This is a shout-out to Zen Imports, the Australian agent/distributor for Leatherman products (among others).
Their customer service is EXCELLENT!
The back story:
My wife gave me a Leatherman Pocket Survival Tool II (PST II) in ... umm, ... er, 1987?
I carried it almost every day (even on airplanes before 2001), and it did yeoman service until 2005.
I lost it when I was working on a computer, used it to undo the cable screws, then put it down on the desk while I carted the broken computer to my car and carried in the replacement. In the barely five minutes that I was gone, some low-life stole it. I still have the belt-pouch.
My business partner bought me a replacement, but the PST II was unavailable, so he gifted me a Wave. It's a nice device - the pliers' grips don't cut your hand, unlike the PST II - but I found that it was uncomfortably heavier and larger at first. I got used to it eventually.
Fast forward through more than 12 years of almost daily use - it goes everywhere that my pants go - and the safety lock on one of the knife blades started being less of a lock and more of an aesthetic feature.
Seeing as the internet is a thing now, I started looking online for replacement parts, thinking that I could just replace the locking spring. (It turns out that the spring is part of the main chassis, so this was a futile search.)
In my searching, I ended up at the web-site of the afore-mentioned Zen Imports, where I encountered a chat window asking "What can I do to help?".
I explained the situation and was told, "Send it to us. Leatherman products have a 25-year, no questions asked warranty. No proof of purchase is required. Just fill in the warranty form first."
Now to the juicy bits:
I duly completed the form, and sent it and the Wave to the east coast.
Yesterday, I received a parcel from Zen Imports - a brand new Leatherman Wave.
Total cost to me - $7.95 parcel post across Australia.
Well done Zen Imports, and thank you!
Saturday, 28 July 2018
Monday, 14 May 2018
Sore, but not sorry
Yesterday was shotgun day.
I packed a box of shells with my shotgun. It was a big box - 10 boxes of 25, so a total of 257 rounds when you added the loose rounds from the pocket of my shooting jacket.
I would not recommend firing 257 rounds of 12-gauge when you are barely three months from a broken collarbone, and have a titanium plate in your shoulder.
It was a beautiful day - mid 20s Celsius, gentle breeze - and the pain of Monday was just a hint on the horizon. Oh, the sacrifices we make for fun.
I packed a box of shells with my shotgun. It was a big box - 10 boxes of 25, so a total of 257 rounds when you added the loose rounds from the pocket of my shooting jacket.
I would not recommend firing 257 rounds of 12-gauge when you are barely three months from a broken collarbone, and have a titanium plate in your shoulder.
It was a beautiful day - mid 20s Celsius, gentle breeze - and the pain of Monday was just a hint on the horizon. Oh, the sacrifices we make for fun.
Saturday, 12 May 2018
Not A Tragedy, But An Atrocity
Seven people are dead in what appears to be a murder/suicide in Osmington, outside Margaret River in Western Australia's south-west.
Many, if not most, of the news reports use the word "tragedy" to describe the deaths.
I beg to differ - this is not a tragedy, but an atrocity.
A tragedy carries the connotation that nothing could have been done to prevent it - lives lost to an earthquake is a tragedy - but in this case, actions were taken by someone to take the lives of six others, before then ending their own. The murders are an atrocity.
The other point I want to raise is - I did not do it.
Whatever method was used to take those lives, I did not do it, so punishing me for the crime is simply nonsensical.
Many, if not most, of the news reports use the word "tragedy" to describe the deaths.
I beg to differ - this is not a tragedy, but an atrocity.
A tragedy carries the connotation that nothing could have been done to prevent it - lives lost to an earthquake is a tragedy - but in this case, actions were taken by someone to take the lives of six others, before then ending their own. The murders are an atrocity.
The other point I want to raise is - I did not do it.
Whatever method was used to take those lives, I did not do it, so punishing me for the crime is simply nonsensical.
Friday, 11 May 2018
Australian fauna will find ways to kill you
I read something recently about the risks to other motorists associated with the debris from truck tyre blow-outs, and it reminded me of something similar.
Years ago, I'm pretty sure it was 1987, I drove to Adelaide for the Australian Formula 1 Grand Prix.
Start-to-stop, the trip was 2699 kilometres and the original plan was for a mate and I to share the driving. Unfortunately, he got a job in Melbourne between buying the tickets and departure date, so I drove the whole way solo.
There is not a lot of choice regarding roads across Australia - it's the Eyre highway across the Nullarbor or nothing - so directions are pretty simple. Drive east to Coolgardie, then south to Norseman, then east to Port Augusta, then south to Adelaide.
I took things easy, intending to make the trip in two days, with a night camping out somewhere quiet.
Early, VERY early in the morning on day two, somewhere east of Eucla thus on the Nullarbor and just into South Australia, I spied something on the road ahead. It was difficult to make out much detail because of the rising sun in my eyes, but whatever it was it most definitely had a different shape to that of the thousands of dead 'roos I had grown accustomed to seeing. Strangely, I never saw a single LIVE 'roo - I suspect that the turbo-charger on my car was whistling some 'roo repellent tune.
Anyway, there I was, travelling at the speed limit or a little over, and trying to work out what the heck it was on the road ahead of me. Finally whatever it was moved, and what few synapses I had that were active before coffee did their shape-recognition thing, and I realised that it WAS a 'roo, just one that a wedge-tail eagle happened to be feeding on.
Now the 'roos of the Nullarbor are mainly Red Kangaroos, the largest species, and the eagle sitting on the carcass ahead was bigger than its breakfast, so I am guessing maybe 4 metre wing span.
I could tell that the eagle knew I was there - maybe it heard the same turbo-charger whistling that the 'roos apparently found so repellent - because it decided to decamp the area. Wings spread it caught the morning breeze, and flapped a couple of times for lift-off.
Perhaps eagles need coffee in the morning too, because the damned bird FORGOT TO LET GO OF BREAKFAST!
So, picture this - I am driving at 110 kph or so towards a weird bird/mammal combo that is struggling for lift and altitude about a hundred metres ahead. I am thinking, "Do I brake? Do I drive on? Will that damned eagle get out of the way?"
FYI, a car travelling at 110 kph covers 100 metres in a hair over three seconds.
By the end of second one, I was starting to panic. The eagle had gained a little altitude, but was still directly above the road.
By the end of second two, I was starting to think that I was about to die in a slimy, maggot-ridden mess of 'roo guts, fur, and feathers.
Somehow the eagle, that monster eagle, clawed harder for altitude, and by halfway through second three, I was convinced that I would drive under it and all would be OK.
Then some ethereal bombardier said, "Target in sight, fly straight and level, bombs away," and that cursed bird/mammal split into two separate animals again, and the already dead half was headed straight for my windscreen, closing speed 140 kph, while the live half curled away to the left and zoomed skywards, no doubt laughing hard.
I swear, I missed that 'roo by less than the height of the radio antenna. I can tell, because when I stopped at the next road-house, there was a tuft of red fur snagged on the tip.
Years ago, I'm pretty sure it was 1987, I drove to Adelaide for the Australian Formula 1 Grand Prix.
Start-to-stop, the trip was 2699 kilometres and the original plan was for a mate and I to share the driving. Unfortunately, he got a job in Melbourne between buying the tickets and departure date, so I drove the whole way solo.
There is not a lot of choice regarding roads across Australia - it's the Eyre highway across the Nullarbor or nothing - so directions are pretty simple. Drive east to Coolgardie, then south to Norseman, then east to Port Augusta, then south to Adelaide.
I took things easy, intending to make the trip in two days, with a night camping out somewhere quiet.
Early, VERY early in the morning on day two, somewhere east of Eucla thus on the Nullarbor and just into South Australia, I spied something on the road ahead. It was difficult to make out much detail because of the rising sun in my eyes, but whatever it was it most definitely had a different shape to that of the thousands of dead 'roos I had grown accustomed to seeing. Strangely, I never saw a single LIVE 'roo - I suspect that the turbo-charger on my car was whistling some 'roo repellent tune.
Anyway, there I was, travelling at the speed limit or a little over, and trying to work out what the heck it was on the road ahead of me. Finally whatever it was moved, and what few synapses I had that were active before coffee did their shape-recognition thing, and I realised that it WAS a 'roo, just one that a wedge-tail eagle happened to be feeding on.
Now the 'roos of the Nullarbor are mainly Red Kangaroos, the largest species, and the eagle sitting on the carcass ahead was bigger than its breakfast, so I am guessing maybe 4 metre wing span.
I could tell that the eagle knew I was there - maybe it heard the same turbo-charger whistling that the 'roos apparently found so repellent - because it decided to decamp the area. Wings spread it caught the morning breeze, and flapped a couple of times for lift-off.
Perhaps eagles need coffee in the morning too, because the damned bird FORGOT TO LET GO OF BREAKFAST!
So, picture this - I am driving at 110 kph or so towards a weird bird/mammal combo that is struggling for lift and altitude about a hundred metres ahead. I am thinking, "Do I brake? Do I drive on? Will that damned eagle get out of the way?"
FYI, a car travelling at 110 kph covers 100 metres in a hair over three seconds.
By the end of second one, I was starting to panic. The eagle had gained a little altitude, but was still directly above the road.
By the end of second two, I was starting to think that I was about to die in a slimy, maggot-ridden mess of 'roo guts, fur, and feathers.
Somehow the eagle, that monster eagle, clawed harder for altitude, and by halfway through second three, I was convinced that I would drive under it and all would be OK.
Then some ethereal bombardier said, "Target in sight, fly straight and level, bombs away," and that cursed bird/mammal split into two separate animals again, and the already dead half was headed straight for my windscreen, closing speed 140 kph, while the live half curled away to the left and zoomed skywards, no doubt laughing hard.
I swear, I missed that 'roo by less than the height of the radio antenna. I can tell, because when I stopped at the next road-house, there was a tuft of red fur snagged on the tip.
Tuesday, 24 April 2018
Shamanist or Christian, who makes the better scientist?
In my daily perambulations around the web, I found this quote of a post from a comment to another post Link to Ace:
... the west's general belief in the superstition of praying to a guy who was nailed to a cross then resurrected after 3 days seems NOT to have had a negative bearing on your development. How do you suppose witchcraft has held back Africans?"
Obviously this was in reference to somebody posting that Africans needed more "civilizin' ", as was apparent from the belief in witchcraft that is prevalent throughout the The Dark Continent. Said comment probably espousing the equivalence of "civilizin' " and "Christian proselytising".
Reading that fired some synapses into posing the question: "What exactly is different between faith in Christ and faith in witchcraft - between Christianity and Shamanism?"
Both would seem to espouse a faith in the supernatural - ordinarily people crucified to death are not seen walking around within the week, and shaking bones over a smoky fire while muttering imprecations would not seem to have any likely association with your enemy falling ill with suppurating boils.
So what exactly is the difference, and can it in any way explain the disparity in technological development between "the west" and "sub-Saharan Africa"?
Let me start with Christianity. As someone who was raised in the Anglican church, an altar boy, and a church youth group member, and then became an engineer - in as much as anyone ever becomes an engineer, it may actually be genetic - I have an admitted bias towards a quiet form of Christianity, even though I now find blind faith in the inexplicable a little unsettling. The Anglicans of my acquaintance are primarily concerned with their own faith, and the betterment of themselves through that faith and the teachings of Christ. They don't seem to petition their God for harm to befall others, nor necessarily for good to befall themselves - although I think I would be safe to assume that many a prayer is said when the numbers are drawn for the church fund-raising raffles.
Shamanism? I have no idea beyond the depictions in movies, and the odd documentary, but since when does ignorance stop an internet commenter?
It seems that many adherents to the world of the shaman are a little like Easter and Christmas Christians - they don't necessarily believe any of it, but it never hurts to cover the bases. But then, there are obviously the hard-core committed folk who are absolutely certain that certain practices are supernaturally linked to other unrelated events - and that stands for BOTH communities.
So real believers are not the difference; semi-committed followers are not the difference; probably cynical exploiters are not the difference either; so maybe the actual beliefs themselves are the difference.
The original quote stressed that there was little difference between the two in terms of the incredible nature of their respective claims - rising from the dead, the power of prayer, pointing the bone etc. - but I think this is where the kernel lies. Although both claim supernatural things, only the witch-doctor or shaman makes claims of the banality of the supernatural. Where the Christian says, "I believe in these supernatural things that are the province of ONLY the divine", the shamanist says, "I believe in these supernatural things, and SPECIAL PEOPLE can do them."
As is natural when people are involved, that's where the corruption starts. In the Christian world, has anybody heard of Papal dispensations? Maybe you've heard of the Spanish Inquisition? I don't know that there have been similar happenings in shamanist circles, but it certainly seems that the ordinary believers have reduced witch-craft to "things I can do to harm others and help myself in life". This has proven disastrous to Africans compared to the Christian "I can live life being good, and ASK that God recognise that, and reward me in the AFTER-LIFE."
In essence, I suppose I consider shamanistic faith in the application of the supernatural by special people to deliver benefit in daily life to be fundamentally different to Christian faith in living life by the teachings of Christ (taught as a reward in itself) leading to rewards from God in the after-life.
So, how has this helped the west and/or hindered Africa?
To an engineer, a Christian's faith has no bearing on whether a bridge falls down; a circuit oscillates, amplifies, or resonates; or a turbine engine produces thrust. These things happen due to generally understood, immutable laws of the physical world - laws that are not beyond the mind of man to understand and apply.
To a Christian, an engineer's calculations are not offensive to God, and are no less immutable.
To a shamanist, designing and building a bridge or a building must be done on the basis that the laws of physics are NOT immutable, but can be changed at will by any one of a special class of people. After all, application of the supernatural is a daily reality in that world, and NOT just the province of the divine.
Can you imagine how much science and technology can exist in a world where the scientific principles are not understood, because they can be changed - arbitrarily, momentarily, and locally?
Christianity has a bevy of critics, but its separation of the intrinsically unknowable supernatural from the daily application of consistent, understandable natural phenomena is probably the greatest boon ever delivered to humankind.
... the west's general belief in the superstition of praying to a guy who was nailed to a cross then resurrected after 3 days seems NOT to have had a negative bearing on your development. How do you suppose witchcraft has held back Africans?"
Obviously this was in reference to somebody posting that Africans needed more "civilizin' ", as was apparent from the belief in witchcraft that is prevalent throughout the The Dark Continent. Said comment probably espousing the equivalence of "civilizin' " and "Christian proselytising".
Reading that fired some synapses into posing the question: "What exactly is different between faith in Christ and faith in witchcraft - between Christianity and Shamanism?"
Both would seem to espouse a faith in the supernatural - ordinarily people crucified to death are not seen walking around within the week, and shaking bones over a smoky fire while muttering imprecations would not seem to have any likely association with your enemy falling ill with suppurating boils.
So what exactly is the difference, and can it in any way explain the disparity in technological development between "the west" and "sub-Saharan Africa"?
Let me start with Christianity. As someone who was raised in the Anglican church, an altar boy, and a church youth group member, and then became an engineer - in as much as anyone ever becomes an engineer, it may actually be genetic - I have an admitted bias towards a quiet form of Christianity, even though I now find blind faith in the inexplicable a little unsettling. The Anglicans of my acquaintance are primarily concerned with their own faith, and the betterment of themselves through that faith and the teachings of Christ. They don't seem to petition their God for harm to befall others, nor necessarily for good to befall themselves - although I think I would be safe to assume that many a prayer is said when the numbers are drawn for the church fund-raising raffles.
Shamanism? I have no idea beyond the depictions in movies, and the odd documentary, but since when does ignorance stop an internet commenter?
It seems that many adherents to the world of the shaman are a little like Easter and Christmas Christians - they don't necessarily believe any of it, but it never hurts to cover the bases. But then, there are obviously the hard-core committed folk who are absolutely certain that certain practices are supernaturally linked to other unrelated events - and that stands for BOTH communities.
So real believers are not the difference; semi-committed followers are not the difference; probably cynical exploiters are not the difference either; so maybe the actual beliefs themselves are the difference.
The original quote stressed that there was little difference between the two in terms of the incredible nature of their respective claims - rising from the dead, the power of prayer, pointing the bone etc. - but I think this is where the kernel lies. Although both claim supernatural things, only the witch-doctor or shaman makes claims of the banality of the supernatural. Where the Christian says, "I believe in these supernatural things that are the province of ONLY the divine", the shamanist says, "I believe in these supernatural things, and SPECIAL PEOPLE can do them."
As is natural when people are involved, that's where the corruption starts. In the Christian world, has anybody heard of Papal dispensations? Maybe you've heard of the Spanish Inquisition? I don't know that there have been similar happenings in shamanist circles, but it certainly seems that the ordinary believers have reduced witch-craft to "things I can do to harm others and help myself in life". This has proven disastrous to Africans compared to the Christian "I can live life being good, and ASK that God recognise that, and reward me in the AFTER-LIFE."
In essence, I suppose I consider shamanistic faith in the application of the supernatural by special people to deliver benefit in daily life to be fundamentally different to Christian faith in living life by the teachings of Christ (taught as a reward in itself) leading to rewards from God in the after-life.
So, how has this helped the west and/or hindered Africa?
To an engineer, a Christian's faith has no bearing on whether a bridge falls down; a circuit oscillates, amplifies, or resonates; or a turbine engine produces thrust. These things happen due to generally understood, immutable laws of the physical world - laws that are not beyond the mind of man to understand and apply.
To a Christian, an engineer's calculations are not offensive to God, and are no less immutable.
To a shamanist, designing and building a bridge or a building must be done on the basis that the laws of physics are NOT immutable, but can be changed at will by any one of a special class of people. After all, application of the supernatural is a daily reality in that world, and NOT just the province of the divine.
Can you imagine how much science and technology can exist in a world where the scientific principles are not understood, because they can be changed - arbitrarily, momentarily, and locally?
Christianity has a bevy of critics, but its separation of the intrinsically unknowable supernatural from the daily application of consistent, understandable natural phenomena is probably the greatest boon ever delivered to humankind.
Monday, 23 April 2018
Miscegination is no excuse for a law
Hands up: Who has heard of the Mann Act in the US?
From Wikipedia (Mann Act) :
It is named after Congressman James Robert Mann of Illinois, and in its original form made it a felony to engage in interstate or foreign commerce transport of "any woman or girl for the purpose of prostitution or debauchery, or for any other immoral purpose". Its primary stated intent was to address prostitution, immorality, and human trafficking, particularly where trafficking was for the purposes of prostitution. This is one of several acts of protective legislation aimed at moral reform during the progressive era. In practice, its ambiguous language about "immorality" has resulted in its being used to criminalize even consensual sexual behavior between adults. It was amended by Congress in 1978 and again in 1986 to apply to transport for the purpose of prostitution or illegal sexual acts.
That bit about "... for any other immoral purpose" is kind of odd wording for a law - surely better would be "... or any other illegal purpose", seeing as that is what laws are supposed to be about.
I was all set to rant about how it was mainly used to target black men having sex with white women and was thus part of the Jim Crow laws that ostensibly targeted everybody, but were almost exclusively used againstNegroes, Blacks, African-Americans. That prompted the title - FYI miscegination is the technical term for inter-racial sexual activity.
Before I started ranting, I wanted some ammunition in the form of statistics about disparate application of the Mann Act, and found instead that many white Americans were prosecuted under its auspices, and that rather than being a Jim Crow law, it was more part of a Puritanical response to the somewhat laissez-faire attitude to prostitution in the 19th and early 20th century.
Such worthies as Charlie Chaplin, Chuck Berry, Frank Lloyd Wright, and yes Jack Johnston (1908-1915 World Champion boxer, and black) were charged under the Mann Act. Chaplin was acquitted, Wright's charges were dropped, Johnson and Berry were convicted. Maybe there was disparate impact, even if there wasn't disparate application.
There are moves now surfacing to have President Trump issue a posthumous pardon for Jack Johnson's conviction, and I was all for it, but now that I investigate further, I think I was wrong.
I could get on board if Congress or the courts were to concede that the initial law (pre-1978 amendments) was unconstitutional for vagueness - the term "immoral acts" was apparently not defined. Following that, President Trump should pardon everybody convicted under the law. To single out any one person would be a travesty.
From Wikipedia (Mann Act) :
It is named after Congressman James Robert Mann of Illinois, and in its original form made it a felony to engage in interstate or foreign commerce transport of "any woman or girl for the purpose of prostitution or debauchery, or for any other immoral purpose". Its primary stated intent was to address prostitution, immorality, and human trafficking, particularly where trafficking was for the purposes of prostitution. This is one of several acts of protective legislation aimed at moral reform during the progressive era. In practice, its ambiguous language about "immorality" has resulted in its being used to criminalize even consensual sexual behavior between adults. It was amended by Congress in 1978 and again in 1986 to apply to transport for the purpose of prostitution or illegal sexual acts.
That bit about "... for any other immoral purpose" is kind of odd wording for a law - surely better would be "... or any other illegal purpose", seeing as that is what laws are supposed to be about.
I was all set to rant about how it was mainly used to target black men having sex with white women and was thus part of the Jim Crow laws that ostensibly targeted everybody, but were almost exclusively used against
Before I started ranting, I wanted some ammunition in the form of statistics about disparate application of the Mann Act, and found instead that many white Americans were prosecuted under its auspices, and that rather than being a Jim Crow law, it was more part of a Puritanical response to the somewhat laissez-faire attitude to prostitution in the 19th and early 20th century.
Such worthies as Charlie Chaplin, Chuck Berry, Frank Lloyd Wright, and yes Jack Johnston (1908-1915 World Champion boxer, and black) were charged under the Mann Act. Chaplin was acquitted, Wright's charges were dropped, Johnson and Berry were convicted. Maybe there was disparate impact, even if there wasn't disparate application.
There are moves now surfacing to have President Trump issue a posthumous pardon for Jack Johnson's conviction, and I was all for it, but now that I investigate further, I think I was wrong.
I could get on board if Congress or the courts were to concede that the initial law (pre-1978 amendments) was unconstitutional for vagueness - the term "immoral acts" was apparently not defined. Following that, President Trump should pardon everybody convicted under the law. To single out any one person would be a travesty.
Monday, 16 April 2018
... and the Oscar for PR Disaster goes to ...
From news reports it appears that a discount airline operating flights from the US to Mexico cancelled a flight, refused to schedule a replacement, and made a statement saying "... they hope providing a refund for the cancelled flight ‘will more than compensate for the cost of making alternative arrangements home.’ "
Maybe people should pay more attention to the details of contracts they enter into, specifically in this case what's called the Contract of Carriage.
Found at:
https://www.suncountry.com/dam/jcr:f9e2405b-7ceb-4b98-a716-78c1dcd6874f/SCA-contract-of-carriage.pdf
This seems startling - this airline is taking your money but making no promises in return that they will fly you to your destination.
The elephant in the room is: ALL AIRLINES HAVE THE SAME OR SIMILAR CLAUSES IN THEIR CONTRACT OF CARRIAGE.
If you believe you have a paid right to transport, said transport to be provided by the company to which you have paid money - YOU ARE WRONG.
Sure, in most cases the airline will do its best to get you to your destination, but that is because the management want to stay in business. By the terms of the contract you entered into, all the company has to do is TRY. If that effort results in failure, you have NO RESORT under the contract.
Maybe people should pay more attention to the details of contracts they enter into, specifically in this case what's called the Contract of Carriage.
Right there in paragraph two of Sun Country Airlines Contract of Carriage, it says (emphasis mine):
Consequential Damages
Purchase of a ticket does not guarantee transportation. Sun Country Airlines shall in no event be liable for any indirect, special, or consequential damages resulting from the performance or delay in performance of, or failure to perform, transportation of passengers and other services incidental thereto (except baggage liability as provided below) whether or not Sun Country Airlines has knowledge that such damages might be incurred.Found at:
https://www.suncountry.com/dam/jcr:f9e2405b-7ceb-4b98-a716-78c1dcd6874f/SCA-contract-of-carriage.pdf
This seems startling - this airline is taking your money but making no promises in return that they will fly you to your destination.
The elephant in the room is: ALL AIRLINES HAVE THE SAME OR SIMILAR CLAUSES IN THEIR CONTRACT OF CARRIAGE.
If you believe you have a paid right to transport, said transport to be provided by the company to which you have paid money - YOU ARE WRONG.
Sure, in most cases the airline will do its best to get you to your destination, but that is because the management want to stay in business. By the terms of the contract you entered into, all the company has to do is TRY. If that effort results in failure, you have NO RESORT under the contract.
Sunday, 15 April 2018
The Beclowning of the Leftists
Like many a normal person, I have relatives - members of my extended family - who are avowed leftists. Of course, they don't call themselves leftists. According to them, they are invariably the only people in the room who are right.
When Donald Trump was elected as President of the US, they loudly and proudly pronounced themselves opposed to every breath he took, even though as the leader of another country his election had little to no affect on them or their lives.
In May of 2017, at a family member's birthday celebration, I was derisively dismissed as stupid when I ventured that the Mueller investigation had, and would, discover nothing. I said at the time that I did not believe Trump had done anything wrong, even though various courts (most in Hawaii, strangely) seemed to disagree with his announced intention to protect America from sudden jihadi syndrome.
It's now almost a year later, and indeed Mueller has produced nothing but a few dubiously obtained "he didn't tell us the truth" indictments of people unrelated to his remit of investigating Trump's "collusion with Russia to sway the election".
Birthdays being the annual event that they are, and the passing of decades being a significant milestone, there is a large party planned for this May.
Should I raise the utter failure of Mueller's "investigation", and cite the ongoing investigations into assorted FBI, DoJ, and CIA figures; or should I be the proverbial better man, and let this particular sleeping dog lie?
On a related note: Scooter Libby has been pardoned. He allegedly leaked the name of covert CIA operative Valerie Plame, and spent time in prison. Of course, he did no such thing, and the prosecution and court both knew it. A number of elements of that conviction were unsound:
1. The prosecution and the court had a confession from Richard Armitage that HE leaked the name;
2. Valerie Plame was NOT a covert agent, but a lowly analyst
3. The prosecution relied on known false statements from a witness who was manipulated into saying something that could be used against Libby
4. The FBI made CLAIMS that Libby lied to agents, but as is usual FBI practice, no recording of the interview was made, only a Form 302, completed by one of the interviewing agents from memory and notes, and NOT PROVIDED TO THE INTERVIEWEE for verification.
Trump was right: given the abysmal recent performance of the FBI in relation to honesty and integrity, Libby's conviction was most definitely unsound.
When Donald Trump was elected as President of the US, they loudly and proudly pronounced themselves opposed to every breath he took, even though as the leader of another country his election had little to no affect on them or their lives.
In May of 2017, at a family member's birthday celebration, I was derisively dismissed as stupid when I ventured that the Mueller investigation had, and would, discover nothing. I said at the time that I did not believe Trump had done anything wrong, even though various courts (most in Hawaii, strangely) seemed to disagree with his announced intention to protect America from sudden jihadi syndrome.
It's now almost a year later, and indeed Mueller has produced nothing but a few dubiously obtained "he didn't tell us the truth" indictments of people unrelated to his remit of investigating Trump's "collusion with Russia to sway the election".
Birthdays being the annual event that they are, and the passing of decades being a significant milestone, there is a large party planned for this May.
Should I raise the utter failure of Mueller's "investigation", and cite the ongoing investigations into assorted FBI, DoJ, and CIA figures; or should I be the proverbial better man, and let this particular sleeping dog lie?
On a related note: Scooter Libby has been pardoned. He allegedly leaked the name of covert CIA operative Valerie Plame, and spent time in prison. Of course, he did no such thing, and the prosecution and court both knew it. A number of elements of that conviction were unsound:
1. The prosecution and the court had a confession from Richard Armitage that HE leaked the name;
2. Valerie Plame was NOT a covert agent, but a lowly analyst
3. The prosecution relied on known false statements from a witness who was manipulated into saying something that could be used against Libby
4. The FBI made CLAIMS that Libby lied to agents, but as is usual FBI practice, no recording of the interview was made, only a Form 302, completed by one of the interviewing agents from memory and notes, and NOT PROVIDED TO THE INTERVIEWEE for verification.
Trump was right: given the abysmal recent performance of the FBI in relation to honesty and integrity, Libby's conviction was most definitely unsound.
Friday, 13 April 2018
Well that's the end of that ... maybe
A friend of mine is in need of something to do, so as a bit of a joke, I texted him about trying the Dam Challenge next year.
The following ensued:
Me: What are you up to in April 2019?
Me: The Dam Challenge is on.
Me: You'd have a year to get fit enough to ride 205 km in a day.
Me: ... or a shorter option - 53 or 137 km.
Him: Dream on.
Me: It would be fun!
Me: ... and they provide all services AND feed you.
Him: I'd die.
Me: I doubt it. It's not a race - do it at your own pace. You have 11 hours to finish.
Him: Can I have 3 weeks?
So I guess that's a "no" then, or maybe a "HELL NO!"
Still it DOES sound interesting.
If I start now, I should be able to put several thousand kilometres into my legs before Christmas without busting a boiler, and that much exercise should lift my fitness to a point that would stand me in good stead for the challenge.
I think I'll download the route maps, and maybe give some of it a try.
The following ensued:
Me: What are you up to in April 2019?
Me: The Dam Challenge is on.
Me: You'd have a year to get fit enough to ride 205 km in a day.
Me: ... or a shorter option - 53 or 137 km.
Him: Dream on.
Me: It would be fun!
Me: ... and they provide all services AND feed you.
Him: I'd die.
Me: I doubt it. It's not a race - do it at your own pace. You have 11 hours to finish.
Him: Can I have 3 weeks?
So I guess that's a "no" then, or maybe a "HELL NO!"
Still it DOES sound interesting.
If I start now, I should be able to put several thousand kilometres into my legs before Christmas without busting a boiler, and that much exercise should lift my fitness to a point that would stand me in good stead for the challenge.
I think I'll download the route maps, and maybe give some of it a try.
Tuesday, 10 April 2018
Cyclists aren't stupid ... maybe.
Domestic spousal unit spent Sunday at her day job - event catering.
This time it was the 2018 Dam Challenge cycling event.
Simple challenge really - ride from the cycling centre at Champion Lakes to two, three, or five of Perth's water supply dams and back. That makes a total of 53, 137, or 205 kilometres in the saddle - depending on your level of sanity.
More than 2,000 riders took part, paying up to $199 for the privilege of going to work on Monday aching in every muscle and joint. I don't think it was even for a good cause - it was just for the challenge of it all.
First riders away at 0600, and the last back arrived at 1730. With groups of about 20 leaving every 30 seconds (according to the organisers' plans), that means that last rider would likely have left before 0700. That makes it a LOOOONG day in the saddle.
I may be insane, but I am actually thinking that I might give it a try next year, so I down-loaded the "Get Prepared for the Dam Challenge" documents.
For a novice rider, they seem to think that you can be ready to face the challenge devoting between five and eight hours a week for twelve weeks.
Will somebody please tell 'em they're dreamin' - especially when Monday is for stretching only, with no bike work until Tuesday.
Still it looks like it might be fun, and heaven knows I need SOMETHING as an incentive to get fitter.
This time it was the 2018 Dam Challenge cycling event.
Simple challenge really - ride from the cycling centre at Champion Lakes to two, three, or five of Perth's water supply dams and back. That makes a total of 53, 137, or 205 kilometres in the saddle - depending on your level of sanity.
More than 2,000 riders took part, paying up to $199 for the privilege of going to work on Monday aching in every muscle and joint. I don't think it was even for a good cause - it was just for the challenge of it all.
First riders away at 0600, and the last back arrived at 1730. With groups of about 20 leaving every 30 seconds (according to the organisers' plans), that means that last rider would likely have left before 0700. That makes it a LOOOONG day in the saddle.
I may be insane, but I am actually thinking that I might give it a try next year, so I down-loaded the "Get Prepared for the Dam Challenge" documents.
For a novice rider, they seem to think that you can be ready to face the challenge devoting between five and eight hours a week for twelve weeks.
Will somebody please tell 'em they're dreamin' - especially when Monday is for stretching only, with no bike work until Tuesday.
Still it looks like it might be fun, and heaven knows I need SOMETHING as an incentive to get fitter.
Monday, 9 April 2018
Wait... is that a girl?
I have been catching some of the Commonwealth Games coverage, which serves mainly to convince me that I should get off my ass and make SOME effort to get into better shape, then along comes an event which makes me wonder if the whole world has gone mad.
It was the 90+ kg women's weightlifting. Now most of those women are awesome (they can lift above their heads all the things that I would consider akin to the proverbial "immovable object"), but Laurel Hubbard of New Zealand looked a little - um - off?
OK, a LOT off, because until age 35 Laurel Hubbard was Gavin Hubbard, a champion weight lifter in the men's 90+ kg division. At some point about then, maybe it was that 35th birthday that did it, he decided that he was actually a she, and from that time, wanted to compete in women's weightlifting.
Now if Laurel Hubbard had been born a female, and then taken testosterone for 20+ years from puberty, she would have been banned from the sport faster than you could say "I am SO a girl" and stamp your foot in a hissy fit. However, because Gavin did NOT start life as a female but just wanted to improve himself into being female after being exposed to endogenous testosterone for those 20+ years, the NZ weight lifting authorities not only ALLOWED, but ENCOURAGED "her" to enter the 2018 Commonwealth Games.
As in "encouraged" with support and actual money - taxpayers' money.
In researching this, I find that Laurel Hubbard, born male in 1978 and named Gavin Hubbard, was actually appointed to the position of Executive Director of New Zealand Weightlifting before transitioning. Does this mean that the entity now known as Laurel Hubbard was involved in the decision to select "her" for the NZ Commonwealth Games women's weightlifting team?
For all those SJW twinks out there - consider this as your sole trigger warning.
This is insane. Criminally, ethically, morally, and intellectually insane. This is so insane that everybody that supports it should be stripped of every possession and locked in a rubber-lined room - for ever - for our safety.
It was the 90+ kg women's weightlifting. Now most of those women are awesome (they can lift above their heads all the things that I would consider akin to the proverbial "immovable object"), but Laurel Hubbard of New Zealand looked a little - um - off?
OK, a LOT off, because until age 35 Laurel Hubbard was Gavin Hubbard, a champion weight lifter in the men's 90+ kg division. At some point about then, maybe it was that 35th birthday that did it, he decided that he was actually a she, and from that time, wanted to compete in women's weightlifting.
Now if Laurel Hubbard had been born a female, and then taken testosterone for 20+ years from puberty, she would have been banned from the sport faster than you could say "I am SO a girl" and stamp your foot in a hissy fit. However, because Gavin did NOT start life as a female but just wanted to improve himself into being female after being exposed to endogenous testosterone for those 20+ years, the NZ weight lifting authorities not only ALLOWED, but ENCOURAGED "her" to enter the 2018 Commonwealth Games.
As in "encouraged" with support and actual money - taxpayers' money.
In researching this, I find that Laurel Hubbard, born male in 1978 and named Gavin Hubbard, was actually appointed to the position of Executive Director of New Zealand Weightlifting before transitioning. Does this mean that the entity now known as Laurel Hubbard was involved in the decision to select "her" for the NZ Commonwealth Games women's weightlifting team?
For all those SJW twinks out there - consider this as your sole trigger warning.
This is insane. Criminally, ethically, morally, and intellectually insane. This is so insane that everybody that supports it should be stripped of every possession and locked in a rubber-lined room - for ever - for our safety.
Friday, 6 April 2018
Why I like Porsche cars, and LOVE the Porsche company
It has been said before that I am obsessed with Porsche. Well, obsessed might be a tad over the top, but I do indeed like the cars.
However much I like the cars, though, I LOVE the company.
Years ago, I bought a slightly used 944S2. It had 96,000 km on the clock, and was in generally good condition, although a lot of maintenance items were coming up, due, or overdue. Not surprising, as the owner traded it on a Ferrari, so he must have been a poser, rather than a car guy.
I persuaded the vendor to do ALL the maintenance, by the simple tactic of walking away, and being uninterested in a car that needed so much work. After all, I had worked and waited YEARS to be able to afford (and justify to myself) a Porsche, there was no way that I was going to jump on the first one available that was in my price range - I could wait. So I walked away - until the offer came a month or so later, "What would it take to get you into the Porsche that you looked at?" The answer to that was, "A lot."
At the time the car fell (just) inside the Australian law that stipulates that car manufacturers must stock parts for (at least) seven years after the car that they fit goes out of production. I know that some manufacturers rigorously apply this rule, from the other angle - seven years and one day after a car model is no longer sold, they destroy all the available, unique, spare parts. If the parts also fit a continuing model, then obviously this doesn't apply. They don't discount and sell them, they destroy them - I can only assume that they get some tax benefit by writing them off. This information comes from friends that worked in the parts division for separate car manufacturers, and they were personally directed to do the destruction - by driving a forklift over panels, and smashing plastic parts with a hammer, as examples.
Porsche doesn't do that.
I had a mishap with some road debris - a piece of wood used as packing fell off a truck, and took out the protective engine under tray.
I rang the dealer, the only dealer in my city, and enquired about a replacement.
Questions about what vehicle, what year, what part were followed by "Certainly, in stock, available ex-Melbourne, it will be here by Thursday." Almost as surprising, the price was entirely reasonable.
This is a part for a vehicle almost 30 years old, that hasn't been built or sold in any form for 27 years, and even then only sold about 14,000 examples world-wide.
The manufacturer not only buys the parts (I don't think even Porsche does their own plastic injection molding), but the part number indicates that this is the THIRD revision of the part. The parts catalog software shows that the most recent changes were made AFTER THE CAR WAS OUT OF PRODUCTION.
So, to summarise:
Porsche keeps buying and stocking parts for cars that are 30 years old.
Porsche keeps IMPROVING parts for cars that they no longer make.
Porsche keeps stock of these parts in Australia, where they only sold 128 of the cars in this example.
I told you that I LOVE Porsche, the company - maybe you can see why.
However much I like the cars, though, I LOVE the company.
Years ago, I bought a slightly used 944S2. It had 96,000 km on the clock, and was in generally good condition, although a lot of maintenance items were coming up, due, or overdue. Not surprising, as the owner traded it on a Ferrari, so he must have been a poser, rather than a car guy.
I persuaded the vendor to do ALL the maintenance, by the simple tactic of walking away, and being uninterested in a car that needed so much work. After all, I had worked and waited YEARS to be able to afford (and justify to myself) a Porsche, there was no way that I was going to jump on the first one available that was in my price range - I could wait. So I walked away - until the offer came a month or so later, "What would it take to get you into the Porsche that you looked at?" The answer to that was, "A lot."
At the time the car fell (just) inside the Australian law that stipulates that car manufacturers must stock parts for (at least) seven years after the car that they fit goes out of production. I know that some manufacturers rigorously apply this rule, from the other angle - seven years and one day after a car model is no longer sold, they destroy all the available, unique, spare parts. If the parts also fit a continuing model, then obviously this doesn't apply. They don't discount and sell them, they destroy them - I can only assume that they get some tax benefit by writing them off. This information comes from friends that worked in the parts division for separate car manufacturers, and they were personally directed to do the destruction - by driving a forklift over panels, and smashing plastic parts with a hammer, as examples.
Porsche doesn't do that.
I had a mishap with some road debris - a piece of wood used as packing fell off a truck, and took out the protective engine under tray.
I rang the dealer, the only dealer in my city, and enquired about a replacement.
Questions about what vehicle, what year, what part were followed by "Certainly, in stock, available ex-Melbourne, it will be here by Thursday." Almost as surprising, the price was entirely reasonable.
This is a part for a vehicle almost 30 years old, that hasn't been built or sold in any form for 27 years, and even then only sold about 14,000 examples world-wide.
The manufacturer not only buys the parts (I don't think even Porsche does their own plastic injection molding), but the part number indicates that this is the THIRD revision of the part. The parts catalog software shows that the most recent changes were made AFTER THE CAR WAS OUT OF PRODUCTION.
So, to summarise:
Porsche keeps buying and stocking parts for cars that are 30 years old.
Porsche keeps IMPROVING parts for cars that they no longer make.
Porsche keeps stock of these parts in Australia, where they only sold 128 of the cars in this example.
I told you that I LOVE Porsche, the company - maybe you can see why.
Thursday, 5 April 2018
Road rules without thought
Recently the state government announced new rules regarding road-workers, and the lengths that drivers must go to to ensure that the men & women with shovels can stay safe when at work - or when leaning on said shovels - or when watching a hole in the road because Nev who does the digging is off sick today.
These new rules state that if a driver is approaching a road-side service vehicle that has flashing lights operating, then the driver must change out of the adjacent lane (that closest to the vehicle), and pass at less than 40 kilometres per hour.
At first blush, it seems reasonable, but what happens when there are TWO service vehicles, one on each side of the carriage-way, both with flashing lights? Since I cannot change out of BOTH the left and right lanes, does that mean that I cannot proceed?
What happens on a road with only a single lane in each direction? Am I to cross the centre-line into on-coming traffic to pass?
"Oh, don't be silly. The police will be sensible when those situations arise," you say.
"BULLSHIT!" I respond. Police will do ANYTHING they feel is necessary to get an arrest or issue an infringement notice, and get a conviction. That's the measure applied to their worth.
I don't want it left to individual police officers to decide if I have committed an offence or not. I want the law to explicitly state the actions associated with an offence, with no room for discretion. Allowing discretion in the door means that corruption is wiping its feet on the mat.
This is a bad law. There has been no spate of road worker deaths associated with drivers doing the wrong thing. I drove through two road work areas today, and saw that there were more workers doing traffic management than actually working.
I drove along a third stretch of road that was MARKED with a myriad of signs proclaiming that road works were in progress, and mandating a speed limit of 40 kph (in a normally 100 kph zone), WITH NOT A SINGLE ROAD WORKER IN SIGHT.
Worker safety is a good thing, but to focus more on being safe rather than doing the damn job? Maybe we need a New Zealand style reformation of negligence and compensation law.
These new rules state that if a driver is approaching a road-side service vehicle that has flashing lights operating, then the driver must change out of the adjacent lane (that closest to the vehicle), and pass at less than 40 kilometres per hour.
At first blush, it seems reasonable, but what happens when there are TWO service vehicles, one on each side of the carriage-way, both with flashing lights? Since I cannot change out of BOTH the left and right lanes, does that mean that I cannot proceed?
What happens on a road with only a single lane in each direction? Am I to cross the centre-line into on-coming traffic to pass?
"Oh, don't be silly. The police will be sensible when those situations arise," you say.
"BULLSHIT!" I respond. Police will do ANYTHING they feel is necessary to get an arrest or issue an infringement notice, and get a conviction. That's the measure applied to their worth.
I don't want it left to individual police officers to decide if I have committed an offence or not. I want the law to explicitly state the actions associated with an offence, with no room for discretion. Allowing discretion in the door means that corruption is wiping its feet on the mat.
This is a bad law. There has been no spate of road worker deaths associated with drivers doing the wrong thing. I drove through two road work areas today, and saw that there were more workers doing traffic management than actually working.
I drove along a third stretch of road that was MARKED with a myriad of signs proclaiming that road works were in progress, and mandating a speed limit of 40 kph (in a normally 100 kph zone), WITH NOT A SINGLE ROAD WORKER IN SIGHT.
Worker safety is a good thing, but to focus more on being safe rather than doing the damn job? Maybe we need a New Zealand style reformation of negligence and compensation law.
Wednesday, 4 April 2018
Cycling along - or a treatise on technology vs supply and demand
As a follow-up, I went to the closest cycle shop yesterday to buy a couple of new tyres and tubes so I could finish the refurbishment of yet another bicycle for my daughter.
My preferred shop has recently moved (about 100 metres down the road), but they are apparently not yet open for business at the new location, so an alternative was required - which happens to be closer, and a Giant dealer.
For those not in the cycling world, Giant is a large Japanese manufacturer of bicycles - different to a manufacturer of large Japanese bicycles, and TOTALLY different to a manufacturer of bicycles for large Japanese.
My own favourite bicycle, bought many years ago, is a Giant OCR 1, so I am familiar with the beast, as it were.
Oh, how things have changed!
When I bought mine, Shimano (another large Japanese cycling products company, specialising in all the mechanical bits like brakes, gears, etc) had several ranges of 'group-sets' catering for different budgets and purposes. The low end was Tiagra and Sora with easy change gears, and separate gear and brake levers. The mid-range, and start of the good stuff was 105 - more gears in the rear cluster (nine), combined gear and brake levers, better quality metals. The top end was Ultegra and Dura-ace - very expensive, but had the most gears (ten), the lightest parts, and generally top-quality fit and finish.
Giant used Shimano parts on many of their cycles, and my bike had a 105 group-set, although the steering head bearings came out of some no-name parts bin, and were, unfortunately, rubbish. I changed the head bearings to genuine 105 parts, and had no further issues. As time and distance added up, I changed various other wear components to their Ultegra equivalents. I was riding between 400 and 500 kilometres a week, so it made sense.
Which is all a lead up to what I saw on the latest Giant 'cycles yesterday - Sora group-sets with 9-speed rear clusters, and integrated brake and gear levers; 105's with 10-speed clusters; and Ultegra with 11-speed clusters, and ELECTRIC gear changers (front and rear).
The top of the line Dura-ace had Blue-tooth connections between lever and gears - no wires or cables at all, except to the disc brakes!
Even more startling was the price for this stuff. An all alloy frame (no carbon fibre) with a ten-speed Sora group-set, and disc brakes was $1,100. That is HALF what I paid for my (discontinued and thus discounted) 105-equipped ride mumble-mumble years ago!
A 105-equipped alloy frame machine was about $2,000, and a full carbon fibre frame added only $600 to that price.
I was SO tempted.
My preferred shop has recently moved (about 100 metres down the road), but they are apparently not yet open for business at the new location, so an alternative was required - which happens to be closer, and a Giant dealer.
For those not in the cycling world, Giant is a large Japanese manufacturer of bicycles - different to a manufacturer of large Japanese bicycles, and TOTALLY different to a manufacturer of bicycles for large Japanese.
My own favourite bicycle, bought many years ago, is a Giant OCR 1, so I am familiar with the beast, as it were.
Oh, how things have changed!
When I bought mine, Shimano (another large Japanese cycling products company, specialising in all the mechanical bits like brakes, gears, etc) had several ranges of 'group-sets' catering for different budgets and purposes. The low end was Tiagra and Sora with easy change gears, and separate gear and brake levers. The mid-range, and start of the good stuff was 105 - more gears in the rear cluster (nine), combined gear and brake levers, better quality metals. The top end was Ultegra and Dura-ace - very expensive, but had the most gears (ten), the lightest parts, and generally top-quality fit and finish.
Giant used Shimano parts on many of their cycles, and my bike had a 105 group-set, although the steering head bearings came out of some no-name parts bin, and were, unfortunately, rubbish. I changed the head bearings to genuine 105 parts, and had no further issues. As time and distance added up, I changed various other wear components to their Ultegra equivalents. I was riding between 400 and 500 kilometres a week, so it made sense.
Which is all a lead up to what I saw on the latest Giant 'cycles yesterday - Sora group-sets with 9-speed rear clusters, and integrated brake and gear levers; 105's with 10-speed clusters; and Ultegra with 11-speed clusters, and ELECTRIC gear changers (front and rear).
The top of the line Dura-ace had Blue-tooth connections between lever and gears - no wires or cables at all, except to the disc brakes!
Even more startling was the price for this stuff. An all alloy frame (no carbon fibre) with a ten-speed Sora group-set, and disc brakes was $1,100. That is HALF what I paid for my (discontinued and thus discounted) 105-equipped ride mumble-mumble years ago!
A 105-equipped alloy frame machine was about $2,000, and a full carbon fibre frame added only $600 to that price.
I was SO tempted.
Tuesday, 3 April 2018
New frontiers
Well, SpaceX launched a new rocket - actually an older one, er, two.
I watched the launch via their webcast, and the broadcast wasn't up to the standard of earlier efforts, but all the same, they launched a used rocket, carrying a used capsule, with two tonnes+ of cargo destined for the ISS.
The lack of furor kind of reminds me of the days of Apollo - almost nobody was watching the Apollo 13 launch or mission coverage until things went KABLOOIE! - in that it took only two landings on the moon for John Q. Public to get bored with it. Now SpaceX has done what many considered impossible - re-use a spacecraft - and the excitement doesn't exist outside the scientific and technical groupies. This is kind of significant in the annals of space flight, and possibly species survival if the hype is to be believed, yet the general populace goes, "Ho hum. What's on Facebook/Twitter?"
That S1 booster had been to space before, and landed successfully, vertically, on a pillar of flame. That Dragon capsule had been to space before, on a similar mission, and landed successfully under parachutes in the ocean.
This is an awesome achievement. Well done, everybody.
I watched the launch via their webcast, and the broadcast wasn't up to the standard of earlier efforts, but all the same, they launched a used rocket, carrying a used capsule, with two tonnes+ of cargo destined for the ISS.
The lack of furor kind of reminds me of the days of Apollo - almost nobody was watching the Apollo 13 launch or mission coverage until things went KABLOOIE! - in that it took only two landings on the moon for John Q. Public to get bored with it. Now SpaceX has done what many considered impossible - re-use a spacecraft - and the excitement doesn't exist outside the scientific and technical groupies. This is kind of significant in the annals of space flight, and possibly species survival if the hype is to be believed, yet the general populace goes, "Ho hum. What's on Facebook/Twitter?"
This is an awesome achievement. Well done, everybody.
Monday, 2 April 2018
Easter time bicycle mechanic
My daughter doesn't drive. More accurately she doesn't have a driver's licence, even though she CAN drive quite well. The rigmarole of going through the testing, and the practice hours, and more testing has seen her turn off driving (no pun intended).
As a result of being licenceless, she either cycles, walks, or takes public transport to wherever she wants to go - or cadges a lift from Mum or Dad.
So, with that build-up, here comes the rant - what in hell is she supposed to do to stop low-life arse-holes from stealing her bicycle? She has had FOUR stolen in the last two years. Padlocks and chains don't stop it, locking it into a "secure locker" at the train station doesn't stop it, parking it in the back yard of her own home doesn't stop it, removing the front wheel doesn't stop it.
Apparently there is a market for cheap, stolen bicycles in other states, and truck-loads traverse the country every week going west to east.
I have spent money and considerable time refurbishing second hand bikes for her, only to get a call a couple of months later to tell me that another bike has gone missing. One was stolen from her college while she was in the emergency ward after a heavy fall - locked in a bike rack, on a campus that has roving security patrols.
If I ever catch the scum, they will regret their lifestyle choices.
As a result of being licenceless, she either cycles, walks, or takes public transport to wherever she wants to go - or cadges a lift from Mum or Dad.
So, with that build-up, here comes the rant - what in hell is she supposed to do to stop low-life arse-holes from stealing her bicycle? She has had FOUR stolen in the last two years. Padlocks and chains don't stop it, locking it into a "secure locker" at the train station doesn't stop it, parking it in the back yard of her own home doesn't stop it, removing the front wheel doesn't stop it.
Apparently there is a market for cheap, stolen bicycles in other states, and truck-loads traverse the country every week going west to east.
I have spent money and considerable time refurbishing second hand bikes for her, only to get a call a couple of months later to tell me that another bike has gone missing. One was stolen from her college while she was in the emergency ward after a heavy fall - locked in a bike rack, on a campus that has roving security patrols.
If I ever catch the scum, they will regret their lifestyle choices.
Sunday, 1 April 2018
Oh, California
I spent a long holiday in the US back in '95, and then another post-kids in 2008. Some of that time was spent in California.
The signs mandated by the passage of Californian Proposition 65 were EVERYWHERE - not surprising really, that IS the traditional meaning of "mandatory".
Signs like these:
Not particularly informative, and not particularly useful. This example is a CYA case, as it is essentially posted to absolve Disneyland Resort of the requirement to identify and measure any of the chemicals listed in the relevant regulations. Signs of that kind are seen all over the place because there exists an entire industry of legal shysters that go around suing businesses on behalf of sham plaintiffs, and pocketing significant legal costs from the settlements.
They were so ubiquitous that my wife never noticed them, and only the older of the kids commented - but she reads everything.
Now, the Californians have surpassed themselves. Their courts have decided that these Prop 65 warnings must be displayed on COFFEE!
The court case hinged on the presence and concentration of acrylamide in espresso coffee, a chemical consequence of the coffee-bean roasting process. The allegation was that that the concentration was above a level considered to be dangerous; the opposition claimed that, although admittedly present, the concentration was insignificant and not dangerous.
The nanny statists won.
Might I suggest that the warning be placed appropriately?
Although, this also seems appropriate:
The signs mandated by the passage of Californian Proposition 65 were EVERYWHERE - not surprising really, that IS the traditional meaning of "mandatory".
Signs like these:
Not particularly informative, and not particularly useful. This example is a CYA case, as it is essentially posted to absolve Disneyland Resort of the requirement to identify and measure any of the chemicals listed in the relevant regulations. Signs of that kind are seen all over the place because there exists an entire industry of legal shysters that go around suing businesses on behalf of sham plaintiffs, and pocketing significant legal costs from the settlements.
They were so ubiquitous that my wife never noticed them, and only the older of the kids commented - but she reads everything.
Now, the Californians have surpassed themselves. Their courts have decided that these Prop 65 warnings must be displayed on COFFEE!
The court case hinged on the presence and concentration of acrylamide in espresso coffee, a chemical consequence of the coffee-bean roasting process. The allegation was that that the concentration was above a level considered to be dangerous; the opposition claimed that, although admittedly present, the concentration was insignificant and not dangerous.
The nanny statists won.
Might I suggest that the warning be placed appropriately?
Although, this also seems appropriate:
Friday, 30 March 2018
Up, up, and away...
Up early this morning - teenage son has a grown-up sleep-over to play computer games and D&D, so the house is full of noisy teenagers.
Now I discover that the next Spacex launch (Iridium 5 with 10 Iridium NEXT satellites) is scheduled for tonight (30th March @ 14:13:51 UTC), so I won't be going to bed early to compensate.
I remember watching the grainy black & white images of Neil Armstrong & Buzz Aldrin setting foot on Earth's moon way back in 1969. It was at my grandparents' house, as they were the only ones we knew that owned a TV, and it was over the road from the school. The whole class trooped over to watch, although not all were actually interested.
Now Spacex and other private concerns are bringing the space-faring future that first landing seemed to promise.
How I wish that I had been born 30 years later.
Edit:
OK, so I watched the launch - right up to the point where the Spacex talking head said that the stream had to end due to NOAA restrictions.
What a crock! Whyon off Earth would NOAA have any say on the matter?
The Reddit channel guys are saying that they believe it is a pissing match between Spacex and NOAA because the rocket guys didn't ask nicely for a permit from the government guys to allow them to observe the Earth from space.
It's exactly this sort of fuckery that has the potential to strangle commercial space exploitation in its infancy. Penalty flag against NOAA for appalling behaviour, and I award you no points.
Now I discover that the next Spacex launch (Iridium 5 with 10 Iridium NEXT satellites) is scheduled for tonight (30th March @ 14:13:51 UTC), so I won't be going to bed early to compensate.
I remember watching the grainy black & white images of Neil Armstrong & Buzz Aldrin setting foot on Earth's moon way back in 1969. It was at my grandparents' house, as they were the only ones we knew that owned a TV, and it was over the road from the school. The whole class trooped over to watch, although not all were actually interested.
Now Spacex and other private concerns are bringing the space-faring future that first landing seemed to promise.
How I wish that I had been born 30 years later.
Edit:
OK, so I watched the launch - right up to the point where the Spacex talking head said that the stream had to end due to NOAA restrictions.
What a crock! Why
The Reddit channel guys are saying that they believe it is a pissing match between Spacex and NOAA because the rocket guys didn't ask nicely for a permit from the government guys to allow them to observe the Earth from space.
It's exactly this sort of fuckery that has the potential to strangle commercial space exploitation in its infancy. Penalty flag against NOAA for appalling behaviour, and I award you no points.
Thursday, 29 March 2018
Is (Too Much) Caffeine Good For You?
Took the wife's car to the dealer today for the airbag recall. Well, not actually for the RECALL per se, but for them to document the work that they had already done per the new requirements that came into effect AFTER the start of the recall campaign.
It was expected to only be a half hour or so for them to pull the necessary panels to get access, take a photo, and put it back together, so I wandered over the road to get a coffee.
Said coffee safely consumed, I wandered further, and found a "Barber and Barista". Since I needed a haircut (badly!) I wandered in.
We had a pleasant chat while hair was cut, and when I went to pay, I was told, "Price of the haircut includes a coffee." Well OK.
My phone rang. It was the dealer, calling to tell me that the car was ready, so I turned left instead of right, and headed back. I finished my cup of coffee on the walk back.
Got back to the dealership, sat down with the service writer to go through the paperwork, and the receptionist presented me with - a cup of coffee, made to my preference as noted on my last visit.
Alrighty then - that's four large cups of espresso coffee since I got up at 7:00, and it is almost 9:00.
Can you overdose on caffeine?
It was expected to only be a half hour or so for them to pull the necessary panels to get access, take a photo, and put it back together, so I wandered over the road to get a coffee.
Said coffee safely consumed, I wandered further, and found a "Barber and Barista". Since I needed a haircut (badly!) I wandered in.
We had a pleasant chat while hair was cut, and when I went to pay, I was told, "Price of the haircut includes a coffee." Well OK.
My phone rang. It was the dealer, calling to tell me that the car was ready, so I turned left instead of right, and headed back. I finished my cup of coffee on the walk back.
Got back to the dealership, sat down with the service writer to go through the paperwork, and the receptionist presented me with - a cup of coffee, made to my preference as noted on my last visit.
Alrighty then - that's four large cups of espresso coffee since I got up at 7:00, and it is almost 9:00.
Can you overdose on caffeine?
Wednesday, 28 March 2018
Mans' Best Friend: A Remembrance
I read something today about a man and his dog. It was nothing special - a simple account of using a lead/leash with a dog because he (the dog) couldn't be trusted to not do the things he was bred to do.
... and I remembered.
Years ago, I had a dog. A Belgian Shepherd, specifically a Tervueren. Belgians come in four types - a couple of long-hairs, a short-hair, and a rough-hair. The Tervueren is a fawn/mahogany long-hair; a very handsome dog, looking somewhat like a cross between a long-haired collie (think Lassie) and a German Shepherd. Lighter framed than the German, but taller, and a narrower muzzle.
That dog was VERY smart, and I obedience-trained him to follow leash, voice, and visual signals. He went almost everywhere with me, and was never a problem. Well, almost never.
My fiancee and I made a habit of walking the dog in the early evenings - it was usually cooler by then, and we would walk to a large park nearby where he could run. One evening, I had some work-related stuff to finish up, so I told her to go ahead, and that I would be about five minutes. Work duly completed, I grabbed a torch and headed after her.
Now picture this: from the house it was about a three minute walk to a native bush "green-belt" that bordered the park. A narrow path had been trodden through the bush to the park by people like us - too lazy to walk all the way around to the official entrance. Half-way along that path was a larger tree, and sitting at the base of that tree was my dog, with exasperated calls from my fiancee for him to heel echoing across the park.
I stopped. I looked upwards at whatever the dog was looking at in the tree. The man clinging to the trunk four or five metres up was clearly terrified. I called for the dog to heel, which he did without hesitation. I spoke to the erstwhile tree-elf: "Whatever you did to annoy him: DO NOT DO IT AGAIN." I walked away. Silent "come" - step off on your left foot, and the dog (at heel to your left) follows; step off on your right foot, the dog stays.
My fiancee was agitated, telling me that the dog was really disobedient, wouldn't walk at heel at all on the way to the park, insisting on walking five metres behind, and then ran off into the bush before she released him at the park. He was still at heel, so I checked him for any injuries, found nothing, and freed him to run. As he ran, sniffing at everything, and marking each and every tree, fence-post, and goal-post, I explained what had likely happened - she was followed by some ne'er-do-well with evil intent, and the dog sensed it and was being protective. It was a salutory lesson in situational awareness, as she had not even realised that there was somebody behind her. Oh well, problem solved, it's all over, I thought. Not so fast...
A couple of days later, we were doing some weekend gardening in the front yard, with the dog asleep in the shade of a tree. Now the yard was unfenced, but I had no concerns that the dog would run off - he just didn't DO that. A vehicle pulled into the drive. The man who get out was wearing khaki, and introduced himself as the local shire ranger, saying that he was investigating a report of a dangerous dog at this address. My dog had lifted his head at the arrival of the vehicle, looked at me, sensed no reason to alert, and moved only enough to keep me in sight before lying back down. Now think about this - a fawn/mahogany coloured dog, lying on pine bark chips, in dappled sunlight and shade under a tree. He was almost invisible, and the ranger had NO IDEA he was there. Well, I am sure he had SOME skills at his job, but I am guessing they were mostly paperwork related.
After some conversation and being told (forcefully) that I would be held responsible for anything my dog did (he knew I had a dog from shire registration records), he wanted to know where the animal was.
"Right behind you, about three paces. Under the tree."
His head snapped around like he had been slapped. The dog never moved.
"You can't have a dog outside without a leash!"
"Well, actually, the law says, '... in a public place, unless under control ...', and he is not in a public place and is clearly under control, as he hasn't run off."
"You can't control that animal without a leash."
"Want to bet? Watch me."
I held both arms straight up. The dog lifted his head. I crossed my arms, hands to opposite shoulders. I put my right arm straight out, horizontally, pointing in the direction of his kennel. I clapped my hands, once. The dog leapt to his feet, ran through the gateway to his kennel, entered, turned around, and dropped prone in the doorway, watching.
When I turned back to the ranger, I thought I would need to help him lift his jaw off the ground.
After that demonstration, we finally got to the truth of the matter. The tree-elf had reported that he had been attacked by a dog while walking innocently past our house. No injuries, no corroboration, just an allegation. The ranger was duty-bound to investigate, but was now satisfied that there was no problem animal at that address. After being told of the incident from a few nights past, much became clear. The bad guy knew where we lived, had been casing the house, had followed my fiancee with intent, and wanted to be rid of the dog, or at least cause trouble for us. Some discussion ensued as to how we could handle the situation.
The next day, the ranger visited the complainant to advise him of the outcome of his complaint. At that time he realised that he must have left the written complaint form WITH THE COMPLAINANT'S NAME AND ADDRESS in our house while investigating the alleged dangerous dog.
Nothing further ever happened.
God, I miss that dog - RIP, buddy.
Edited to add:
This is a Tervueren. Not MY Tervueren, but a kennel-mate.
... and I remembered.
Years ago, I had a dog. A Belgian Shepherd, specifically a Tervueren. Belgians come in four types - a couple of long-hairs, a short-hair, and a rough-hair. The Tervueren is a fawn/mahogany long-hair; a very handsome dog, looking somewhat like a cross between a long-haired collie (think Lassie) and a German Shepherd. Lighter framed than the German, but taller, and a narrower muzzle.
That dog was VERY smart, and I obedience-trained him to follow leash, voice, and visual signals. He went almost everywhere with me, and was never a problem. Well, almost never.
My fiancee and I made a habit of walking the dog in the early evenings - it was usually cooler by then, and we would walk to a large park nearby where he could run. One evening, I had some work-related stuff to finish up, so I told her to go ahead, and that I would be about five minutes. Work duly completed, I grabbed a torch and headed after her.
Now picture this: from the house it was about a three minute walk to a native bush "green-belt" that bordered the park. A narrow path had been trodden through the bush to the park by people like us - too lazy to walk all the way around to the official entrance. Half-way along that path was a larger tree, and sitting at the base of that tree was my dog, with exasperated calls from my fiancee for him to heel echoing across the park.
I stopped. I looked upwards at whatever the dog was looking at in the tree. The man clinging to the trunk four or five metres up was clearly terrified. I called for the dog to heel, which he did without hesitation. I spoke to the erstwhile tree-elf: "Whatever you did to annoy him: DO NOT DO IT AGAIN." I walked away. Silent "come" - step off on your left foot, and the dog (at heel to your left) follows; step off on your right foot, the dog stays.
My fiancee was agitated, telling me that the dog was really disobedient, wouldn't walk at heel at all on the way to the park, insisting on walking five metres behind, and then ran off into the bush before she released him at the park. He was still at heel, so I checked him for any injuries, found nothing, and freed him to run. As he ran, sniffing at everything, and marking each and every tree, fence-post, and goal-post, I explained what had likely happened - she was followed by some ne'er-do-well with evil intent, and the dog sensed it and was being protective. It was a salutory lesson in situational awareness, as she had not even realised that there was somebody behind her. Oh well, problem solved, it's all over, I thought. Not so fast...
A couple of days later, we were doing some weekend gardening in the front yard, with the dog asleep in the shade of a tree. Now the yard was unfenced, but I had no concerns that the dog would run off - he just didn't DO that. A vehicle pulled into the drive. The man who get out was wearing khaki, and introduced himself as the local shire ranger, saying that he was investigating a report of a dangerous dog at this address. My dog had lifted his head at the arrival of the vehicle, looked at me, sensed no reason to alert, and moved only enough to keep me in sight before lying back down. Now think about this - a fawn/mahogany coloured dog, lying on pine bark chips, in dappled sunlight and shade under a tree. He was almost invisible, and the ranger had NO IDEA he was there. Well, I am sure he had SOME skills at his job, but I am guessing they were mostly paperwork related.
After some conversation and being told (forcefully) that I would be held responsible for anything my dog did (he knew I had a dog from shire registration records), he wanted to know where the animal was.
"Right behind you, about three paces. Under the tree."
His head snapped around like he had been slapped. The dog never moved.
"You can't have a dog outside without a leash!"
"Well, actually, the law says, '... in a public place, unless under control ...', and he is not in a public place and is clearly under control, as he hasn't run off."
"You can't control that animal without a leash."
"Want to bet? Watch me."
I held both arms straight up. The dog lifted his head. I crossed my arms, hands to opposite shoulders. I put my right arm straight out, horizontally, pointing in the direction of his kennel. I clapped my hands, once. The dog leapt to his feet, ran through the gateway to his kennel, entered, turned around, and dropped prone in the doorway, watching.
When I turned back to the ranger, I thought I would need to help him lift his jaw off the ground.
After that demonstration, we finally got to the truth of the matter. The tree-elf had reported that he had been attacked by a dog while walking innocently past our house. No injuries, no corroboration, just an allegation. The ranger was duty-bound to investigate, but was now satisfied that there was no problem animal at that address. After being told of the incident from a few nights past, much became clear. The bad guy knew where we lived, had been casing the house, had followed my fiancee with intent, and wanted to be rid of the dog, or at least cause trouble for us. Some discussion ensued as to how we could handle the situation.
The next day, the ranger visited the complainant to advise him of the outcome of his complaint. At that time he realised that he must have left the written complaint form WITH THE COMPLAINANT'S NAME AND ADDRESS in our house while investigating the alleged dangerous dog.
Nothing further ever happened.
God, I miss that dog - RIP, buddy.
Edited to add:
This is a Tervueren. Not MY Tervueren, but a kennel-mate.
Monday, 26 March 2018
... and Lotto fails me again.
Well, I didn't win Lotto, again. So I suppose that means I can't buy that dream car, or dream home, or even dream holiday. Damn!
Still, thinking about it is somewhat revealing. For all the smart choices made in my life - choices that have meant financial stability if not luxury - I HAVE thought about what I would buy with a big Lotto win. Maybe it's true that too many people have "Win the lottery" as their retirement plan.
So, how would I spend $25,000,000?
1. A dream house? Probably not. The house I already own is pretty cool, with the only downside a lack of secure parking. If I were to go through the hassle of moving again, I would want parking for AT LEAST eight cars, with workshop space, and a hoist. Maybe I could buy the place next door, and "remodel".
2. A dream car? Probably, but which one? Every time I think of a new car, I get caught in the conflict between wanting the best I can get, and the idea of value for money. Do I need a NEW car, or should I let somebody else pay the depreciation? Maybe a lightly used ex-lease vehicle? The latest Porsche 911 Turbo, or a one year old Carrera S? Since the capabilities of the Turbo are almost impossible to test on the road (versus track), I think a nicely optioned lesser model would do just fine - and saving (as in not spending) >$200,000 wouldn't hurt either.
3. A dream holiday? Almost certainly. I've never been to Europe, and I get the feeling that it won't be a somewhat safe travel destination for much longer. Maybe a river cruise from Budapast, with stops at Zuffenhausen (for the Porsche museum), and Stuttgart (for the Mercedes museum), and then I can wing it for the rest. Perhaps buy a new 911 with tourist delivery, and pick it up at the factory, then tour Europe by road for a while.
4. A dream boat? No. Owning a big boat is like having a hole in the water into which you shovel money. Not going to happen.
With that sort of money, I wonder how much life would actually change. There would likely be more trappings of wealth, but as to real change? Probably not much.
The world has gone crazy - part 92,895,445
The organisation known as PETA is more properly People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (not, as I learned today, People Eating Tasty Animals).
PETA is also another word for crazy - witness their latest insanity:
PETA Says Eating Cheese is Sexist (no link for them - search it yourself)
PETA is also another word for crazy - witness their latest insanity:
PETA Says Eating Cheese is Sexist (no link for them - search it yourself)
And eight months later...
Is this thing on?
It's really been eight months since I posted last? Talk about slacking.
I've been REALLY busy! Well, kind of busy. Would you believe moderately occupied?
So many things to do, so little time. Splitting time between house renovations, car projects, competitive shooting, and computers sees little time for much else.
Just when I thought I was getting on top of things, I lost a couple of critical servers, and spent a lot of time rebuilding machines and recovering data. I was running semi-professional systems, RAID disk and all, but decided that replacing the broken systems with real data-center stuff would be a good idea - this wasn't the first time that the semi-pro stuff had let me down.
I picked up a couple of older IBM servers - rack-mount, redundant power, redundant memory, redundant disks, the lot - and migrated everything to freshly installed (and licensed) Windows server 2012, then I picked up a couple more identical servers, and migrated all the other stuff (Linux web stuff, and VMWare mainly). So now the house reverberates to the keening sound of MANY cooling fans, and nobody can sleep, so another project gets started to build a dedicated, sound-proofed, and temperature and humidity controlled server enclosure.
Oh well, at least I taught myself to weld.
Of course all those cooling fans, and power supplies, and disk drives means a spike in the power bill. Solar panels here we come! If only batteries were cheaper.
Funny thing is, the Oz government offers rebates (in the form of traded RECs - Renewable Energy Certificates) that have seen the price of household solar systems not change at all. Before the implementation of the REC system, a 5 kW system cost about AUD$8,000 - immediately after implementation the price was AUD$8,000. Subsequent price drops have all come from improved yields on panel manufacture, improved technology, and economies of scale.
Stupidly the effective maximum allowable capacity of a domestic, grid-connected solar system is 5kW. That's not what the law actually says - it states that the maximum difference in generation capacity between phases is 5 kW - but nobody ever said that the electrical trades draw the best and brightest. Even more stupidly, it is illegal for a solar system to generate power if the grid is down. If the system is NOT connected to the grid, all bets are off, and capacity is dependent on the depth of your pockets. Which brings me back to the ridiculously high cost of batteries. If they were cheaper, I'd go totally off-grid, but to do that would take four (or maybe five) Tesla Storage Wall batteries, and a larger panel farm to feed them. Even then gloomy winter days would see me running the numbers to decide what to shut down. Oh well, first world problems.
Back to more enjoyable subjects, I spent a few weeks thrashing on one of the car projects, and then drove 700 km to a seaside resort for a week. Foolish maybe, as I didn't get everything on the list done, and only had a day and a half of testing before departure, but the car performed almost perfectly. Only minor issues with a slight tyre rub (from larger wheels and tyres than stock), and a broken ABS sensor wire. Trivial really. The outbound trip was sedate - long weekend, so double demerit points applied - but the home-bound trip was a little faster, as my confidence in the work that I had done increased, and also the police presence on the roads was a little thinner.
Did you know that a four-speed auto equipped V8 will change to SECOND gear at 90 kph if you stand on the throttle? Which of course I would not have done if I hadn't encountered a road user who thought it was funny to do 30 kph less than the speed limit where I couldn't pass, then speed up to 5 kph OVER the limit when passing was possible. I dropped in behind him, and he slowed to 30 under again. Hence, the firm prod of the right foot. The speed warning device in the passenger seat went off at 170, but somehow couldn't detect that I slowed to 140 instead of all the way back top the 110 limit. Oh well.
Enough for now.
It's really been eight months since I posted last? Talk about slacking.
I've been REALLY busy! Well, kind of busy. Would you believe moderately occupied?
So many things to do, so little time. Splitting time between house renovations, car projects, competitive shooting, and computers sees little time for much else.
Just when I thought I was getting on top of things, I lost a couple of critical servers, and spent a lot of time rebuilding machines and recovering data. I was running semi-professional systems, RAID disk and all, but decided that replacing the broken systems with real data-center stuff would be a good idea - this wasn't the first time that the semi-pro stuff had let me down.
I picked up a couple of older IBM servers - rack-mount, redundant power, redundant memory, redundant disks, the lot - and migrated everything to freshly installed (and licensed) Windows server 2012, then I picked up a couple more identical servers, and migrated all the other stuff (Linux web stuff, and VMWare mainly). So now the house reverberates to the keening sound of MANY cooling fans, and nobody can sleep, so another project gets started to build a dedicated, sound-proofed, and temperature and humidity controlled server enclosure.
Oh well, at least I taught myself to weld.
Of course all those cooling fans, and power supplies, and disk drives means a spike in the power bill. Solar panels here we come! If only batteries were cheaper.
Funny thing is, the Oz government offers rebates (in the form of traded RECs - Renewable Energy Certificates) that have seen the price of household solar systems not change at all. Before the implementation of the REC system, a 5 kW system cost about AUD$8,000 - immediately after implementation the price was AUD$8,000. Subsequent price drops have all come from improved yields on panel manufacture, improved technology, and economies of scale.
Stupidly the effective maximum allowable capacity of a domestic, grid-connected solar system is 5kW. That's not what the law actually says - it states that the maximum difference in generation capacity between phases is 5 kW - but nobody ever said that the electrical trades draw the best and brightest. Even more stupidly, it is illegal for a solar system to generate power if the grid is down. If the system is NOT connected to the grid, all bets are off, and capacity is dependent on the depth of your pockets. Which brings me back to the ridiculously high cost of batteries. If they were cheaper, I'd go totally off-grid, but to do that would take four (or maybe five) Tesla Storage Wall batteries, and a larger panel farm to feed them. Even then gloomy winter days would see me running the numbers to decide what to shut down. Oh well, first world problems.
Back to more enjoyable subjects, I spent a few weeks thrashing on one of the car projects, and then drove 700 km to a seaside resort for a week. Foolish maybe, as I didn't get everything on the list done, and only had a day and a half of testing before departure, but the car performed almost perfectly. Only minor issues with a slight tyre rub (from larger wheels and tyres than stock), and a broken ABS sensor wire. Trivial really. The outbound trip was sedate - long weekend, so double demerit points applied - but the home-bound trip was a little faster, as my confidence in the work that I had done increased, and also the police presence on the roads was a little thinner.
Did you know that a four-speed auto equipped V8 will change to SECOND gear at 90 kph if you stand on the throttle? Which of course I would not have done if I hadn't encountered a road user who thought it was funny to do 30 kph less than the speed limit where I couldn't pass, then speed up to 5 kph OVER the limit when passing was possible. I dropped in behind him, and he slowed to 30 under again. Hence, the firm prod of the right foot. The speed warning device in the passenger seat went off at 170, but somehow couldn't detect that I slowed to 140 instead of all the way back top the 110 limit. Oh well.
Enough for now.
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