Nothing But Love :: golf blogger

NO COMMENT

as many of you have noticed, we've removed comments from the nbl. it's not that we didn't appreciate most of the comments we've received -- we've made some dear friends through the nbl -- it's just that we find that we have email contact on a nearly daily basis from a lot of you; and we really just find the comments section a pain to deal with. you know what i'm talking about.

bill and i enjoy writing here and will continue to do so. and we hope that you'll continue to contact us personally (or through my facebook thingy) as often as you want. when we figure out how to do it, we'll place a "contact stacey" and "contact bill" button (or whatever) at the end of each post. in the meantime, most of you know how to reach us.

"FRIENDS BUT DIFFERENT"

if we are not friends or even, well, friendly, please don't consider my recent facebook invitation as an overture from ME -- it was an overzealous and overenthustiastic facebook search of all of my gmail account that may have uncovered your email address from deep in the archived "bullshit" folder on my gmail.

i'm not the kind of nice person that forgives and forgets. oh i forgive -- if by "forgive" you mean let go of whatever crap it is that you've flung my way cuz i've got, you know, better things to occupy myself with (with which to occupy myself) and a whole life of my own to live. but "forget" is what i don't do. i don't forget the big things. and if you've shown yourself to be an asshole, the plain fact of the matter is that i don't have the time, patience, or need to associate with assholes.

you can be 99.9999 percent sure this isn't about you. or golf.

Do We Need More Storage?

Wow! Bush is finally gone. Now, let's move on to more important things.

The last vestige of life in the old house sits in the "living room." It's a big armoire purchased from one of those urban design stores that went out of business -- or maybe it's from another place; it was so long ago. Inside the armoire is The TV-That-Will-Change-Your-Life, the one with the 42-inch plasma-ion drive screen, which promised to take us places where no man has gone before.

There's a large drawer below the doors accessing The TV-That-Will-Change-Your-Life, where I keep some office supplies. And inside the doors above the TV is a tiny shelf -- I keep a blanket there, along with the Turner Construction hard hat, so that when Stacey wants to be covered up while sitting in her leather chair with her feet up on the matching footstool thing that I have to push in just the right amount so that her artificial knees are not bent at unnatural angles, compromising the integrity of the artificial joint spaces, I can just grab the blanket, dusky green in color, and drape it over her and tuck it in at just the right places, making sure that she has access to the clicker that is invariably on the right armrest, so she can watch her judge shows, all of her judge shows, two of which are on different channels simultaneously, requiring her to switch back and forth so she can figure out which litigants will be more amusing (I don't know if there is a picture within a picture function because I never read the instructions, but the conversation hasn't come up; so, I don't talk about it). And the hard hat -- well, that's obvious, isn't it?

The old armoire isn't quite fitting in, except to hide the fucking huge, ostentatious television. As I understand it, however, because I don't get out much, a lot of people have televisions this big and bigger in practically every room of their homes; so, as a consequence, I shouldn't feel too uncomfortable about it. There is a reason for it, though -- The TV-That-Will-Change-Your-Life, I mean -- imagine having to read the score of the [fill in name of sport] game every single time someone scores because the person sitting the same distance away from or, oftentimes, several fathoms closer to the 12-inch screen can't read the graphical scoring line. And it's basketball season. That's a lot of reading.

So, there's no question that the old armoire is going. The question is what replaces it. Something with drawers -- for more storage. That was the conclusion. Now, I didn't decide that; but I, because that's just the way it is, go along with the conclusion. And mount the TV on the wall above the something with drawers. I've been looking for something with drawers, like a beat-to-hell, old, squarish, black dresser or something like that, but new. For storage. She mentioned IKEA -- and that could mean a road trip to a city where an IKEA is located.

In any event, that was the plan. I say that was the plan because there might be a new plan. I received an e-mail. The subject line -- ?. That's all, just a question mark. The body of the e-mail was simply a link: http://www.realflame.com/product.html?catagory=indoors&itemcode=3900&finish=black.

Yes, that's a fireplace. No drawers. Change of plan, maybe?

My reply: I thought you wanted storage. We could, of course, burn the stuff.

There is a very important unasked question that I dare not voice: Where will I keep my hard hat?

PISSY

i watched the new "hairspray" today. fun. not nearly as good as the original, but fun anyway. [i guess i am kind of a geezer about this kind of stuff. it's not that i necessarily think the old/original stuff is ALWAYS better, but ... um, well, i got nothin.]

here's where i PROVE that i am a pain in the ass about this "stuff" (as it were).

did NOT ONE of the writers/film editors/producers/actors/crew members know the meaning of the term "hoi polloi?" no one? it means the exact opposite of the way it was used by edna turnbladt in the NEW movie. look it up. please. i'm not going to make it easy for you by posting a link. or go ask your mother. either way, i don't care.

pffffft. and don't email me that i'm old/snobby/crabby/whatever.

i'll say it again: it's a big world wide web. you're welcome to leave. there's plenty of crap out there. find your own special little crap corner.

Drunk Dialing

I read in The New York Times that in a study of cell phone usage on the roadway, drivers "who use cell phones are four times more likely to be in a crash while using a cell phone" than those who do not and that there "is no difference in the cognitive distraction between hand-held and hands-free devices." The author goes on to say that the likelihood of being in an accident, that is, the four-fold increase, is akin to the likelihood of drivers who are drunk getting in an accident.

The comparison to drunk driving didn't seem quite right to me. A few years ago, the federal government mandated the states to lower the blood alcohol concentration at which a person is considered driving while intoxicated from .10% to .08% in order to remain eligible for federal highway funds. All states and the District of Columbia, as well as Puerto Rico, lowered the limit to .08%, which is, according to the rule of thumb used by many for a 150-pound male, the equivalent of 4 alcoholic drinks imbibed in one hour, whether it be a 12-ounce beer, 4-ounce glass of wine, or a mixed drink. By the way, on the 150-pound weight, don't be calculating amounts of alcoholic drinks proportionate to the weight because it doesn't work that way. Everybody and every body is different.

A driver with a blood alcohol concentration of 0.10% or greater is seven times more likely to be involved in a fatal motor vehicle crash than is a driver who has not consumed alcoholic beverages, and a driver with an alcohol concentration of 0.15% or greater is about 25 times more likely to be in a fatal crash than the person who doesn't drink and drive.

So, that's death-producing crashes -- let's move on to non-death-dealing crashes. I found statistics in an article, but I didn't spend a lot of time trying to get source material. Boy, that sounds pretty serious -- "source material."

If you have a blood alcohol reading of .04%, which is, if you'll remember, a couple beers in 60 minutes, which is half the legal limit for "drunk driving," you are 1.4 times more likely to have an accident than someone who has not had a drink (or any drugs). That is less than the risk of getting in an accident if you are on the cell phone; but I know a lot of you talk on the phone when you've had a couple drinks; that means the risk of getting in an accident is multiplied -- six times as likely.

You decide to quit drinking, just after four beers -- you have a decent lawyer who can work a deal -- and you're at .08%. You'll risk the drive home. You've done it many, many times, but you're 11 times more likely than the non-drinking driver to be involved in a crash. Maybe it's not such a good time to leave the pub -- you've been there for an hour, and why leave at 9 o'clock.

You stick around. After all, your kidneys do filter some of the alcohol out of your bloodstream over the course of the evening -- and you know that because you need to use the restroom. Three more beers, but you've decided to slow down -- that's in two hours, and it's 11 p.m. You're feeling pretty good? The likelihood of having an accident is 48 times higher than the stupid, no-fun teetotaler at the table across the room. You're at .12% -- a really good lawyer who knows the judge might get a DUI reduced, depending on if this is your first offense. Don't call home while you're driving, though, because then you are 200 times more likely than the non-drinking, phoneless, dumbass, no-fun teetotaler, who was rooting for the other team, to crash.

Fuck it, you say. Your team -- the Celtics -- lost to the Cavaliers. Too bad. Hang out until 2 -- nurse three more beers. Don't want to have too much -- have to go to work in the morning. Couldn't hurt, right? You're hovering near .15%, and you are now 380 times more likely to have an accident than the teetotaler who left a few hours ago.

And don't do any drunk dialing while you're driving.

Do the math -- well, you probably can't. You're pretty well hammered.

Television Tonight

President Bush goes on the air at 8 p.m. tonight to give his farewell address to the nation.

And on TNT, at 8 p.m., LeBron James and the Cleveland Cavaliers take on the Chicago Bulls in Chicago.

Hmmm ... Bush? ... Cavaliers? Which do I watch?

Aaaah, glorious cable -- y'know kiddies, if it was back in the day, you could watch ABC, NBC, and CBS -- and Bush would have been on all three.

Not ... any ... more.

On Evolution

Richard Black, science writer for the BBC, pointed it out in an article he wrote recently. He observed that the whale shark has gotten smaller over the past decade from an average of 22 feet to an average of 15 feet. He opines, "The most likely explanation is that fishermen are pulling the biggest whale sharks they can find out of the ocean, either because they're the easiest to spot or because they're the most lucrative catches." So, the "bigness" trait is less likely to be passed on, the smaller fishes surviving -- or whatever.

The volcano keyhole limpet is getting smaller, too. So, what's the explanation there? Pollution? Warming waters? Sometimes, Nature is not so obvious.

And what about Henry Limpet?

Angry Whopper

So, now I know why I've been getting Facebook invitations from people I don't know. They intend to sacrifice me to that plastic-big-headed Burger King, who spent a lot of time as a peeping tom looking in bedroom windows early in the morning, for the sake of an Angry Whopper.

I think doing something like that is fraudulent. You're not really sacrificing "friends." You're sacrificing some stooge, whom you have made to believe you are befriending.

Gulnaz Sheikh, I know your game. You just want me to be your friend so that you can get an Angry Whopper.

And what is an Angry Whopper?

BILL'S DOG

i've posted this before -- a while back. but i think it's worth sharing again. i can't remember who i was talking to about this photograph, but i hope that it was a reader of the nbl.

you can just tell that this is bill's dog, can't you? seriously, this dog is a goofball.

I, Laser

You know that you can come to this blog from time to time and learn about new discoveries in physics in plain language. And then you are often introduced to new ideas about the use of these latest discoveries.

I will not disappoint you today.

For many years, I have been advancing the notion that it would be cool to shoot jets of fire from one's eyes. And you know that would be ultra-cool, but you would never admit such a thing in public -- or in private, for that matter -- for fear of being committed to someplace like a lunatic asylum.

Lasers are all around us. They are used at grocery store check-out counters to scan the bar codes so that it is far easier to report to the FBI the types and amounts of foods you buy with your discount shopper's card. Stop laughing. Look, the FBI admits that it routinely gets your library records. Grocery shopping records are far more revealing about a person than library records -- do you think the FBI is going to tell you that? Or tell you that the FBI gets daily reports from your grocery store? No.

But that's not what this blog post is about. I'm talking about lasers, which are all around us. There are now lasers that are marketed for pet owners to drive dogs and cats crazy on cold winter nights. Pet stores have them. Pet owners have been found dead with lasers in their hands.

But that's not what this blog post is about.

I'm talking about the practical use of lasers, not the use of lasers as toys.

At Princeton University, scientists have discovered a previously unknown phenomenon of a quantum cascade laser. A quantum cascade laser has hundreds of molecule-thin layers of different semiconductor materials through which electrons cascade, emitting synchronized photons as they pass through the layers -- laser beams; but, they discovered that there were really two beams,. one very much more powerful being masked by another beam, allowing for a more powerful laser beam to be isolated.

Here's the thing. "Built at Princeton University's nanofabrication facility, the device is about one-tenth as thick as a human hair and 3 millimeters long." So, there we have it -- implant one of these in each eye and you can shoot laser beams out of your eyes -- and at your choice of power levels, one for play and one for -- well, use your imagination. Better than shooting fire jets from your eyes.

Way cool, I tell you.

FACETIME2, etc.

i'm really getting it. #1 is the privacy thing. #2 is the rest of it.

************

GO CAVS! bill just got tickets to 3 more games! we went friday night when they beat the celtics. best part : the entire arena chanting "O-ver-RA-ted!" it was great. we sat in the very last row almost at midcourt and had a terrific view! and because we were at the q, bill didn't have to be annoyed at my yelling because i just blended in. i NEVER get loud at any sporting event on tv except the cavs and the ohio state university buckeyes. so my explosive utterances freak him out.

taken with my cell phone

i can't find my cavs hat, so bill got me a new one:

i love lebron. duh.

FACETIME

i got a request from a friend to join facebook. i'm nothing if not cooperative. heh. so... i should have moved slowly. facebook looked all through my gmail account (i know, i know -- it was with my permission) and found a shitload of people whom i do not know and requested "friendships." most of you i know, a lot i don't. so now i'm getting emails left and right, saying "do i know you?" pffft. i should read before i click. my fault, i know.

and ... it's probably not a good idea for me to post stream-of-consciousness thoughts anyway -- i'm imprudent enough as it is when i speak / write.

we'll see what happens.

Abandoning Hope

I was giddily surprised when I saw the headline "Scientists discover way to levitate tiny objects." Finally, here was the solution to all the problems in the world -- well, maybe not all the problems. But the flying car problem, for sure. That's a big one in my book of world problems -- well, maybe not a big one, but one that needs to be solved. Because it's the 21st Century, and everyone knows that we're supposed to have flying cars.

So, I saw that headline; and I thought that somebody finally discovered something like flubber. Okay, y'know, start with tiny objects because that's just the way you do things. Then move up to cars -- little cars, like a Toyota Yaris -- it's that easy.

And finally, we'd have something we were supposed to have a long time ago -- flying cars. And then I could laugh and say how my fourth grade teacher didn't know what she was talking about, not letting us do what we wanted to do in class -- like trying to figure out how to make cars fly. I was spending most of the kid-precious daylight hours at school, where this know-it-all teacher kept harping on me that what she was saying was the most important thing in the world and that if I didn't learn this or that, mostly, it was write between the blue lines and be neater about it, I'd never get anywhere in life.

It was as if writing between the lines and having a clean, neat desk was going to save the world from the evil Russians. Open the desk -- now clean it out, now make it neat. "And what is that flute-o-phone doing in the bottom of your desk under everything," she yelled at me. "Take it home!" she yelled, as if taking it home would magically make me play better because it didn't. Taking it home meant only that she yelled at me for leaving it at home on music day; so, it was better to pull it out from under a week's worth of stuff and fake playing and hope she didn't walk by and listen real close to check if I was really playing the flute-o-phone concerto.

Why couldn't we discuss how to make cars fly? That was important.

So, ha-ha-ha, now, scientists could levitate things. Just add some forward thrust and you have a flying car -- good deal. There's a picture with the article -- it says, "This illustration shows how the repulsive Casimir-Lifshitz force between suitable materials in a fluid can be used to levitate an object that is denser than the liquid."

Illustration? A drawing? What the hell?

So, I read the article. And I'm like totally flabbergasted. This isn't any big, fucking deal. This is kind of like ... bullshit physics. This is kind of like ... cold fusion. Just like a physicist to do something like this.

"Capasso said levitating is next. 'We just have to do it,' he said."

This really sucks. Hopes dashed once again.

I got more important things to worry about ... like golf -- and going deaf on the golf course.

America's Newest Superhero!

There's a new superhero, secretly nurtured deep in the bowels of the edifice housing Fleet Laboratories in Lynchburg, Virginia, who will be roaming the country trying to cleanse mankind of the evil within.

Look! Up in the sky! Faster than a glass of prune juice! More powerful that an oral laxative! It's ENE-MAN!

Hurry! Show that you care! Send your loved one a greeting card from Ene-Man!

And Happy New Year!

Presidential Records

There's a law on the books that says, "The United States shall reserve complete ownership, possession, and control of Presidential records." The president doesn't own the records; We, the People, own the records. Beginning five years after the end of a presidential administration, the public can scrutinize presidential and vice-presidential records. During his or her term, the president can extend the period of time to 12 years, if any one of six restrictions apply.

Back on November 1, 2001, Bush the Lesser signed an executive order that exempts presidents, vice-presidents, and whoever else they want from the Presidential Records Act of 1978 and permits records to be sealed forever. Forever.

I'm sure they shredded everything anyway. Or burned it.