Dear Readers,
I apologize for my recent hiatus and I am glad to say that I should be back on a somewhat regular posting schedule. My absence was due to unexpected occurrences in my life that were outside of my control. As with everything, there is a perfectly good and logical explanation for my absence so please indulge me in a narrative of my last few weeks.
The story begins with my going jogging. It was well after dark and I did not notice the warning sign for “Construction Ahead” along the Esplanade. As a result, I found myself tripping and falling down a storm drain. I survived only because the recent wet weather filled the drain with water that broke my fall. Unfortunately, however, the torrents of water swept me far out into Boston Harbor.
Once I surfaced, I took stock of my situation and saw the light of a fast approaching ship. Luckily, the water was calm that evening so someone on the ship heard my cries of help. I was thrown a lifesaver and hauled onboard. The boat happened to be filled with Russian prisoners being exiled to Siberia. This was disconcerting as I didn’t have my parka with me. Fortunately, the boat stocked a few extra ones just in case they picked up stragglers and I was assigned one.
Upon our arrival to Siberia, we were assigned to rock-chipping duty. Being the only foreigner in the group, the other prisoners selected me King. This was a nice gesture, as it entitled me to an extra packet of airline peanuts for breakfast. Unfortunately, my nut allergy kicked in and I had to be sent for treatment by dog-sled to the nearest hospital, a hundred miles away.
While recuperating at the hospital, I ran into an undercover KGB agent. I convinced the guy that I was a CIA double-agent and I needed to get to the Kremlin to report to my superiors. He agreed to give me a lift to Moscow. Upon my arrival, I realized I had no money, so I put a cap on the ground and started tap-dancing in the Red Square. In a few hours, I had a stack of Rubles – enough for a hotel room and a train ticket to Warsaw. In Poland, I polkaed a fare to Vienna and in Austria, I waltzed to Paris. But in France, there were so many out of work ballet dancers that I could not make a Euro dancing in the Metro.
That’s when I took up basket weaving. I sold what I weaved and with the profits, purchased more bamboo and other building material. I continued the cycle of weaving, selling and buying until I had more building material than I needed. I went to the ocean shore and weaved the largest basket that I could, lined the bottom with tar, and purchased supplies for a long journey. I then weaved a sail that caught the northern trade winds and cruised to America. I landed at Plymouth Rock and hitchhiked back to Boston where I wrote the account that you’ve just read.
So please understand the reason for my absence. It won’t happen again -- Unless, of course, I find myself in Siberia.
Monday, June 12, 2006
Monday, May 22, 2006
The Proverbial Myth-Busters
Consider the tea kettle. Although it is up to its neck in hot water, it sings.
It is common for people to be reminded of the tea kettle when they are in dire situations. Few people, however, question the validity of the statement. Does the statement imply that a tea kettle sings when it is filled with hot water? If so, can it sing some of the world's greatest arias? Can a human be taught how to sing when up to one's neck in hot water?
Let us consider the first question – how does a kettle sing. For our experiment, we purchased a KitchenAid tea kettle and used a Kenmore gas stove. We measured 2 quarts of water in a graduated cylinder and transferred the fluid into the kettle. Before running the experiment, we donned our safety glasses – remember, kids, we are professionals. Do not try this at home.
The kettle was placed on the stove. The initial temperature was 25.6oC. No sound was detected from the kettle at this point. The heat was turned to “high”. After 2 minutes, we heard a rumbling sound, as if a tractor was revving its engines. We assumed this was equivalent to the warm up exercises of singers. After 4 minutes 42 seconds, the kettle began to exhibit steam. Ten seconds later, a loud whistling was heard – presumably, the kettle was now singing. The temperature of the water was 100oC. We then attempted to decipher what it was singing. The language was unknown and sounded but sounded like a high-pitched equivalent of a blue whale’s mating call.
Next, we tried to teach it to sing. Since we did not know its voice part, we chose four distinct pieces of music, Don Giovanni’s Aria from Mozart’s opera, a tenor part, “I am the Very Model of a Modern Major General”, a bass part, “Habarera” from Carmen, alto, and “Hit me Baby, one More Time”, soprano. The kettle sang all four pieces of music with the exact same sound and the exact same interpretation.
To test the second question, whether anyone can sing when up to one’s neck in hot water, we went to Times Square in New York City. We built a 6’ tall wooden pyre and set a large human-sized cauldron filled with water. Then, with our safety glasses on, we solicited volunteers from the streets to sit in the cauldron while we lit the pyre in order to see if they could sing when the water temperature reached 100oC. Unfortunately, for this part of the experiment, we were unable to procure any volunteers; however, our safety glasses did prevent us from obtaining several black eyes.
We concluded that although the kettle sings in hot water, its language is unknown and it does not seem capable of learning a human language. It is unknown if a human could be taught how to sing by standing in hot water.
Thus:
The myth that kettles sing: CONFIRMED
The myth that kettles can sing great music: BUSTED
The myth that anyone can sing in hot water: INCONCLUSIVE
Tune in next time as we find out whether the pen is truly mightier than the sword, or if actions speak louder than words.
It is common for people to be reminded of the tea kettle when they are in dire situations. Few people, however, question the validity of the statement. Does the statement imply that a tea kettle sings when it is filled with hot water? If so, can it sing some of the world's greatest arias? Can a human be taught how to sing when up to one's neck in hot water?
Let us consider the first question – how does a kettle sing. For our experiment, we purchased a KitchenAid tea kettle and used a Kenmore gas stove. We measured 2 quarts of water in a graduated cylinder and transferred the fluid into the kettle. Before running the experiment, we donned our safety glasses – remember, kids, we are professionals. Do not try this at home.
The kettle was placed on the stove. The initial temperature was 25.6oC. No sound was detected from the kettle at this point. The heat was turned to “high”. After 2 minutes, we heard a rumbling sound, as if a tractor was revving its engines. We assumed this was equivalent to the warm up exercises of singers. After 4 minutes 42 seconds, the kettle began to exhibit steam. Ten seconds later, a loud whistling was heard – presumably, the kettle was now singing. The temperature of the water was 100oC. We then attempted to decipher what it was singing. The language was unknown and sounded but sounded like a high-pitched equivalent of a blue whale’s mating call.
Next, we tried to teach it to sing. Since we did not know its voice part, we chose four distinct pieces of music, Don Giovanni’s Aria from Mozart’s opera, a tenor part, “I am the Very Model of a Modern Major General”, a bass part, “Habarera” from Carmen, alto, and “Hit me Baby, one More Time”, soprano. The kettle sang all four pieces of music with the exact same sound and the exact same interpretation.
To test the second question, whether anyone can sing when up to one’s neck in hot water, we went to Times Square in New York City. We built a 6’ tall wooden pyre and set a large human-sized cauldron filled with water. Then, with our safety glasses on, we solicited volunteers from the streets to sit in the cauldron while we lit the pyre in order to see if they could sing when the water temperature reached 100oC. Unfortunately, for this part of the experiment, we were unable to procure any volunteers; however, our safety glasses did prevent us from obtaining several black eyes.
We concluded that although the kettle sings in hot water, its language is unknown and it does not seem capable of learning a human language. It is unknown if a human could be taught how to sing by standing in hot water.
Thus:
The myth that kettles sing: CONFIRMED
The myth that kettles can sing great music: BUSTED
The myth that anyone can sing in hot water: INCONCLUSIVE
Tune in next time as we find out whether the pen is truly mightier than the sword, or if actions speak louder than words.
Sunday, May 07, 2006
This Man's Life
"What should I do for the rest of my life?" Dave asked Ms. Henry.
She laughed out loud. "David!" she exclaimed. "You're only in kindergarten! You don’t need to worry about it at your age! Here, go and enjoy yourself in the playground. See, there are some of your friends playing kickball. Why don’t you go join them?
And so he played to his heart’s content.
"What should I do for the rest of my life?" Dave asked Prof. Thurber.
"Well," answered Prof. Thurber with a thoughtful pause. "I don't think I'm qualified to answer that. What I can say is for you to use your freshman year to explore the opportunities out there for you. There is the core curriculum that everyone has to take, but use your electives to take a few introductory classes in the different departments and see what you really like. Use this time to explore your options, to learn about what out there really fascinates you."
And so he learned as much as his head could hold.
"What should I do for the rest of my life?" Dave asked his boss.
"You're on a good track for a career. Work hard. Take advantage of the opportunities that are offered to you here. Put in your time and effort and you’ll do well. But don’t get stuck. If it seems like your career isn’t moving, then find something else to do that is moving. Never stagnate.
And so he worked hard and moved up quickly.
"What should I do for the rest of my life?" Dave asked his mother on his wedding day.
"You now have a sacred responsibility to another. Be a faithful husband and when it is time, a faithful and father. You must be there to support them and when you're in need, they will be there to support you. Your wife will be your guide through life and your children will be your legacy."
And so he bore his responsibility nobly.
"What should I do for the rest of my life?" Dave asked the rabbi in between chemotherapy treatment.
The rabbi smiled. "You have lived a rich and full life. You should rest."
And so he did.
She laughed out loud. "David!" she exclaimed. "You're only in kindergarten! You don’t need to worry about it at your age! Here, go and enjoy yourself in the playground. See, there are some of your friends playing kickball. Why don’t you go join them?
And so he played to his heart’s content.
"What should I do for the rest of my life?" Dave asked Prof. Thurber.
"Well," answered Prof. Thurber with a thoughtful pause. "I don't think I'm qualified to answer that. What I can say is for you to use your freshman year to explore the opportunities out there for you. There is the core curriculum that everyone has to take, but use your electives to take a few introductory classes in the different departments and see what you really like. Use this time to explore your options, to learn about what out there really fascinates you."
And so he learned as much as his head could hold.
"What should I do for the rest of my life?" Dave asked his boss.
"You're on a good track for a career. Work hard. Take advantage of the opportunities that are offered to you here. Put in your time and effort and you’ll do well. But don’t get stuck. If it seems like your career isn’t moving, then find something else to do that is moving. Never stagnate.
And so he worked hard and moved up quickly.
"What should I do for the rest of my life?" Dave asked his mother on his wedding day.
"You now have a sacred responsibility to another. Be a faithful husband and when it is time, a faithful and father. You must be there to support them and when you're in need, they will be there to support you. Your wife will be your guide through life and your children will be your legacy."
And so he bore his responsibility nobly.
"What should I do for the rest of my life?" Dave asked the rabbi in between chemotherapy treatment.
The rabbi smiled. "You have lived a rich and full life. You should rest."
And so he did.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
A Major Catastrophe
Have you ever had the sinking feeling in your stomach that you did not belong anymore? There you are, minding your own business when all of a sudden, a wave of panic ripples through your body and you have the internal urge to be anywhere but here. It is the feeling of waking up to reality, right before your mind has time to fully digest the dire situation you are in and your brain simply wants to yell “help”.
That’s what happened to me this morning when I missed my stop while riding the bus to work.
Luckily, with lighting-fast reflexes, I was able to press the “stop requested” strip and hop off the bus one stop later, thus avoiding a major catastrophe. But what would have happened if my reflexes weren’t so quick? What if I never noticed that I passed my stop? What would happen if I simply stayed on the bus?
After ten minutes, I would have reached Lechmere T stop where the bus would have turned around and headed back to Harvard Square via Cambridge Street.
After an hour, there would have been a shift change and a new driver would command the bus up and down Cambridge Street.
After ten hours, the bus would be parked overnight at the central bus facility.
After a day, the morning shift driver would probably be wondering why I’m still on the bus after all this time. But they never say when you have to get off the bus after paying your fare.
After a year, the bus would be at the mechanic for its regularly scheduled maintenance.
After twenty years, the bus would be decommissioned and disposed at a junkyard.
After a hundred years, the bus would be buried under a mountain of mechanical parts and refuse.
After a thousand years, the landfill would be full and covered. Due to the lack of space, the surface of the landfill would be terraformed to be a new residential zone.
After a million years, new species would evolve that will marvel at the archaeological significance of a fossilized bus.
After four billion years, the sun will go supernova, consuming the remainder of the atoms of the bus.
After 100 billion years, the universe will suffer a massive heat loss as all the stars burn out. The world, as we know it, will end.
Good thing I got off the bus when I did. I don’t want to cause the universe to end!
That’s what happened to me this morning when I missed my stop while riding the bus to work.
Luckily, with lighting-fast reflexes, I was able to press the “stop requested” strip and hop off the bus one stop later, thus avoiding a major catastrophe. But what would have happened if my reflexes weren’t so quick? What if I never noticed that I passed my stop? What would happen if I simply stayed on the bus?
After ten minutes, I would have reached Lechmere T stop where the bus would have turned around and headed back to Harvard Square via Cambridge Street.
After an hour, there would have been a shift change and a new driver would command the bus up and down Cambridge Street.
After ten hours, the bus would be parked overnight at the central bus facility.
After a day, the morning shift driver would probably be wondering why I’m still on the bus after all this time. But they never say when you have to get off the bus after paying your fare.
After a year, the bus would be at the mechanic for its regularly scheduled maintenance.
After twenty years, the bus would be decommissioned and disposed at a junkyard.
After a hundred years, the bus would be buried under a mountain of mechanical parts and refuse.
After a thousand years, the landfill would be full and covered. Due to the lack of space, the surface of the landfill would be terraformed to be a new residential zone.
After a million years, new species would evolve that will marvel at the archaeological significance of a fossilized bus.
After four billion years, the sun will go supernova, consuming the remainder of the atoms of the bus.
After 100 billion years, the universe will suffer a massive heat loss as all the stars burn out. The world, as we know it, will end.
Good thing I got off the bus when I did. I don’t want to cause the universe to end!
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
A Strange Happening
The strangest thing happened to me the second week of March. I woke up and found myself at Disney World. Now, that by itself is not particularly strange as every morning thousands of people wake up and find themselves at Disney World. It is even less strange when you consider that I went to bed the night before at Disney World too. In fact, it would have been stranger if I woke up and found myself in Boston or Nashville instead of the Port Orleans Riverside Resort.
The Port Orleans Riverside Resort, not surprisingly, is pretty much like what it sounds. Nearly thirty building all designed with the quaint architecture from the French Quarter lines the banks of a man-made river. All the rooms open to the outside where pristinely maintained gardens and water fountains separate the many pools from the residential buildings. A ferry, departing from the local port, heads to Downtown Disney, a short fifteen minute ride away. And, unsurprisingly, the wait to board the boat is about half an hour.
It was a strange morning for me, though. I got up, brushed my teeth, shaved and performed the other rituals of the morning before heading to the pool. Mind you, that’s not all that strange either as every morning I go through the same hygienic routine in order to make myself presentable. I do have to admit, however, that I don’t head to the pool every morning. But frankly, if I could wake up, open my door, find myself in a blossoming garden with a clear sky and 70 degree weather at 7:00 in the morning during March while heading to an outside swimming pool, I would add it to my morning practice too.
When one’s at Disney World, many ordinary occurrences would be considered extraordinary anywhere else. Everyone goes mouse hunting at Disney World. That is a given. Most people, however, do it at the Disney Store. At the store, after making a purchase, all the cashiers sign off with “and have a magical day” while beaming a cheerful smile oblivious to the twenty screaming kids that are standing behind you in line at the counter. And, unsurprisingly, after buying souvenirs, not only can the purchase be charged to your room, but you can have it delivered there too so you don’t have to be carrying shopping bags while you enjoy your vacation.
So what was so strange about the trip? Looking back on it all, my visit to Disney World was rather typical. Everything that did happen should have happened. There really wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. In fact, I am sure that the armadillo I ran into in the hallway of my hotel thought to himself, “What an ordinary day, and there’s another guy going to the pool for a morning swim.”
The Port Orleans Riverside Resort, not surprisingly, is pretty much like what it sounds. Nearly thirty building all designed with the quaint architecture from the French Quarter lines the banks of a man-made river. All the rooms open to the outside where pristinely maintained gardens and water fountains separate the many pools from the residential buildings. A ferry, departing from the local port, heads to Downtown Disney, a short fifteen minute ride away. And, unsurprisingly, the wait to board the boat is about half an hour.
It was a strange morning for me, though. I got up, brushed my teeth, shaved and performed the other rituals of the morning before heading to the pool. Mind you, that’s not all that strange either as every morning I go through the same hygienic routine in order to make myself presentable. I do have to admit, however, that I don’t head to the pool every morning. But frankly, if I could wake up, open my door, find myself in a blossoming garden with a clear sky and 70 degree weather at 7:00 in the morning during March while heading to an outside swimming pool, I would add it to my morning practice too.
When one’s at Disney World, many ordinary occurrences would be considered extraordinary anywhere else. Everyone goes mouse hunting at Disney World. That is a given. Most people, however, do it at the Disney Store. At the store, after making a purchase, all the cashiers sign off with “and have a magical day” while beaming a cheerful smile oblivious to the twenty screaming kids that are standing behind you in line at the counter. And, unsurprisingly, after buying souvenirs, not only can the purchase be charged to your room, but you can have it delivered there too so you don’t have to be carrying shopping bags while you enjoy your vacation.
So what was so strange about the trip? Looking back on it all, my visit to Disney World was rather typical. Everything that did happen should have happened. There really wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. In fact, I am sure that the armadillo I ran into in the hallway of my hotel thought to himself, “What an ordinary day, and there’s another guy going to the pool for a morning swim.”
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Letter to a Time Traveler
Dear Slartibartfast3,
It has been many years since we’ve met but my memory of your visit lives on. I hope that you’ve arrived in your own time safe and sound. I remember, before you left, you mentioned that it would be a long and hard journey, full of great perils and many unknowns far beyond your control. If you did not make it back, then this letter is nothing more than words from a fool. But if you are reading this, then I am sure you are well.
I hope that you still remember who I was and that you recall the great times we had together during our youth. I still remember our travels through Europe, Asia and America. I remember the times spent at the great opera houses, the historic palaces and the ancient temples. I introduced you to my friends and we spent the holidays eating, drinking and being merry. They were great days of joy and laughter that I hold dear to my heart.
Please remember that when I first met you, you were disoriented, unorganized, and a miserable wreck. You did not know the time of day, nor day of the year. It was I who nursed you back to health. I let you sleep in my own bed and wear my own clothes. I gave you access to my bank account and credit cards when you were broke. I even helped you land a job and become integrated in the society that was “today” so that you could afford supplies for your journey forward in time. In short, it was I who got you to where you are now.
Now I am writing to ask for a favor in return. You are the only person who’s capable of telling my future and I want to know about it. Where will I live? What will I be doing? Who will I marry? How can I be happy? How do I become rich? Will life be fulfilling? Will I find peace? I gave you your life back. Are the answers to these questions too much to ask for?
Since I don’t know when you will receive this letter, nor if and when you will act upon it, consider this to be a constant reminder from a creditor that payment is eminently due. I do not know when you will pay in full, but I have full faith that you will. Time is a tricky mechanism, so please ignore this letter if you’ve already answered them. If not, I look forward to a speedy response.
I hope your journey was a good one. I hope you passed your trials and tribulations with little to show for them. And I hope, for my own sake, that you arrived safe and sound.
Truly Yours,
Slartibartfast3
April 2006
It has been many years since we’ve met but my memory of your visit lives on. I hope that you’ve arrived in your own time safe and sound. I remember, before you left, you mentioned that it would be a long and hard journey, full of great perils and many unknowns far beyond your control. If you did not make it back, then this letter is nothing more than words from a fool. But if you are reading this, then I am sure you are well.
I hope that you still remember who I was and that you recall the great times we had together during our youth. I still remember our travels through Europe, Asia and America. I remember the times spent at the great opera houses, the historic palaces and the ancient temples. I introduced you to my friends and we spent the holidays eating, drinking and being merry. They were great days of joy and laughter that I hold dear to my heart.
Please remember that when I first met you, you were disoriented, unorganized, and a miserable wreck. You did not know the time of day, nor day of the year. It was I who nursed you back to health. I let you sleep in my own bed and wear my own clothes. I gave you access to my bank account and credit cards when you were broke. I even helped you land a job and become integrated in the society that was “today” so that you could afford supplies for your journey forward in time. In short, it was I who got you to where you are now.
Now I am writing to ask for a favor in return. You are the only person who’s capable of telling my future and I want to know about it. Where will I live? What will I be doing? Who will I marry? How can I be happy? How do I become rich? Will life be fulfilling? Will I find peace? I gave you your life back. Are the answers to these questions too much to ask for?
Since I don’t know when you will receive this letter, nor if and when you will act upon it, consider this to be a constant reminder from a creditor that payment is eminently due. I do not know when you will pay in full, but I have full faith that you will. Time is a tricky mechanism, so please ignore this letter if you’ve already answered them. If not, I look forward to a speedy response.
I hope your journey was a good one. I hope you passed your trials and tribulations with little to show for them. And I hope, for my own sake, that you arrived safe and sound.
Truly Yours,
Slartibartfast3
April 2006
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
How to Chase Windmills
1) Locate a windmill. An old wooden one with four blades is ideal. A three bladed windmill used for generating electricity can be used if a wooden windmill is unavailable. Windmills with metalic turbines are also acceptable but they rust rather easily.
2) Find a horse. Although it is possible to chase windmills without utilizing a horse, it is commonly accepted that "giving chase" in the proper fashion will involve an equine. A steed is prefereable as it will give you the most amount of manuverability to dodge the windmill. If one is not readily available, any four-legged animal that will accept a saddle will suffice.
3) Obtain a lance. If one is not readily available, find a tree, chop it down and carve out a solid piece of wood. If you have a strong horse, your lance should be 12 to 15 feet long. If you have a weak horse, 6 to 10 feet will be enough. If you are on foot, you may want to use a broomstick or mop handle.
4) Imagine that the windmills are really giants ravaging the countryside. This is the hardest step and involves the most amount of concentration. Close your eyes and think hard. Furrow your eyebrows if necessary. Do not open your eyes until you see fearsome giants.
5) Charge. This is a straightforward step.
6) Get your lance caught in the spoke of the windmill. Depending on your strength, you can hold onto the lance and be dragged up into the air as the windmill turns or you may let go of your grip and fall face first into the ground. The choice is yours.
7) Wait for the medical team to arrive. Mumble something about giants turning into windmills so that they could escape your wrath. Be very insistent that the gods are having a joke at your expense.
8) Be deemed mentally unfit and be dragged off to the psychiatric ward. Be put into a straightjacket in solitary confinement. Most places will perform this only at last resort. Charging at windmills is an uncommon ailment and warrants drastic measures.
9) Imagine a windmill. This should not be too hard since you succeeded at step 4.
10) Imagine a horse.
11) Repeat.
2) Find a horse. Although it is possible to chase windmills without utilizing a horse, it is commonly accepted that "giving chase" in the proper fashion will involve an equine. A steed is prefereable as it will give you the most amount of manuverability to dodge the windmill. If one is not readily available, any four-legged animal that will accept a saddle will suffice.
3) Obtain a lance. If one is not readily available, find a tree, chop it down and carve out a solid piece of wood. If you have a strong horse, your lance should be 12 to 15 feet long. If you have a weak horse, 6 to 10 feet will be enough. If you are on foot, you may want to use a broomstick or mop handle.
4) Imagine that the windmills are really giants ravaging the countryside. This is the hardest step and involves the most amount of concentration. Close your eyes and think hard. Furrow your eyebrows if necessary. Do not open your eyes until you see fearsome giants.
5) Charge. This is a straightforward step.
6) Get your lance caught in the spoke of the windmill. Depending on your strength, you can hold onto the lance and be dragged up into the air as the windmill turns or you may let go of your grip and fall face first into the ground. The choice is yours.
7) Wait for the medical team to arrive. Mumble something about giants turning into windmills so that they could escape your wrath. Be very insistent that the gods are having a joke at your expense.
8) Be deemed mentally unfit and be dragged off to the psychiatric ward. Be put into a straightjacket in solitary confinement. Most places will perform this only at last resort. Charging at windmills is an uncommon ailment and warrants drastic measures.
9) Imagine a windmill. This should not be too hard since you succeeded at step 4.
10) Imagine a horse.
11) Repeat.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)