Mood:  a-ok

What do you do when your own blog won't let you log in for two f**king weeks?

The answer is: not much...

Not that I needed a new reason to hate Tripod, or anything, but I believe that when I bloody friggin' type in a username of 'shanekentknolltrey' I should get access to this thing. Or at least I'm supposed to.

Tch! Well, I don't wanna criticize the wonky powers that be anymore: after all, I could end up getting locked out permanently.

The short answer is that my password got changed; I still don't know why. I do know that I was able to eventually change it back, hosanna in the highest.

Let's see: what's happened during my interminable abscence, eh?

Phoenix landed, for one, and this time the software gurus at NASA didn't confuse pounds and newtons, saints be praised, and the craft also didn't prematurely cut its descent engines, either...

Lord: Mars research is expensive, ain't it? And with our current track record, we shouldn't even be thinking about manner flights any time soon.

The Red Planet might even be better off without us: who knows? 

Everyone know we need to go to Jupiter, anyway: it should be the 'monolithic' crown jewel of our space program. I can think of 2001 reasons to go, and we'd really have a 'hal' of a good time, provided the vessel had a good bowman or two up front: someone who's wanted to reach for the 'stars' even as a little 'child'...

(yeah: this is the stuff you've been missing for two weeks. However can one survive without it? ;) 

Posted by shanekentknolltrey at 1:35 PM ADT

Updated: Friday, 30 May 2008 1:38 PM ADT

Share This Post

Permalink

Mood:  quizzical

Think about this li'l nugget of wisdom:

Fighter pilots have bladders, too.

...yeah: I think we all can see the problem from here. Those good ol' boys 'n girls can probably even smell it, too (and feel it)...

eeegh; that's enough of that.

Far be it for these aereal aces to have to wallow around in their own urine, so enter a private company with a certain device that acts (somewhat) like a port-a-potty you squeeze between your legs:

The AMXD!!!

That's a pretty common-sense solution to a very... sticky... situation.

Not a bad solution, really. My Allied Military R-Type pilots in TYPERS have a chemical support system that injects things directly into their bodies to suppress urine formation and urine storage in the short term (ie: atmospheric flight)

...anything longer (ie: protracted spaceflight) requires a different solution...

...enough on that... 

Seeing's how the most advanced fighter aircraft in the world right now is the F-22, and it barely has the power to control its own avionics (ie: extremely primitive 'self-repair' style technology, shunting of power, fluids, et al in response to catastrophic injury... mostly a budgetary boondoggle with overcomplicated bells n' whistles, but what do I know?) I don't think we're gonna see a fighter plane with the ability to minister to a pilot's body like that for some time.

Until then, there's AMXD. Unless our men and women in flightsuits would prefer to be stuck with a urinary catheter, of course.

The answer to that question... well, is a strafing run in the direction of the person asking it. 

Scientific Progress goes diving for cover... 

Posted by shanekentknolltrey at 8:44 AM ADT

Share This Post

Permalink

Mood:  incredulous

Here's a hardly-novel story from across the desert sands.

*Yawn* Yes, yes: we'll have the Ark in no time, and all that. Heard it before, but I've yet to see the damn thing and its stunning tablets of law sitting in a museum yet.

...uh: these treasure hunters should remember that, assuming they find the thing, it supposedly kills on contact, so wear thick gloves, people.

Personally I think that the Ark is a bit inaccessible to us flesh-and-bloods at this point in time... Doesn't matter: it'd be more than nice to have the vessel and its contents on display (precluding any muderous angels or kill-on-contact abilities, mind you...) but as spiritual laws go, we've already had an updated version of that program installed on our spiritual hard-drives anyway, so the Ark is, in the final analysis, moot.

...unless you're Jewish. In that case, go wild: its the definitive bond between yourselves and El Shaddai, after all...

(makes you wonder: would the state of Israel attempt to claim ownership of the thing when it's found? Y'know: a-la Spain and shipwreck salvagers? Of course, the stakes here are slightly higher than just a paltry half-a-billion dollars-worth of gold bullion...) 

As for me, I'm content to let such artifacts (assuming they still exist in this plane of existence) rest.

Godspeed, in any event... 

Posted by shanekentknolltrey at 1:30 PM ADT

Share This Post

Permalink

I think I've mentioned this before, but I have a running battle with all the wild swans that live on my city's lake ('all' being about two families, but still...); if I wobble past them on my kayak dropping pieces of bread into the water then they love me, if the bread runs out they hate me, if I don't drop bread FAST enough they hate me, if I look at 'em the wrong way they hate me...

you get the pattern, I think.

There's a new one to add to the list: if I accidentally stumble upon the little under-bridge island they're using to hatch their little babies, then they REAAAALY hate me...

So that's the best on-water picture I've managed of any of these half-heart-shaped bastards (who, I say, have significantly less than half-a-heart...) and it nearly cost me my paddle: two seconds later this bastard was diving against the boat lunging for my friggin' nuts!

In his defense, I did stumble upon his nesting ground: he and his mate were sitting under dense brush, and there were dark down feathers ALL OVER the undergrowth (ie: a shedding baby, or two-dozen...)

Needless to say, I was paddling for my life for a good quarter-mile down the water: this daddy did't f**k around with me...

Upon seeing them later on I suppose that they only have one kid, or at least just one survivor from a larger feathered brood...

<

...and yes: no updates for almost a week, again. I'd apologize, but seeing's how the site is free, I don't think I owe explanations, do I? ;)  I do ask for indulgences, though: after I post this upcoming double-chapter feature of TYPERS there's only going to be two chapters left in His Moral Antipathy: "Where Me and My True Love Will Never Meet Again" and "Mono No Aware".

That'll be it: the third and final book is slated to begin directly on the heels of HMA's cliffhanger ending.

I've even already got the final chapter's 'closer art' assembled and ready to go, so there... 

Posted by shanekentknolltrey at 5:59 PM ADT

Updated: Thursday, 8 May 2008 6:13 PM ADT

Share This Post

Permalink

Mood:  mischievious

Not the everyone doesn't already know that men are pigs, but one research group at Purdue is taking that adage to a whole 'nother level.

Collagen-laden ECM from a walking side of ham did that? Who knew: despite not posessing proper hands, as such, a pig has still somehow managed to give a person the finger!

...no, nothing on that one? Not a chuckle, at least? Alright, fine...

This really surprises me: a ground-up sprinkling of dried pig bladder kick-started a body into action. Basically this schmo's finger healed itself before it could get plastered over with dense, crusty, irrevocable scar tissue (think about an abandoned building being purchased and renovated before it can be demolished to make way for a parking lot).

Assuming those picture that go along with the story are legit then this is major news: the damage in that one photo is clearly catostrophic, but then there's that nearly-perfect finger (nail and all) in the other one.

And, like the story says, no skin-grafts. No surgery. No cuts and blood...

No stitches... 

I personally thought that the next big breakthrough in body-part regeneration would involve accelerated growth of adult clonal cell colonies extracted directly from the patient in question (eg: Justin's 'test-tube-grown skin', pg 8) but this is really cool: regenerating fairly complex body parts (fingers ain't simply a mess of flesh, after all) without invasion. With, metaphorically, the touch of a wand.

With, quite literally, the sprinkling of some pixie dust.

This is something to watch. Consequently, given the astouding sci-fi quality of the story, it's suitable that they're calling this stuff mined from the insides of these animals 'pixie dust', 'cause I wouldn't image getting results like these when pigs flied.

Scientific Progress goes down to the corner store to get some bacon to slather on that old wakeboarding injury... 

Posted by shanekentknolltrey at 1:45 PM ADT

Share This Post

Permalink

Mood:  a-ok

I'm gonna post 'On the Razor's Edge' together with the followup chapter, 'If One Wake at Midnight' (for all you Dickinson fans...). Two for the price of one, yeah, but it has the added effect of delaying the overall post (not too long: it's all almost done, really, and I'm only posting both at once 'cause I won't know where I want the actual break between them to be until I AM completely done with both...)

I was gonna name a REEEEAAALLLY late chapter in the next book after a Dickinson line: 'The Thing With Feathers' (ie: hope) until I found out that an episode of Without a Trace (of all things) already used that phrase.

So, instead, Emily gets her shout-out here, instead. Good thing, too, 'cause I had no f**king clue what else to call this second half otherwise...

Check the screenshot out down there for a small line of rambling notes. It looks better worked into dialogue, I'd say.

At least, I'd hope...

Posted by shanekentknolltrey at 3:46 PM ADT

Share This Post

Permalink

Mood:  surprised

This time it's Shane himself that gets the benefit of scientific progress:

I got my TYPERS montage up on the main site; it glides on a smooth stream, it plays mp3-quality sound, it has picture and volume controls, it has good resolution even at full-screen viewing, it'll clean your house, cook your steaks and get wine stains out of carpet: everything one could ask for!

My noobness quotient is dropping, I think...

Of course, the fact that it works for ME implies that it won't work for the majority of computer users simply by taking Murphy's Law into account. If one owns a Mac (god help you anyway...) this is WMV so, again, the thing might not work right.

For that matter I've only tested it on Firefox 'cause... well... that's what I use, so there. Other browsers might... I dunno: explode, or something bad.

Hope not, anyway...

Scientific Progress goes to look for more code it doesn't understand to tinker with...

Posted by shanekentknolltrey at 6:18 PM ADT

Updated: Sunday, 27 April 2008 6:20 PM ADT

Share This Post

Permalink

Mood:  lyrical

It only occurred to me after seeing it for the fourth time, but in retrospect Carmen has one of the weakest overall storylines of any opera I've ever seen.

I won't go into little points, or anything, but take another popular opera that is (musically) inferior to Bizet's work: La Boheme. There's a story: right parts development, pacing and a suitably sad ending giving the audience a hearty spoonful of mono no aware, if you will.

...god, I sound like an a**hole right now, don't I?

Anyway: in Carmen the problem, mainly, is that the lead character is an idiot, values 'freedom' to the point of running right into a man's knife 'cause he won't let her go see a bullfight, didn't avoid the man despite being warned about her impending death repeatedly via tarot cards, and she is, ultimately, not a poetically tragic figure, but a bitch.

It's one of the only operatic death scenes where I want to start clapping AS the knife finds flesh, and not after the ensuing mourning overture.

Hell: Madame Butterfly (I'm stuck on Puccini, I guess...) evokes more sympathetic emotional response from me in five minutes than Carmen does in three and a half hours.

Carmen's only saving grace is that it has, hands down, absolutely the best f**king musical score in operatic history. Makes up for the terrible story enough to make it my favorite opera, anyway.

But in conclusion: story ain't everything, but it certainly helps... 

Posted by shanekentknolltrey at 1:51 PM ADT

Share This Post

Permalink

Mood:  a-ok

The new James Bond film is named after an obscure short story published in the 'For Your Eyes Only' series of exploits.

It's one of the atypical entires in the canon: while Bond's previous night's exploits are glossed over in the opening, for almost all of the story he is a passive listener to his host's tale of 'true love', or lack thereof.

Given the track record on the set of this new cinematic Quantum, however, it seems that Bond ain't sittin' on his ass most of the time...

The title's a stretch, I've gotta say. In the book it worked so well as one of the clear defining points of the host's story, while it's been clumsily adapted to fit a storyline involving the fictional 'Quantum' agency (a stand-in for SPECTRE, 'natch...) in this new cinematic outing.

I'll be first in line to see the damn thing, regardless, but with all the talk about the extra stuntwork (Craig reportedly says that 'Royale' was a walk in the park compared to 'Quantum') and the focus 'more on gadgets', as a propmaster put it, I'm hoping they don't make the mistake of devolving into a Roger Moore-era reliance on Bondian silliness and technology-to-the-extreme...

I think they're cleverer than that. What they've got going here is really good stuff, after all: Craig's damn-near second on the list of great Bondians (currently tied for number-2 with Timothy Dalton, in my reckoning) and while a million more movies with the same quality as 'Royale' couldn't help him dethrone Connery he's shaping into the role quite nicely, says I.

(BTW: If I haven't posted in a week, and... well, I haven't... it's 'cause I'm both strapped for time, and, on top of it all, polishing 'On the Razor's Edge'. That's due any day, incidentally...)

Posted by shanekentknolltrey at 3:17 PM ADT

Share This Post

Permalink

Mood:  suave

...

...

Huh? What do you want?...

GO AWAY... I'm busy!...

...

... 

Posted by shanekentknolltrey at 4:59 PM ADT

Share This Post

Permalink