Aurora UFO Crash of 1897

Today, I went to see Jim Marrs talk about the Aurora UFO Crash of 1897

Smart Grid

Not sure what to make of the Smart Grid stuff.





***THIS SPACE LEFT INTENTIONALLY BLANK

Sense

"It's best not to think about it."
- Carl Carlson





And that about sums it up for me. Life, I mean.

It makes no sense. At first, I took it for granted, then, it was an intellectual exercise. Once the roof caved in, and I learned rapidly that my wife and I weren't playing house, life became something altogether new. It was both a little slice of hell and an exercise in futility.

Projections, Analogies and the weight of grain

A number (greater than zero) of years ago, (comma) I had a discussion with a friend of mine.

It was about religion. WAIT! Don't go away yet.

It was about the futility of attempting to map (ie. project) an n-dimensional (where n>2, possibly >>2) object on to a lower dimension.

For example, how do you accurately quantify, describe, identify, etc. a moving object (3-D + time, hence, in 4-space) provided only its shadow is visible?

Over the years, (comma) I've kicked that idea around, never really pushing it forward, growing it, <enter clever metaphor here>, until recently, when discussing real-world geometry with a friend. The problem was how to measure the area of a surface that wasn't flat.

This led to the concept of projections.

I'm not sure, but I would imagine that my aforementioned friend would be of the opinion that everything is relative, and that particular vantage point comfortably encapsulates the whole projections thing.

I'm of a different mindset. Having been steeped in a mathematical mentality, in my world, there are rules. Things are as they are. Analogies are fundamentally flawed. They break down. As such, projecting from one sub-space to another, or one concept to another would be only partially describing it and, therefore, yield an incorrect outcome.

Essentially, to define an object based on its relationship to, or similarity of attributes of, another object cannot be effectively done.

Consider, if you will, the anecdote of me at the grocery store, circa 1985 (I picked that year arbitrarily so as to put myself in an era where there may actually have been grocers in existence.):

[Me] How much does this bag of apples weigh?
[Grocer] Five pounds.
[Me] And this bag of wheat?
[Grocer] Five pounds.
[Me] So, they're the same?
[Grocer] Ummm, no.
[Me] Ok, so, how much does a pound weigh?
[Grocer] *Pause* Have a nice day.

According to the measurement Powers-That-Be:
There are big guys in uniform situated somewhere in Europe.
They have guns.
They guard a rock.
In that rock, there is a cave.
In that cave, there is a vault.
In that vault, there is a nondescript piece of metal.
That piece of metal is the standard of measure representing one pound.


There are no analogies to break down. It is what it is: one pound.
Just ask the big guys with guns.
Don't ask the big guys with guns. I was just kidding.

Frankenstein never scared me

Marsupials do... because they're fast.

Veni, vidi, vinca

Ok, now picture a metallic cute, periwinkle flower.


Awww, forget it!


Just can't make a flower be manly.

Nobody puts Baby in a corner...?

So, I tried to write a love note to my wife. It went so far out in space, I started quoting entertainers. Mr. Incredible (Craig T. Nelson), Michael Bolton (I celebrate his entire collection), and Patrick Swayze. That did it. I ripped the note to shreds. Truth be told, though, all I've ever needed to know I've learned from watching Dirty Dancing. (Of course I'm kidding. That's why I tore up the aforementioned love note.)

Foosmoms

So, we're playing foosball, and I'm thinking to myself

There is soccer.
There are soccer moms.
There is foosball...

There are foosmoms?

Huh. Kinda makes you think.

I don't know who these people are...

I have been told that this is a picture from our wedding. And, if memory serves, not too many women there were wearing a wedding gown, so, the process of elimination being what it is, that could very well be my wife. As for the guy, maybe if you add 50 pounds and 10 years to him then, ok, maybe it is me. Maybe.

A stitch in time saves nine [stitches]

For years, I thought a stitch in time saved nine. Just the number. The scalar. It boggled my mind how a simple piece of thread could save a unitless quantity. But, then again, I thought to myself, I'm no seamstress. I'm not any ess for that matter. I am Mr. Metallic Vinca and this is my blog. Welcome.