Never Throw a Cord Out

This story begins with a remote-controlled centipede.

And how many stories have that preface?

Yet it’s true.  My mother’s boyfriend (Roger) is a big kid at heart.  And to me, that’s very relatable.  I too seek excuses to wander the Nerf isle, chuckling merrily at the myriad of mischievous machinations–made by malicious Man.  How I long to fork over the $150 for the battery-powered chain-fed fully automatic Nerf LMG.  And I totally would, were I to have a son instead of a daughter.

But Roger’s sense of humor provides the excuse, and I find myself buying him the toys that I secretly want for myself.  And he in turn does the same to me.  And so, I found myself with a really cool remote-controlled centipede.

[End preface 1]

I collect electrical cords.  Sure, proprietary monitor ports have given way to VGA, then to DVI, then to HDMI; but what of those old and still-functioning peripherals?  They might be re-purposed one day, and then where will I find one of those old cables?  So I keep them all, in a cardboard box, in which they’ve amalgamated into some form of insulated copper Gordian Knot, but I know that the moment I throw one out, I’ll need it.  And despite Liz’s protestations to what she considers “hoarding”, the box remains.

[End preface 2]

The centipede has an internal battery which cannot be swapped.  I find that unusual for a toy.  And equally unusual is that the toy did not come with a charging cable, given the clearly-labeled charging port on the centipede’s ventral service.  It was a situation of little importance given the far more demanding obligations at hand, but it irritated me.  And so, I dove into the box, looking for a cable–any cable–which might fit the connecting port on the centipede’s underbelly.

And found a cord I did, much to my surprise.  Yet, the cord’s other end was USB, which made me really wonder what it’s original purpose was.  No matter, what I needed then was an adapter.

But then I considered–how many different charging cables terminated in USB?  To answer, I dug through the box some more.  I found (before I grew weary of knots): USB micro, USB mini, and the unknown and aforementioned centipede charger.  I considered: wouldn’t it be nice if I could plug them all into something akin to a charging station?

And then I found the old USB hub, which was powered.  Huzzah!  I plugged the hub into an outlet, then the various cables into the hub (including the centipede-charger).  And sure enough, the centipede indicated successful charging via glowing eyes.  And now, I can plug additional devices into the hub to charge alongside the centipede.

So what started as a very insignificant dilemma turned into a more expansive solution.  I now have a charging station on the tech shelf for any modern electronic which might need a battery charge.

And they’ll all have a centipede guardian.

–Simon

Herbie

Remember those old Disney movies with the sentient Volkswagen?  It was a fun take on our tendency as a species to anthropomorphize our vehicles.  And as a kid with few friends, I found the idea of being besties with a car to be a very reasonable movie premise.  So it was that my favorite in the series became Herbie Goes Bananas.  It involved a Hispanic orphan who gets into wacky adventures with the car, culminating in them foiling a plot to steal Aztec gold by a gang of enterprising bandits.  That touch of Indiana Jones in the story must have really taken me in.

Anyway, another individual with a goofy sense of humor must have found meaning in these films too, for we witnessed this in the parking lot during a Target run:

Not exactly a Volkswagen, but no matter.  See you around, Ocho.

–Simon

Whippet Ingenuity

Dogs can be clever when the need arises, though certainly some exhibit this more than others.

Whippets are not winter dogs.  Their short hair and predilection for cuddling conditions them for warm and comfortable environments, and the bitter cold of February simply does not meet these requirements.  In the past, the whippets have simply burrowed deep into blankets and cushions, at times even becoming invisible to the unsuspecting human who wishes to sit upon the couch (resulting in a rather canine-sounding whoopie cushion).  But Poppy took a novel approach, and actively sought ambient heat, apparently not content to merely preserve her own.  It seems like an obvious solution for a dog, but I find it awfully darned funny.

Here she is on a heating register
I thought Man’s mastery of fire was part of what made us different from animals–apparently not

I later found the thermostat cranked up to 90, although I didn’t catch her in the act, so blame seems to point elsewhere.  It would seem that the whippet’s ingenuity is just one example of an inter-species female desperation for heat.

The thermostat will stay at 64!

–Simon

See the Light

I hate what the information age has done to information.  By democratizing its access, we’ve devalued it entirely, which in turn has rendered its pursuit a non-viable economic model.  Instead, its value is now determined by aggregation.  The facts themselves are now worthless, but if one has enough sheer volume of facts, then they can drive traffic and by extension, capitalize upon secondary ad revenue.

So with the information itself demonetized, no incentive exists to analyze it–just to present it in a quickly digestible form.  The result is the same sub-1000-word article on every website.  Any academic value it originally had is diluted by this copy-paste method.  No one’s vetting the research, and very few are doing any original research.

I encountered this phenomenon while indulging in a casual curiosity.  The Super Bowl was playing, and there are few things I have less interest in watching, so I ate a can of sardines.  (I forced the child to try one for the character-building experience).

Delicious fish having been consumed, I was left with a can of oil.  I recalled hearing that the fish/olive oil made a good base for an improvised oil lamp (of course it would, seeing as that was the primary purpose of originally harvesting olive oil, which was a major step for humanity towards achieving ubiquitous and affordable artificial light–facts apparently lost to history).  So I rolled up a piece of paper towel into a wick, stuck it in the can, and lit it.  And, unsurprisingly, it burned with the steady flame of an oil lamp.

As I watched the flame, I wondered where I had read that article, who’s purpose was to list the unconventional sources of lighting one might find in their kitchen, for use in an emergency.  So I took to the Internet.

And this is where I became irritated with the scenario outlined in the first two paragraphs of this post.  I wouldn’t have much considered that the lists contained the same substances.  After all, there’s only so many combustible liquids in a typical residential building.  But what grabbed my attention was that every article added in the little quip about how burning the sardine oil would make the house smell like fish.  That was because, it didn’t.  The little flame is insufficient to bring the contents of the can to the volatiles’ vapor point, and the oil that was actively combusting was heated to the point where anything which would have smelled was denatured.  It was a clean, odorless lamp.

This indicates to me that the original author of the article probably put in the humorous aside, meant to be nothing more than a small joke, and was subsequently copied as a priori fact by content harvesters looking to add information to their own catalogues.

So for fuck’s sake people, do a little bit of original research.

It also bears mentioning that the sardine lamp burned out sometime after I had fallen asleep, so you do get several hours’ worth of illumination from it.  And the sardines were good.

–Simon

After the Fall

February is approaching, which means I’m not doing much of interest right now, which means there isn’t much to write about, which means I’m going to do some rambling.  Yep, it’s one of those posts.

And as I trudge through the bleakness in my MUCK boots (which are awesome, by the way), I ponder the meaningless of the human existence.

Okay, not quite, but a general lack of distractions when it’s cold and dark does tend to condition the mind towards a gnawing hopelessness.  And to validate that such feelings are not unique to my own winter slump, I booted up a game I hadn’t played in 2 years: Tom Clancy’s The Division.

If you know anything about the Tom Clancy universe, it’s an unapologetic argument for extreme right-wing executive enforcement of national security.  Clandestine operations?  No problem.  Spying?  No problem.  Anti-terrorist death squads?  No problem.  And so on.  And whatever my political views on these activities might be, in a simulated world, it’s damn fun to live an artificial life of justified violence and power without accountability.

To summarize the plot, a manufactured virus is unleashed in New York City.  Its 90-something % mortality rate destroys modern society, survivors struggle to stay alive, the predictable scum of humanity form coalitions and prey on the weak, and a branch of Homeland Security sleeper agents are activated and sent in to restore order (AKA shoot every criminal possible).  It is an oddly believable premise for a story–not to mention unsettling, to roam the largely vacant streets of a large metropolis, no longer feeling remotely safe to be outside.

It caused me to consider a pattern among video games from the last few years: societal collapse and annihilation.  The trend seems to have started with Fallout 3, which came out right as the recession hit.  Of course we had Fallout 4, and Destiny (which is a little further removed from the collapse but still a major theme), and the Metro series announced a sequel, and we got a teaser for Anthem–which looks Destiny-ish in its post-collapse (as opposed to post-apocalyptic, a subtle difference) theme.

It’s easy to understand the prevailing nuclear apocalypse theme from 60s and 70s cinema, given the Cold War, but why is this such a commonality now?  Naturally, I jumped online to examine this phenomena–or rather, I Googled a few phrases to reduce what might be a lengthy academic discussion to a few hundred words.  Don’t judge.

The conclusion–we romanticize a simpler existence and hope for the fall of government corruption, even at the expense of losing our luxuries.  In reality, I doubt anyone would consciously choose that existence, but as I mentioned earlier, it’s fun to pretend.

I’m going to go shoot more New Yorkers now (now that’s a cause I can get behind).

–Simon