March 07, 2004
Say hello to...
Jen Speaks, who is probably already known to some of you.
The Llama Butchers, just because of the name. I have a note here on my list of movies to see someday about "Barn of the Blood Llama". Coincidence? I dunno, but I'm not taking any chances. And it's not just because of the name. Blogeline is back after a long hiatus.Posted by: Ted at 10:46 AM | Comments (36) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Watching the crap so you don't have to
Oooo boy, this group is a mixed bag. One thumbs-up crapfest, one so-so offering, and one real stinker.
Behind door number so-so, we have Snowbeast. This made-for-TV bigfoot thriller stars a whole heap of washed-up TV stars like Clint Walker, Bo Swenson, Yvette Mimieux and others you'll probably recognize. Amazingly enough, this bland thriller was written by the same guy who wrote the screenplay to Hitchcock's Psycho, proving that Bob Marley was right when he sang "a hungry man is an angry man". This guy must've been desperate for grocery money (I know that doesn't quite fit the point I'm trying to make, but I wanted to throw in a Marley quote to impress you). The plot is full of holes, and the actual violence seen is minimal - it was for TV after all. Not very good, but not unwatchable either. Much better, in a crapesque sort of way is Night Train to Terror - a trio of tales embedded in a senseless concept meant to tie the stories together. God and Satan are riding a train together, discussing souls. Also on the train, for no apparent reason, are quite a few teenagers, partying like only teenagers in 60's beach movies can. There's a catchy song they play at various times, and you'll likely wind up with an ear-worm from it. The stories here are actually not too bad. The special effects range from tacky to good, including some pretty cool stop-action claymation work. There are gruesome moments and blood and gore, and several gratuitious breast shots (and one bush sighting as well, for those who're keeping track). The ending credits note that God is playing himself. Remember the Lurch-like actor Richard Moll? Apparently he had a (so-called) career playing freaks in cheesy horror movies before he hit the big time, playing the freak bailiff on the television sitcom Night Court. I used to think his role in House was what his acting career had sunk to, but apparently it was a simple return to his roots. He plays a couple different roles in this one. Recommended. Finally, we have The Severed Arm. This flick should be studied in every cinema course as how to completely screw up a great concept. Here's the story line: "Trapped in a cave, five men cut the arm off of another companion in order to ward off starvation. After they are saved, their victim seeks revenge on them one by one." Isn't that cool? Unfortunately, everything else about the movie is absolute dreck. I should've known that suck was inevitable when, in the first two minutes of the movie, we have an extreme windblown comb-over moment. I mean, the actor gained eight inches in height as his hair stood straight up in the breeze. Believe me, it was all downhill from there. I suggest remembering this title for the express purpose of avoiding it.Posted by: Ted at 01:15 AM | Comments (34) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 06, 2004
Smithsonian Trip
Every time I visit the Smithsonian Museums, I am awed at the national treasures available for all to see.
These are rightly described as treasures, and they aren't hidden behind massive vault doors. It's emphasized often in each museum that the contents belong to the entire American people. You get the sense that you're not being allowed to see the items so much as that the caretakers are making sure that everyone gets the best view possible. To say I don't like the city of Washington DC is an understatement. I believe that if they were to give Uncle Sam an enema, the nozzle would be inserted in DC. But I also think that everyone should spend a couple of weeks visiting Washington, because there is just so much history to see. I hate DC, but I also sincerely recommend it as a vacation destination for all. We started our trip by driving to the nearest Metro station and parking there. The DC Metro system is excellent, it's much easier than trying to find a parking spot in DC, plus the metro fare is less than parking in the city. Plus, the metro took us to within a block of the National Museum of American History, our choice for the day. We had a 5 minute wait to get in, standing in line as everyone went through security checks. When it was my turn, I handed over my car keys and pocket watch, walked through the metal detector, and buzzed it. Stepping back through, I realized that I was still holding my umbrella. I handed it to the guard and set off the detector again. Hmmmm... doing a quick pat of my pockets, I realized that I was carrying (as always) my Swiss Army knife. Wondering what kind of reaction I'd get, I pulled it out and put it on the table, then walked through the detector again. No problem this time, and the guard handed me my things without a second glance at the knife. So let's get to the treasures, eh? We started on the third floor and worked our way down. First up were the music exhibits, including two really nice features on Ella Fitzgerald and Duke Ellington. A display case full of Star Trek stuff caught my eye, and when I wandered over to look I saw the really cool stuff. There were three more displays in a nook: one had the original ruby slippers from Wizard of Oz, another had one of Dizzy Gillespie's trumpets. The third case held (get this), Muhammed Ali's boxing gloves, Sonja Heine's ice skates, a baseball autographed by Babe Ruth, a Michael Jordan Bulls jersey, a sweater from the 1980 Miracle on Ice US Olympic hockey team, and tennis racquets from Arthur Ashe and Chris Evert. I'm going to quickly mention a few other nifty items, and then get to the real 'wow' stuff. There was a very impressive exhibit about the First Ladies. Money, clocks, transportation (many restored vehicles, I'd love to see what's stored in their warehouses). Archie Bunker's chair. The key to the padlock of rod 21, which is the one removed to start the chain reaction on the worlds first nuclear pile. It takes more than "stuff" to make a museum come to life, and the Smithsonians are world-class. They use innovative displays and lots of hands-on, you don't just look at the exhibits. They use sound and touch as well, and it's consistantly impressive. Ok, the 'wow' things: The top hat worn by Abraham Lincoln on the night he was assasinated. Everyone has seen that picture of the workers unfurling the American flag from the roof of the Pentagon when they began making repairs. That flag is now hanging in the second floor rotunda, and you don't appreciate just how huge it really is until you stand in front of it and look up and up and up. The space suit worn by Alan Shepard on board Freedom 7, making him the first American to go into space. The Star Spangled Banner. Not the song, but the original flag that flew over Fort McHenry that inspired our National Anthem. It's being restored, and just the glass walled room showing the restoration equipment is pretty amazing. Without a doubt, this was the highlight for me. We just skimmed the museum today. Realistically, there is just so much to see and absorb that each building of the Smithsonian is a two-day visit. You really should make the trek at least once, you won't regret it.Posted by: Ted at 09:38 PM | Comments (36) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
AFK
Wife is working today and our oldest daughter heads back to college in thawed Michigan tomorrow, so the girls and I decided to head into DC this rainy Saturday and visit the Smithsonians. I wanted to see something artsy, Mookie preferred something sciencey, and Robyn wasn't around to throw in her two cents so that's just too darn bad for her, eh? We compromised on the National Museum of American History.
Posted by: Ted at 08:44 AM | Comments (38) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Is "Virtual Synthisizer" redundant?
Thanks to A.E. Brain, a link to a demo online version of the famous Moog synthesizer.
If it's Blog*spotted, scroll down to "In the Moog". Welcome him to the blogroll as well (down at the bottom clump with the rest I haven't gotten around to alphabetizing yet). He lists me as "Just Plain Good", and that without monetary renumeration! He kept a straight face while typing that too (I hope). Anyway, go read his blog. It's gooder than 'just plain'.Posted by: Ted at 08:05 AM | Comments (35) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 05, 2004
Fantasy Team Names
Here's a list of great team names you might consider for your next fantasy league:
Fluffy White BunniesYellow Brick Roadkill
Fridge Raiders
Bobbin' Monicas
Fighting Pacifists
Tijuana Tabledancers
Red Headed Step Children
Northeast Southwesterners
Altoona Fish
Battling Budgies
Boston Stranglers
Brooklyn Draft Dodgers
Santa Monica Lewinskis
Scoregasm
Sears Craftsmen
Anhauser Buschwhackers
Pabst Smears
Iowa Cowtippers
Cleveland Earthtones and of course my favorite: Rockets
Posted by: Ted at 01:48 PM | Comments (45) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Perspective
As of right now, Kerry has been campaigning for President longer than he spent in Vietnam.
Posted by: Ted at 12:25 PM | Comments (35) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Air Force Blue (part 7)
This story is about an odd little incident that happened to me one day on duty. I'm going to relate it exactly as it happened, but there are a few not-quite-right details that I'll mention at the end.
I wasn't wearing a parka that day, which means that it was sometime in August in Grand Forks, North Dakota. I was also working Six-Charlie. Some cops loved working Six-Charlie, some hated it. I was an in-betweener, as it was a nice change occasionally, but it could also be a royal pain. In those days Grand Forks had five B-52's on alert at all times. Fully fueled and loaded with nukes, crews close at hand on standby, they could take off with five minutes notice (click the pic for a real appreciation of the size of the B-52). As you can imagine, there were cops all over the place in that area, guarding and protecting things. "The Pad" was where the spare aircraft were kept. Most of the time, the pad was patrolled by one cop in a pickup truck (Six-Charlie), while the majority of security was provided by the maintenance crews and flight personnel that swarmed the area. A lot of times, it was a sleepy backwater. I was just cruising slowly around the area when I got the call on the radio. An unidentified aircraft was on approach, and not answering radio calls. I turned on the lights and stomped the accelerator and raced to the end of the runway. We had standard procedures for this. It wasn't common, but occasionally some poor flight student doing a solo would mistake our runway for the one at Grand Forks International, ten miles east of us. The runways were oriented the same way, and an inexperienced or nervous pilot might not notice details like the airbase, especially from the direction this one was coming. That's if they could see the base at all, for the day was far from clear. The clouds were low and thick, it was rainforest muggy, and it felt like a good thunderstorm could happen at any moment. I positioned myself at the edge of the end of the runway and watched the clouds. As soon as the tower gave the word I'd drive alongside the runway, and when the plane landed I'd lead it to a holding area where the pilot would be detained. Most of the time, we felt sorry for them, because they'd be all kinds of embarrassed for their mistake. The tower called go, and I started rolling down the edge of the runway, picking up speed. I was expecting a little Piper Cub or something similar. Instead, this huge and wicked looking jet materialized out of the bottom of the cloud deck, startling the bejeebers out of me. I frantically looked for markings, trying to figure out what it was as it roared by. As the jet passed me and touched down, I called the tower and let them know that it was a Canadian RF-101 Voodoo. I could tell it was the reconnasance version from the long boxy nose that housed the cameras. In those days I was an aircraft geek, since I worked around them every day. As the Voodoo slowed down to below 90mph, I managed to pull up alongside and signalled to the crew (twin seater) to follow me. They acknowleged and I concentrated on not wrecking the rattletrap I was driving as we continued to slow down. They followed my truck to the holding point, and as they shut down the aircraft I got out and, weapon at the ready, waited for them to climb out. The pilot started talking to me from the cockpit but I couldn't understand a word because it was in french. I gestured that they should come down, and finally they climbed out of the aircraft. More hand signals, and they put their hands up in the air. Every time they tried to drop their arms I raised my rifle and their arms went back up. They both wore smiles and chattered at me in french, I assumed they were cursing me out. Within a minute or two backup arrived. Fifteen more cops, armed to the teeth, and one of them spoke french. My part done, I went back to my interupted patrolling. That's basically it. I found out later that their base had been closed by bad weather, and they didn't have enough fuel to go anywhere else, so they flew to Grand Forks unannounced. I always thought english was the international flight language, so at least one of those two should have been able to speak at least a little. I also never heard why they wouldn't communicate with the tower on the emergency frequencies, instead of coming in dumb and silent. Thinking back on it, they could've been surrendering Montreal to me. Also, it's mildly interesting (to me, anyway) that the Voodoo was retired from active USAF duty in 1971. This story took place in probably 1979 or 1980.Posted by: Ted at 07:02 AM | Comments (36) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Box Hockey - 1
When I was a youngster, one way we filled our summer days was by going to the local elementary school for ‘rec’. Rec was shortspeak for “Recreation Services” and it was a program sponsored by our school district. Basically, for a few hours a day, someone (usually a college kid earning some pocket money) would sign out kickballs and jump ropes and games. There would be organized activities like bike races and weenie roasts and marble tournaments. I fondly recall heading up to the school to find out who was there and what was going on. It was one of the ‘mixing bowls’ of the area, because otherwise groups of kids mostly hung around together based on what street they lived on.
Some days it was just too darn hot to do anything. Even marbles sucked, because the best dirt beds for that were in full sun, and nobody felt like frying their brains. That’s when the board games would come out. Alongside the playgrougd were several fixed benches, shaded by the buildings and close to the cool bricks of the school wall. Looking like birds lined up on a telephone wire, we were grouped up in various ways as we played the games. Parcheesi (ick), Sorry and Chinese Checkers, Mandala (we called it something else though), and my personal favorite – Box Hockey. Box Hockey was the low-tech version of Air Hockey. In fact, to that point we had never heard of Air Hockey. Play is similar, and so is the speed of it, if only because the ‘rink’ is smaller. The puck was a regular ol’ checker, and the paddles were wedge-shaped pieces of hardboard. Each end had three goals, larger ones on each side worth one point, and a smaller one smack in the middle worth three points. Games went to 11 or 15 or 21, and there was usually someone hovering nearby with dibs on the next game. When my kids were that age, I built our own Box Hockey game. It proved to be a hit, and I built several more over the years to give away as gifts. On the underside we put a checkerboard and backgammon board, and just flipped the hockey rink to play those. We'd usually include a set of checkers, some dice, and if the child was old enough a set of chess pieces. So that’s what we’re going to do this go-round of "Build It", we’re going to build a Box Hockey set. It makes a great birthday gift, or save it as a surprise for those heat-wave days coming up. It's also a great family project, simple enough to have the little ones pitch in. It makes it more special when they help. If you’ve never done any woodworking, no worries. The skills are basic, the materials are readily available and inexpensive. Power tools will speed things along, but aren’t at all necessary. Update: While out running errands tonight, I made a quick stop at the hardware store to price the lumber needed. I'm estimating right up front that you can do this project for around $30.00. Not bad for a from-the-heart gift. Next time (probably this weekend), a detailed parts and measurement list, and pictures! (Update: click here for the next part of the series)Posted by: Ted at 05:00 AM | Comments (47) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 04, 2004
Iconophile
Everyone (yes, everyone, and if that doesn't include you it's because we're all keeping it a secret from you), asks where I find all this useless drivel obscure trivia to talk about. When I'm lovingly describing movies (that period between 'about' and 'When' just slipped out. The management apologizes and to compensate shall not put a period after this sentence)
Posted by: Ted at 11:49 AM | Comments (34) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Flying rockets with the big boys
A couple of days ago I linked to the Gates Brothers website, for a peek at some amazing projects that they fly.
This time around, meet Wedge Oldham, who doesn't just build and fly big scale versions of famous rockets, he builds 'em bigger than original! I look positively Orion.Posted by: Ted at 11:33 AM | Comments (34) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 03, 2004
So it's come down to this
The grand announcements were met with a yawn. As was the reminder. So now I'm moving right past threats and heading straight for bribery.
You may remember, back when the Axis of
The rest of you got the innocent version. Nya nya slow-pokes.
Get your butts in gear and send some questions to Spork and Stephen. Google if you must, but don't let these two share a meal without your input! If it helps, pretend you're controlling their thoughts long-distance.
And don't forget the picture of Jennifer!*
*This offer applies to all but Jennifer. Dearest Jen, I'll post it on the newsgroup ALT.BINARIES.AMATUER.TOPLESS if you don't send at least one question to each. Don't test me, I'll do it.
Update: Susie is a classy lady.
Update: Victor is one hep rat too.
Posted by: Ted at 02:23 PM | Comments (36) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Fat is Dead
Now this sounds like a diet I could get used to.
New Nietzschean Diet Lets You Eat Whatever You Fear MostOh wait, that would be spiders. Never mind. Courtesy of The Onion.
Posted by: Ted at 01:44 PM | Comments (33) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Air Force Blue (part 6)
Last time I talked about my very first day in Grand Forks, North Dakota, and my up-close and personal encounter with a military police dog. Ahhhhh, memories, eh?
This story needs a little set-up. Working around the nukes (which besides the actual weapons themselves includes the bombers, missile fields, maintenance shops, and storage areas), you are held to a higher standard. Quite rightly so, in my opinion. In those days, it was called the Personal Reliability Program (PRP), or maybe it was “Personnel”… doesn’t matter. The point being that you not only had to be a good guy to work those jobs, you had to be constantly monitored to make sure you were trustworthy around such important things. Even something like prescription medications could knock you temporarily off the PRP, and you’d be assigned to a less-sensitive job for a while. Getting into certain kinds of trouble was definitely a no-no… “Airman Phipps, Grand Forks Security. State your location.” “Grand Forks Security, this is Airman Phipps. I’m at one-Juliette.” Long pause. “One-Juliette, Grand Forks Security. Wait one.” “10-4” I’d been waiting for that call all morning. I could imagine the shit hitting the fan right then. I was sitting in the Weapons Storage Area, near the bunkers where they keep the extra big-glowing-hole-in-the-ground devices, armed with my trusty M16 and 120 rounds of ammo. I had been busted for drugs the night before. There was no way I should have been issued a weapon and put on post. I figured I’d be steering a floor buffer for at least a few days while things got straightened out. So I sat there for a few minutes, until the Area Supervisor drove up in his truck. I was relieved of my weapon, read my rights (again), and transported to Central Security Control. Before too long, I was standing before the squadron First Sergeant. He asked me what the story was. The night before I’d been laying in my bunk reading a book when someone knocked on the door, and then the door opened immediately. I looked up and saw a cop dog-handler, his K9 bud and the dorm chief. Our dorm had two-man rooms with common latrines down the hall. My roomie wasn’t there that night, I don’t remember where he was. It wasn’t uncommon for the squadron to run the drug-dogs through the dorms. The cop told me that the dog alerted on our door, and that he was going to search the room. “Knock yourself out.” I really wasn’t worried. When I got this roommate I had been very clear about one thing: no drugs in the room. I couldn’t have cared less about what he did elsewhere, but don’t bring it to the room. Ever. So I lay there reading my book. The dog alerted on one wall locker, and I unlocked it so they could search it. As I expected, the dog had smelled a loaf of bread in there and went right for it. They emptied the locker anyway. Nothing. “Ah ha! Look what I found!” That was an instant attention-getter. As I got up from my bunk, I was already mentally calculating how long I could keep my roomie alive while I killed him. The phrase “burnt beyond recognition” came to mind. Over by the desk, the cop stood there with a triumphant look on his face, pointing into the pencil drawer. I looked inside and stifled a laugh. Forgetting that he had two weapons, the pistol on his hip and that dog, I made my first mistake. “Are you an idiot?” Not very diplomatic, and precisely the wrong thing to say. At that point I was busted, no matter what else was said. I could see that much in his eyes. I looked back down at his ‘discovery’. It was a small plastic packet of pizza seasonings. At that time, one of the frozen pizza brands had a gimmick where you got a little bag of oregano and other herbs, mixed with some garlic salt and such. It was included in the box, and you sprinkled it on your pizza before popping it into the oven. The packet was about two inches square. “Do you really think drug dealers are going to heat-seal that little baggie closed?” I couldn’t help it, I burst out laughing, which just pissed off the cop even more. As I laughed, I noticed the dorm chief was looking pretty doubtful about this bust. I tried to explain about the pizza thing, but the cop ignored that, read me my rights, and put the suspicious ‘dope’ into an evidence bag. He then searched the dressers, mostly by emptying drawers onto the floor. He did that last just to get even for me laughing at him. The dog was bored, mostly just staring wistfully at the locker containing the bread. After they left, I wondered why they didn’t arrest me. Something wasn’t quite right about the whole thing. Still chuckling about the ‘dope’, I cleaned up the room and went to bed. The next morning I went to work as usual, which is when they had called me. At this point the First Sergeant sent me out into the hall to wait while he called in the K9 handler, I assume to hear his story. The cop glared at me as we passed, I just smiled back. I stood there for awhile, and wondered how bad the chewing-out was going to be for screwing up my arrest. Someone would catch big-time hell for me being issued a weapon and put on post, I was just glad that it wouldn’t be me. A few minutes later, I got called in again. Standing at attention before the First Sergeant’s desk (K9 cop beside me), he told us that the lab results had come back on the evidence. Looking at his notes, he read it to us. “Oregano… Parsley… Garlic… Onion…” I managed to keep a straight face. Inside I was more than a little relieved, and made a mental note to let my roomie know just how close to death he had come. Just in case he needed reminding. I was dismissed, and the First Sergeant told the K9 troop to stay for a little talking to. That wasn’t quite the end of it though. I didn’t keep the story quiet, it was too funny not to share. I’m sure it got back to the K9 cop, which must have been pretty embarrassing for him. I had no hard feelings, because he was young and inexperienced. He, on the other hand, was holding a grudge, as I was to find out. A few weeks later, I got called in to see the First Sergeant. Never a good thing, I was trying to figure out what I had done wrong this time. I knocked, presented myself, and waited at attention. “Airman Phipps, we have a report that you had your personal vehicle checked by a drug dog on (some date I don’t remember). Any comment?” Oh jeez. “Yes sir. I bought a used car, and figured it would be smart to have it checked right away. I went over to the kennels and asked a friend to run a dog through the car as a favor. It was clean, sir.” “Why would you do that?” I reminded the First Sergeant about another Airman who bought a used car and got busted at the main gate when a drug dog alerted on it. As far as I knew, that person didn’t smoke dope, so whatever was found was probably there when she bought the car. He knew who I was talking about, and knew she was a good cop too, so what I had done made sense in that light. I did ask where the First Sergeant got that report, but he wouldn’t tell me. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out though. Not long after I had another direct confrontation with doggie-cop. I was on duty with my team, and we had just come out of the chow hall. At the street, I turned right to go drop a letter into the mailbox, while the rest of the team continued on towards our truck. A police car was parked at the curb, and just as I walked by the driver’s door opened and K9 cop stepped out and glared at me. I just kept walking towards the mailbox. “You! Halt!” I turned around slowly, and sure enough, the nitwit was pointing at me, he also had one hand on his sidearm. “My dog alerted on you! Halt right where you are!” “Your dog alerted on me? You’re kidding, right?” “There are drugs in that envelope. Freeze!” I’d had enough of this stupidity. “You’re dog alerted on me. From inside a car with the windows rolled up. As I walked by. Because I have drugs in a sealed envelope. Go to hell, you idiot.” And with that I turned around, took the final few steps and dropped the letter in the mailbox. When I turned around, K9 cop had his weapon out and was shaking because he was so pissed off. Since his weapon was drawn, I didn’t argue any more. Hell, my team was witnessing the whole thing. He disarmed me (M16, I was on duty), put me on my face spread eagle (for being ‘belligerent’), and we waited for backup. I snickered when my team was called to attend the situation. Fastest response ever. I stayed calm until I saw the First Sergeant again, then lost it a little bit. Apparently he agreed with me this time, because I didn’t get into any trouble (not that I had done anything wrong, which didn’t always mean you weren’t punished), and I never saw that K9 cop again.Posted by: Ted at 09:37 AM | Comments (40) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Encyclopedia Astronautica
If you've never visited the Encyclopedia Astronautica, well, be prepared to spend some time. This site is amazing.
Posted by: Ted at 06:11 AM | Comments (35) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
The synergist emerges once again
First read Spork's tale of squirrels.
Next, read Bigwig's thoughts on peace. Spork, I bet you could get Federal grant money if you have your attic designated as a foreign aid food bank.Posted by: Ted at 05:54 AM | Comments (36) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
In the digital world his name is Quasimodem
The Gray Monk has written a fascinating post about bell ringers and the art of bell ringing.
For those of us who don't have access to a tower full of bells, you can get your practice in using Abel. This versitile software can also be used by folks using hand bells. All proceeds go to charity. Here is an impressive collection of bell-related links. I wonder if Eric Lindros has an honorary membership?Posted by: Ted at 05:11 AM | Comments (39) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
March 02, 2004
"Zoom" is such an understatement
Eric and Dirk Gates are famous in rocketry circles for their big-time projects. You may have seen them on the Discovery Channel show Myth Busters, when they were the 'experts' brought in to help on the episode about a car with rockets mounted on the roof.
They have an awesome website, full of pictures and good information and video clips that have to be seen to be believed (including on-board cameras). It's so popular, and there is so much to see there, that they routinely shut down midway through each month for excessive bandwidth. It's up right now though, you really should visit, and if you have a high-speed connection, be sure to check out the videos. They've also put up Dirk's son's 8th grade research project on spin-stabilization of model rockets, which took 1st place in the California State Science Fair. Like I said, impressive stuff.Posted by: Ted at 08:29 PM | Comments (37) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Nothing So Strange: the movie
This is a mock documentary, pure fiction told absolutely straight. If you'd like to see something not like every other Hollywood movie out there, check this one out.
J-Walk has details.Posted by: Ted at 12:49 PM | Comments (36) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
World's Easiest Quiz
(answers in the extended entry)
1. How long did the Hundred Years War last? 2. Which country makes Panama hats? 3. From which animal do we get catgut? 4. In which month do Russians celebrate the October Revolution? 5. What is a camel's hair brush made of? 6. The Canary Islands in the Pacific are named after what animal? 7. What was King George VI's first name? 8. What color is a purple finch? 9. Where are Chinese Gooseberries from? 10. What is the color of the black box in a commercial airplane?Posted by: Ted at 06:44 AM | Comments (41) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
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