The Squamidian Report – Feb. 17/18
 
Issue #821

Including:
From Wayne
More Stink From Russ
From Lorne
The Ontarion

Hi All,

I'm gonna tell you a little bit about a telescope I purchases last summer. Its just a low level instrument, barley above being a high end toy. But thats ok because one of the purposes of this scope is that as the kids get older they can learn to use it. If it gets damaged its not a big deal. (If I were to some day get my 'dream scope' it could never be handled by a kid but thats not what this one is for). This particular unit, a Meade reflector on a Dobsonian mount,  has a 4.5 inch main mirror so it had a good big light gathering surface. As stated, its a reflector, meaning that light passes in through the front, past the secondary mirror all the way to the main mirror at the bottom end where it then is reflected back up to the secondary mirror, turned 90 degrees and out through the focussing lens. This scope is as much optimized for solar viewing as for the moon, stars, etc. It comes with a solar filter so you, or the kids, can look at the sun safely.

Because there is simply no where in this part of the world to purchase this kind of thing I had ordered it on-line and it had been mailed to me. When it got here, last summer, I found that the focussing mechanism had an alarming amount of side to side and up and down slop. The inner tube that holds the eye piece could move so freely inside the outer housing that was supposed to hold it steady that the scope was almost useless. You could actually move the lens far enough in any direction that you could miss the secondary mirror. That made viewing impossible. So, I had emailed the Meade company and explained the issue and asked for a replacement focuser. They actually got back to me fairly quickly and asked if I'd like them to send a new focuser or if I'd like to send back the whole unit and they'd send me a new one. I didn't want to bother with packing up and shipping the whole thing (at my expense) so I asked for just the focussing mechanism. That was the last I heard from them for a long time and eventually I emailed again to inquire as to what was happening. I was given a shipping number and told the item would go out in their next shipment, whatever that meant.

A whole lot more time went by and I finally gave up and repaired the focuser myself. There should have been (in my opinion) several shims or some type of bushing between the inner and outer tubes but there was just a single nylon strip that left way too much room letting the inner tube move all over the place. 3 more correctly positioned strips would have solved the issue perfectly. I didn't have stick-on nylon strips and couldn't find any but I did have velcro stick-on patches. Sticking just one side and discarding the other looked like a promising solution so I made 4 velcro strips and stuck them onto the inner surface of the outer tube. It worked great, a bit tight to turn the adjusting knobs but with use the strips will wear a bit. The scope was now the way it should be, useable. 2 days later there was a parcel waiting for me at the post office. We pick up our mail at the post office, no door to door deliver here and thats ok with me. I wasn't expecting any parcel deliveries as I had long since given up on the replacement focussing unit ever arriving. To my surprise, the box waiting for me was rather large, way too big to be the focussing unit. It was the whole telescope, they had sent me a whole new scope. Cool. I took it home, unpacked it and found to my amusement that this scope also had a uselessly sloppy focuser. They've obviously got a manufacturing issue or a cost cutting issue. Oh well, I now had a solution and I made the same repair to the new one as I had just done to my old one.

Now, what to do with a second scope. The mother of my grandchildren is quite interested in the night sky, as are the kids themselves (and Ryan too) so they just found themselves inheriting the scope. If it works out for them, great. If not, or if the kids accidentally break it, no problem. Its a starting place that could encourage a love of star gazing. Thats a good thing.
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Now, as some of you know, I picked up 'The Wife' at the airport on Wednesday. She had been in KW for about a month so I guess picking her up was the least I could do. Anyway, we had quite a spring snow storm the night before (our grass is green and tree buds are filling) and I wasn't sure what the roads would be like for my drive in to YVR. All it takes is a few snowflakes in Vancouver and area to cause total traffic kayos. The plow had been up our street so getting out was no problem. I blew our drive clear with the old blower before heading out so it would be nice and clear when we got back. The drive in to the city and through the city turned out to be fine, just the usual brain dead drivers to contend with. Some parts of the city were pretty well paralyzed but the down town route to the airport was clear. I had given myself an hour and a half to get there and thats what it took. Her plane was scheduled to get in at 10am and I got there at 10am. As you pull into the parking garage you get a little token thing at the gate that tells them how long you were there when you go to leave. Turned out her plane was 20 minutes late. No surprise there. Then, it takes 15 minutes, minimum,  for the passengers to disembark and make their way to the luggage area. Needless to say I was there waiting. Then the real waiting started. Like, close to half an hour or more before the first of the luggage started to slowly make its way to the carousel. After more waiting her bags finally turned up.

Now, I've always figured that ridiculously long waits for luggage was simply the airlines way of sticking it to the passengers one more time before the passengers could escape. But then I got thinking about it. Excruciatingly long waits were not the result of the airlines desire to further torture their customers, but rather the airlines trying to do them a service. You see, the longer the flying customer must wait for their luggage, the greater chance they have to climatize to the time differences they suffer due to flying across time zones. By the time a customer finally gets its luggage, they have recovered from any jet lag and have fully adjusted to the local time. Incredibly kind hearted and thoughtful on the part of the airlines to perform such a service, don't you think?

And theres another positive aspect to the long waits, people who have come to the airport to pick someone up and have obviously had to park in the parking garage have those little parking token things that somehow record when they arrived. Parking is calculated by the hour. So, if you have parked for half an hour you pay for a full hour. If you have parked for 59 minutes you pay for a full hour. If you have parked for 61 minutes, you are now paying for 2 hours. When you leave, you pop that token into another machine along with your credit card and it bills the card the amount now owed. You then get a token back that is popped into the exit gate machine so the gate will rise and let you drive out. By forcing customers to wait mind boggling long times for their luggage, the airlines have managed to assist the airport by increasing the amount of parking revenue that is collected. Ingenious.

doug
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From Wayne

Some Philosophical thoughts about AI (Artificial Intelligence)
"None are more hopelessly enslaved than those who falsely believe they are free" - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.
AI has been hailed as the savior of the oppressed worker, the reliever of boredom for the rich, the supplier of 'just-in-time’ know-how for the mentally lazy, and on and on.
It has also been called the harbinger of enslavement, the return to serfdom and the fulfillment of one-world government and one-world language, i.e. dictatorship or “full spectrum dominance” (F. Wm. Engdahl) , twice as bad as that world envisioned by George Orwell as portrayed in his prophetic book, "1984".

"Amazon Patents Ultrasonic Tracking Wristbands To Control Workers" is an article by Tyler Durden published on ZeroHedge (mission statement at  HYPERLINK "https://www.zerohedge.com/about" https://www.zerohedge.com/about) Read  HYPERLINK "https://www.zerohedge.com/news/2018-02-03/amazon-patents-ultrasonic-tracking-wristbands-control-workers" https://www.zerohedge.com/news/2018-02-03/amazon-patents-ultrasonic-tracking-wristbands-control-workers
From the article:
“Amazon is seeking to boost worker efficiency through a new set of patents squarely aimed at improving its inventory management system using radio frequency based tracking of a worker’s hand to monitor their performance of inventory tasks.” “near complete robotic control of what, at least for a few more years, are the company's human employees.”
At least for a few more years is a telling phrase! Will robots substantially replace workers? Another recent video circulated showing an Amazon warehouse where all stocking of shelves and all retrieval to fill orders was done by robots. The human was still required to take the product (always from the same cubical on the cart) and assemble the order for packaging, labeling and shipping, the latter three also done by AI devices.
So how will the population which will eventually be unemployed acquire money or tokens to buy the products that will be produced from the ground up and delivered by robots?
Isn’t this situation similar to the disappeared population of the Easter Islands?
The Islands had prolific tree growth.
The population developed more and more uses for tree and wood products.
The population flourished as the tree supply dwindled.
The islands became barren and the population disappeared!
Are we trading our freedom from drudgery for serfdom or annihilation?

Uncle Wayne, the Grouch.
 
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More Stink From Russ

Before beginning with the nostalgic smells of tar, rain and fresh earth, I need to go back to Segment #3 under the topic/smell of “coal oil”.
The small settlement on the Grand River was called “Chicopee”(because of its proximity to Chicopee Heights as it was then called), and not “Riverbank”, Riverbank was the name of the Mennonite school that my younger siblings, Wayne and Evelyn and, for a short while, I also attended.  I say for a short while, as I couldn’t stand being in class where children wore no shoes.....they attended ‘barefooted’! Our ‘famous’ brother, Howard REFUSED to attend Riverbank, and arbitrarily went back to Centreville, the one which we’d just moved away from!
Being ‘easily lead’, I eventually joined him in the ‘revolt’ which meant we had to walk about 3 miles and cross the river to “get there by the short-cut”, and as you all know, river levels soar following heavy rains, and as drastic events call for drastic measures, we had to remove all our clothes, and pile them along with our lunches (tomato sandwiches packed in paper bags), on top of our heads, then VERY carefully try to walk across the fast-running torrent. I slipped and went under, requiring later, to have to ‘ring out’ my soaking wet sandwiches....not actually very appetizing!
 
 
And NOW for the subject of “tar” and the memories it triggers: It never fails; one whiff of asphalt pavement being laid, and I’m reminded of those “hot Summer days”, when they would fry an egg on the City Hall steps, when the temp. would soar to nearly 100 F. We’re living in a rented house alongside Highway #8 in Centreville....it’s one of those “scorchers”; we are bare-footed, as usual, and the cement pavement is too hot to step foot on......tar was used to mend cracks in the cement, and it is blistering and bubbling up!
 
Pop had a roofing business, we boys were his unpaid workers. What got him into the roofing enterprise was a new product, trade -named “ZONE” (which, by the way, was “highly over-rated”) Our customers were generally farmers, who had barns with metal roofs which were rusting badly. The product, in order to apply more easily, was heated in a “tar-pot”.  It was dangerous work, as you might expect... when you see a large barn with a high, sloping roof. We got covered in this tar-like jet-black goo.  We got very hot, frustrated and angry! We mutinied. Pop eventually “went out of business”.
 
But, strangely enough, I have ‘warm memories’ of the smell of hot tar, and still today, I actually enjoy the odd whiff of the stuff! 
 
“rain”   The ‘clean’ smell of rain on recently fallen sun-warmed leaves, or ‘aroma of relief’ when rain, cool rain falls on hot pavement in mid-Summer, delightfully delicious!
 
But sometimes, rain STINKS! Like when it ‘rains on your parade; picnic, peaceful demonstration, or just- cleaned car/truck; or on your long-haired dog (well after you think the smell is gone, that he obtained from his trying to ‘befriend’ a skunk)
 
We should ALL collect precious rainwater from our eaves.  Rain in rain-barrels smells OK, but rain kept in cisterns for long periods can smell “dank”.  The wealthier people in our neighbourhood, had cisterns in their basements, and hand-pumps in their kitchens....what a ‘luxury!
By far the “dankest” cistern I ever smelt was in the basement of Forler’s General Store in Centreville. They often wondered why their rainwater smelled so ‘bad’.....like something had “died in there”, and “whatever happened to their cat?” (You could NEVER trust their son, Doug)
 
“fresh earth” Please! Don’t ever let me hear you calling it “dirt”....dirt is filth, loaded with germs.  When I smell freshly turned earth, I’m reminded of ‘following in a furrow behind my dad who is ‘wrestling’ with the handles of a plowshare, behind a rented old horse, turning a ‘curl’ of sod....the under-side of which is wriggling with panicky earthworms. The earth has an aroma as fresh as the Spring rain, and just as welcome. Soon we’ll be planting potatoes; our dad and his dad before him, were “market gardeners”.
 
There was ‘quite an art’ to the Annual potato planting; we had to first purchase “seed potatoes”(which came in large burlap bags); cut each potato, making sure you sliced it so as to leave at least two “eyes” on each cutting. These were left to dry a little before lightly coating them with “sweet lime”(to prevent growth of fungus, and to discourage bugs and grubs from having “their” dinner before we had ours). Now, the cuttings were ready for planting.
 
Planting was ‘an exacting art’(according to our dad).  Picture the following:
Using a hoe, Pop, or maybe Lorne(certainly not Howard)would dig a 4 by 4 inch hole in the cultivated soil, about two feet apart, guided by a string of binder twine, stretched taught from one end of the row to the other;
followed by me carrying a pail of chemical fertilizer, and dropping a “measure” of the stuff into the hole, then covering the fertilizer with a little earth (to protect the potato from the ‘burning effect” of the chemical); followed by Howard, carrying a pail of ‘cuttings’, and dropping each slice, cut side down into the hole, then carefully covering the cutting with “no more than 2 inches of earth”.  Howard “hated” farming, and to ‘get even’ with Pop for ‘forcing’ him to help, would often deliberately drop the cutting into the hole ‘cut side UP’......and guess what? It never made a bit of difference....the plants grew undeterred!
 
Yup!  Fresh earth.....wholesome, clean...almost Holy. God created EARTH, and then He rested.   “Creating” is hard work.  So is farming!
            “Man shall earn his bread by the sweat of his bow”
 
We can’t leave the topic of “earth” and the memories it conjures up, without telling you about “mud pies” and earthworms. You will recall our cousin Gerry, who Howard and I kissed while in the hay loft; well, she had other talents; I don’t know how she did it, but her pies looked so delicious, that when she offered me slices to eat...I DID! I also remember how AWFULLY GRITTY they felt in my mouth.....and when I saw those earthworms slithering out, I lost my appetite!
 
I hope you have enjoyed these little “stinky” stories as much as I’ve enjoyed sharing.
 
Next week, in Segment #5 we’ll sneak a sniff of “autumn leaves” and “ammonia”
 
By Uncle Russ (looking for signs of Spring)
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From Lorne

Extreme weather has produced a lot of ice. Went to buy de-icer. Sold out. By noon the warm sunshine and breeze did the job cheaper and better. Store clerks said anything to melt ice just flew off the shelves.

Sat at the computer this evening and read about how Hitler defied the International Bankers. It was lot of reading and rather interesting. That's why  I forgot about a pot of cherries I put on the stove for breakfast in the morning. I am fond of fruit quickly brought to a boil then removed from the heat thereby retaining their true flavor. Well you can guess the rest.  While engrossed with what I'm reading, the smoke alarm comes alive and  so did I. Rushing out to the kitchen, I see the pot ready to burst into flame. Grabbing the handle I  set it on the kitchen table, turned off the burner then noticed the pot burning into the wooden table. I should have left it burn through providing a hole for an umbrella pole. After the cooling off period, I spent an hour and a half scrubbing the charred pot and stove. I removed the burner and was able to clean the stove , but the  pot will never see another day. No  injuries. This has taught me a lesson. Don't put anything on the stove if I intend to read about Adolph or any other consuming account.

Lorne

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The Ontarion is not available this week as Greg is enduring on-going issues following his surgery. I know I speak for all of us when I wish him and his family all the best.

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Have a good one..
the doug
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