The Written Peace:
Open Forum of December 27, 2006
Stupid Winter. Stupid old truck. Damnable repair bill.
So much for a new computer for another six months.
Everything is relative, though. At least I'm not in some secret prison being tortured by the agents of freedom-loving America, and at least I'm not some hapless citizen of Baghdad wondering if a new surge of U.S. troops is going to use more humane methods to lay waste to my neighborhood than the local militias have been.
I have now made it back to my base of operations, and I should like to hear what's on readers' minds. We have plenty of news to discuss.
Former President Gerald R. Ford has just passed away. Although I understand some negative sentiments toward him, I cannot share in anything remotely resembling disdain or dislike for the man who briefly held the Presidency. His tenure was marred by acts contrary to my positionsvetoing the Freedom of Information Act comes to mindbut pardoning ex-President Richard Nixon is not something I hold against him. That said, the silliness about "healing" after Watergate is just so much mainstream media sappiness. Ford was a man of his time, and a certain type of Republican of an unusual time in the arc of modern conservatism.
In that time, a brutal struggle was underway within the GOP. Nixon's impeachment was, in my judgment, not a turning point, but instead merely a post hoc excuse by those within the Republican Party who would ultimately prevail. A relatively moderate (by later standards) wingcall it, if you will, the "Rockefeller Republicans"played by a set a rules in which civility was important. Gerald Ford was in that wing. So was Barry Goldwater to some extent, despite the character assassination done upon him by Johnson's campaign media geniuses. This civility was a mirror image of that within a strong faction of the Democratic Party. Jack Kennedy was in that wing, but Lyndon Johnson was not.
The viciousness of Joe McCarthy, J. Edgar Hoover, and other early monsters of operational modern conservatism became a template for what would much later, in our time, be the ascendant beast that has consumed virtually the entire Republican Party, and Nixon became their very own martyr. Ford kept him from becoming their very own crucified deity.
Somewhat more introspectively, while we're on the subject of who was in which camp of the Republican Party before it became so thoroughly venal, perhaps it would do well to look closely at what was not so bright and sunny within the Democratic Party of the 1950s to the 1970s. Perhaps if LBJ hadn't been, himself, such a mean, overbearing son of a bitch, he wouldn't have found Hoover so useful to keep. And while I'm on the subject of Hoover and the Democrats who let him become a role model for institutional Right-wing insanity, perhaps if John Kennedy had been in some semblance of control of his desire to feed his wealth-and-power domination complex through sexual conquests, Hoover wouldn't have had so much on dirt on him (and just about every member of Congress, too, for that matter) that JFK couldn't stop the wicked FBI director from establishing the foothold of venality that would control Washington D.C. for two generations and teach the Republicans things they needed to know about turning hate from a tool of federal law enforcement into a weapon of Machiavellian power politics.
But that's all speculative with respect to the rise of cruelty in party politics. The Republicans of today have many inspirational leaders; and although they're going to drool over the body of a fundamentally decent man like Ford and make it look like he's what they're really all about, we all know differently. George W. Bush and his neo-con cronies don't hold a candle to Gerald R. Ford and the old, moderate wing of the Republican Party.
For my own part, when warriors depart the battlefield having had their bodies separated from their souls, the time of war with them is over, and honoring them is only right, despite what may have been bloody conflict when they were alive. That is why, despite how much I disagreed with Pope John Paul II on many issues, I could not join the chorus of disrespect for him that swept some parts of Blogosphere Left upon his passing. It is a matter that goes beyond the word "civility" and touches upon the very nature of ideals about what we want from our society.
In that same measure, though, I shall not "honor" George W. Bush when he passes from this Earth, as he surely will some glad day. Such disrespect as I shall hand him during his life and upon his grave every bit as much reflects that 'very nature of ideals' about what I want from this society and what he and his enablers did to diminish the hope of ever achieving them.
Agree or disagree in comments as you feel necessary.
I should turn to other matters. Welcome must be given to new commenters, including Kathy McCarty of the Kathleen McCarty Website, Queen Mum II, Joe, trog69, and snuffy. Some of these good people aren't exactly new around here, but I cannot remember for the life of me whether or not I've ever welcomed them.
Once I have gathered for myself a night's rest and a day's work prepping for next semester, I'll begin the long-planned code and architectural upgrades here, at Big Brass Blog, and at The UnCapitalist Journal. That could get really ugly.
Ah, yes, and about those challenging problems I posted a couple weeks ago in "Scholarly Snippets and Quantitative Quandaries": although readers hit most of the right answers, a few should be provided here, with more to come later. The gravity problem was apparently too easy.
Here's a question for the Isaac Newton fan club. Suppose you're on a sailing ship cruising at a decent speed over the waters. You have a 16-pound bowling ball in your hand, and you climb up the main mast so you can stand with your bowling ball in the crow's nest. Once you get up there, you face the stern (rear) of the boat, which you might recall is flying along at a nice clip, and you drop your bowling ball. Oops. That's going to hurt if it lands on somebody's head.nightshift66 was the first of several, including Minstrel Boy of Harp and Sword, to stomp on that one. It is, indeed, far safer to stand toward the rear of the boat than right under the mast because the ball as it is going down the mast is carrying all of the forward momentum of the ship and the fellow who had just released it. That's conservation of momentum at work: an object in recti-linear motion tends to stay in that motion unless acted upon by a countervailing force. In this case, the only countervailing force would be the air through which the ship is traveling, but even that isn't going to be an issue of any magnitude for two reasons: first, the mass of ball will to a large extent overcome air resistance (as nightshift66 points out); and second, since this is obviously a sailing ship (hence, the mast), it is probably traveling in the direction of the prevailing air current, which means a considerable component of the overall air pattern around that bowling ball will be moving with and at a speed close to that of the ship and everything on it, including the bowling ball, thereby further reducing the air around the falling ball as a 'countervailing force' upon it.
If someone is standing on the deck, would it be safer to be right below the mast you'd climbed, or would it be safer to stand near the rear of the boat? What's the reason for your advice?
A surprising number of people in the modern world get misled about conservation of momentum because, when an object is thrown out a car window, it seems to lose all of its speed almost instantly, disappearing behind the vehicle as if it has lost all of its forward momentum. That, of course, is simply the result of the object being thrown into a wall of non-moving air, which presents the 'countervailing force' that alters the forward motion.
And while we're on the subject of conservation, the following, fairly well handled by our long-time commenter OddJob, was another problem in that article.
Horace is on a diet, but he's dying to have some delicious pie, so he makes a decision that tomorrow, all he'll eat in a 24-hour period is half-a-pound of pie, and all he'll drink is eight ounces of tasty soda pop. His reasoning is obvious: the total weight of what he consumes tomorrow will be exactly one pound—eight ounces of pie and eight ounces of drink—so the very most he could possibly gain as the result of his one-day excess is one pound. That's all: one lousy pound. And he gets to satisfy cravings that are driving him out of his mind.Horace is relying upon what is essentially a conservation principle involving weight. If he ingests only one pound of food, then no more than one pound of weight, probably less, could possibly stay in his body and become fat. No matter how you re-arrange atoms and molecules, the resulting atoms and molecules cannot weigh more. The end result of such alterations could have a different density, but not a different weight. Thus, Horace would be entirely correct if all he were to have ingested was one pound; but, unfortunately, he ingested more than one pound through that 24-hour period. In fact, he ingested a whole lot more than merely one pound of food, even though he had no idea that he was doing so.
Is Horace's logic correct? If not, why not?
What was Horace forgetting? Air. Lots and lots of air, which contains oxygen. Air is actually quite heavy. We don't notice its weight for a couple of reasons: first, air pressure on our bodies is counteracted by pressures from within and surface rigidity on the exterior of the body that give us the impression that the air around us is without weight. Moreover, even though air is heavy, its constituent atoms and molecules are not connected like they are loosely in liquids and rigidly in solids. This means air "gets out of the way" very efficiently as we move through it, giving the impression that it isn't a substantial thing, even though it is. That one pound of food Horace ate could very easily become considerably more than one pound of weight gain, not because the food, itself, changes weight, but rather because the constituent molecules of the food have considerable and continuing opportunity to react with the many pounds of oxygen Horace will inhale through the 24-hour period of his experiment. That's why a pound of food can produce metabolic energy and a goodly load of waste products while still having enough punch left over to add some fat to your body.
The moral of the story is clear: if you want to lose weight, not only must you reduce your total food intake, but you must also stop breathing so much.
One more problem solution should be enough for the evening.
Suppose you're in a room with other people. How many people would have to be in that room for there to be a 50-50 chance that someone shared your birth date (month and day)?The answer is A). More specifically, the answer is 23 people. That's right: in a room with only 23 people, there's a (slightly better than) 50-50 chance that someone will have the same birthdate as you. I shall not fatigue you with the mathematics of the solution. Suffice it to note that this is a classic problem in a first course in probability theory that demonstrates how so-called "conditional probabilities" can make actual answers deviate considerably from what "common sense" would otherwise lead people to believe. It is this inaccurate common sense, by the way, that allows all kinds of shenanigans to be used by statisticians, the media, corporations, and even law enforcement officials to mislead the average, even well-informed person to incorrect conclusions based upon uncritical assessment of statements that have quantitative underpinnings. This is the case in everything from "68% of voters identify themselves as 'conservative'" to "this drug test is 99.9% accurate."
A) Fewer than 25 people.
B) Between 26 and 50 people.
C) Between 51 and 200 people.
D) Between 201 and 365 people.
E) More than 365 people.
If anyone is interested, I should be teaching a stats course again this Summer. Take my course, and you'll come away with quite a different perspective on statistics, probability, and the way numbers are presented as objective when, in fact, numbers are an essential ingredient in many of the best lies we are told these days.
Enough rambling. Leave some comments. Nothing is off-topic here at this bleak outpost on the frontier of a joyless and altogether rather scary new century. If the crowd wants, I'll leave the espresso bar open all night. There should be some relatively fresh chips in the back room, provided Mr. Goat hasn't been back there already and eaten them, and there should be some relatively stale jugs of something that used to be wine under the cabinet, provided blackdog hasn't been prowling around again where he's not supposed to. If the crowd gets rowdy, maybe we'll have a nude breakdancing competition.
Or maybe not.
The Dark Wraith will be back after he's gone out to the parking lot one more time to see if his Jeep looks any different with five hundred bucks worth of repairs on it.
<< 36 Comments Total
Take my course, and you'll come away with quite a different perspective on statistics, probability, and the way numbers are presented as objective when, in fact, numbers are an essential ingredient in many of the best lies we are told these days.
Wasn't it Mark Twain who observed that there are three kinds of falshoods - "lies, damn lies, and statistics"?
- oddjob
Oh, and along those lines, one of the most important things statistics has taught me is how crucially significant commonly agreed upon definitions are!
"To see what is in front of one's nose needs a constant struggle."
- George Orwell
- oddjob
Suppose you're in a room with other people. How many people would have to be in that room for there to be a 50-50 chance that someone shared your birth date (month and day)? [...] The answer is A). More specifically, the answer is 23 people.
Nope.
You're asking the wrong question.
The probability of ONE person not sharing YOUR *SPECIFIC* birthdate is 364/365 (excluding leap years) - correct?
The probability of two people NOT sharing it is (364/365)^2 - each of them has a 364/365 chance of not sharing it, and we assume independent variables - correct?
The probability of everyone in a set of N NOT sharing YOUR *SPECIFIC* birthdate is (364/365)^N (excluding considerations of leap years, and not counting you in the N) - correct?
Therefore the probability of at least one other person in a group of N sharing your birthdate is the converse of this - 1-((364/365)^N). This hits the 50% mark when N = 254 - correct?
You seem to be confusing this with THE QUESTION OF WHETHER TWO PEOPLE IN A GROUP OF N SHARE A BIRTHDAY which is quite different from whether anyone shares YOUR birthday.
In this case, consider two people. The chances of that second person NOT sharing the first's birthday is 364/365.
Add a third person. Given that the two before do not share a birthday, the chance of that third person not sharing a birthday with either of teh previous two is 363/365, and the chances that no birthday is shared is (364/365)*(363/365).
For N people, the chances that no birthday is shared is (364/365)*(363/365)*...(366-N/365), and the chances that at least one birthday is shared is the converse of this.
This does indeed flip at the N=23 mark.
Thus, Horace would be entirely correct if all he were to have ingested was one pound; but, unfortunately, he ingested more than one pound through that 24-hour period. In fact, he ingested a whole lot more than merely one pound of food, even though he had no idea that he was doing so.
What was Horace forgetting? Air. Lots and lots of air, which contains oxygen.
Here I'm more dubious because I never took chemistry past [grade 10], but...
If we make the assumption that the fat that hangs around my (and Horace's) belly is palmitic acid, it has the chemical formula C16H32O2. As best I can tell, other fats in meat have higher C&H levels.
Therefore (as I understand it) each molecule of this fat has a mass of approx 256 g/mol (H= approx 1, C = approx 12, O=approx 16). Oxygen makes up about one eighth of the weight of fat.
Therefore, assuming he gets his carbon and hydrogen ONLY from the pie and soda pop (which, as I understand it, is reasonable - we burn oxygen and exhale carbon dioxide, not the other way around, and what we exhale tends to be wetter than what we inhale), he can at most transform 1 pound of carbon and hydrogen atoms into 1.14 pounds of carbon, hydrogen and oxygen atoms from air stored as fat.
And this completely ignores the minor problems of respiration, metabolism and the fact that a large portion of the pie and soda pop is not carbon or hydrogen - soda pop is mainly water, and water is (by mass) mainly oxygen itself.
1 pound of pie and pop will translate into less than one pound of fat, no matter what, even given that oxygen comes from the air.
I confess to a willingness to change my opinion on this one. I think Phoenician's points are difficult to set aside. I have taken chemistry (although not in a long time), and I can see the point here.
If Horace continues to eat as he usually does (assuming that provides no additional weight the rest of the time), that becomes a complicating factor which might change things, but if Horace doesn't consume further food and one considers only this food in isolation (a truly difficult task, I admit), I think Phoenician's contentions are difficult to set aside.
The extra energy of the pie will be stored as adipose tissue, largely in the form of fats and fatty acids. While oxygen contributes mightily to the creation of these molecules (as it does most biochemical reactions), the fats themselves are oxygen-poor, with the chemical energy stored in carbon-hydrogen bonds, so I don't know that the oxygen would actually have ended up bound in the body as a result of the ingestion of the food. Furthermore (& upon further reflection) it's probably safe to assume that a significant number of the pie's calories are in the form of sucrose & fructose, but would be converted to adipose tissue in the body. The chemical bonds of the sugars don't contain as much energy as the bonds of the fat do, and thus it's likely that the pie contains its calories in the more weighty manner.
- oddjob (who is now quite unsure of himself on this one)
Good morning, Phoenician.
First, with respect to the soda pop and pie, the most important aspect you are forgetting is the molecular products prior to the 24-hour mark that will also be reacting with the oxygen being pulled into the body during the 24-hour period. As time goes on, if Horace were to hold to this diet, the level of those food reductions would drop along an approximately negative exponential function toward a new equilibrium in line with the one pound of food per day regimen, but that's not going to happen for some time. This experiment is easy to conduct (or not so easy, depending upon one's regular eating habits). A person trying this will find that the empirical results seem to be all over the board: in some cases when I've tried it, I've gained as much as just over three pounds; in other cases, I've lost a small amount of weight. The indication, however, is that there is not a pound-intake-for-pound-gain upper barrier on weight change. That the results seem to be "all over the board" is misleading, of course. What's happening is that the data from observations are occurring within a fairly well-defined envelope with parameters that include body type of the person as well as how much had been eaten over the previous several days. In my example, if Horace had been holding his food intake very low in the days prior to his experiment, he might very well have seen weight loss, but that would not have been because he ate only one pound of food that day.
Complicating the matter somewhat further is that the metabolic changes occurring during the 24-hour dieting period will include reactions with existing cellular structures where hydrocarbon molecules will be reacting to the altered caloric intake and thereby begin to re-configure their own reactions. It is not merely the food that has just been ingested that interacts with the body and oxygen inhaled, and that is the whole point of dieting to begin with. Legion are those who have started a diet and become altogether depressed or even infuriated when they actually gained weight at first. I know: I've been there and seen that. The body under the stress of significant changes in patterns and composition of food intake can do truly inspiring things. I trust that in the readership here are some who have been keeping diligently to a diet and have been weighing themselves every day, only to see days when their weight went up, and occasionally annoyingly so. Taking a longer view, the dieter must eventually resign to the inevitable metabolic reconfigurations the body is doing. Sometimes, it looks like the body is actually gobbling something from the air just to sustain and actually re-inforce the fat.
Now, with respect to the probability of birthdates in a room, my wording is fine for the purposes of conveying elementarily a statistical phenomenon.
Finally, with respect to a comment you left on the original post concerning the monkeys and the typewriters, I gave an extensive (although indicative and not exhaustive) explanation to blackdog over in comments at Big Brass Blog, which I offer below, followed by a further prosecution of the matter:
------------------
Good evening, blackdog.
Without getting into a brutally complicated lesson in probability theory, I can make it pretty evident with what seems like an unrelated example.
You are, I trust, familiar with so-called "irrational numbers." Those are the numbers that cannot be represented as the ratio of two integers. In other words, the irrational numbers cannot be written as fractions.
Fractions always have finite or repeating decimal representations. For example, 8/2 is the number 4. This is a "rational number": it can be written as a ratio, and it has a terminating decimal representation (e.g., it stops at the 4). 5/8 is a rational number, since it can be represented as the terminating decimal 0.625, which is to say that it terminates at the thousandths. 1/3 can be written as the number 0.3333..., a repeating decimal. It, too, then is a "rational number" since it just starts repeating itself.
The irrationals are numbers, like the square root of 2, which have non-repeating decimal representations. In other words, their decimal representations go on forever, but the numbers in those decimal representations never start over.
A great example of an irrational number is pi, a wonderful number because it sort of binds all times and places in the universe. No matter where you are, and no matter when you're there, if you take any circle, no matter how big or how small, and divide its circumference (the distance around its perimeter) by its diameter, you'll get the same number; and that number is pi! The Egyptians were acutely aware of pi, and so were the Greeks (mainly because they stole quite a bit of their math from the Egyptians).
Now, the number pi, as I'm sure many are aware, starts out with 3.14159... and goes on forever and ever, but that infinite string of numbers never starts over.
Imagine at this point that you were sitting above the entire, infinite, numerical layout of pi. You can see the whole thing and zoom in on any section of it your heart desires.
Okay, are you with me so far?
Good. Let's talk about you and your literary endeavors for a moment.
Suppose you were to take the words and spaces in the first post you did here yesterday, and assign each of them a letter. A=1, B=2, C=3,..., etc. We'll also need to assign a number to the space, let's say that would be 27, and we'll have to throw in a numerical designation for the punctuation marks you used, so we'll give the period the number 28, the comma a 29, etc.
In all, we'll have about 35 or so elements in what will be a "mapping" from characters to numbers.
Now, we're ready to turn your post, which was fairly modest in size, into a string of numbers. That string would look pretty long; but in the grand scheme of things, it's pretty darned tiny. It would fill up a page or two, probably, so let's print it out.
Take this big sheet of paper with all those numbers on it and hold it up to that numerical representation of pi that you can see in its entirety. Here comes the grand finale.
Try to find exactly the same string of numbers in the representation of pi that is on your sheet of paper.
You know what, blackdog? Even though that string of numbers representing pi is infinite and never repeating, you'll never find a section of it that is exactly the same as the string of numbers on your sheet of paper.
And you know what else? I'll bet that makes intuitive sense to you, doesn't it?
------------------
Returning now from that re-run, underlying my exposition to blackdog is an effort to disabuse the reader of the idea that infinite time equates to infinite possibilities. I could, for example, have a random number generator that can display any integer from a more-or-less descreet uniform probability distribution. I can hit that thing millions and millions of times and see numbers ranging from the arbitrarily large positive to the arbitrarily large negative. That does not mean, however, that there is any probability whatesoever that I will ever hit the button and have the display show me a ham sandwich. It has zero probability of occurrence.
On another tack, the myth of the monkeys and the typewriters is subtly related to the myths surrounding the Central Limit Theorem. In practice, that theorem is a useful and important justification when working with random variables of unknown or practically intractible distributions; but when it is pushed too far, it becomes not only an ass, but it becomes an ass that produces bad results. Those nice, infinitely long tails on a normal probability density function just sit there thumbing their noses at the reality of common sense about what the real sample spaces of many random variables look like, no matter how "infinite" the sample is, no matter how "infinite" the time in which sampling occurs is.
The monkeys will never write Shakespeare, just like the random number generator will never yield a ham sandwich, just like a discreet distribution of a random variable that has only positive values in its sample space will ever become a continuous distribution with non-zero probability of negative values occurring.
The Dark Wraith has sufficiently worn down his keyboard for the morning.
Oh Dark One, you have me sweating blood over my keyboard. I'll re-read your comment a few times more and really try to follow your line of thought. I would really like to spend time over several rounds with you and a group of your associates, that would be a blast. You could feel free to toke a cigar if I could too. There would need to be a blackboard or equivilent.
On the lighter side, check out this intellectually honest magazine cover:
http://www.dccomics.com/mad/?action=on_the_stands
And never forget that today the decider is in indecision at a non-decisional meeting of morons in Crawdad, TX.
As to poor Horace, I believe we have to look at the long haul, the trends of his consumption and exercise patterns. Most of the available energy and carbon in food pass right through, otherwise a biological wastewater plant wouldn't work and the carbon cycle would be violated.
Wow, that wore me out, time for some suds.
I should ask, what model and year is the Jeep? Some of them are notorious for being unreliable, but the 3 liter six is better. That's an in-line six. The older V's were simple terrible.
A great friend of mine that I roomed with way back had a shop and worked mostly on Italian cars, Fiats, Lancias, but our pride and joy was a '67 Masserati with a 4.7 liter twice cam V-8,4-2bbl weber intake and a beautiful ansi exhaust. This dream machine would still slam you into the seat at 140 mph going into fifth gear. 7000 rpm redline, and gas was about 60 cents a gallon. I have been through downtown Little Rock on the Wilber D fleaway at an indicated 167 mph. On a sunday morning, almost no traffic.
In that same measure, though, I shall not "honor" George W. Bush when he passes from this Earth, as he surely will some glad day.
No Mr. Wraith, you are a good man. You shall honor him will all the respect and decorum due the manlet, as I will, with a one finger salute.
(Maybe when that day comes I'll get lucky and stumble on an old photograph of him so I can flush it down the toilet in his honor....)
- oddjob
I was sort of leaning toward a southerly double-buttloaf bow.
The Dark Wraith should probably shave his hind quarters first, though.
(Not that they aren't already quite smooth, mind you.)
First, with respect to the soda pop and pie, the most important aspect you are forgetting is the molecular products prior to the 24-hour mark that will also be reacting with the oxygen being pulled into the body during the 24-hour period.
Which were included in his initial weight. Unless they have a smaller ratio of oxygen to everything else than fat, the same argument would seem to apply to them.
Now, with respect to the probability of birthdates in a room, my wording is fine for the purposes of conveying elementarily a statistical phenomenon.
No, it isn't. What you asked and what you were measuring were two different things - "What are the chances of someone sharing MY birthdate" and "what are the chances of two people sharing A birthdate" are two different questions. You need to reword the question before presenting it to the class.
To give an analogy, consider me dropping a brick off a very tall skyscraper onto a crowded street, and dashing someone's brains out. There's a distinct difference between charging me with an intention to kill *someone* and an intention to kill *that* someone.
Try to find exactly the same string of numbers in the representation of pi that is on your sheet of paper.
You know what, blackdog? Even though that string of numbers representing pi is infinite and never repeating, you'll never find a section of it that is exactly the same as the string of numbers on your sheet of paper.
i, Proof? Maybe you're right, but you've only given an assertion.
ii, There's a distinct difference between the numerals of pi and the product of the monkeys typing - the first is determinate while the second is (assumed) random. There may well be some property in the way the numerals in pi come out that precludes certain combinations (I dunno) - but that *doesn't* apply to a random process.
Consider representing Shakespeare in binary and generating random digits via coin toss or radio noise - eventually you'd hit on a sequence that matched. This, admittedly, would probably be for values of "eventually" that outlasted the lifespan of the universe - but we're talking about infinity here.
(Maybe when that day comes I'll get lucky and stumble on an old photograph of him so I can flush it down the toilet in his honor....)
Personally, I'd be willing to visit the Great Man's grave - with a full bladder.
I suspect Aussies and Kiwis have less inherent respect for great figures than Americans or Brits.
Oddjob, here's the old photo you're looking for
Personally, I'd be willing to visit the Great Man's grave - with a full bladder.
LOL!!!
Well done!
- oddjob
Oddjob, here's the old photo you're looking for
I may be ill........
- oddjob
Great concept, but not in my bathroom.
The Dark Wraith has enough stomach problems without deliberately tempting his ass to throw up.
Nelson Rockefeller's brother was the first Republican Governor in my State since reconstruction. Winthrop dragged this State kicking and screaming into the 20th century over the host of the democrat legislature that at the time did not look anything like what was happening in the northeast. Dixiecrats, they became. In other words, extremist right wing fools who ultimately became rethuglicans. Racist to a fault, non-progressive and supportive of an economy that only helped those that already had more than enough. That's what I define as a conservative. A neo-con, now that's something else. Still haven't quite placed them, but they are much more dangerous.
"Oddjob, here's the old photo you're looking for" -- My Pet Goat
Mr. Goat,
If I had toilet paper like that in my bathroom, I would be tempted to eat something that would give me a case of the screaming thinnies--you know, where you can shit through a screen without even hitting the wire.
Well Peter, there's a half consumed can of smoke flavored Spam in the back of the Wraith's frig with red mold growing on it. That ought to do the trick.
The Dark Wraith should probably notify the 911 operators in advance (as well as NORAD in the event of launch).
Is it just me, or did this thread take a slightly scatalogical turn somewhere?
Well of course it did. You didn't really think your truly dark side could hide forever, did you?
Begone with you, Black Wraith. It's not like I don't have enough problems these days without your vexatious alter-egoness befarting this otherwise peaceful thread.
The Dark Wraith needs to get back to work.
'alter-egoness'?!
Let it go, Black Wraith. This passive/aggressive duality thing is weirding me out.
The Dark Wraith heads for the IP blocking controls.
Phoenician in a time of Romans blogged...
Personally, I'd be willing to visit the Great Man's grave - with a full bladder.
I'm with Phoenician in a time of Romans. When the time comes, I wonder if they'll have some sort of fence we would have to break through, or climb, to get to the grave.
Good evening, Old White Lady.
I shan't comment in detail upon the morphological advantage some have in not needing to scale a fence to deliver the contents of the bladder over it.
The Dark Wraith trusts that he need go no further in explaining.
D'oh!
Thanks for the reminder:)
"...bitter cold, and I was in the middle of nowhere.
Stupid Winter. Stupid old truck. Damnable repair bill."
'Bout time you either headed for a warmer climate or else startin' hangin' out with Blackdog or them folks thet know how to either fix things or jest get by.
Good morning, Peter of Lone Tree.
With an old vehicle like my Jeep, I can do just about any repair, provided it's worth the aggravation and I can get at least another 50 miles out of the thing. However, when I'm in the middle of nowhere hundreds of miles from where I know where anything is, in the middle of the night, in the middle of a cold snap (that included a very pretty morning ice fog, I should note), without a garage, without my tool box, and without knowledge of where a 24-hour auto parts store might be, the prospect becomes challenging. With a spindle on a water pump that apparently shattered, tearing a belt to pieces and somehow (I don't know how) involving a thermostat housing that got obliterated, the job becomes tricky. With a cop menacingly watching from a distance (but not approaching) as I heaved the Jeep Cherokee to an exit ramp that seemed to be an interminable distance away (funny how distances are considerably greater outside a car than when I'm in one), the very thought of the relevance of my years fixing old junkers just wasn't there.
Ah, but I do love reliving such memories. For one thing, it helps me keep focused on never being without my toolbox and always making sure a pair of gloves are in the car. On those scores and a few others, I had gotten way too sloppy for my own good. Although the prospect of meeting my end on a lonely stretch of highway very much appeals to me, the presence of my Jeep would have complicated things since it would have been easy to identify my frozen corpse. Absent the identification, the state would have to spring for one of those unceremonious, "John Doe" cremations. It seems to me such an ending would have brought a measure of closure to what was otherwise an open-ended and annoying night.
The Dark Wraith is beginning to digress.
And besides, Peter, I prefer cold weather.
It's just the frostbite, hypothermia, and occasional caking of ice on my beard and moustache that puts me off a bit.
The Dark Wraith is probably just getting a bit soft in his old age.
I have to jump in with a few minor quibbles here.
First off, on the mast/bowling ball thing: Okay... now I only know a little bit about boating, but it seems to me that with the winds required (factor omitted) to move a vessel at a decent speed that there's a pretty good chance that the sails are full, and there's an even better chance that would cause the vessel to heave to one side, therefore putting the mast at a more tilted angle - as opposed to a straight up vertical / perpendicular to the horizon position - and could be that bowling ball even ends up in the drink, with enough of a lean-to. Then, one must also consider the water itself. If there's a decent enough wind to move a sailing vessel along at a pretty good clip, there's a darned good chance that the wind has stirred up some wave action (factor omitted) on the water that could cause said vessel to bob and weave, rise and dip -running up or down a wave - which could also affect the position of that mast at any given moment. Nope, given what little I know about boating, I still have a few doubts on the complete validity of the statistical theory of how and where that ball will fall.
Also, on the Herman diet thing, no one considered the perspiration / exercise factor. (Heck, the it is said that "Godfather of Soul" lost 3+ pounds in a night's performance.)
Now, on that birthday statistic. A few years ago my sister and I rented a hall for a party and had about 200 guests... not one of whom shared my birthday. On the other hand, until my friend's granddaughter was born - four years ago - I never even had met anyone with whom I shared the same birth date ... and I'm not exactly what you'd call a spring chick. I seem to not fit into the mold of an average statistics theory! (Average is just so average, anyway.)
And I still think all those monkeys at keyboards could end up producing a few blog trolls.
Just sayin'.
The Moody Blue weighs anchor and heads for safe harbor now. ;-)
(Heck, the theory here is, it is said, that "Godfather of Soul" lost 3+ pounds in a night's performance.)
Whoops. Duh.
Also, on the Herman diet thing, no one considered the perspiration / exercise factor. (Heck, the it is said that "Godfather of Soul" lost 3+ pounds in a night's performance.)
That's because weight loss from dehydration is an irrelevancy unless you're planning to be seen immediately following the dehydration. The moment you take in any water it will be used to restore that which the body requires. Even if James Brown truly did lose that much he put it all back the next time he downed enough water.
- oddjob (who knows what you mean about the bowling ball, but still chooses to avoid the mast)
- oddjob
Ba-aw-aw-aw-aw-aw! Crunch, crunch, munch, cough-cough-loud poot!
Trip-trap-tip-tap, woof! Plunk, gurgle, gurgle, gurgle. Ka-thunk, ka-thunk, ka-thunk, ka-thunk, Hic!