Notes from the Petting Zoo

I know I’m being a stickler on this, and far be it for me to discourage people from having a technologically grand time, but…

If they are remote controlled by a human being, they aren’t robots. They’re just toys. It doesn’t matter if they have four wheels, eight wheels, treads, chainsaws, or flamethrowers.

Robots basically have some sort of decision-making capability on-board, and can operate on their own. Toys don’t do a thing unless you wiggle a joystick or push a button or turn a wheel, like this remote-controlled zamboni. Robots have brains.

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From

Cairns cat saves owners from fire

“A pet cat came to the rescue when a family home in Australia caught fire – by scratching the face of its sleeping owner, officials say.”

I’ll bet you a box of Pop-Tarts there wasn’t a pet door in that flat.

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Band names are a wonderful subculture of America. I’d be fascinated by what sort of music might come from a band called “The Stinking Pukes”. Is there perhaps a Dutch lesbian band called “Finger in the Dike”? Shouldn’t there be? I mean, it’s so obvious. What about “Colostomy Rocket”? “Crotchless Maple Bar Outfit”?

A local band here in Portland is called “Your Average Brain Farmer”, which I think is quite charming.

What do you think we’re missing as far as band names go? Alternately, what band names have just blown you away?

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I really like this column. I think they update roughly once a week or two, but it’s always a very interesting topic.

and the column (I recommend bookmarking it and checking in once a week or so), is here:

Ask a Scientist

Enjoy!

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I’ve always had a bit of a bugaboo with the phrases “brutal honesty” and “the truth hurts”.

Not everything brutal is honest, and not everything hurtful is truth.

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I am intrigued at the interesting parallel people often draw between “logical” on one hand and “how I’m used to doing it” or “what is important for my comfort” on the other, when most of the time, people are best known for keeping those two concepts as far apart as possible.

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The company water cooler (which is also a water heater) has a very peculiar sound it makes as it empties.

It sounds like a big dog barfing.

No one else seems to notice this. Just me. I’m sure some of these folks have big dogs, too, but either their big dogs don’t barf, or perhaps they are silent barfers or something.

Please don’t misunderstand me, though — this doesn’t turn me off from the machine. I like water and I like being able to drink tea without using a microwave down in the lunch room.

What does bother me, however, is the potential conditioning. Next time the dog barfs in the middle of the night, I’m afraid I’ll suddenly get thirsty.

I think that would bother anyone, really.

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I have to constantly remind myself that 100% of what I know about someone is a much smaller percent of their reality. The converse consoles me, of course.

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Behold the power of the Internet: Westerners ‘are more promiscuous’

I like it when research shows very little link between promiscuity and sexually transmitted infection rates. I like when a study shows that people are not actually having sex at younger and younger ages. I like it when research suggests that the way to reduce rates of sexually transmitted diseases is to increase education, reduce hunger, reduce poverty, and keep condoms handy for anyone.

Mostly I like this because it directly contradicts what a lot of pundits suggest. On occasion, I think it’s okay to spank pundits with actual facts, instead of letting them spank us with fears based on their inability to control their own impulses.

Bad pundits. No biscuit!

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(kidnapped from Heather Rose)

Here are some of my favorite things. What are some of your favorite things?

A full moon, low on the horizon
Being invisible
Butterscoth
Coffee’s smell
Daughter’s smile
Dreams
Earl grey tea
Eggs with fresh-cracked pepper
Fog
Good gravy
Good health
Happy partners
Heavy rain
Insects that sit still long enough for me to get a focus
Middle-of-the-night silence
New music
Photographing perfectly that flower
Pirate songs
Silent stars
Sleeping
Smooth manual transmissions
Solved math problems
Sunlight
Swimming
Volcanoes
Warm biscuits
Watching movies

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Would people drive more carefully with better seatbelts and airbags, or with a big-ass spike on the steering wheel designed to instantly kill you in the event you hit anything?

I suspect the latter.

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More and more of life in America seems readily explainable by the events portrayed in the John Carpenter directed film “They Live”, except that in real life, I don’t think there’s only one Master Antenna, more’s the pity.

I wonder what we would see if I managed to shoot it, though.

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I’ve often heard or read of “the really hard questions”, but in most of those cases, those questions seemed pretty easy. The questioner was coming from a place of stability.

I think the really hard questions are questions that come from a place of instability. Questions where the questioner doesn’t already know (or think they know) the answer, or can’t think of the answer, or is afraid of a possible answer. These are questions that reveal the questioner is human and flawed.

Like everybody else.

Those, in my mind, are the really hard questions.

Some examples:
“Will you help me?”
“What do you think I should do?”
“What did I do wrong?”
“How can I help?”
“How can I make things better?”
“Do I enjoy what I’m doing right now?”

These are the hard questions.

What are some you’ve run across?

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Never mind your auto insurance — here’s a simple, cheap, and easy way to save a surprising amount of money. Reset Buttons. That’s right! The number of technical difficulties that be solved by simply pressing a Reset Button are innumerable. A simple Reset Button that sets all elements back the way it was when you started playing with it in the first place. Back the way it worked out of the box. Sure, you might lose current work or current settings, but it’s often a small price to pay for function.

The other day, after a week of fiddling, I decided my car stereo was busted forever, so I started shopping for a new one. Hundreds of dollars! Confused at all the new options, I returned to my car empty-handed, determined to do a little online research. On a whim, I look closely. Sure enough, under the faceplate is a tiny black button in a black socket, labeled “RST”. I push it. Nothing happens. I push and hold it. Five seconds later, the whole sound system starts chirping like Meth Bird, blinking all its crazy lights, and then suddenly is quiet again, except now it functions perfectly. Lost my programmed stations, but saved hundreds of dollars and Car Stereo Installation Grief.

So, Reset Buttons. They rock.

Too bad social problems can’t be solved the same way. Then again, maybe that’s what’s happening already.

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Handles and binding straps for futons. Sewn in. Ready-to-use.

I can’t be the only person on the planet who has wished these bastards could be bundled up as tightly as the day you bought ‘em.

I mean, this would be easy — metal loop in one end, tuck-in straps in the other. Untuck the straps, run ‘em through the loops and pull. The futon rolls itself up small enough to fit into your fully restored 1976 Datsun B210.

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It has been said many times that you can’t go wrong if you tell the truth. I suspect, however, that it is more accurate to say you can’t go wrong if you tell people what they want to hear.

This is not the ideal situation, by my lights — this is just what I’m seeing.

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I realized the other day that if we suddenly lose all our gravity for a few seconds, most of us would just fly away, especially all these healthy outdoorsey people and the ones who have fancy-ass penthouse apartments and such. Then the gravity would come back and those folks would go kersplash.

The ones who would most likely be okay, who would most likely be protected from sudden gravimetric fluctuations? The folks who live under bridges, the folks who work in dingy basement sweatshops, and the spelunkers.

Try to imagine a world run by spelunkers, bums, and human termites.

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