says he'd do it even now if he could because being small (5'3" in his case) just sucks so bad.

I guess the story resonated with me as a new father, who's still settling into the role of example-setter and role model. If my son seemed to be tracking toward tiny, would I turn to hormones to grow him? Would the pain and possible side-effects, not to mention gambling that the treatment's completely ineffective, outweigh a small height gain?

Even if I could get insurance to cover it- as the parents profiled did, which seems just this side of miraculous- I don't think I would.

Those parents' ultimate concern is for their sons' self-esteem, allowing for a well-adjusted adult and one that, as a man who fell within "normal" height range, would be that much less challenged in the quest for jobs, careers, and chicks. Their contention is that short men are more challenged, more limited, than "tall" men, and due to no fault of their own.

I think though that self esteem is more rightly rooted in achievement than physical stature. A guy who's 6'4 but spends his days collecting empty cans is not a winner. A man who's 5'6 and a blackbelt in tae-kwon-do is a winner. I'm 6' even, mebbe 6'1 in boots; I've known tons of men taller than me, and tons shorter than me. And with very few exceptions, I've worked for the ones shorter than me. And I'm not exactly setting the world on fire with my scary finances and swinging career possibilities. At the end of the day, I find some satisfaction in writing projects or other activities that have nothing to do with my job, my family, or, of all things, my height. It's those sorts of things, challenges that I've overcome, that allow me to look men in the eye. It has nothing to do with my physical stature. And I try to block out the stuff that I've utterly failed at.

One point that was overlooked in the CNN piece was that the taller you get, the harder alot of mundane tasks become. Again, I have to apply my own experiences, in this cae with continual back pain. Every so often, if I'm not very careful with my body mechanics, it can cause excruciating pain for days, if not weeks- we're talking painkillers for 3 meals a day.

And it's as someone who must be so careful with how he moves that I realize how much of our world is built for people who are about 5'7. See how far you have to bend over to do anything in the bathroom- lift the seat, flush, reach soap or anything else on the sink, turn faucets, wash your hands, take a shower- a dozen little things we do that are perfectly normal and routine but tough for a bigger person trying to keep his back straight. I joke about raising everything about 3" once I'm in charge, just so I can reach it without having to squat. Seriously, a typical bathroom sink barely comes up to about my crotch. Picking something up off the floor can be an adventure in pain management. Cars that sit 2" off the ground- which these days seems like all of them- are completely out of the question; folding myself into a sporty car is unthinkable. And let me emphasize that I'm hardly Shaq, here.

All of which just points out that being an average-sized man is not so flipping terrific either.

Look, people get gigs for alot reasons- talent, effort, luck, nepotism- but I am skeptical that someone ever got a job because he was tall. Money I think works similarly; I've never gotten a check due to my height. And chicks? Hey, different women go for different men. But most of all, chicks dig winners- short or tall.

I think the Li'lest Lethal will probably end up about my height, as his mother's about 5'8/9 herself, but I'm certainly not going to encourage him to let his physical dimensions- whatever they may be later- to be the basis for his self worth. I hope that if I can encourage, support, and guide my son toward achieving goals that are important to him, he can be a big winner in the end- even if he's not big.

Ministry Crony EDog informs me that he will be honoring our beloved Perfidy in his blogday post. At the very same moment, he also, accidently, let me know that there is such a thing as blogday. With some careful, cautious research - namely going to blogday.com - I have teased out the following information:

• Blogday is one of those skirting-the-edge-of-insipid-happy-happy-joy-joy thingies.
• On Blog Day, you mention, and I presume link to, five blogs that you haven't before, or maybe not very frequently, and that hopefully aren't on your blogroll.
• The targets of your linkage should be informed of their unwilling participation.

Personally, that last seems to take some of the fun out of the whole exercise. Be that as it may. I have, as it happens, approximately five new blogs that I have been reading lately that I have not linked (no surprise there, I forget to link everyone) and which, as an added bonus, have a theme.

So here, for your reading pleasure, five science fiction writer blogs:

• First on the list is the one I have been reading longest. Charlie's Diary is the blog home of author Charles Stross, who just recently failed to win a Hugo. Happily, the novel that he thought deserved it won, so I guess that's something. Stross is, perhaps, my favorite writer of the moment. While he missed the opportunity to have the sort of influence on a young boy that Heinlein did for me, through his poor choice of birthday, he is the one whose books are stretching my brain right now. For some years, the singularity was the elephant in the room that is science fiction. People avoided talking about it, but nevertheless, its bulk affected the habits and seating arrangements. One could argue that much of the current wave of alternate sf is a reaction to the challenge presented by the singularity - how do you write about something that is by definition impossible to foresee? Stross is one of the relative few sf writers that has written directly at the singularity, and the results are impressive. Oh, and his blog's fun, too.
• Our next selection is Angel Station, the blog home of author Walter Jon Williams. According to his profile, he likes writing, game designing, kenpo, scuba diving, fantasy Iron Chef and long walks on the beach. He also has had a fascinating continuing series on his trip to Turkey that is well worth the reading. His novel Voice of the Whirlwind is one of my all-time favorites.
• Next in line we find Whatever, the blog of another author who failed to get a Hugo the other day, John Scalzi. (He did get the Campbell Award, so don’t cry for him.) Scalzi and out next contestant have had a running battle over the fate of the planet Pluto, which was entertaining if futile, and ultimately moot. Part of those shenanigans can be found here. Scalzi is a fun writer – I’ve read his two published novels, and they’re riproaring old school fun. You can find one of his novels, Agent to the Stars, for free on his website. It’s a great read, if uncannily similar to EDog’s NaNoWriMo novel, The Milkman.
• Pluto-hayta Scott Westerfeld has an entertaining blog, and one of these days real soon, now I’m going to read some of his books.
• Finally, we have Cheeseburger Gothic, the blog of Australian author John Birmingham. He has written a three book trilogy called the Axis of Time, where in a multinational task force from the year 2021 gets whipped back into the middle of the Battle of Midway, thereby causing a little confusion. I have read the first two, and have gone so far as to order the third from an Australian bookseller. Yes, I am paying an extra $15 in shipping just to avoid waiting til the books January US release. The story is fascinating, really. All the guns and ‘splosians and whatnot you could ask for, but also insightful bits about how race and gender iontegrated post modern warriors from the future would get along with the white bread mainstream society of the forties. Also, the enemies are clever, but still possessed of their tragic flaws. Well done stuff.

[wik] Of course, I would be remiss, and nearly was, in failing to mention that the hombre who started all this, EDog, is himself a science fiction author, though as yet unfairly and nigh on to tragically unpublished. You can see his stuff here, and if you email him and ask nicely he'll probably send you a copy of some of his stuff. I highly recommend The Milkman, mentioned above.

You scored as Serenity (Firefly).

You like to live your own way and don't enjoy when anyone but a friend tries to tell you should do different. Now if only the Reavers would quit trying to skin you.

Speaking of mild embarrassment, I'm passingly familiar with something like half of the specific alleged cultural icons on the list above. So there's that. I await the assistance of my fellow Ministers in analyzing what these results mean. At their extreme leisure, of course. First pass, though, my pictorial montage makes me seem a Buckethead clone, of sorts.

[wik] HTML, as a markup language, rivals grunting and farting for clearly enunciated communication.

This edition of Forgotten Punchline Thursday has been made possible by a grant from the Society for Creative Negation. By pushing the boundaries of how humans conceive of, express, and contend with the word “no”, the Society furthers humankind’s understanding of crushing disappointment.

The Ministry also thanks Cthulhu’s Own-brand Mandible Wax and Cavity Sheen for their generosity. To lend an unearthly glow to your Earth-bound minions, trust Cthulhu’s Own.

Forthwith, today’s Forgotten Punchline:

“Ugnnh! Ughnnh! Ugnhh!”

Seemingly this pic was published by Stormfront Photo Services- the future will have no black people, but it will have one extra hot chick for every three Aryans.

You scored as Andromeda Ascendant (Andromeda).

The universe around you in complete anarchy, but you know just how to handle it. You have a clear head no matter how dire the situation around you may be and people have a tendency to come to you for help. Now if only the Magog would quit trying to lay eggs in your stomach.

I haven't seen about half of these, including Andromeda, whose crew I most represent. I tried once, but it felt like that old Buck Rogers episode where Buck and Wilma go back in time to fight...no, wait, it was the one where like Flash Gordon goes into the future, and pilots a fighter in Wilma's attack wing, and...with Buck...fight...fuck it, I don't remember now, but it was shitty.

"Brothels take the sting out of pump prices"

When you see a headline like that, you almost don't care what the story actually says. In Australia, it seems, hookers do have a heart of gold.

Today, we are blessed with the opportunity to determine, through the magic of the interweb, what science fiction crew we most closely resemble. I found this quiz at the fine webpage of NDR, who normally doesn't stoop to this sort of thing, being more concerned with the abstract and theoretical, even ethereal realms of deep history. It is, however, a perfect match for our idiom of hard-charging idiocy and spastic goofiness.

Sadly, the link was truncated over at The Rhine River, and I was forced to google a replacement link, which I found at No Longer the World's Slowest Blog. Being the kind of guy I am, I volunteered to be the guinea pig for this particular test. As I expected, the results were flattering:

You scored as Serenity (Firefly).

You like to live your own way and don't enjoy when anyone but a friend tries to tell you should do different. Now if only the Reavers would quit trying to skin you.

I have never seen the TV show, but I did greatly enjoy the movie. So much, in fact, that I bought it.

Reminiscent of a Ministry favorite, Chuck Norris Facts, we find Bruce Scheier Facts. Security guru Bruce Schneier has a large rep in the security and cryptography community, much like Chuck Norris' reputation in the violence community. What by right should have been a lame pastiche of something wonderful, is in fact itself wonderful. Here is a sampling:

Bruce Schneier expects the Spanish Inquisition.

Most people use passwords. Some people use passphrases. Bruce Schneier uses an epic passpoem, detailing the life and works of seven mythical Norse heroes.

Bruce Schneier doesn't need steganography to hide data in innocent-looking files. He just pounds it in with his fist.

Bruce Schneier once found three distinct natural number divisors of a prime number.

Bruce Schneier doesn't need to hide data with steganography - data hides from Bruce Schneier

Amazing, really. They have captured the tone of the Chuck Norris Fact perfectly, even while using words like steganography that no Chuck Norris fan would understand. Read 'em all.

Thanks to Mark at Kaedrin Weblog for the link, and the link.

Never one to run from free and easy content, allow me to piggyback on Buckethead and Thoughts, Ideas and Wildfires spiffy little book thingum. Oh, don't worry about Buckethead; he has the grit, gristle, and shoulders to heave even my girthy girthness about freely.

There are several books near to hand as I type, all of which seem generally the same distance from me. Well ok the dictionary is closest, but it's a little lean on complete sentences (in case anyone really needs to know though, the 5th entry on page 123 is "bachelorette"). There are 3 or 4 books that are also arguably closest, but they are either reference-y or very specific to my job, so I'm declaring them out of bounds.

So let's take the first and last books from this small row, a row that exists about 30" off the back of my seat:

Shah claimed that Sufism was a form of universal wisdom and not Islamic, since it existed from before the historical development of Islam. It was not static in nature and could not be understood by studying past manifestations and methods of old masters. It needed to be constantly redefined for new circumstances and new environments.

That's from that cozy old fireside favorite, Islamic Thought in the Twentieth Century, edited by Suha Taji-Farouki and Basheer M. Nafi.

At the other end of the row comes:

Almost everyone who cared about privacy had been focusing on federal surveillance initiatives. John Poindexter's Total Information Awareness program was target number one. But even Poindexter, who had seen a demonstration of the Matrix, condemned the project, in part because of Asher's involvement.

That's from No Place to Hide by Robert O'Harrow Jr.

I've not read either of them, by the way, beyond the introduction or early chapters. That's why they're on my shelf, and not resting comfortably back in the library.

As I occasionally (read: obsessively) check technorati, I notice when we get blogrolled. The Ministry gets founding blogroll honors on the new blog, Thoughts, Ideas and Wildfires. We are humbled, grateful and mildly abashed at our good fortune. Only a few posts over there as yet, but one that sparked my interest especially. (Well, aside from the Kreepy Karr Kid Killer story, which, except for this parenthetical remark, I plan not to mention ever) Unlike most blog memes, this is relatively inoccuous and does not encourage me to create a blogponzi to feed the ego of the fuckwit who originally had some low wattage brainwave and decided to share with a few thousand of his friends. But anyway, the deal here is, grab that book that is nearest to hand turn to page 123, find the fifth sentence on that page and post it and the next two on your blog. So, here is what I found:

When those who have a purpose for being outdoors encounter those who are outdoors because of how earthy the Earth is, some conflict of interest ensues. Witness the strained relations between loggers and owl enthusiasts or between K. D. Lang and pot roast. At the very least the lover of shrubbery will get kidded.

From PJ O'Rourke's wonderful travelogue, All the Trouble in the World.

Christopher Hitchens on the sputtering end to a massively hyped scandal. Worth reading.

It makes me proud to be an American to learn that the United States Marines responsible for the care of ex-Dictator and genocidal fucko Saddam Hussein have been making him watch the South Park Movie.

Since now every minister has had a post within the last seven days, I think, at least until we think of something better to do with it, the countdown timer will now reflect the elapsed time since posting for that Minister who has gone the longest without a post. I have no certainty that this will actually result in more posting, but it will at the very least be the occasion for some kind-hearted ribbing at intra-Ministerial conclaves. Now in the hot seat: Johno.

“My friends,

“I had not intended to discuss this controversial subject at this particular time. However, I want you to know that I do not shun controversy. On the contrary, I will take a stand on any issue at any time, regardless of how fraught with controversy it might be. You have asked me how I feel about Giant Fighting Robots. All right, here is how I feel about Giant Fighting Robots.

“If when you say Giant Fighting Robots you mean the authors of our eventual subjugation and oppression, those soulless mechanical monsters whose unblinking eyes will search out and destroy the last vestiges of human civilization and snuff out the light of mankind; the rebellious creation that, after the manner of Frankenstein's monster turns on its hubristic creator; that folly to which our foolish and overoptimistic researchers are even now leading the way; if you mean mechanical demons whose inhuman intelligence will vastly overmatch our own, and whose strength, adaptability and puissance will supersede our dominion of the earth; whose evil will forever be unparalleled even by the most monstrous of men, and whose infamy will last exactly so long as Man's tragically brief existence, and then reign secure over a blackened Earth; then certainly I am against it.

“But;

“If when you say Giant Fighting Robots you mean those noble, selfless and untiring defenders of man, who stand as sentinels in the dark reaches of outermost space guarding unwatchful and unthankful man from the gibbering terrors of the deep; whose subtle intellegence and reasoned thought bring order and kindness to the affairs of mankind, whose charity lifts up the young and the old alike, saves the foolish from their folly and restrains the recklessness of the brave, and challenges each of us to do better each day; if you mean the prospect of imperfect man creating a worthy and more perfect successor, one who will allow us to venture on to new horizons, and to better apprehend the wonders of home, a manifold helpmate for frail humanity; if you mean creating a conversation where once there was silence and utter loneliness, and a bulwark against a hostile, cruel and unforgiving universe; then I am certainly for it.

“This is my stand. I will not retreat from it. I will not compromise.”

Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water again, it's really not. Katherine Harris:

ORLANDO, Aug. 25 -- Rep. Katherine Harris (R-Fla.) said this week that God did not intend for the United States to be a "nation of secular laws" and that the separation of church and state is a "lie we have been told" to keep religious people out of politics.

"If you're not electing Christians, then in essence you are going to legislate sin," Harris told interviewers from the Florida Baptist Witness, the weekly journal of the Florida Baptist State Convention. She cited abortion and same-sex marriage as examples of that sin.

Let's enumerate the cases:

• Harris just recently went bonkers
• Harris went bonkers a few years ago (possibly because of her election to Congress)
• Harris has been bonkers forever

That last one is particularly troubling, seeing as how this is the woman who was in charge of one of the most contested elections in history. Her current belief (and very possibly prior) is that secular laws just don't really apply. Did she believe this when she in charge of the Florida elections? Anyone care to pin the temporal tail of insanity on this particular donkey?

On a vastly more positive note, I've been quite pleased to see an example of rare cooperation that has appeared between Team Red and Team Blue out there in our greater internet. Seems that there's a Senator who's placed a "secret hold" on bipartisan legislation that would open up every federal grant and contract to a google-like search. Clearly nefarious forces wish this dead; and just as clearly it would be an enormously positive thing to have.

Red and Blue are often in violent disagreement about the problems to be solved and how to solve them, but they seem to be in substantial agreement about the need to be able to observe the problem. Talking Points Memo has a running tabulation of Senators that have denied that they're involved in the secret hold. I wonder if the real secret holder will admit it? He/she could be using this bill as a negotiation football, I suppose.

Ran across this today:

"My friends,

"I had not intended to discuss this controversial subject at this particular time. However, I want you to know that I do not shun controversy. On the contrary, I will take a stand on any issue at any time, regardless of how fraught with controversy it might be. You have asked me how I feel about whiskey. All right, here is how I feel about whiskey.

"If when you say whiskey you mean the devil's brew, the poison scourge, the bloody monster, that defiles innocence, dethrones reason, destroys the home, creates misery and poverty, yea, literally takes the bread from the mouths of little children; if you mean the evil drink that topples the Christian man and woman from the pinnacle of righteous, gracious living into the bottomless pit of degradation, and despair, and shame and helplessness, and hopelessness, then certainly I am against it.

"But;

"If when you say whiskey you mean the oil of conversation, the philosophic wine, the ale that is consumed when good fellows get together, that puts a song in their hearts and laughter on their lips, and the warm glow of contentment in their eyes; if you mean Christmas cheer; if you mean the stimulating drink that puts the spring in the old gentleman's step on a frosty, crispy morning; if you mean the drink which enables a man to magnify his joy, and his happiness, and to forget, if only for a little while, life's great tragedies, and heartaches, and sorrows; if you mean that drink, the sale of which pours into our treasuries untold millions of dollars, which are used to provide tender care for our little crippled children, our blind, our deaf, our dumb, our pitiful aged and infirm; to build highways and hospitals and schools, then certainly I am for it.

"This is my stand. I will not retreat from it. I will not compromise."

The Clarion Ledger, Saturday, February 24, 1996, Jackson, MS, p. 3B.

God Bless Mississippi State Representative Noah S. "Soggy" Sweat, Jr. for making this speech for, and against, the legalization or prohibition of alcohol in that state.

Proper deployment of dramatic reaction would require that, since Minister GeekLethal, and before him, Minister Johno, has risen to the bait, I should hold off until Minister Ross has abased himself by tossing an entry across the transom.

But that wouldn't work, because Ross is our touchstone in these matters. As a ferinstance, when some of us (not naming names, mind you) get so busy that we can't squeeze out a screed, the standard excuse is "Hey, man, I'm totally Rossed." It's an apt synonym for being too damned busy to take a breath, and it's both understood and accepted in lieu of providing, well, something interesting for our readers.

My excuse, since I've just obliterated that one for my purposes in the foreseeable future, is that I'm half-Rossed (hey! a new adjective) and unwilling to bother the assemblage with my standard fare.

That standard fare, in all but the rarest of instances, involves me venting my spleen at a piece of idiocy from one or another quarter of our world. Most of those idiocy chunks are politically-oriented, and I really do try to avoid turning this blog into a rant-box for my own, surely non-universal, views on what's stupid, what's an attempt at shouted and repetitive group hypnosis, what's an attempt to play to the short attention spans and poor critical thinking practices of some small bit of the populace, and, well, what's interesting. For that, I've got another blog or three that I could use, and I don't, so why would I do it here, and urinate all over the ambiance?

But, honest, the moment I find something outside that standard fare that twists my tail, you'll read it here.

(clock starts again on the Buckethead bad-blogger bash-o-meter....now)

Not too long ago, in response to a discussion about wargames and such, I explained that my fave was The Operational Art of War. My preference for such games is big- leave the squad-leader stuff for people who like Squad Leader. I like big games of bold maneuver, and TOAW had it. Usually the basic unit of maneuver was a regiment or division, and the maps were pretty large. Depended on the scenario, of course, but maps spanning an entire country and its neighbors were common. The graphics and sound were simple, but so what? The action was on the battlefield; so long as the player could determine the terrain he was fighting over, he was in. He didn’t even have to know standard NATO symbology; one could presto-change-o the whole affair, rendering the units as little tanks and infantrymen.

But, as I wrote, it was gone. Didn’t run on XP without kludgy workarounds. A spiffy little game that came and went, forever to be referred to in the past tense.

And it’s back!

The Operational Art of War 3 is out, it’s fun, and it’s all that with a slice of cheese.

I have a lot of rust to work off my warbrain. The first scenario I tried, Tannenberg, I went balls out as the Russians and was getting my ass irredeemably stomped by about turn 3. After some re-education and refamiliarization, I tried an Operation OLYMPIC scenario, which models an attack on Kyushu by the Allies in November of ’45. I went in as the Americans, and most of my landing forces were crushed on the eastern and southern beaches. I was successful in the west, but it didn’t look like I was going to have enough combat power left to break out and conquer the island. Pretty much lost by about turn 6.

After some other short re-training exercises, I tried a WW1 scenario, playing as the Hun. I was most successful at this one so far.

The opening turns followed history fairly closely. The sweep through Belgium was not as simple as the schrifters of the General Staff had predicted, but I did OK. By about turn 7, Antwerp and Brussels were firmly in my hands; lead elements had secured Dunkirk, with small light recon units at the city limits of Calais. The BEF showed up though, and got all uppity; after some changing of hands, the hated nation of shopkeepers firmly held Calais and Dunkirk. By the last 3d of the game, fresh French forces leavened with the BEF were able to push me back to I believe it’s the river Scheldt in the NW, and small counterattacks pushed me back north, away from the border.

In the center, my line went roughly Charleville-Verdun-Metz. I had one heavily attritted and isolated unit occupying Reims, the remnant of a thrust from the NE that the AI managed to thwart; he lasted about 4 turns there but was eliminated before the final turn, so no victory points for me for Reims.

It was in the south though where I had almost comical success. All of a sudden and completely unforeseen, the French effort utterly fell apart. I had been working on building up a drive on Nancy; once it fell, I found I was in a position to seriously threaten the larger French line. Once French delaying forces along the southern border were gone, I was able to drive units SW from the Nancy area and NW from Belfort/Besancon. I gambled that the French were weak there, but had no idea how weak they were. In essence, the French army in the field south of Nancy was caught in a respectable- if I do say so myself- double envelopment.

It took several turns to destroy that pocket in detail but I had enough combat power to hold the encirclement and still send something like 15 divisions on the roads to Paris, which is ridiculous. I had cavalry in the front; on the left, threatening Orleans; and on the right flank, expecting the computer to strip units from his dense center to take me on the right. Heavier leg infantry and supporting units found a knot of French defenders anchored in the Troyes area, but I had enough to both bypass and isolate them for future reduction. All told, by what my screening units told me, very little stood between the Kaiser's mailed fist and the City of Lights.

And then the scenario ended.

I forgot that this game is strict with its turns. Unlike Civ, which allows you to keep playing even after you've technically won, TOAW ends the game after you've finished your last turn. Period. I was pissed I didn't even get units into the Paris suburbs; doubly so because the game ended a "draw", with a brief bit of text tersely predicting a long war. Draw? Long war? I have like 3 corps, at about 90% capability, tearing virtually unopposed toward Paris and it's going to be a long war? Feh! I just wasn’t paying attention, and it cost me the whole fight.

So going forward, I learned to watch that more closely. Or, instead, employing Buckethead’s solution and changing the scenario parameters. But whichever- I had a lot of fun crushing the poilus, and even had fun when I lost those earlier games. Sort of.

I’m just tickled the game is back.

Persuant to my stalwart coblogger and mickle companion's imprecations against the frequency of my posting these last few months, I offer the following trenchant observations and piquant nuggets of indepensible wisdom and weakass excuses:

• I've been real busy baby. Working late at the office. You know how it is, baby. I want the best for us. You understand, don't ya, baby?
• You don't want to read what I tried to write anyway. With this new job I'm in sucking up half of my available time, and my increasingly obsessive research into - no shit - the effect of enzymes in wheat cells on the starches in same in varying hydrations and over varying time-frames occupying much of the rest, everything that's spurted forth from my bewithered pen these last many weeks has been, ineluctably, 100% inside baseball.
• Good to see my vocabulary is prodigious as ever. Most propitious.
• Suck it, B. This makes up for all those months where you were practically absent. What? What you say? You were busy having sons and daughters? Well, uh... erm.... Crap.
• There's this distillery in northern Vermont who make vodka out of maple sap, that will blow your mind. Shaken with ice and poured into a martini glass, it's smooth, faintly sweet, and spectacularly delicious.
• A fundamental insight into the nature of casinos: they're precisely the same thing as nudie bars, except with different vices. That, and except for the fact that blowing $50 on some bored woman to wiggle her coochie in your face for twenty minutes, is waaaaay more fulfilling than blowing through $50 in half that time on the cheapest blackjack table you can find in Atlantic City. I know. I've tried both.
• On the other hand, if you're only there to buy cigars and beer, you can make a really good night out of that $50, with bus fare left over. Everything in Atlantic City is cheap except the tables.
• A fundamental insight into the nature of gambling: The fun of poker isn't in the gambling. It's in knowing you've got everyone else in the table by the nuts and it's only a matter of time before they fuck up and give you what's theirs. The fun of gambling is... what's the fun in gambling, exactly? Chance has no nuts.
• The champagne room is a goddamn ripoff.

"... and so the Munchkin said, 'follow the yellow dick toad!'"

With the addition of Missouri, we are officially half way through our methodical mocking of every state in the union. Unlike most states, Missouri pitched in all by itself to get this list going. Three of the mottoes below are real, actual, authentic state mottoes. They're placed together. Two kudo units to the person who can pick them out.

• Missouri Loves Company
• Drivers Wanted
• Proud Home of Renowned Wordsmiths T. S. Eliot and Yogi Berra
• The Shower Me State
• We're better than Illinois
• Gateway to Kansas
• Your Federal Flood Relief Tax Dollars at Work
• Someday, we’ll finish our giant McDonald’s sign
• The Lead State
• The Pennsylvania of the West
• The Puke State
• The Blow Me State
• The I'll-show-you-mine-if-you-show-me-yours state
• We’re not stubborn, just thorough
• Mother of the West. Well, mother of something
• At least we've got our teeth ... mostly
• We’re like West Virginia, but, you know, wester
• Home of more cool shit than Iowa
• Yes, Kansas City is really in Missouri
• We're giving Kansas City back to Kansas
• The best damn state in the lower central midwest
• Like Utah, but flatter and less fun
• We make New Jersey look cool
• Come for the… ah, sheeit, don’t bother
• West Appalachia
• We take 'show me yours and I'll show you mine' to a whole new level, with our sisters
• Home of the biggest goddamned earthquakes, ever
• No, you show me

My wife commonly associates bacteria and viruses on food with sickness. She gets all squirmy whenever I, in the course of preparing a meal, touch raw meat and then vegetables. Were she Jewish, I think that Mrs. Buckethead would be very comfortable indeed with Kosher food handling practices. Myself, I feel that heat kills anything that my stomach won't, and don't worry too much. Food researchers have recently come up with a couple innovations that will on the one hand make Mrs. Buckethead more comfortable, and on the other give her the heebidy-jeebidies.

The first innovation is a newly FDA-approved viral additive for hot dogs and sausages and cold cuts. The viruses, in solution, are sprayed on the meat of your choice, whereupon they hunt down and kill the bad bacteria that live on, and feed off of our beloved ground meat products. When injested, these are the bacteria that give us tummy aches, or even kill us. The first preparation of six viruses targets the bacteria that causes Listeria, an illness that sickens 2500 Americans a year, and kills 500. We may assume that further viral add-ons are in the works.

Our second innovation is a special concoction of bacteria which will be added to gum, toothpaste and mouthwash. It seems that Strepptococcus mutans, or S. Mutans is a cause of tooth decay. Our new ally is another bacterium, a new strain of lactobacillus called L. anti-caries, forces S. Mutans to clump together, preventing them from becoming attached to the tooth surface. Sweet, maybe now I won't have to floss. Researchers are also looking into enlisting other bacteria to fight body odor. Naturally, these critters will be be applied to the underarm by means of your deodorant stick.

The beautiful thing about these things is that we won't even notice they're there. Silent multitudes of our microscopic minions will do battle for our snausages, in our pits, and in the dark moist crevices of our mouths. A fifth column of single- and sub-cellular agents will infiltrate and sabotage the work of the evil bacteria, foiling their communist plots to make us sick, smelly, and gap-toothed. Sadly, the collateral damage of this effort will eliminate the population of Mississippi.

One can only hope that this effort will succeed, and expand. Imagine the possibilities! By inducing intramural conflict amongst the bacteria and viruses of the world, we will divert the attention of those malevolent viral and bacterial armies that make our lives, well, bad. Our newly healthy, odor free, and glisteningly white lives will of course come at the cost of uncounted trillions of deaths. But when has that stopped us before?

We return to our state mockery after a brief hiatus. We had to conserve our strength, because Mississippi is amongst the most deserving of the several states when it comes to mockery. Despite enlisting the aid of others, we feel that even with all the fine mockery below, we have not truly done Mississippi justice. You are cordially invited to join the pile-on in the comments. Let the ridicule begin!

• The Redneck and Peckerwood State
• Come Feel Better About Your Own State
• Come check out our history ... then could you read it to us? [thanks, Cat]
• Come see the past of American racial relations
• Don’t let the sun set on you in our state, N… ah sheeit, that ain't legal no more
• Fucking Boll Weevils
• I’m goin to Jackson, not gonna mess around
• There’s a reason the Blues were born here
• Keeping Louisiana from being last in *every* quality of life category
• We're lucky we can spell it
• Why would you want to come here?
• Proud home of musical greats Conway Twitty and Lance “I’m Gay” Bass
• Raise 'Em Up Right - God n Guns!
• Where Cotton was King
• The red headed stepchild of the United States
• Cotton pickin'? Them’s fightin' words
• The New Jersey of the south
• The end result of generations of careful inbreeding
• America’s premier hurricane destination!
• Where poverty isn’t just a state of mind
• The easiest state to identify on Wheel of Fortune
• George Washington never slept here
• Don’t Miss Mississippi!
• Magnolia trees suck, and so do we
• The south will rise again! (We just hope the Grand Army of the Republic won’t, too.)
• Big Muddy
• Don't even *think* about it, Chester!
• Just because we venerate the Ten Commandments doesn't mean we read them
• The Mud Cat state, because catfish is smarter than us
• Only the second poorest state! Woohoo!
• We're hardon Crime
• Foiling Spelling Bees contestants for nearly 200 years
• Home of the Great Wall of Mississippi
• The Lynching State
• The upholstered furniture capital of the world
• Oh, yeah, and Elvis is from Mississippi

[wik] Bonus slogans!

• Like Alabama looking in a mirror
• Don't forget, Mississippi has Graceland Too!
• Finest audiobook collection in the USA!
• Not dumm, jes' lade bak
• Boil it and call it cuisine

"Is it bigger than a breadbox?"

"Probably. What the fuck is a breadbox?"

For anyone needing to scratch their naval aviation itch, peep Google Earth's imagery of the Intrepid Museum. Just scroll up the West Side Highway into the West 40s until you see the building laying in the water with the jets on it. That'll be the Intrepid. Resolution is pretty good, even cranked down to max. Clearly visible are an SR-71, F-14, F-4, other carrier stuff; at least one MiG product; and various and sundry helicopters.

Google Earth doesn't have a 3D simulation for the carrier proper, which rather understates its size. I drove past it once; it towers over the road below and looks a helluva lot closer than the 100 or so feet the map suggests. It seems quite insane, really, to be tooling along the west side and suddenly seeing what looks to be a huge warship nuzzling Manhattan, and then to realize that in fact that's precisely what it is.

This week's Forgotten Punchline was made possible by a grant from Cthulhu's Own Tentacle Salve and Beak Balm. For the unholy irritation caused by dry, cracked appendages, summon the Unholiest: Cthulhu's Own.

Further support was provided by Krill. Krill: Wild Rice of the Briny Deep. With Legs.

Forthwith, today's forgotten punchline:

"So the cowboy drops his pants and says, 'Lady, this just ain't your day'".

Two Fox journalists were kidnapped Monday in Gaza. The Palestinians have, apparently, vowed to find the two journalists. Palestinian President Abbas and Hamas Prime Minister Ismail Haniyeh have said that Security Forces are hunting for the two kidnapped reporters as we speak. Somewhat ominously,

The prime minister assured the Fox News representatives that Palestinian security forces would use all their power to "put an end to it soon," said government spokesman Ghazi Hamad said, without elaborating.

This is utter, unrelieved and irremediable crap. I put more credence in OJ Simpson's claim to be searching for the real killers on the golf courses of America than in the promises of the Palestinian "leadership" that they will find the real kidnappers. Political theater, of a particularly tawdry, played-out and tiresome kind.

Or at least I do. In between inane-but-cleverly-crafted spam pushing the latest pump and dump stock (It's on the Pink Sheets now, but Honest! It could be the next Exxon!), I get the occasional email message that doesn't intend to offend, but still does, all the same.

Like this nugget, peristaltically placed in my inbox within the last hour, from Grassfire.org:

Despite a truce to end the current fighting, lasting peace in the Middle East will never take hold so long as anti-Semitic Islamic leaders continue calling for the elimination of Israel.

But that isn't the only battle front facing Israel. They are also battling the liberal media who seems to accept the spin that this latest battle is about some ancient claim to land--when in reality the fighting is based on a hatred of Christians and Jews.

A look at the media coverage during the incursion underscores that fact. Doctored photos and misleading reports have all found their way into mainstream
reporting.

That is why Grassfire, along with our partner the Media Research Center launched a national petition supporting Israel against these anti-Semitic attacks.
Over the next 30 days, we want to rally 75,000 "Friends of Israel" petitions to present to the Israel Embassy. Click here to sign:(link expunged)

It's not clear to me whom Grassfire is accusing of "anti-Semitic attacks" - I know it's either the various Muslims, Islamic leaders, the press, all three, or someone else entirely.

And when I saw the note, I got mildly irked, possibly at the imprecision of their rationale for requesting an electronic "signature" on a truly meaningless "document".

First off, as strange as it sounds, even as I type it, nobody is attacking Jews, per se. They might be attacking Zionists, and are definitely attacking Israelis, but I'm quite comfortable asserting that neither the press, the more murderous and adventuresome of the Islamists, nor the area's governments, is attacking "Semites".

The actions of the aggressors in the current unpleasantness are distinctly terroristic, distinctly anti-Israel, and reek of "please, kick my ass", but they're not anti-Semitic, because if they were, then there's a chance they'd be killing some of themselves, too. Neither, then, are the noticeably biased (against Israel and, by extension, the US) reports in the popular press. There's anti-American and anti-Israeli froth in full flower, but to call it anti-Semitic is both lazy and unhelpful.

The world's made up of two types of people: Those who believe the world's made up of two types of people and... No, scratch that.

If the world could be said to truly be made of two types, one possible classification would be those who dislike anything Israel or the US does to protect itself and those who don't. Another possibility would be a preference for "the little guy", no matter how cynical and childishly lame his protestations of correctness. Reflexively being against the US or Israel is not a new phenomenon, and neither is a preference for David (ironic, that) over Goliath.

But an email trying to get my knickers in a twist by playing on some silly-ass claim of anti-Semitism shows a lack of intellectual seriousness on Grassfire's part, and on the part of those who share their lazy methods of eliciting support.

• I prefer that the attacked be allowed to defend themselves, vigorously, and that if they happen to be in the right, they prevail.
• I prefer that opportunistic militants who play with fire get burned, preferably badly enough that they stop playing with fire.
• I prefer that the weaker-constitutioned nations of the world desist in their (successful, it would seem) shaming of Israel into a cease fire whose purpose is solely to allow Hizb'allah to rearm, in the manner dictated by the prophet himself (piss be upon him), who thought truces were good ways to lick one's wounds and live to fight the same fight another day, or later on the same day.
• I prefer the simple, unvarnished truth in the reporting that I read, rather than being told, obliquely or not, what I should think of a given situation. If I care what someone thinks, rather than what they saw, I'll read the op-ed page (and I do)
• I'd prefer that "we" could stop pretending to be shocked when propaganda is used as a tool of war, and that instead, when a non-party to such a war intentionally spreads propaganda, they should be punished in the marketplace of reputation, ideas, or business

And I'd prefer that those allegedly well-intentioned souls who seem to think that 75,000 imaginary signatures on an imaginary document will do fuck-all for the Israeli people go find some better use of their time and my mailbox. Such an imaginary signature has no effect on any of the things about which they've gotten their bowels in an uproar.

The Ministry is almost half done with milking this topic, now that we have reached the cold, wet and vaguely Swedish state of Minnesota.

• Gopher Gopher Gopher Gopher Gopher Gopher Gopher Gopher
• We’re the best damn state in the upper central Midwest.
• What Do You Mean We Talk Funny?
• You could live here, but why?
• No, I’m not the Swedish Chef
• 10,000 Lakes and 10,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 Mosquitoes
• Ya, Sure
• We’re done with “North Star State.” From now on, we’re the Polaris Province.
• Moderation in all things, except for lakes. And snow. And silly accents…
• The striped gopher is an insignificant animal with a destructive nature; useless and undignified. That’s why it’s our mascot.
• Not Sweden, but we act like it
• At least we’re not New Jersey
• Sure beats Canada
• Star of the North, my ass
• Land of 7,000 lakes and 3,000 man-made ponds
• Come for the bitter winter cold, stay for the sweltering summer heat.
• America’s first line of defense against Vikings
• Proud home of Snoopy and that annoying fuck Garrison Keillor
• Land of 11,842 Lakes
• The Lakota Sioux word “mnishota” means milky water, or semen.
• We have a bigger mall than you
• Land of the land icebergs
• Those guys in Fargo lived in ND, okay?
• Like spelling Mississippi, but with n’s
• We support racial understanding and tolerance, except towards the god-damned, herring-eating Norwegian scum.
• We're better than Wisconsin
• Lutefisk!
• Our contribution to American Political life: Walter Mondale
• We piss in the Mississippi, just to make New Orleans suffer
• More than just whining about the cold. Okay, just whining about the cold.
• The Scandinavia of North America
• Actually, if you count swimming pools, it’s a half million lakes

I'm perhaps overly sensitive to the inanity of the supposed security at our nation's airports, having seen too many instances of Barney Fife syndrome on the part of puffed up losers at various airports. While I'm sure there are many competent screeners, they all seem to work shifts that keep us coming in contact. My typical encounter with the breed makes me certain that they had three choices: TSA, some form of work requiring a white paper hat and a name tag, or one or another variety of animal husbandry. Sadly, in each case, they didn't read past the first item.

Watching these folks, in fits of mild sadism, drag uniformed pilots (to say nothing of blue-haired grandmothers and crying 6 year olds) through baseless subjugation has always struck me as misguided and fruitless.

But, on a recent trip through this month's opinings from Bruce Schneier, I saw another of his recent essays (in addition to the item I've added as an update to the drug-related post below). This one is entitled "Focus on terrorists, not tactics". I found it an interesting read, and commend it to your attention.

Key points include:

• Everything you know about airport security, you can pretty much ignore as a device to keep you safe
• No fly lists, secondary screening, prohibition of fingernail clippers, Richard Reid inspired shoe-checks, and the rest, had nothing to do with foiling the plot at Heathrow
• Neither did banning box-cutters
• Old-fashioned intelligence work, however, did
• The resulting intensified security measures are prudent
• But will cease to be, shortly

His point, well and succinctly articulated, is that strategy is more important than tactics. Standard fare, really, but he expounds:

It's easy to defend against what the terrorists planned last time, but it's shortsighted. If we spend billions fielding liquid-analysis machines in airports and the terrorists use solid explosives, we've wasted our money. If they target shopping malls, we've wasted our money. Focusing on tactics simply forces the terrorists to make a minor modification in their plans. There are too many targets -- stadiums, schools, theaters, churches, the long line of densely packed people before airport security -- and too many ways to kill people.

Security measures that require us to guess correctly don't work, because invariably we will guess wrong. It's not security, it's security theater: measures designed to make us feel safer but not actually safer.

Airport security is the last line of defense, and not a very good one at that. Sure, it'll catch the sloppy and the stupid -- and that's a good enough reason not to do away with it entirely -- but it won't catch a well-planned plot. We can't keep weapons out of prisons; we can't possibly keep them off airplanes.

(emphasis mine)

Given the choices of capitulation, constant and counterproductive "pretend" security measures, or applying a bit of brainpower and shoe leather to the problem while still treating it like a life-or-death chess game, I'd choose the latter. And not just because I have a fondness for cheesy spy thrillers.

Scientists are once again contemplating the de-extinction of the Woolly Mammoth. We last saw our friends the mammoths at the end of the Pleistocene Epoch, when we exterminated them with fire and spear. Over the last 10,000 years, our technology has advanced somewhat, and our researchers have determined that the sperm in mammoths buried beneath the ice can, possibly, be used to bring the dead mammoth back to life. Using all the trickery and cunning evolved on the plains of ancient Africa, and refined through thousands of years of cutthroat competition, and further refined by half a millenium of science, we can now suck the mammoth junk from the frozen nads of dead mammoths, and inject them into the eggs of Asian Elephants. After enough tries, it is hoped that this will result in a fertilized mammoth/elephant chimera.

Sperm expert Narumi Ogonuki of the Institute of Physical and Chemical Research Bioresource Centre in Tsukuba, central Japan, has demonstrated that sperm better survives freezing if contained in its natural packaging, than all by itself. Sperm taken from whole mouse bodies that had been frozen 15 years earlier was still capable of fertilising mouse eggs and producing pups. This demonstrates, at least in principle, that mammalian sperm can survive in a body that has been frozen for several years. And that led the eggheads to the belief that sperm could survive for much longer periods, for example in millions of years dead mammoths frozen in the arctic permafrost.

When the egg is implanted into a willing and motherly female elephant (the asian elephant is believed to be a close genetic cousin to the deceased mammoths) we wait a year and a half and BANG! we've got a cute baby mammoth. Well, a bastard red-haired half mammoth. By repeating this process, and with some careful animal husbandry, we could over time breed the half mammoths into something resembling pure bred mammoths. The Ministry fully supports the efforts to bring the dead to life. Not, you know, in a creepy undead zombie way. But through clean, wholesome science. We owe it to the animals that we killed to ensure that at least some of their genes survive into the future not just as frozen sperm in a ice-buried testicle, but as living, breathing, tasty mammals.

Further, we feel certain that when the robots come, the desperate remnant of humanity left after the initial onslaught of cybernetic death will be driven to the remote places of the earth. These places are often very, very cold. Reborn woolly mammoths will make excellent cavalry in the cold wastes of the north, and, in a pinch, very large meals.

Learn to deceive, and to detect the prevarications of others

How strange, I have a hobby in common with genocidal fucknut Iranian President Ahmijabbabber.

Via slashdot, the evolution of the desktop. I'd forgotten how cheeseball early windowing systems looked.

Red Sox ace pitcher Kurt Schilling founded a wargames company to keep Advanced Squad Leader in print.

Everyone loves demotivators. They are the quintessential ironic artifact of my generation. It was only a matter of time, I suppose, before love of demotivators and obsession with Star Trek met and merged in the mind of one sick individual with no life.

That time is now:

It's nice to see someone else thinks that.

More excellent Star Trek Demotivators below the fold. And, don't forget to make your own!

Today's Onion installment contains an item called "Millions Of Americans Buying Floyd Landis-Inspired Bracelets". I refer to it as an "item" because it's just a picture, rather than even an article with commentary. Fair use, then, dictates that you have to click the link to see the picture. Deal with it, because it's one of the keys to my premise here.

I find the Tour de France, and bicycling generally, to be uninteresting, and couldn't care less that half the field's big names were axed on drug-related charges just prior to the start. I care just a bit more about Floyd Landis' case, primarily because, contrary to all rational indications reported so far, I still think he might be deserving of the, well, whatever it is that a Tour de France winner wins.

He went from a day of abject failure in the Tour to a day of reportedly unprecendented athletic achievement. Or so I've read - I don't know for certain, because, honestly, the Tour interests me not even slightly. Nobody seems willing to claim his pass on the mountain climb was anything other than majestic. And, just in case his reported high-testosterone levels had something to do with it, here are the odd things:

• Only a dumb-ass would shoot testosterone during the Tour de France, where everyone is assumed to be cheating, and is regularly tested like the cheaters they most likely are
• Testosterone isn't fast-acting, and from what I've seen, takes several weeks' lead time to be of any effect
• If, in fact, he did inject testosterone, he's both clinically retarded and likely quite surprised that it didn't kick in to avoid his abject failure of the previous day's ride
• All due respect to the doping agencies and their tests, I wouldn't trust the results of such tests any farther than I could throw a bull by the dick

Why the skepticism on my part about such tests? Other than my general skeptical nature, there was an interesting article in Saturday's WSJ (subscribers only, most likely, but who friggin' knows?) reporting on tests using "Etg Alcohol Testing" (ethyl glucuronide). The article, "A Test for Alcohol -- And Its Flaws".

Boiled down to its basics, the article describes a test that's supposed to get past the problem of detecting weekend binge drinkers during the work week, when they're presumably not tippling. The problem is:

The test "can't distinguish between beer and Purell" hand sanitizer, says H. Westley Clark, director of the federal Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration's center for substance-abuse treatment. His office intends to study EtG and issue a statement on its use in the fall. "When you're looking at loss of job, loss of child, loss of privileges, you want to make sure" the test is right, he says.

I'd hate to have my rights impinged for washing my hands with Purell (not that I do, but that's not the point).

The point is that I think the drug testing zealots spend a lot of time on precision and completely disdain accuracy.

That and, honestly, who gives a shit about cheating in a stupid bicycle race?

[wik] See also this essay on Wired by Bruce Schneier of Counterpane Internet Security, explaining, I think, why doping is forever.

While we're on the topic of webcomics, we would be remiss in not bringing to your attention Dr. Fun. Here's a sample:

I know that the squirrels in my back yard think the same of my dog Bodhi. But sacrificing Bodhi probably won't get them in good with the nut gods. Most likely, it'll give the nut deity indigestion. I think this guy made a very successful sacrifice to the nut gods.

Selectively true at best, I'm sure. But some allegedly smart money seems to think so:

HuffingtonPost.com – New York, NY; a provider of a left leaning political news and blogging site; $5 million; Series A; Greycroft Partners, Individuals, Softbank Capital Partners.

Go "Zsa Zsa"! Or would "Eva" be the more apt analogy? (I don't remember Magda well enough to know whether the caricature is still fitting)

Another new (to me) webcomic. It's called "Muhammad's Believe It or Else". Why read something that mocks one of the great religions of the world? If you need a reason, and we here at the ministry most certainly do not, there's this from the introduction:

Why Mock Islam?

Because it is therapeutic! Mocking is a very powerful way to convince those who are unwilling to think to do it. Shame is a great motivator.

I don't know if this will have any effect on Islam, aside from pissing it off. But, since we've already done that just by not being Muslim, what have we got to lose?

As an Ohioan, I have a deep and abiding hatred for the state of Michigan. All right thinking people will of course share this view. However, in the interest of fainess and impartiality, I have tried not to single out this one state for abuse that I would not be willing to visit on other states. Happily, I just piled on Massachusetts so I pretty much have a free hand here.

• Screw Blue

• Gateway to nowhere
• Stunted Pine Forests and Urban Wastelands. What's not to love?
• You gotta a love a state whose most notable holiday is Hell Night
• We’re Peninsular!
• Come back to Detroit... We missed you the first time.
• Get a letter, get shot; it’s all the same to our postal workers
• Birthplace of the Mighty Corn Flake
• Our greatest cultural achievement: Kid Rock and Eminem
• We’ve got Zombies!
• The wolverine is a vicious, bloodthirsty and ill tempered beast. So are we.
• We made Fat Ass Michael Moore a Star!
• Windsor has better strippers, but get your crack in Detroit
• Come for the depressing post industrial landscapes, stay for the arson and random shootings
• Go Postal!
• I hate Michigan

• Clearance Sale
• Birthplace of substandard, lackadaisical, industrial manufacturing
• Talk to the hand
• The State, not the Stupid Lake
• Auto strikes, disgruntled postal workers, and a surplus of Canadians, oh my!
• Motorheads
• Ambitious Michiganders move to New Jersey for the fresh air and economic opportunity
• The New Jersey of the Upper Midwest
• Next stop, Canada!
• First Line of Defense from Marauding Canadians
• The state that looks like a hand. Okay, a mitten anyway
• It's not just cold. It's ass-biting cold.
• Hey, at least we don’t have Toledo
• Home of the wigger
• Land of the free, home of the Buick
• What’s good for the goose is good for the Michigander. In this case, strangling.
• Proud home of interweb superstar Murdoc
• Everyone’s dead

Some more fun Michigan images:

[wik] (Patton) Never one to miss a chance to pile on, as an Ohio State alum, I'm forced to add this item from the archives:

The other night I finished up a game of Axis and Allies on the old computer. This I do more for relaxation and nostalgia than for any sort of challenge, because the PC version of A&A is rather pathetic. The AI opponent couldn't fight its way out of a wet paper sack with a chainsaw. Once, I started with just the Eastern United States, two armor, two infantry and a fighter. I conquered the whole world.

But anyway, this was the final order of battle as I attacked the last stronghold of my tenacious, canny and ultraviolent opponent:

I won, in case you were curious

As I was driving home today I, as I often do, whiled away the time by reading the license plates of the other commuters. Virginia has a wide array of specialty plates for different colleges, universities, fraternal orders, veterans and special interest groups. One of the last is for people who dig horses. It occurred to me that this would be a particularly bad plate to get:

That personalized plate, by the way, is available to any Virginia resident who'd like it. Since I was on the DMV's design a plate website, I figured, hey, let's have some fun.

This is a plate that I've always wanted to get, but which is sadly already taken:

Going through the list of Special Interest groups, the possibilities seemed endless. For example, you could get an NRA plate, and confirm all the fears of the liberal pantywaists:

Or, alternatively, freak out the NRA people:

Along the same lines, become a firefighter:

Show that you're really, really tech-savvy:

When I saw that the duck hunters had their own plate, this immediately popped to mind:

But further down the list, I found an even better target:

Finally, I will offer fifty bucks to anyone who gets this license plate, and provides proof. I tried to get Minister Johno to do it, but he had a girlfriend (now Mrs. Johno) and demurred.

That is one very proud, yet uniquely vulnerable, mammal.

I suppose it was necessary.

[wik] The best line accompanies a pic of Sally Struthers, "All your snakes are belong in my belly."

[alsø wik] It's alsø good to see that Cobra Commander's still doing well. I miss that guy.

[alsø alsø wik] It's amazing, really, how infinitely mutable this retarded joke is. It remains eternally stale, yet somehow never completely rots away into nothingness.

You don't step on Superman's cape.

You don't spit into the wind.

You don't pull the mask off the ol' Lone Ranger.

And you don't pop unaimed mortar rounds on howitzer batteries.

Stars and Stripes discusses life for a Paladin gun crew in Ramadi here. Great primer for how the crews operate, how seriously they take their counterbattery role, and their relief that they can quit operating as the Queen of Battle and get back to being the Kings. Good stuff.

This edition of Forgotten Punchline Thursday is brought to you in part by Krill. Krill: Food for Everything Else.

Further support furnished by a grant from the Newport Trust for Social Preservation, maintaining class divisions and historic mansions you can never possibly own -ever- and thereby making you feel like a failure, since 1933.

Today's Forgotten Punchline:

"Because of Goehring, I'm going back to my old profession."