KID Radio and Bobby Vinton

Nobody, and I mean nobody -- with the possible exception of the slugs in "Flushed Away" -- can sing this song like Bobby Vinton. Perhaps we should do a comparison:

It's well Mr. Vinton should be the one to sing this song the best -- he wrote it. That I did not know. Again, this is one of those songs they played a lot on KID AM 590 when I was a kid. Why does that radio station -- and these songs -- play such a prominent role in my childhood memories? Probably has something to do with how brains are set up and how aural memories like songs are stronger than other memories but are also linked to the weaker memories so when the sound is "played" again in the brain, those memory connections open up. Or it could just be that we listened to that station a lot when we were younger. But I do remember that alarm clock radio sitting in the brick niche in the kitchen next to the stove. It was always such a privilege to turn it on in the mornings. And we never, ever changed the station.

Religion in the Public Sphere

Heard part of this talk again on the way home from work tonight. This really struck me:

In choosing my subject I have relied on an old military maxim that when there is a battle underway, persons who desire to join the fray should “march to the sound of the guns.”[i] So it is that I invite you to march with me as I speak about religious freedom under the United States Constitution. There is a battle over the meaning of that freedom. The contest is of eternal importance, and it is your generation that must understand the issues and make the efforts to prevail.

The full text of his speech is here.

We can read about atheism and the pressure it puts on believers in the Book of Mormon. We can read about societies that valued so little the presence of religion that they caused those who believed, even women and children, to be burned merely because of their belief.

We can also counter the arguments of those who say that religion is evil. For every person killed in the name of religion -- by men whose lips are close to God but whose hearts are far from him -- a thousand have been killed by non-believers. Hitler, Stalin, Pot Pot, and others -- the gratest mass murderers of the 20th century -- all wished to supplant religious belief with secularism and, in the case of Nazi Germany, paganism.

We can also cringe at those who kill abortion doctors in the name of religion or God today. Once again, they have abandoned the faith they claim to cling to. There is no room for the Orwellian "Thou Shalt Not Kill Without Cause" in religion; the commandment is "Thou Shalt Not Kill."

I'm also reminded of a few quotations from Mohandas Gandhi:

A 'No' uttered from the deepest conviction is better than a 'Yes' merely uttered to please, or worse, to avoid trouble.

A religion that takes no account of practical affairs and does not help to solve them is no religion.

All compromise is based on give and take, but there can be no give and take on fundamentals. Any compromise on mere fundamentals is a surrender. For it is all give and no take.

Where Does the Film Go, Mr. Majors?

Something dawned on me while we were driving to work this morning. Lee Majors, in the Six Million Dollar Man, had a camera in his eye. Was that a camera that used 35 mm film, and if so, how did he replace the film or eject the exposed cartridges? I’d like to think he either had a USB-style port in his head where the exposed film could be ejected and the new roll put in, or perhaps they were more subtle – and a whole lot creepier – and just had the film drop out into his mouth when it was ready to go, so he could spit it out and then swallow a new roll. Must investigate this.

Here's what Wikipedia has to say:

A 20.2:1 zoom lens along with a night vision function in the left eye (as well as the restoration of normal vision). The figure of 20.2:1 is taken from the faux computer graphics in the opening credits; the only figure actually mentioned in the series, by Austin himself, is 20:1, in the episode "Population: Zero." Austin's bionic eye also has other features, such as an infrared feature used frequently to see in the dark, and he has also demonstrated the ability to detect heat (as in the episode "The Pioneers") and view humanoid beings moving too fast for a normal eye to see (as in the "Secret of Bigfoot" story arc). One early episode shows the eye as a deadly accurate targeting device for his throwing arm.

In Caidin's original novels, Austin's eye was originally depicted as simply a camera (which had to be physically removed after use) and Austin remained blind in the eye; later, he gained the ability to shoot a laser from the eye (this ability is also demonstrated in the first issue of the Six Million Dollar Man comic book issued by Charlton Comics).

So the TV show was understandably vague. The novel was more explicit, with noting the necessity of removing the entire camera from the skull after use. That seems really, really weird to me. Even stranger than the whole eye-based laser beam. But I suppose back then that digital photography wasn't even on the horizon, but it is incredible in this case (as with many cases) that the prognosticators didn't think these things all the way through.

Or, I should concede, did they figure the camera wasn't there for taking pictures, but for Steve Austin to be the big man and be able to zoom in and examine what was going on from a distance, and the clicka clicka noise was only for the edification of the audience? Can't be. Because tere were probably times they used photos he took, or at least wanted to use the photos he took. Why gie a guy a camera if there's no way to get images out of his head? That's all hearsay evidence in any court of law, even those the OSI might have subscribed to.
 
Another one that's always bugged me: Even with 24th-century technology, the best Star Trek-era medicine could do for Capt. Pike was a wheelchair that collected his poop and the ability to say "bloop bloop" for yes and "bloop" for no. So you can invent transporters, but can't even imagine medicine even a tinier bit better than what was available in 1960? Mr. Roddenberry (and others) for shame.

 
But the lack of imagination has at least produced this.

Ice on the Moon. Yay!

Red, fresh craters. Green, anomalous craters. All could be frozen swimming pools.

The Moon, it appears, is a very soggy place. Or at least icy.

Measurements from NASA’s Mini-SAR radar on India’s Chandrayaan-1 lunar orbiter has detected what NASA estimates could be about 600 million metric tons of water ice in permanently-shaded craters near the Moon’s north pole, or so space.com reports.

So not only is this good news for astronauts, who could build a Moon base near one of these craters and use the ice to create water, oxygen, and rocket fuel, but also good news for Santa Claus and his elf and reindeer friends if the ever need to relocate due to global warming or encroaching development.

I love how science keeps reaffirming the educated guesses my favorite science fiction writers made oh fifty or sixty years ago. And I love that NASA cooperated with India on this space probe, saving money while doing demonstrable science that could possibly benefit mankind if we ever get our heads out of our butts long enough to make a space elevator or a vehicle more dependable than the Space Shuttle.

So maybe there’s still a chance for a moon colony, one I could inhabit as a very old man where I could grumble at the kids to stay off my regolith.

This kind of news is also probably freaking out the Moonsters, who don't much like the acidic qualities of water. It's just like discovering toxic waste in shady spots on Earth.

In A Lurch

I try to be careful writing about work on this blog, simply because I'd rather keep th job I've got and not get fired or disciplined or given a talking-to over a blog post. I make it no secret that I work at a DOE laboratory on the cleanup side, and typically leave it at that.

But as the photo for this entry implies, we're in a bit of a lurch at work. The work we've done for the past two months has gone into the ashcan as people who make a lot more money than we do plan and make their moves. Nothing too terribly wrong has taken place, it's just a case of the left hand not knowing what the right hand was doing, while the rest of the body (spleen, pancreas, et cetera) just goes on producing insulin or red blood cells or whatever these oragns do as the hands engage in a long round of thumb-twiddling. This might be part of where the phrase "good enough for government work" comes from, though you didn't hear that here.

But thus is the nature of all jobs, I think. The vast majority of the time, you get your work done and it penetrates the bureaucracy. All goes well. Only a few times does it get fouled up. I can recall an instance from my career in newspapers where the buraucracy fouled things up and left a story I'd worked hard on in the lurch. That put a significant dent in my enthusiasm, and was a time when hearing "You're way ahead of us" was not a good thing, because they never bothered to start the race.

So I know what being in a lurch feels like. So does Lurch:

Ah, Vacation . . .

"Want A Clam Fer Yer Boy?"

I sense it's time to go on vacation again. That's certainly been the vibe this weekend, as we at Uncharted prepared yet another update, this time on a lovely day my family spent at Seaside, Oregon. You can read the story here. I'll have another story up soon, but right now it's just gonna have to wait. (UPDATE: The second story, with some recycled photos, is here.)

I've visited a lot of places. Only a few of them were good enough to tempt me back. Oregon's northwest coast is certainly one of those places. I could be a beach bum at Cannon Beach, eating seaweed and living in a driftwood hut, forever. That is, if I weren't married nor encumbered with job, children, mortgage payments, et cetera. But I could certainly spend a lot more time wandering Oregon than the fast week and a half we spent there last summer. Oh, I want to go back . . .

It's A WORKING Title

So, I stole "oont" from Richard Thompson. But he stole it from a Bugs Bunny cartoon. I won't tell on him. And besides, "Oont" is just a working title for my current CR ramblings, so don't get uptight.

It Appears . . .

. . .the Grammar Nazi needs to remind everyone of this.

BC and the Olympics

It’s good to see Johnny Hart’s grandson Mastroianni (I’m sorry; I don’t remember his first name) continuing Hart’s tradition of writing and drawing amusing Olymics-themed comic strips. I think Hart got his start with the Olympics when they were in Lake Placid, New York, in the ‘60s, near where Hart lived. This one with BC’s contorted facial expressions as he mentally prepares himself for the bobsled run is a classic example of the Hart/Mastroianni Olympic flavor. I wonder if the syndicate has an agreement with the Olympics for this kind of treatment, as they’re pretty protective of their five-ring logo. They must have.

It’s also good to see Mastroianni continue his grandfather’s sense of silliness, as in this strip:

I have to admit that this is about my limit for Olympics exposure. I will occasionally glance at the stories and photos and the medal tracking on the internet, but to say the world stops while I watch the games would be to lie. It's probably because I've got other things to do. but I'm grateful tow atch them through BC's filter, because I get the humor along with the event. Yeah, I don't really care to know who wins or loses, though it was a bit of a disappointment to see the US lose to Canada in mens hockey; a loss would have knocked the Canucks down a few notches on the ol' humility meter. Not that the US is any great example in humility, mind you, but it's my opinion that you don't beat jingoism and braggadocio with more jingoism and braggadocio. The meek will truly inherit the earth, though why they'd want it in its present condition is beyond me.

Jonny Quest and other Infantile Musings

This weekend, I rediscovered Jonny Quest. I used to watch this Hanna-Barberra cartoon religiously, whenever I remembered to watch it. You know how it goes. You love a show because it's a show, a cartoon. I see my kids doing the same thing. They watch a show because it's cool, because it's a cartoon and such.

But I remember Jonny Quest and this episode in particular. The Robot Spy. Scared the heck out of me, with that bug-eyed little thing running around, peeking at everybody and slapping its antenna on humans' foreheads, leaving that weird little red mark. I seem to vaguely remember that someone -- probably my older brother Jeff, who enjoyed winding us up -- said the mark on the forehead meant the spidery guy sucked the soldier's brains out. So I have vivid memories of watching the spider walk around and peer at things, but only vague memories of everything else (I was easily influenced and a bit timid as a kid).

So now I'm watching the cartoons again. I swear they did more than one season, because I don't remember any of these repeating over several years of watching them. Guess I wasn't as dedicated to them as I thought. But they're still fun.

And, as I watch them again, surprisingly violent. I dismiss a lot of the cartoons they have today for the violence contained therein, but after watching Race Bannon ice some coolie with a machine gun, deflecting his bullets off the blade of a bulldozer around the corner to smack the coolie in the conk, I had to question whether the cartoons they have today are any more violent than the ones I watched as a kid. But it does make me wonder: These violent cartoons didn't make me violent. Of course, I didn't watch them over and over and over again, and never had a problem, even then, sorting reality from fantasy. That's not an argument that says violent shows don't begat violence; but just a postulation that mild exposure to violence as a kid did not turn me, personally, into a violent kid. Or adult.

Mostly, though, I notice weird things now. Like how the robot spy keeps its eye on the viewer the whole time to give off that Evil Otto vibe. But in effect that makes the spder walk sideways. Eerie.