Right here.

-- Bob
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The Internet Is For Norns.

Amusing article teaches basics of analytics by analyzing red shirt deaths on Star Trek.

-- Bob
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The Internet Is For Norns.

I just discovered the Fan History Wiki while doing some research -- does anyone know anything about it? It looks surprisingly detailed, at least on a couple sample pages I clicked, and I was wondering if anyone had strong opinions, good experiences or whatever.

-- Bob
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The Internet Is For Norns.

August 1, 2007, Tommy Makem, Irishman, singer, songwriter, poet, and bard, passed away after a lengthy struggle with cancer. He was one of the great inspirations in my life, and one of the most genuine and fine individuals it has ever been my pleasure to meet.
Sir, you will be missed.
Motivational Poster Inspired by the news

I sit by my fire when the twilight falls softly
And all the sweet memories flow through my mind
I imagine I see, as the flames wave and flicker
The people and places that I've left behind
Chorus:
Sing me the old songs of laughter and pleasure
Sing me the old songs of sorrow and pain
Sing from the heart, sing of love without measure
The good times, the bad times, the sunshine, the rain
I hear an old song that keeps haunting me ever
The good times rush back with that well loved refrain
The sweet wine is flowing, the bright laughter ringing
And all the old friends gather 'round me again
Chorus
I remember the summers, the walks in the country
The long, quiet evenings, the smell of the hay
The touch of a hand and a smile that beguiled me
And told me of love that's still with me today
Chorus
--
"I give you the beautiful... the talented... the tirelessly atomic-powered...
R!
DOROTHY!
WAYNERIGHT!
--
Sucrose Octanitrate.
Proof positive that with sufficient motivation, you can make anything explode.

Look at them now
What do they want?
And what do they do?
Nothing at all!
What do they know?
What do they think?
And who do they tell?
No one at all!
Their lives are truely meaningless
And we are busy being blessed
With all that we
Can take and pocket
No one needs to know
We're the plug
And they're the socket
Give us the juice
And we'll glow
Can't you hear the choir now?
Listen to the animals sing!
Can't you hear the slaughterhouse bells?
In the land of the pigs
The butcher is king!
How do they sleep?
Their lives are so tawdry
We're the trash collectors
'Cause they're nothing but trash
What do you expect?
They've got no standards
So we lower the bar
'Cause they're perfect for us
We'll open up Pandora's Box
Pandora gave us keys and locks
They're the victoms
Waiting for their mugger
Come to the confessional
So I can tell you all to bugger off
There's no time like now!
Can't you hear the choir now?
Listen to the animals sing!
Can't you hear the slaughterhouse bells?
In the land of the pigs
The butcher is king!
Can't you hear the choir now?
Listen to the marketplace sing!
Can't you hear the slaughterhouse bells?
In the land of the pigs
The butcher is king!
In the land of the pigs
The butcher is king...
And we'll do it our way
It's our time to play
We know what to say
If you stand in our way
Don't stand in our way
No time like today...
Can't you hear the choir now?
Listen to the anthems we sing!
Can't you hear the slaughterhouse bells?
In the land of the pigs
The butcher is king!
Can't you hear the choir now?
Listen to the animals sing!
Can't you hear the slaughterhouse bells?
In the land of the pigs
The butcher is king!
Can't you hear the choir now?
Listen to the chosen ones sing!
Can't you hear the slaughterhouse bells?
In the land of the pigs
the butcher is king!
In the land of the pigs
the butcher is king!
In the land of the pigs
the butcher is king!
In the land of the pigs
the butcher is king!
-- Meat Loaf, In The Land of the Pigs, The Butcher Is King

We'll know in 2009, thanks to Studio CLAMP and Dark Horse.
There's some (sparse) information on them in this Publishers Weekly story...

-Rob Kelk
"Read Or Die: not so much a title as a way of life." - Justin Palmer, 6 June 2007
--
Rob Kelk
"Governments have no right to question the loyalty of those who oppose
them. Adversaries remain citizens of the same state, common subjects of
the same sovereign, servants of the same law."

- Michael Ignatieff, addressing Stanford University in 2012

Chapter Five of Drunkard's Walk V is now available on my website.
And since this came up last time, if you have questions or objections about anything in the chapter, you might want to check the Concordance first and see if we've covered it already there.
Have at it, folks! Enjoy!

-- Bob
---------
The Internet Is For Norns.

Chapter Five is now available on my website.
And since this came up last time, if you have questions or objections about anything in the chapter, you might want to check the Concordance first and see if we've covered it already there.
Have at it, folks! Enjoy!

-- Bob
---------
The Internet Is For Norns.

We know the Professor is essentially powered by caffeine, but what would happen if he was to drink Klatchian Coffee?

The SOS-dan had been gone for about three hours and I was still just -looking- at it.
It was beautiful.
Simply beautiful.
The sharp, sleek lines.
The huge, powerful looking engine nacelles.
Everything about it said, "Speed."
It was a perfectly intact SR-71 Blackbird. And I was going to rebuild it into the fastest interstellar craft known to mankind.
It was going to take a lot of work, a lot of time, and a lot of help, but I had connections, time to spare, and the wherewithal to see this project through.
As soon as I could quit geeking out over the mere presence of the thing. I couldn't help it - it was simply beautiful. It was the -perfect- combination of style, character, and aerodynamics. Sure, it wasn't the perfect shape for ultimate aerodynamic speed. Supposedly, NASA's lifting-body SCRAMJETs were much faster. But then, they've never been able to get one of the damn things to work right. Besides, they completely lacked the Blackbird's character, what with their simple, slip-form, shapes.
No, the Blackbird was perfection in -my- eyes. And Gina's as well. Though she was a little more impatient.
"Ben, I'm waiting. So is The Professor. Are you going to get on with it or not?"
"Huh?" I said oh-so-coherently. "Oh yeah! Right then. Let him know that we got it and that he can come over whenever he likes. What's his ETA?"
"He says that he'll be here in about two hours."
"Great. I'll start making sure everything's set for the Sol Bianca then. How're you doing, though? Settling into the new place well enough?"
The new place in question was the small asteroid I'd hired out the Rockhounds and Hephastus to outfit for me. That had cost me a little bit, but I had the money for it - money that I had originally intended to spend on the Blackbird itself since I had originally intended to buy it outright. But since Haruhi-san had seen it within her interests to procure it for me in return for my services, that left me with a lot more money for goodies I hadn't foreseen coming quite so soon.
Located conveniently between the orbits of Earth and Venus, the extra distance between myself and The Limit didn't bother me at all. Especially since that was a relative matter anyways when you're talking about traversing the void rather than the absolute distances. And besides, once I was done, if everything went according to plan, this little black birdie would have a slight advantage over most other Fen-ships in those To-The-Limit runs.
"For the tenth time, Ben, I -like- it here. The accommodation's for the vehicles are perfect and the living spaces are much nicer that what you had back on The Island."
"Funny that you think that about the living spaces."
"Hey, it's not like I don't care about you or anything. You did build me after all, and I cannot complain about the way you've treated me, and that's not because I'm an AI."
"Heh. Thanks," I replied, feeling a bit of a flush come onto my face. "Anyhow, I know you've had some ideas, and you know I've had mine. So let's collaborate. What've you got?"
Thus began our brain-storming session. We both new about Starfleet's cola/non-cola reactor engine that they were using for that long-distance ship of their's, the Miranda. Immediately we both agreed that the Blackbird's engine nacelles could be converted so each one not only held a powerful ion-drive, but a reactor to each one as well for optimal power output. That, and having two reactors would be better than just one in the event that one failed for some reason.
What to do with the original engines stumped me for a brief moment. I surely couldn't just junk the things, could I? Maybe there was someone willing to buy them? Then Gina hazarded a suggestion that maybe some recycling plant would want them. It was a perfect idea! We could use handwavium to help recycle them into the new drives! That way they'd carry over that same sense of raw, unbridled power that the Pratt and Whitney J-58's embodied into the new ion drives.
Gina also suggested that the massive amounts of fuel tankage had to go. that woulkd be much more well used as cargo stores and living areas... Though, even with most of the space converted, living areas would still be hunch-back cramped.
That didn't matter to me, though. I was fine with being confined in a small space as long as I had room to stretch and it was comfortable. Though a veiwport, I felt, would be nice to have. Gina conceded graciously on that, as handwaviumized glass could be just as strong as titanium when done right.
Weaponry was an important topic. The primary weapon would be something that we've both already had experience with - a larger and overall improved version of the coil-gun I had built for Gina on the first go-round. The ammunition would remain the same - ceramic darts with plastic explosive cores in discarding ferric sabots - only at a slightly larger caliber. This would increase the mass and the explosives payload.
We discussed building a secondary weapon system for the Blackbird, something on retractable turreted mounts covering the dorsal and ventral regions. However, we figured that it would be very difficult to build something that had a high enough rate of fire to satisfy us. Eventually, we settled on the idea of procuring a couple of M61 Vulcans from General Dynamics. With a bit of strategic 'Wave treatments, Gina and I felt that we could improve the performance of the weapon without harming its destructive capabilities. the only problem would be obtaining the ammunition for it - belts of M53 armor-piercing incendiary rounds were definitely not cheap.
We decided also to leave the frame and skin largely intact except for what few modifications we would make. One thing was for certain - the whole thing was getting 'Waved.
And then there was the control system. We both took one look at the cockpit and immediately agreed that the whole mess had to go. Digital readouts and touch-screen interfaces would be the way to go, here, and a lot of the gauges would be made unnecessary by having Gina be the AI of the Blackbird.
That in and of itself would be quite an undertaking, but so was every other facet of the rebuild that we had been discussing. We figured that we should leave the overall design of the computer system up to The Professor, but we did agree that having sub-processing units here and there would help greatly.
"So, anything else?" I asked at last.
"I can't think of anything that you haven't covered already," replied the Asuka-lookalike AI.
"Great," I said as I checked the time. "The Professor should be here soon. Have I forgotten anything?"
"Yes. Tie down that arm of yours. The last thing we need is for it to be groping one of his assistants."
"Oh, right!" I grabbed my odd, seemingly monsterous right arm, which seemed to have a mind of its own, and wrestled it into the restraining clip I had on my belt to keep it from doing something unpleasant to the Professor's assistants. They were nice and didn't deserve that sort of treatment, but I still tried to keep an eye on them. There was something just not right about the picture as a whole, even though I had no evidence to back it up.