Inappropriate.

This one’s for datan0de, latexiron, physicsduck, and anyone else on my flist who appreciates this particular brand of science gone mad.

Inappropriately rocket-powered items. Includes all kinds of bizarre vehicles and not-quite vehicles fitted by various madmen with rocket engines, including but not limited to a rocket-propelled shopping cart (made even more terrifying by the close proximity of the red-hot combustion chamber to the…err…driver) and a rocket-powered street luge (because the only thing more dangerous than shooting down the asphalt at sixty miles an hour while only centimeters from the ground is shooting down the asphalt at a hundred and sixty miles an hour while only centimeters from the ground).

Found via danjite.

Accomplishments and stuff!

So, things at That Place Where I Work have been painfully slow, as we hold our collective breaths to see if we survive 2008. I’ve been productive, though, adding two new sections to my BDSM page and one new section to my poly page, updating my grammar page, and tracking down Russian virus writers.

I’ve also started tinkering with a new toy, a server-side RSS feed aggregator. I’m trying to sharpen some of my (rather weak) PHP skillz and learn about RSS and feed aggregation, and being (as I may have mentioned in the past) a seasoned, veteran pervert, thought what better way to do it than to create a Web portal for syndication of sex blogs?

Right now the only thing on it is Whispers…which I will once again encourage anyone on my flist to contribute to. You can see what I have so far here.

Right now it’s just a toy and kind of a learning experiment, but I’d like to make it into something interesting. Anyone out ther who has a LJ sex blog, RSS feed, or other blog or whatever about sex or sexuality, and is interested in seeing it listed, drop me a comment or email me at tacitr (at) aol (dot) com. Eventually, I hope to turn this into a true multiuser sex-blog aggregator. Why? Because it’s fun, and after all, what else is teh Internets for?

Holy crap! Coolest thing EVAR….

…via physicsduck

Video of a French guy who makes triodes (a type of vaccum tube) by hand. And when I say “by hand,” I mean glass envelope and all.

Pay particular attention to his testing equipment.

Man, this is really, really, really cool. If you like tech, you like seeing tech made, and you like old school tech, check this out. Worksafe, sound.

Linguistic musings

Axes seem to hold a special place in the collective consciousness of English speakers. Why is it, exactly, that we speak of axe murderers (usually in the context of “I’m not an…”), but we don’t attach the weapon of choice to the descriptions of other murderers? One never speaks of a knife murderer, or a gun murderer, or a blunt-instrument murderer…

“Nothing is worse than having an itch you can never scratch!”

That’s a line from the movie Blade Runner. The replicant Leon says this to the main character Deckard, just before attempting to smash his face in.

A few days ago, I woke up with an itch I couldn’t scratch. I can put a name to this particular itch, and that name is David. And no, it’s not what you’re thinking. Pervs.

In the past, you see, I have never liked sushi. I’ve been taken to sushi places in four major cities on both sides of the continent, and I’ve come to the considered and well-researched conclusion that sushi sucks. This conclusion has been assailed by a number of people over the yers, but subsequent experimentation has always left that conclusion intact.

I have a friend and coworker who is quite passionate about sushi, and he decided he’d be the latest to take a tilt at the windmill. So he invited me to a sushi place in Buckhead which is, he assured me, the best sushi he’s yet discovered.

And a chorus of angels sang on my tastebuds.

I can even tell you, gentle reader, the exact moment it happened. It was the lava roll that did it. I felt as a person who’d spent his entire life seeing only in black and white had suddenly been granted color vision, and his first sight upon being gifted this wondrous new thing was Vincent van Gogh’s Starry Night.

And so, just before New Year’s, when Shelly and Brenden and Taj were in town, we all joined David once more at this same sushi place for dinner. Lo, there was much sushi, and lo, it was all consumed. Then, after this orgy for the mouth, we went to see the new cut of Blade Runner. It was, truly, a Perfect Evening.

Nothing is worse than having an itch you can never scratch!

And now, gentle readers, that itch keeps returning. Before, when I lived in night, I never craved sushi; but now that I have sampled its wonders, the craving is upon me from time to time, without warning, and always when I have no immediate way to satisfy it.

I can only imagine that the long-suffering, tireless testament to the human spirit, Paris Hilton, must have felt something similar when her grandfather (and controller of the Hilton fortune) decided to pledge the entire vast empire to charity upon his death, cheating her of a $2.3 billion inheritance. I do not miss that $2.3 billion, for I never knew its charms, but the lamented Ms. Hilton must surely feel some of the same pain I feel now. Before I knew sushi, I could never miss it; and before she knew drunken million-dollar spending sprees, she could never miss them, either.

But my itch is, I think, easier to scratch.

It’s a sad, sad day

The antique violet wand gifted to me by lefthand has failed. I opened it up, and the iron core of the secondary winding is completely rusted through. In English, that means it’s almost certainly beyond repair.

Grr.

Oh, for God’s sake…

…all the rhetoric about “revolution” and how he’s different from all the others, and Ron Paul is just another anti-intellectual, anti-science creationist nutjob. Are there any Republican politicians anywhere who aren’t ignoramuses?

Horror, pure horror

And not even the good kind of horror.

Christmas eve, Shelly and I and her sweetie and his wife celebrated Christmas eve by seeing Sweeny Todd, the movie that shows that Johnny Depp is capable, when he chooses, of reaching very near to the pinnacle of creepiness set long ago by Christopher Walken. This is no small feat, for Christopher Walken is a creepy motherfucker.

That’s not the horror, though. Lots of people being killed very graphically, but that’s not the horror.

We didn’t look up the movie times,a nd as a result we spent over three hours chasing around from theater to theater, always arriving either two hours before the movie started or twenty minutes after it had begun. That’s not the horror, either.

Finally, we ended up spending a couple hours in a Barnes & Noble waiting for the last showing of the movie. That, too, is not the horror; indeed, there are many worse ways to spend several hours than in a book store. I even learned something while I was there1.

The horror is that we live in a world in which there is Dick Cheney slash fiction.

And it’s sold in the “literature” section of Barnes & Noble.

I don’t know what the book is called. I’ve blotted it from my memory. Shelly found it; it’s a collection of short stories, all erotica. And one of those short stories is… shudder… Dick Cheney slash. In a gun store.

In which Cheney gets sodomized.

I fear I will never recover.


1 I ended up picking up a book on helicopter design. Most of the book was way over my head; the math began on page 1, and the bulk of the book’s three inches in heft was calculus and fluid dynamics. One interesting tidbit, which did get lodged in my brain and will no doubt stay there forever, even though I can never quite seem to remember things like what street I live on, concerns autorotation.

If a helicopter’s engine fails, the helicopter can land safely using a principle called autorotation. The rotor blades are disengaged from the engine, so they can spin freely. As the helicopter falls, the air rushing past it causes the rotor blades to spin, generating lift and slowing the fall.

The neat bit of information, which is wildly non-intuitive but makes perfect sense when you stop to think about the physics involved, is that a light helicopter that is autorotating will fall much faster than a heavy helicopter.

The acceleration imparted by gravity is constant: 9.8m/sec2. Objects which are behaving ballistically always fall at the same speed regardless of their weight. However, a heavy object has more potential energy than a light object. As an object falls, this potential energy is converted to kinetic energy. A heavy helicopter has more potential energy than a light helicopter, so more energy is available to spin the rotor blades as it falls. Until you reach the point where the weight of the helicopter is so great that it overcomes the blades’ ability to generate lift, a heavy helicopter falls more slowly than a light helicopter, because it loses more energy per vertical foot of drop, and so there is more energy available to be turned into rotational energy in the blades (and hence lift), which slows its drop.

The book had about four pages of calculus to support this assertion, and it makes perfect sense from a conservation of energy perspective.

And man, that’s got to be the biggest and most irrelevant digression EVER.

It’s the Terminator Kama Sutra!

This one’s for datan0de:

An illustrated guide to sex positions…with Terminators!