I remember that old David Letterman tv joke ad that went something like Dave saying: "Imagine what the world would be like without television?" [TV static for 5 seconds then Dave comes back on] "Scary, wasn't it?"
Now imagine the world without the Internet... +++NO CARRIER
Events of all types are expensive in Ottawa... which is weird considering that, even though we're the national capital, we're not that big.
A friend of mine thinks it's due to a local, small "old boys" network who own most of the venues and real estate and jack up the prices together whenever they feel like it.
Imagine inputting porn signals directly into the brain
I don't need to imagine it... I saw two movies that had brief scenes made from this very idea: Brainstorm (imdb.com/title/tt0085271/); and Strange Days (imdb.com/title/tt0114558/).
I'd make a totally black saucer or triangle shaped balloon, as big as possible on a budget, and fit it with blinking IR and UV spectrum-only LEDs, and then have a few accomplices take photos with both film and digital cameras, along with some other people filming with camcorders on normal, and others with camcorders on Nightshot or equivalent night-vision.
well, first, he's my great UNCLE, and he was a miner. IIRC he worked at various positions, operating the diggers, driving the big-ass trucks, etc. in mines such as this: www.galenfrysinger.com/americas/quebec01.jp g
When I was a kid, my grandmother's brother, who worked at the asbestos mines in, well, Asbestos, QC, Canada, gave me a bunch of small baby food glass jars filled with asbestos at all the stages of processing, from the raw ore to the stuff that the mines sent to various industries.
I never bothered to open the jars to play with it, so it's probably a good thing.
Incidentally, my great-uncle didnt die from asbestos-related disease, but from diabetes complications.
Well, for one thing, even if SCO stood for "Santa Claus Organization", they could not claim Santa Claus, or even the North Pole, very easily, as this matter is already in dispute between several parties:
1) The Danes, who claim to own the North Pole because the Lomonsov Ridge, which passes under the ice cap, is an extension of Greenland, which is part of the Danemark Kingdom. (Controversially, however, Santa (Jule manden) is already a Dane because he lives "in the capital of Greenland, Nuuk. So giving the North Pole to Greenland does not change his status, even if he has an extra factory there. He stays a Danish citizen.)
2) The Russians, who claim to own the North Pole because the Lomonsov Ridge is an extension of Russia.
3) The Turks, because St Nicholas, on whom Santa Claus is modelled, is buried on Gemiler, a tiny island off Turkey.
Another issue is that the USA wants to divide the Arctic sea by sectors, as is the case with Antarctica, because the north coast of Alaska is the southernmost border of the Arctic ocean, so by sharing the Arctic in this way, the USA gets a larger share.
Finally, on behalf of all my fellow Canadians, I claim Santa Claus, because he proudly wears the colors of our National Flag, and we own land up there too.
There was a jolly miller once, Lived on the river Dee; He worked and sang from morn till night, No lark as blithe as he. And this the burden of his song Forever used to be, I care for nobody, no not I, And nobody cares for me
Here's an interesting alleged first hand account published in Fortean Times www.forteantimes.com/articles/177_9thwave.s html
Copypasted here for your viewing pleasure:
The Ninth Wave
Over the years, FT has published many first-hand accounts of strange phenomena, but few as terrifying as Gavin Craig's close encounter with a relatively unknown force of nature - a giant wave.
When I saw the killer wave from the bridge of the Cape Horn, I took it for a natural peril; it was only much later that I realized that I might be one of the very few people to have observed a rare marine phenomenon - a monster seiche wave - at close quarters and survived.
When I joined her in 1930, the Cape Horn was an almost new, standard 'three island' ship of the period. The man in charge, Captain ES Wilkie, had commanded the last active square-rigged ship on the British register, and he and I were the only sailing ship men aboard.
The incident happened during a Force 9 or 10 gale in the Pacific, sometime between April and June 1935. We were nearly two weeks out of a Canadian or US west coast port taking sawn lumber to Shanghai. It was blowing hard with 25-ft (7.6m) seas and the phosphorescence given off by the breaking seas provided plenty of light to see by as I made my way over the deck-load towards the bridge. Ahead and to port one could see for a couple of miles, but the horizon was not clearly defined. The temperature was near zero.
About 4:30am, I noticed a change in the regular run of the seas ahead. A larger wave was forming, to judge from the gaps of blue water between the crests. The Chief Mate, Mr McKenzie, had the watch and I drew his attention to it. "Here's a 'ninth wave' bearing down, Mister." He examined it with the glasses, took a bearing from the ship's compass, checked the ship's head, then moved back to the corner window.
A 'ninth wave' is a common seamen's expression, meaning a single wave larger than the others. As I kept my eyes on it, it slowly increased in size. Later, I added: "It's not just one big wave, there are others behind it just as big. I can see their crests breaking here and there." His left hand moved towards the engine telegraph, hesitated and drew back.
By this time the wave had become so huge that I knew it would capsize the ship. No increase in speed would save us now. I was puzzled by the slowness of the advance of the sea; we seemed to be drifting together. Then I noticed that what I had initially taken for wave crests were actually widely-spaced geysers, dancing on the upper surface. These geysers - or whatever they were - were rising to a height of about 20ft (7.6m) and dropping to half that before rising again, sometimes curving against the wind. The upper surface of the sea appeared flat and endless, stretching towards the unseen horizon. By 'flat' I mean there was no defined wave motion; the surface boiled gently in whorls, exactly like the water filling a lock of the Panama Canal.
I knew beyond question that I was a dead man, but the idea didn't seem to worry me unduly. Rather, there was an absence of feeling. Suddenly I was shocked back to the present. I could plainly hear the thumping and rattling of the rocker arms of the main engine and the noise of the big exhaust in the funnel. Then, like the slamming of a watertight door, the wind dropped from a full gale to a calm. I knew what was happening; the height of the sea had cut off the wind, making a temporary lee for the ship. Glancing at the compass, I saw with surprise and delight that the ship's head was coming up to windward. In fits and starts it moved in the right direction. I talked to her: "Hurry 'fore the bastard wind comes back. Do it for me, lover..." stuff like that, but meaning every whispered word.
The bows were only about 30 ft (9m) off the far end of the 'sea' when she rammed it. Then all hell broke loose. I felt the shock as the fo'c's'le head went in and the deck-load forrard tore loose. There was another crunchin
What would a back exclusively designed/evolved for bipeds look like?/sarcasm
I don't know about you, but even though I don't lack the flexibility or the strength to do it, I find walking on all fours (feet and hands) extremely difficult, from a coordination point of view, considering my legs are longer than my arms.
Maybe with practice I could do it without too much effort, but I would still be able to move faster on just my two legs.
Slashdot Mirror
I'm also reminded of the Russian probes to Venus which had uderstandably short lives due to both heat and pressure (possibly corrosive gases as well).
Wasnt the main longevity problem due to the batteries and no way to recharge them on the planet?
we better thank our lucky star that the Sun is not about to be overclocked...
[flamesuit on]
;)
the cost of the remote is just a dollar, the rest is just the linux licencing fee...
so what was the message supposed to be?
"kids, you should stay away from drugs, otherwise..."
and i'm installing hydros on it yea!
I remember that old David Letterman tv joke ad that went something like Dave saying:
"Imagine what the world would be like without television?"
[TV static for 5 seconds then Dave comes back on]
"Scary, wasn't it?"
Now imagine the world without the Internet... +++NO CARRIER
doesnt change the fact that I'm still getting an error from google.fr :P
yea, some bozo submitter at Fark.com linked to this slashdot thread...
now if slashdot were to post a submission with a direct link to fark, it would probably break the internet from Los Angeles to Abu Dhabi.
didnt you have connection problems due to the Doppler effect?
I tried google.fr and I saw that it had surrendered to the virus.
Events of all types are expensive in Ottawa... which is weird considering that, even though we're the national capital, we're not that big.
A friend of mine thinks it's due to a local, small "old boys" network who own most of the venues and real estate and jack up the prices together whenever they feel like it.
It's insane, I tell ya.
I see the vultures circling over...
And I bet there won't be too much rotting flesh left on that carcass when they're done feeding.
Imagine inputting porn signals directly into the brain
I don't need to imagine it... I saw two movies that had brief scenes made from this very idea:
Brainstorm (imdb.com/title/tt0085271/); and
Strange Days (imdb.com/title/tt0114558/).
They wanted to lend me a discman, but since I had my own MP3 player with me, I used it instead.
I did notice that they had a cd holder full of CDRs though. But that's ok, since this is in Canada and we pay fees on blank CDRs for that, eh.
well, the ufo-believer crowd would say "look! it was in STEALTH mode!!! we have PROOF!!!"
it would be too simple to make a balloon that is too obviously trying to attract attention.
and since the ufo believers think they're so good at figuring out hidden stuff, i'd be playing right into their psyche.
I'd make a totally black saucer or triangle shaped balloon, as big as possible on a budget, and fit it with blinking IR and UV spectrum-only LEDs, and then have a few accomplices take photos with both film and digital cameras, along with some other people filming with camcorders on normal, and others with camcorders on Nightshot or equivalent night-vision.
well, first, he's my great UNCLE, and he was a miner. IIRC he worked at various positions, operating the diggers, driving the big-ass trucks, etc. in mines such as this:p g
www.galenfrysinger.com/americas/quebec01.j
When I was a kid, my grandmother's brother, who worked at the asbestos mines in, well, Asbestos, QC, Canada, gave me a bunch of small baby food glass jars filled with asbestos at all the stages of processing, from the raw ore to the stuff that the mines sent to various industries.
I never bothered to open the jars to play with it, so it's probably a good thing.
Incidentally, my great-uncle didnt die from asbestos-related disease, but from diabetes complications.
shenanigans!
proof: if you want to write a letter to Santa Claus, here's the address:
Santa Claus
North Pole
Canada
H0H 0H0
From:
www.the-north-pole.com/santamail.shtml
Well, for one thing, even if SCO stood for "Santa Claus Organization", they could not claim Santa Claus, or even the North Pole, very easily, as this matter is already in dispute between several parties:
1) The Danes, who claim to own the North Pole because the Lomonsov Ridge, which passes under the ice cap, is an extension of Greenland, which is part of the Danemark Kingdom. (Controversially, however, Santa (Jule manden) is already a Dane because he lives "in the capital of Greenland, Nuuk. So giving the North Pole to Greenland does not change his status, even if he has an extra factory there. He stays a Danish citizen.)
2) The Russians, who claim to own the North Pole because the Lomonsov Ridge is an extension of Russia.
3) The Turks, because St Nicholas, on whom Santa Claus is modelled, is buried on Gemiler, a tiny island off Turkey.
Another issue is that the USA wants to divide the Arctic sea by sectors, as is the case with Antarctica, because the north coast of Alaska is the southernmost border of the Arctic ocean, so by sharing the Arctic in this way, the USA gets a larger share.
Finally, on behalf of all my fellow Canadians, I claim Santa Claus, because he proudly wears the colors of our National Flag, and we own land up there too.
There was a jolly miller once,
Lived on the river Dee;
He worked and sang from morn till night,
No lark as blithe as he.
And this the burden of his song
Forever used to be,
I care for nobody, no not I,
And nobody cares for me
Here's an interesting alleged first hand account published in Fortean Times
www.forteantimes.com/articles/177_9thwave.s html
Copypasted here for your viewing pleasure:
The Ninth Wave
Over the years, FT has published many first-hand accounts of strange phenomena, but few as terrifying as Gavin Craig's close encounter with a relatively unknown force of nature - a giant wave.
When I saw the killer wave from the bridge of the Cape Horn, I took it for a natural peril; it was only much later that I realized that I might be one of the very few people to have observed a rare marine phenomenon - a monster seiche wave - at close quarters and survived.
When I joined her in 1930, the Cape Horn was an almost new, standard 'three island' ship of the period. The man in charge, Captain ES Wilkie, had commanded the last active square-rigged ship on the British register, and he and I were the only sailing ship men aboard.
The incident happened during a Force 9 or 10 gale in the Pacific, sometime between April and June 1935. We were nearly two weeks out of a Canadian or US west coast port taking sawn lumber to Shanghai. It was blowing hard with 25-ft (7.6m) seas and the phosphorescence given off by the breaking seas provided plenty of light to see by as I made my way over the deck-load towards the bridge. Ahead and to port one could see for a couple of miles, but the horizon was not clearly defined. The temperature was near zero.
About 4:30am, I noticed a change in the regular run of the seas ahead. A larger wave was forming, to judge from the gaps of blue water between the crests. The Chief Mate, Mr McKenzie, had the watch and I drew his attention to it. "Here's a 'ninth wave' bearing down, Mister." He examined it with the glasses, took a bearing from the ship's compass, checked the ship's head, then moved back to the corner window.
A 'ninth wave' is a common seamen's expression, meaning a single wave larger than the others. As I kept my eyes on it, it slowly increased in size. Later, I added: "It's not just one big wave, there are others behind it just as big. I can see their crests breaking here and there." His left hand moved towards the engine telegraph, hesitated and drew back.
By this time the wave had become so huge that I knew it would capsize the ship. No increase in speed would save us now. I was puzzled by the slowness of the advance of the sea; we seemed to be drifting together. Then I noticed that what I had initially taken for wave crests were actually widely-spaced geysers, dancing on the upper surface. These geysers - or whatever they were - were rising to a height of about 20ft (7.6m) and dropping to half that before rising again, sometimes curving against the wind. The upper surface of the sea appeared flat and endless, stretching towards the unseen horizon. By 'flat' I mean there was no defined wave motion; the surface boiled gently in whorls, exactly like the water filling a lock of the Panama Canal.
I knew beyond question that I was a dead man, but the idea didn't seem to worry me unduly. Rather, there was an absence of feeling. Suddenly I was shocked back to the present. I could plainly hear the thumping and rattling of the rocker arms of the main engine and the noise of the big exhaust in the funnel. Then, like the slamming of a watertight door, the wind dropped from a full gale to a calm. I knew what was happening; the height of the sea had cut off the wind, making a temporary lee for the ship. Glancing at the compass, I saw with surprise and delight that the ship's head was coming up to windward. In fits and starts it moved in the right direction. I talked to her: "Hurry 'fore the bastard wind comes back. Do it for me, lover..." stuff like that, but meaning every whispered word.
The bows were only about 30 ft (9m) off the far end of the 'sea' when she rammed it. Then all hell broke loose. I felt the shock as the fo'c's'le head went in and the deck-load forrard tore loose. There was another crunchin
a stone mill could mill as much wood as a miller would since a stone mill could mill wood.
Neanderthals and many species of proto-humans had flat foreheads, but walked upright.
Not to mention the various walnut-size-brain dinosaurs which also walked upright eons before the simians came along.
What would a back exclusively designed/evolved for bipeds look like? /sarcasm
I don't know about you, but even though I don't lack the flexibility or the strength to do it, I find walking on all fours (feet and hands) extremely difficult, from a coordination point of view, considering my legs are longer than my arms.
Maybe with practice I could do it without too much effort, but I would still be able to move faster on just my two legs.