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.
*
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
****
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.
****
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)
****
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
****
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.
****
Have a good one..
the doug
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