Jolly Roger

Analogue Vs Digital

2011-11-22T01:20:00.000-08:00

Analogue Vs Digital

I know psychology isn't an exact science and it has a lot of drawbacks but so does the human mind so basically like the pawnbroker said in "A Christmas Carol" we're all suited to our purpose.
Consequently its about time the technology purveyors started recognising the shortcomings of the human mind.

Remember the romance we had with the digital watch? Everyone on the planet had a watch with numbers instead of a dial. Boy-scouts could no longer divide the angle between the hour hand and the minute hand to find North. You could no longer say "Nearly half-past" or see how much of an hour had passed with a quick glance. True they played tunes and light up to show you the date in the dark but they just didn't catch on and people stated going back to the dial.

They even tried a digital read-out for speedometers in cars but drivers seemed to lack information about the speed. Who would want to be faced with a display that just kept fluctuating between 29 and 30 etc.,? The even tried thermometer type scales but I don't think they caught on.
Then there is the digital TV. Unlike the analogue signal that just gets weaker but gives a continuous picture (however snowy) digital TV has the 'good sense' to decide the signal is too weak and stops reception altogether!

In real terms this means that on an analogue TV Poirot still tells you who the murderer was, even if he has to shout above the bad reception but on a digital TV he's suddenly sitting in the car next to Captain Hastings on the way back to London and nobody knows who did it!

Old dogs and ultra sound

2011-06-10T02:04:00.000-07:00

Talking about sound operated devices reminded me of the time I once decided to try and create a 'sound torch' I think they have such devices now but at the time I had never seen one so I didn't feel inhibited by any creative Japanese/Taiwanese electronics genius.
I used a set of circuits from a Forrest Mim's book that were based on an ultra sound mechanism for a garage door. I intended to convert an old torch into an ultra sound transmitter and attach the receiver to it so the thing would operate rather like a bat's signal and the torch would emit a tone of varying pitch depending on the distance from an object.
Anyway the was the plan and I constructed the transmitting circuit very easily and attached it to a 9v battery to test it. I couldn't hear a thing. This was not surprising as it was supposed to emit an ultra sound signal. Consequently I couldn't tell if my sound circuit was working until I constructed the receiver circuit. However, as I hadn't got all the components I needed to construct the receiver I decided that I would see if any local animals could hear the sound. I had read that cats and dogs could hear very high frequency sounds so decided to try it out on an old dog walking down the street. The dog was ambling towards me and was some yards away when I pressed a switch and pointed the transmitter at him. The old dog stopped looked at me and slowly turned around and ambled away up the street. I didn't think this was a very conclusive test as the dog didn't look startled; twitch his ears; bolt or do anything dramatic he just turned around and ambled back the way he came, perhaps remembering a bone he'd buried somewhere. Also, pointing the device at the dog in a meaningful way may have contaminated the experiment and the dog may have thought it was a weapon of some sort. As the experiment wasn't very conclusive I decided to test the device on my father's small dog when we visited him that afternoon. Dad's dog had a habit of throwing itself at you as you approached the house and no doubt it would be well in range of my device when I activated it. Further as a precaution against contaminating the experiment by pointing the device I hid the circuit in my shirt pocket so all I had to do was simply press the button through the material. My plan was complete, when the dog came bounding up to me I would press the button and watch for the reaction. I got out of the car and the moment the dog saw me he bounded forward. I pressed the button, the dog stopped in his tracks as if he'd hit a wall and bounded off towards the beach, it had worked. Unfortunately it had worked too well and every time I approached the dog it ran off. Dad couldn't understand why his pet wouldn't come home and I wasn't going to tell him. Eventually, after a 3 mile chase the dog came back but it never seemed to trust me from that day on. The 'radar torch' never did work and the only thing I found it useful for was confusing bats or scaring off dogs.

Tabacco is but an Indian weed

2010-11-23T03:47:00.000-08:00

I used to smoke I think I can say I'm now a non smoker but its only been about six years so there's still time for a re-lapse. As Mark Twain said "Giving up smoking is the easiest thing in the world. I know because I've done it thousands of times." I know where he was coming from I stopped several times in the past without much luck.

I remember one occasion when I had managed a whole afternoon without a cigarette and was a little "spaced out" on the drive home. Rule number 1 never ever drive if you have just gone four hours without a cigarette cold turkey makes you totally insensitive to consequences. On my way home a driver actually had the temerity to overtake ME! ME a god-like invulnerable creature who was impervious to pain (I was cold-turkey++) I immediately accelerated and hung close to his bumper at speeds of over 60 MPH . When he glanced nervously into his mirror I knew he could see me laughing maniacally and mouthing obscenities he's probably still in therapy somewhere and I doubt he every overtakes another car in his life. How I survived that trip myself is a miracle but I managed to get home in one piece and find a cigarette in an old coat pocket.

On another occasion when I tried to stop smoking I decided to take a walk in a national park in Perth (W.A) the interesting thing about parks like that is the abundance of dangerous wildlife in the untamed parts of park . In fact in some areas it was so dangerous that people were advised not to stray off the road and venture into the bush due to snakes and spiders etc., I thought a brisk 2 mile walk down a country road would sharpen my appetite and stop me thinking about cigarettes. Half way down this country road there was a fork and I knew that one path led to a kiosk that sold cigarettes and the other path ran parallel for about 2 miles and avoided the kiosk.
I decided to avoid the kiosk and take the other path. As I walked along ignoring the pangs I eventually gave in to an urge and leaped into the bush at a place I thought may be opposite the kiosk. Ignoring the thorns spikes, and strange noises emanating from the surrounding shrubbery I ploughed my way through eventually appearing on the other road. Pulling bits of tree out of my hair I approached the kiosk and demanded cigarettes. The guy in the kiosk regarded me like some strange apparition and threw the cigarettes at me I grunted and tore open the packet as if I'd never opened one before and broke the first cigarette I tried to smoke. I tried all sorts of tricks, even acupuncture. The girl giving the acupuncture (in the ear) said I would not feel like a cigarette after she had finished and I could smoke as much as I liked after the treatment but I would still not feel like a fag. Wrong! five minutes after I left the treatment area I had this almighty craving for a cigarette and felt as if I had been without one for a whole day. I decided the only way I could fight this terrible 'cold turkey' was to light up. I smoked more fags that day than I usually did but managed to overcome the terrible feelings of withdrawal that the acupuncture caused.
Deciding to stop smoking just before a lecture was not a good idea either. I woke one morning and decided enough was enough and I was stopping. I then made the mistake of going to a lecture on "The Philosophy of Psychology". I was o.k. for the first few minutes then realised that the lecturer was just regurgitating all the previous notes he'd used last year and wasn't really saying anything new (or so I thought) I raised my hand to ask a question along these lines and spent a good 10 minutes arguing my case and asking what he thought he was doing. I must admit I did hear a couple of people behind me moan and shuffle but I didn't pay much attention to them as I had this charlatan on the rails and he admitted that he was using some old notes. At this point I said, "Why don't we ask the rest of the students..." and turned around to see that we were the only two people left in the room as the others had long since tired of my tirade and gone home, after that I went home and lit up.
I did manage to stop smoking in the end though. Well I didn't manage on my own it took a young South African doctor to scare the living daylights out of me. I went to see the Doc because I was having trouble breathing and he first made me drop my pants to check that I hadn't got fat ankles (first sign of a heart problem I think). Then he decided that my shortness of breath was brought on by a problem called C.O.P.D. ( Chronic obstructive pulmonary disease) he then proceeded to arrange a breathing test for me and gave me an inhaler indicating that I may not need it now but by next week I'd be lucky to get out of the front door without it! I asked if it would help if I stopped smoking and he said I should but it was a bit late now!!! I went to the hospital next door and asked if I could join the 'stop smoking' group. They said there wouldn't be any vacancies for a few weeks and I could put my name down!! In the end I bought some gum and I haven'y touched a cigarttte or cigar since that day. My breathing test proved exceptionally good and when I told the nurse I was C.O.P.D. she just laughed and said I had terrific lungs and the Doctor was wrong. I never met that doctor again and people say I should have complained about his diagnosis and behaviour. If I ever do meet him I think the only thing I'll do is buy him a bottle of whisky.

There's an "App" for that

2009-12-27T02:02:00.000-08:00

When ever I was teaching computing at school I always maintained a couple of basic rules.
1 Never work for the computer always make the computer work for you. When you find yourself spending 3 days trying to understand the "intuitive" workings of a piece of software or punching in endless data streams asked for by the "monster" and not getting any sensible returns for it. You have been duped into working for the machine.

I was once asked to evaluate a piece of software for a department in the school that needed a database. The software had been specially designed for the specific task they had to cope with. After a day sorting out the so-called "flexibility" of the program and being aware of the needs of the department I concluded that their computer needs were better met by Microsoft Works rather than this monster. I pointed out that the software they wanted did not really fit the bill and also cost quite a lot. Further "Works" could be geared for mail shots and many other things that the expensive model wouldn't do. The other problem was the "special" software wouldn't allow you to import data, which would save the secretary hours of work.

In the end they decided to take up my suggestion as the software was already installed on their computer and after I helped them to set up their flat-file database they were up and running in a day or so. Within a week they were making selected mail-shots from the database and causing all sorts of trouble the main school office where "mail-merging" was something they had yet to attempt as they were still working for their "specialised" software.

"Great there's a boat, I can break it up and make a raft"

The other rule I always postulated was "Is it worth it?"
The "Is it worth it?" rule applied to a lot of early software and I often showed the pupils some of the "fascinating" programs you could get for your computer. My favourite example was a program that could convert your computer into a "Scientific Calculator" this little piece of software cost you about £15 at the time and allowed you, when installed and set up; to use your computer as a genuine calculator!!! I had to show the class the advert for that little gem as they didn't believe anyone would buy such a program (I'm sure some did though).

The reason I'm trotting out these to maxims again is because I think the guy that wrote the calculator program and designed the "special" program for the department has moved on to writing scripts for the iPhone. This morning I was informed that I can now get an "App" that converts an iPhone into a bicycle computer! I've already seen the advert where they have an "App" for everything else but seriously, as a bike rider I have a dedicated computer (cost £4) attached to my cycle... now how much is an IPhone?

"Green Green its Green they say ....."

2009-12-01T23:41:00.000-08:00

I can't say I was very "green" when I was teaching. I once noticed how much paper was wasted by pupils attempting to create a perfect print-out in my I.T. lessons. So, as a lesson, I got pupils to produce a poster saying "Save Paper". I think we got through a few reams with that project. The I.T. technicians called me a cynic but it seems my lesson hasn't been wasted :)

I just had to laugh at the news this morning, they've done it again. To mark the opening of the climate conference in Copenhagen they're sending a sculpture that consists of several large tree stumps to the conference. The stumps are called "Ghost Trees" and are so large they are going to be transported from Hull overland via several major motorways to another dock and then shipped out to Denmark. Of course the transportation of such a large "sculpture" means that there will be major traffic hold-ups on the roads where the "sculpture" is going, I suppose that means a major increase in carbon emissions... now what was that conference about?

It reminds me of the occasion when they decided to build a new library at South Holdeness School. To build the library they had to remove a very well established tree. Instead of planting a few new trees in a different spot some "genius" decided that they would have the old tree uprooted and re-planted! That sounded good, apart from the fact that the girth of the tree was about 6 feet and the whole process involved cranes and special watering tubes for the roots. Consequently the tree eventually died. I supposed they have removed the dead stump by now,I was told the whole process cost a few thousand pounds too. What really seemed silly was that the old headmistress was leaving that term and a tree planting ceremony to commemorate her would have fitted in nicely.

HO HO HO!

2009-11-21T08:55:00.000-08:00

Christmas!!!!

What really chokes me at Christmas is the great divide it seems to create between the haves and have-nots. Once, only once, I was asked to play Santa at a school where the Santa had not turned up. I think his reindeer must've had a flat or something. Anyway I went into the job with a jolly heart and came out feeling so cynical only several strong drinks would do anything for my condition. That night as Santa was the most depressing night I've ever "Ho Ho'd" through. It wasn't the fairy lights or the silly gnomes that didn't look quite right. It was the things the kids said. A typical interview would involve:- "Ho Ho Ho and what is Santa bringing you for Christmas?" At this point we had the 'Haves' who would list the computer, the colour TV for their bedroom and several assorted items that would only fit in a 12 cwt. van. The next child would probably be looking forward to a new scarf and coat to match! Try giving both of those children a stick of rock and a "Merry Christmas" with the same feeling. In the end I simply said "Merry Christmas" and shoved a stick of rock in their hands; it seemed a safer way to work. If there is a Santa I'm sure he's probably sitting in a down-town squat swigging from a brown paper bag saying "Bloody Christmas" after every swig.

Robins use the magnetic field to find North.

2009-10-29T07:03:00.000-07:00

Science strikes again! Wow! I am forever indebted to the team for discovering the "cluster N" in the European robin helps it to find True North. Next time my Sat Nav has broken down I'll tie a bit of string to a robin's leg and get home that way. What a waste of money and time a lot of this research is.

I remember reading how a cat fish can tell where True North is as some of its whiskers (barbels) become excited when it faces in that direction. Has anyone used this information? Have we built a better catfish? does our latest technology include devices that were used to discover this?

What really appals me is the fact that these "scientists" have to destroy animals in their attempts to discover these fascinating facts. How does a robin suddenly get a "damaged N" cluster in its brain? How many animals have "scientists" destroyed in the name of science?

Why, in this enlightened age, can't we use a few more computer models to further our understanding of the world. Must we continue to persecute helpless creatures in the name of science?

Reading an experiment by R,D. Watson (the famous American psychologist) he wrote that the rats he had tested his maze on had been "healthy". He defined a "healthy" rat as a rat that had taken as many days to die of starvation as other "healthy" rats.

The next time you see an animal eg, a monkey, a rat or whatever with an electrode in its head remember at the end of the experiment that animal has to be killed to ensure the electrode was placed in the right spot or... it has to be tested to see if it was "healthy".

With apologies to Joseph

2009-09-01T00:11:00.000-07:00

Close every door today
Hide all the clothes away
Shut all the windows
To keep out the smell

The first of the month they say
The pig manure's here to to day
The farmers are spreading it
over the fields

If we were immune to it
And we couldn't smell the s**t
Maybe we'd put up with it
Over the land

Close every door today
This smell won't go away
It always lingers
and hangs in the air

For you know its not right
That they spread this pig S**te
But they say in the country
You should get used to the smell

Close every door today
Windows as well they say
Stop all the chimney's
And plug up the gaps

For we know that it might
Stop the smell of the S**te
But don't dare hang out washing
It won't come back too clean

Close the front porch today
Hide the deck chairs away
Don't sit in your garden
Don't breathe in the air

With waste from a piggy's rear
They're tainting the atmosphere
And making the country smell
Just like a sty.

2009-08-27T01:29:00.000-07:00

With apologies to Woody Guthrie

The crops are all in and the pig-manure's spreading,
You can smell the aroma all over the land,
They try to tell us its good for the country,
They say that this effluence should not be banned.

Get out the old Pine Fresh, get out some fresh Joss-sticks,
Get out your nice smellies the piggies are here,
It will have a name when it catches your nostrils
It will have a name but I can't use it here.

D.E.F.R.A. say that you can't leave pig manure lying,
After 24 hours it must be turned in
But most of the farmers don't seem to own watches
Most of them seem to think DEFRA is dim

So plug up your nostrils and cancel the party
You friends won't want to visit while piggy is here
You can't have a barby they're spraying the fields now
Its good for the soil but it won't go with beer

I suppose after years of this smell I'd be hardened
My nostrils should know when its time to close down
But why must they spray on this ONE sunny day
When the weather's like this why should I go to town?

So get out the car and let's all leave the country
Let the farmers play piggy and spray all their crop
We'll go into town where there aren't any farmers
And the smells aren't too good but they don't make you drop

Good-bye to my garden, good-bye all the birdies
Adios mis amigos, the squirrels and the pigeons
It won't have a name when you smell the big piggy smell
And all they will call it will be "B####dy s***t!"

Database shmatabase what the hell

2009-08-12T12:56:00.000-07:00

I was just listening to some people on the radio discussing our rights and the big scary government database that may emerge with all our names and date on it.

A long time ago when I was doing an M.A. in computing ( I didn't get it , before you ask) we had to read a few books about databases and blocks. One example was the French government . It seems they had a link with the commercial database used in the petrol stations and the police.

It came to light one day when they stopped a car going under a bridge after it had bought some petrol. The students in the car were asked to step out and when one made a sudden move they were promptly shot! It turns out that the car they were in had belonged to some bad people before they got it second hand. They had stopped for petrol; the information on the number plate had gone to the police; and they were going to be arrested (if they'd lived) as members of a revolutionary gang (previous owners of the car).

You see the main trouble with a database is not really a problem getting the information, you can pick it up just about anywhere now. For those who do not know about it try www.192.com, if you sign up and pay you get a lot of info.

The big problems are like the one the French had:-
which databases do you link to which databases?

For example if the NHS database was linked to the DHSS database it would be so easy to cross reference claimants and such....
Now if the NHS linked to the DHSS the DVLA and the Police they'd have a pretty clear picture of who really owned what etc., and life may get difficult for some people.

So in some countries the public have been on their toes and called for blocks between databases. So far, in this country, I haven't heard a thing about blocks from anyone, government or public. So don't be surprised if they suddenly start linking databases.
Also, how do you feel about the DVLA being able to check your medical records or the DHSS seeing what sort of car driving record you have etc.,

The other thing about databases that is so annoying is the data. Now when you create a database about inanimate objects like widgets its o.k. Widgets don't change their parameters. Widgets (what ever they are) don't get older (just dustier) and if they are on shelf 32 they will remain there until moved until you sell them.

Databases about people are terrible as the data not only changes it moves multiplies and sometimes dies. Consequently running a database about people is a never ending task.

During my time I have created several databases for schools. The ones I hated most were the databases of children. All other databases were easy but databasing a year group or worse an entire school was always a nightmare. No sooner would you get to the end of entering the data than some child would leave; change houses; have different parents or change name etc.,

"House Keepy"

Then there's the "house keeping", making sure the database is constantly correct by updating the info on every pupil. As its a guarantee that any school database is never accurate and there is always some errors. The trouble is it always seems to be the errors that crop up when you want a telephone number or address of a parent.

So when I hear people arguing about the government compiling a database I say go ahead. I had trouble making sense out of databases of 1,500 pupils so good luck with 55 million people.
Compiling an accurate database of the population of the UK would be a task even Sisyphus would baulk at if they started tomorrow they would probably never reach the end
.
(Sisyphus was compelled to roll a huge rock up a steep hill, but before he could reach the top of the hill, the rock would always roll back down again, forcing him to begin again, The Greek Gods hated him)

I seem to spend my time on a computer waiting

2009-08-05T03:46:00.000-07:00

When my software has finished its updates

And its checked all the links on the 'phone
I'd just like use the computer
I'D JUST LIKE SOME TIME ON MY OWN!

I don't mind just 'waiting a minute'
I don't mind that the updates are free
But it seems every day and in every way
The computer gets more time then me

If they didn't push programers to publish
If they hadn't been so keen to make dough
Maybe things would work like expected
Maybe the programs would go

But it seems all this software is changing
What you bought's not what's on your machine
The packets the same but the drivers and game
Are all changed to add a new scene

So next time I get some new software
I'm checking the one that I get
Is the final report on the program I bought
And it won't need updates off the Net

If a peacock lays an egg?

2009-08-04T09:29:00.000-07:00

We keep getting these peacocks in the garden. It seems they've been "on the run" for about 9 months and keep walking in to people's gardens and starring in the front door to see what's going on inside. Well maybe they're just admiring their reflections in the glass, considering their exotic plumage they have every right to admire themselves. However, it does seem a little narcissistic when they keep doing it for hours.
I went out the other day and one of them was near the front door so I drove past carefully. When I turned around to see where it was it had vanished! Then I noticed it was on the porch roof, they can fly! I've never seen a peacock fly but these seem to have no trouble reaching roofs and such with a quick hop. They seem to frighten the pheasants and its a bit disconcerting to see these massive birds starring in at you when you walk out of the bathroom as they've managed to find another flat roof.
I've always been a bit wary of peacocks ever since my first encounter with them. It happened when I was about 10 or 11 and the scourge of the "parkies" in East Park. Every year the parks department would put on a bonfire for November 5Th and our gang would also put up a bonfire on a playing field that was attached to the park . It was handier for us to go to a small local bonfire, you could roast potatoes in the ashes and you didn't have attendants running around shouting "Keep away". The only difficulty was the raiding parties from other gangs that wanted the wood for their fires. Consequently we often kept the wood in some gardens or hidden nearby and then built the bonfire on the day of the 5Th and left a guard there 'till 8 p.m. (when we lit it).
Needless to say we also sent raiding parties out to collect wood for our fire and often raided the great bonfire the park was setting up. Sometimes vandals would set the parks bonfire alight before the 5Th and so for a few days beforehand a park-keeper would stand guard on their huge mound of wood. Once we stole an old rowing boat from their bonfire and four pairs of legs 'walked' it to the other side of the park like some giant insect. As we approached the road on the outskirts of the park we saw the lights of a police car and decided to drop to the grass and wait until it had passed. The car didn't pass, the driver got out and walked up and down shining his torch on the upturned boat. Quickly everyone pulled their hands further in and held their breath. After a few minutes the policeman said something about it being a stupid place to leave a boat and drove off. We continued on with our booty and added the boat to our own stock pile of wood.
Most of the bonfire raids we did were aimed at the park bonfire as it was easier to get at and wasn't guarded a vehemently as the bonfires other gangs had. Most 'parkies' would chase you until they thought you'd been warned off and then go and have a smoke or a cup of tea. Once you knew the routine it was easy. While 'parkie' was chasing you and your mate the rest of the gang was pulling wood of the stack and dragging it a safe distance away.

One night we set off in the dark, our intrepid little band, swapping stories of horror and ghosts as we climbed over the park gates and into the main park. In East park was an old dungeon in part of the old castle wall. There was a door on the dungeon which was kept locked but if you lifted yourself up to the barred window you could glimpse inside it was dank and smelly and we were all convinced that there were skeletal remains inside. Opposite the aviary just over a small bridge was a sunken garden leading to a small hill. The hill had a strange spiral path hedged with privet and gate to this hill was always locked. As we passed this hill someone claimed that the reason it was always closed off was because there had once been a woman murdered at the top and, of course, it was haunted. At that point the air was split with a hideous scream! We all stopped; looked at each other and ran. We ran through the floral gardens; straight through the floral clock, jumping the low hedges like small hurdles and straight on towards the bright lights of the main road near the parks bonfire. The park keeper guarding the firewood didn't know what was happening as six or seven small boys came charging out of the dark running straight past him onto the bright lights of the main road. Once we had reached the road some of the group said they hadn't been frightened but just decided to run because we had done so. We didn't believe them, however after some debate it was decided that we'd leave the raid that night and go home as no one felt like investigating the cause of the scream. The next evening my mother was reading the paper and mentioned that they had just installed four peacocks in the East Park aviary, I discovered what had caused the scream.

Bits Bytes and Nybbles and the Digital Revolution

2009-06-17T06:46:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I was listening to a radio show where the woman was going on about the "Digital Revolution" as an old I.T. teacher I was fascinated by the way they seemed to use the term "Megabit". It seems soon everyone will have a 2 "Megabit" connection TADA!. Well Gordon Brown, I've got news for you,nearly everyone already HAS a connection of about 2 Megabit's. It seems that people are getting confused with the terms "Megabyte" and "Megabit". Back in my school we always taught the kids that a BYTE was made of 8 BITS (Binary Digits of Information) you could have "half-a byte" which was called a NYBBLE or Nibble so it looked like this:-

8 BITS= 1 BYTE or 4 BITS = 1 NYBBLE
or if you wanted to get clever
2 NYBBLES = 1 BYTE

In general terms we considered the space taken by one character of the alphabet.... say "A" needed 1 byte of memory (8 Bits).

This general confusion between BITS and BYTES has lead to advertisements using the term "8 MEGABIT'S BROADBAND" (which, if you work it out, is 1 MEGABYTE, not a wonderful speed)

So please do not be confused by such advertisements if you wish to convert MEGABITS to MEGABYTES go here:Converter

Continuing on with this "Digital Revolution" I'm not all that sure its such a good idea and feel, as an analogue person with a brain that works on about 30 Hz (cycles per second) which can be as slow as 10 Hz I'm not sure I'm ready for the "Digital Revolution". I wasn't ready for the "Digital Watch" revolution as knowing it was "11:59.09" didn't give me as much information as both the hands meeting at 12. I know the digital bit about the watch is still the pulse being sent through the quartz and that's great but I did miss the information on the face of the watch. If the "Digital Revolution" for the watch was that digital display why aren't we wearing them now? It seems we prefer analogue displays as we can SEE how much of the hour has passed and how much more there is to go.... more information. They tried a digital speedometer on cars once but it didn't catch on... same reason lack of information. Its this lack of information in the "Digital Revolution" that scares me. On our old analogue TV sometimes there would be a storm and the signal would be degraded but you could still watch Poirot point out who the killer was through the interference.... continuity. With this new digital system if there is any interference with the signal, a storm or some other atmospheric, the signal stops and the next time you see Poirot he's solved the case and is driving home with Captain Hastings talking about his next case. I have watched a lot of "Digital" television and I think its a great idea and when they have perfected it I will be the first to leap to its defence. However, to date,I don't think I've watched a full film in digital that hasn't had some glitch or break in it due to some minor problem.
So I for one will be glad when they get this "digital" bug out of their heads and start developing a more reliable analogue system that we can use.

Boot Hill and beyond

2009-06-10T23:45:00.000-07:00

I don't know, the older I get the more cynical I get and the more I laugh easily at silly things. Take the bike rides I go on. I like to ride a bike into Withernsea a few times a week. It makes me think I'm helping the environment and losing a bit of weight at the same time. The journey is about 5 miles over flat terrain save for a few minor undulations. There is, however, one major dip just before Withernsea. The dip is quite steep and on the hillside is a grave yard some of the locals and I have nicknamed "Boot Hill", for obvious reasons.I have often seen cyclists walking up the rise and pushing their bikes as the incline can easily defeat even the most ardent cyclist. I, myself, have never walked up and have resolved to stay on my bike even if it means standing up on the pedals. As I lurch along I mutter something like, " You're not ready for Boot-Hill yet.". Driving my bike up the incline on some occasions has been pretty embarrassing especially the day a jogger ran past me and glanced back over his shoulder to see what I was muttering about. On one occasion I was feeling pretty proud of myself as I glanced at the speedo and noticed I was doing nearly 8 MPH up-hill! The feeling was short lived as a very old man sped by on an old wreck of a bike as if I was standing still. The dip is really steep and I suppose if you gain enough speed on the way down one side (I once clocked 28 MPH) you get some impetuous on the way up the other. One day I was struggling up the incline on the way to Withernsea when a cyclist free-wheeling down the dip on the opposite side of the road, near the cemetery, grinned at me and shouted, "You're making heavy weather of it!" I laughed and shouted back, "You won't find it THAT easy on the other side!".
This harmless banter between us would have gone unrecorded if it wasn't for the fact that as the other cyclist moved off I noticed an old lady standing in the cemetery placing flowers on a grave. The look of horror on her face told me that she had interpreted my comment as some sort of prophetic warning about the after-life. I looked down at my pedals and carried on muttering.

The whole Tooth

2009-06-02T04:04:00.000-07:00

I'm acquiring a fear of dentists, "dentiphobia"? I can't recall ever disliking visits to the dentist
before so this is a new development for me. Yes, given enough time and a few more treats like my last visit I'm sure I could try and get through the rest of my life without ever feeling the need to visit one again. I never lived in fear of the dental profession before and jokes aimed in that direction, while funny, didn't have any "deep" significance for me. Now, I'm beginning to laugh a little more when I hear them.

Many years ago in a different country I went to see a dentist for a "quote". I should have realized before I even saw the dentist that here I was dealing with a man of discerning taste and a passion for antiques. This was emphasized in the waiting room. The only chairs available were genuine antiques resting spaciously on a plush carpet. Quite odd as there were at least four times the patients and people were milling around this tasteful setting like figures in a Lowry painting admiring the posters on the wall. I should have left then as the only "posters" on the wall simply instructed patients to "Clean your teeth before seeing the dentist". When one is used to reading entertaining information about gingivitis or graphic depictions of a "bad tooth" to see nothing but instructions to "Clean your teeth" should have told me something.

However, this was "Day Two" without any cigarettes and I could cheerfully cope with any situation that could arise. To say I was "laid-back" would be underestimating my state of mind. I was in that state of "total consciousness" that you only find in a smoker who is "cold-turkey". Logic was not only an ally - it was also my weapon. I looked around at my fellow passengers in life's long journey and pitied those that relied on the extra stimulation of nicotine to survive. I scorned those that had never smoked for not having had to walk the corridors of Hell like I had to attain this state of grace. In short, I wasn't fit to be in decent company. Yet here I was visiting a dentist who seemed more interested in "Queen Anne" legs than teeth.

My visit to this particular dentist was quite short. The man seemed busy, so busy in fact I was surprised he had time to see me, as I merely wanted him to examine a tooth. Have you ever noticed the strange approach some dentists have? They place the patient in a chair; push some sort of wedge or gag in their mouth and then proceed to ask them what the problem is. This puts the patient in a situation where they either stare at the dentist and jab a finger at the problem tooth or make strange gagging noises closely resembling the death throes of a heart-attack victim. Some dentists seem to understand the latter as a form of language and proceed to operate on the information.

Perhaps they have training in this. It isn't difficult to imagine a dental convention where the participants are met at the door with a programme and two or three cotton-wool balls they immediately pop into their mouths. Just think of it, a room full of dental proselytes gobbling away. I suppose the speakers would have one of those wedges similar to the one that this dentist put in my mouth that day.

It was a long time ago and I'm sure the dental profession have moved on from spring-loaded wooden wedges that were used then. Having placed the wedge in my mouth; the dentist pushed me into a reclining position and asked "What's the problem?" Not wishing to gesticulate like a demented Parisian cab driver or sound like Neanderthal man I simply starred back at him. "Mr. Watson, what's the problem?" no reply. "If you don't tell me what the problem is I can't help you". The tooth did hurt, but not as much as this treatment was hurting me, no reply. This dentist was in a hurry and he'd just met his nemesis, a belligerent, stoic that had no intention of losing the little dignity he still had even though the wedge was bearing down on the painful tooth, no reply.

At this point the dentist heaved a heavy sigh, removed the wooden gag from my mouth and flipped a lever that brought the chair back to its normal position. "Now Mr. Watson, what is the problem?" Wiping my mouth with the towel that the nurse tentatively offered me I said "It was difficult to talk with that device in my mouth, could you look at this tooth (indicating the painful molar) and tell me how much it will cost to remove it?" The wedge was slapped in the other side of my jaw and the chair fell back with a speed that only crash-test dummies know of.

Having examined the tooth I was told that it would cost several dollars and could only be done at some date before the end of the century. I wasn't surprised by this information as the man was busy and I had been a positive pain. I politely thanked him for the information, apologized for not having cleaned my teeth in his waiting room and left. I'm sure that dentist was good at his chosen profession and taking into account my belligerent mood he coped quite well with me. I never went back to that dentist and I will always wonder if his obvious love of antique furniture extended to the surgical implements he used.

To be fair, since that one occasion other visits I have had to dentists have been pleasant and useful. However, I always check the dentist's waiting room now to see if he/she has a penchant for antiques and I must be the only person I know that is happy to see posters of decaying teeth decorating the room.

RD Watson developed Behaviourism so the story goes (with apologies to Marriott Edgar)

2009-06-01T16:46:00.000-07:00

Watson on Watson

Now you've heard of a fellow called Watson
And young Albert his subject and chum.
And that these two together have shown us
How Behaviourism was done.

Well the truth of this terrible story
Makes psychologists cower in shame
As Watson, he got quite a slanging
But Albert got none of the blame

Well it started one day in Chicago
When Watson was feeling quite blue
The white rat he'd written his thesis on
Had gone off and hid in the loo

It wouldn't come out when he asked it,
Even threatened to bring in t'cat
The only thing that proved successful
Was a big lump of cheese and a trap

We know that this actually 'appened
And we can logically prove it you see
If rat hadn't succumbed to t'Cheddar,
He wouldn't be called Phd

Well Watson found this all was quite boring
And psychology then was right glum
Old Pavlov had found, that dogs drooled at a sound.
Even Russians were 'aving more fun

Now Pavlov had interested Watson
And he saw how the rat had behaved
It 'adn't listened to any pleading
But had taken the cheese to its grave

So he tried to "condition" some babies
But they didn't react quite the same
His wife she went home to her mother
Said "I'm not rearing kids for thy games"

(wife left him just after he got his Phd)

When his wife left she took all the kiddies
And he had no more subjects to run
So he took out an 'ad' in the paper that read,
"Required for Conditioning--- one son"

News of this soon had reached Blackpool
Where the Ramsbottoms lived by the sea
And Ma said to Pa, "We'll send Albert across."
Pa said "The further the better for me"

Now you've heard of young Albert Ramsbottom
And the trouble he caused at the zoo
By poking a lion he caused quite stir
With the lion, his ma and the Pru

Well, Ma'd had a "perm and condition"
And thought it would be quite a treat
To send Watson her grubby young offspring
And get him returned looking neat.

They bought Albert a Steerage-class ticket
On a cargo ship just leaving port
And the captain, a man of good standing,
Said he'd drop the lad off near New York

There was quite a t'do on the quay side
Ma was weeping buckets of tears
Pa had to cancel his darts match
(First time he done that for years)

"I've asked Watson to meet him." cried mother
"I hope he'll be safe." Dad replied
"Oh, I just hope, our Albert can cope"
"I was thinking of Watson" Dad sighed.

The trip to the states was quite peaceful
Though the little boat bobbed like a cork
They went out of their way for young Albert
And stopped at Chicago, to save 'im the walk.

It was down on the docks in Chicago
Where Watson met Albert on t'pier
There's a sign above number 5 coal tip
It says "Watson and Albert met here"

"How do" said Watson with fever
(At the time he didn't feel well)
The boat Albert was on had been carrying pigs
But Albert was used to the smell

Well he rushed the lad off to his workshop
Where the you fella expressed some delight
The zoo down in Blackpool was nothing like this
There were hundreds of rats, all snow white.

Albert asked if he could have one
And Watson replied "Take you pick"
But every time he tried to grab one
Watson banged a big gong with a stick.

(The original experiment that started the
school of 'Behaviourism"
the original Albert was, in later life,
still terrified of fur.)

Now the noise didn't bother young Albert
But the rats started acting quite queer
And when Albert moved as to grab one
They'd cower and hide as in fear.

It was quite a strange sight in the workshop
Screams of terrified rats filled the air
And Watson tried blocking the doorway
Of five tons of terrified fur

See, the trouble with Watson's experiment
Was he'd got the right foot in wrong boot
All the rats in Chicago were running in fear
Of Albert who ran in pursuit

Now Albert knew nowt of Chicago
But he knew the way back to the boat
And all the rats were taking to water
But none of 'em knew how to float

Well what happened in Chicago
Set psychology back by ten year
'Cos there wasn't a rat in the city
That hadn't run or drown in its fear

And worse was discovered by Watson
When some new rats arrived in by train
They behaved in a sensible manner
Till someone would use Albert's name

Watson took all this quite badly
Called Albert a saucy young tyke
Packed up all his gongs and his hammers
And went off to sell "Lucky Strike"

(Watson left psychology and worked in
advertising "Reach for a Lucky
instead of a sweet" was his first slogan)

Now if you don't believe what I've told you
And your keeping a rat in a box
Creep up to the cage like a toddler
Whisper "Albert Ramsbottom" and watch.

Roger's back pagesl

oohd! to a word processor

2009-06-01T15:49:00.000-07:00

Oh Microsoft Word I know you of old
I ask for italics you write things in bold
I justify left, you proportionally space
I write 10 words per min and you can't stay the pace

I ask for a new line, I get inserted CAD
I just touch the mouse and the menus go mad
Spell checker is happy if I spell socks with an X
When I'm trying to save you want Name, Rank, and Sex!

If I dare change the font you reformat with glee
And you move all my text down from page 2 to 3
Then dare to ask 'would you like to PREVIEW?"
And show me a letter someone wrote in Urdu

And as for the FORMAT ,I won't go again
You wrote in Small Caps and then set out a frame
Removed all the borders and boxed all the text
And then asked me to paginate "All keep with next"

You seem to think Swedish is my native tongue
And ASCII and ANSI were just coded for fun
You don't like the Pound sign; I have to use YEN
Now I post-script my letters divide prices by ten

You're Grammar checks great, (if you speak like a DORK)
And the Flesch Grade is nice for the guys in New York
But now you've discovered a new kind of hell
You keep drifting away to use simple Excel

Now I've mentioned all this, have you taken the hint?
Is that why I'm having all this trouble to print?
You've shown me the 'PREVIEW, I don't want to 'MERGE'
I'm 'OUTSIDE THE MARGINS'!!! NO, I don't want to 'CONVERGE'

I've been trying for hours now (I've just checked the log)
I want a printout of THIS! not the 'FLESCH' or the 'FOG'
I'm not really concerned if you can't 'SAVE THE CHANGE'
Or even if 'FORMAT CANNOT BE RE-ARRANGED'

All I want is hard copy, a simple request
Now swallow your grammar and please do your best
I've primed up the printer and filled up the tray
Do you possibly think you can print it TODAY?

Not the 'SUMMARY INFO'. NO, the 'TEMPLATE' is fine,And don't put all the text on one single line

Just do what I want and I will be gone
Never again to select your icon
'Just print this damn letter, that's what you're here for
Blast! I've just hit Alt+ F4

A prophet in his own lunchtime

2009-05-08T00:43:00.000-07:00

I once knew a man that painted nightmares. Well they looked like nightmares to me. Vast religious allegories in oils. None of your, ‘Light of The World’ allegories for him.

No, he went in for the more horrific, ‘The Devil’s Crucifixion’ style of painting. Bodies on inverted crosses, Horribly deformed people scrambling away from crevasses and all, as they say, ‘in the best possible taste’. I’m not saying he was a bad artist, he made a fair living selling charcoal sketches and most of his work had been exhibited in a Sydney gallery at some time or other. What I am saying is, any Freudian psychologist would’ve had a field day if they’d caught a glimpse of his work. In his flat, amidst the half empty tubes of Prussian Blue and the rotting sandwiches, were some of the most outrageous depictions of human suffering you could imagine. One particular painting always puzzled me. I could understand the significance of most of his work, indeed some I considered even trite. Yet one grizzly monster, about twenty feet long, depicted most of the world leaders ranged across a barren wasteland each touching the shoulder of the one in front. archbishop’s and presidents, all blind, “The Blind Leading The Blind’. I was comfortable with the concept, or ‘uncomfortable’ if you wish. However I could not understand why each one of the figures held a little red book. Originally I assumed the book was ‘The Thoughts of Chairman Mao’ but closer inspection showed that it had the title ‘6669’. I remember asking him the significance of this little book. “Ah”, he said, “the number of the beast.” Being reasonably sure that the number of the beast was 666 I questioned him more closely on this and discovered that most others and I were wrong. In his book the number of the beast was Charles Darwin. Charles Darwin he informed me was the real evil behind current thinking and the reason that we were having a really bad time. I’m no numerologist but he did explain to me that taking the English alphabet and the decimal numeric system the name ‘Charles Darwin’ could be summed up to reach 6669 hence the extra ‘9’ on the title of the book. I was just about to counter this argument by pointing out that when the Bible was written they knew nothing of the English alphabet. When he quickly stifled my protests by saying, “Isn’t it wonderful how they knew that one day we would have a numeric system and an alphabet that would allow us to arrive at that number?” I retreated to my room and tried to forget what he said but today this awful number has once again made me pause for thought.

Prophecy, the idea that we can see into the future has always fascinated me. However, fascinated as I am by thoughts of ‘scynchronicity’, UFO’s and all manner of strange things, I don’t wish to be considered gullible enough to accept every strange or convoluted device that the ‘Cayce’s or Nostradamus’s of this world leave behind them.

Recently world events have driven us nearer and nearer to the brink of catastrophe and with the development of each new or discovered fact the ‘seers’ tend to stroke their charms and nod knowingly at the works of the ‘prophets’. “It was foretold by XXXX you know”, followed by some obscure quote or ‘quatrain’ that could be twisted to fit the facts. Lets face it, some of these prophets have been way off the mark and only the ‘faithful’ have made us notice the similarities to current events by adding an extra ‘9’ to the prophecies.

Nostradamus’s suggestion that a man called Hister would wreak havoc on the world is about as near as it gets. If his prophecies were so good why didn’t he get the name right? Mother Shipton; bless her, why didn’t she predict a few of the more noticeable events. “England with lines shall netted be” That could just about cover any form of current city planning from sewers to the Internet, although I’ve been told there’s not much difference between those two at the moment. Why didn’t these people mention the ‘millennium bug’ or a few of the great catastrophes that seem to emerge every day?

Yes, I know, we can interpret many things from some of these prophecies but, as a friend once pointed out to me, it’s a strange fact that every two ant-hills in South America are in direct line with each other! In other words, we can bend the predictions and twist the facts to suit any occasion, and we do.

Please don’t assume I’m a complete cynic, I enjoy a good yarn like most people. I just think we should be a little more objective in our assessment of what we consider to be a genuine case of prediction when it comes to major issues. I have no desire to put the soothsayers out of business and I, like most people, read my horoscope whenever I come across it in the paper. However, given the number of people on the planet and the number of star signs available they do seem to limit the potential outcomes with only 12 signs.

However I’m inclined to regard most predictions in the light of the infinite number of monkeys typing on an infinite number of typewriters for an infinite time. Sooner or later they’ll get something right.

I suppose it’s this law of diminishing returns that keeps us going. We forget about the ‘failed’ prophecies and only remember the ones that fitted at the time. Therefore I propose that, in order to increase our chances of being right we should all start making predictions. Of course we should also ‘hedge’ our bets and make our predictions reasonably vague.

All things considered there is one ‘prophet’ that does worry me today. He’s a little known schoolteacher who teaches at Damien school in Hawaii, Mr Lee. Michael Lee has discovered that by the application of science to the ancient predictions of the Kahunas or learned priests who could predict earthquakes, or volcanic eruptions before they actually took place, he has successfully predicted several major earthquakes over the past few years. His success rate has been quite phenomenal. If you have an Internet link check out his predictions at before you book your next holiday.

The truth is out there?

2009-05-05T11:32:00.000-07:00

They've started running the X-files on the tv again. I liked the X-files, originally but then it started to get rather obscure with government agents trying to stop other government agents finding out "the truth" about what's happening, it all got a bit convoluted in the end and I decided to leave them to it. I've always been a great fan of science fiction and such things but this "denial" bit or this "conspiracy" bit has always puzzled me.

Take some of the classic cases of the UFO scene.
Captain Mantell for example :- http://www.subversiveelement.com/ufoMantell.html
In short Captain Mantell flew his aeroplane so high chasing a..."metal object... of tremendous size"and Mantell ran out of oxygen and subsequently crashed. The official report indicated that Capt Mantell had been chasing a star... probably Venus!

Yes.....well.... that's all very well but that may stop people pursuing the subject further but it does give you pause for thought. The Airforce are saying that some of their pilots have the IQ's of a wombat and when zooming around the skies they are distracted by the bright shiny things above them and frequently, like moths, chase after them hoping to catch them. No disrespect to Capt Mantell but the paucity of the explanation says more for the intelligence of the Airforce investigation team, I think it was the "Blue Book" at the time than it does for the pilots involved.

Then there was the "Roswell" incident where there are claims that a saucer landed in the dessert in New Mexico about 1947 , its all over the net just Google "Roswell".
There have been claims that the saucer was a weather balloon, a special top secret aerial balloon, crash dummies were the bodies and claims and counter claims about the validity of the crash. Through all this information these seems to be one piece of information that has never been changed and stands out like a sore thumb. Major Jesse Marcel (the intelligence officer at Roswell) Came back with the debris from the "crashed flying saucer" in the early hours of the morning and got his 11 year old son out of bed to show him the debris which he scattered on the kitchen table. Say what you like about weather balloons and fake aliens but as a parent I know you do NOT get your 11 year old son out of bed to look at a few broken bits of tinfoil.

Underneath the mangoe tree me honey

2009-05-04T09:43:00.000-07:00

Once, when I was an simple young thing and an apprentice deck officer in I seemed to have the unerring ability to be discovered doing really stupid things. I once made the mistake of thinking I was all alone on the "Monkey Island"
That's usually the name they give the small deck above the ship's bridge. Its usually quite small and has a compass binnacle and a speaker tube to shout down to the officer on watch. You know the sort of thing you saw on the "Titanic" when the look-out calls out "Ship two points to port" or some such thing. Anyway, there I was taking part in a "watch", I think it was the 4-8 watch as it was about six o'clock in the morning, just me and a binnacle and the dawn. As it got lighter I noticed that someone had left a broom on the deck, I picked it up and with this "microphone", threw myself into an Elvis Presley routine. If you're on a Monkey Island for 2 hours watching for lights in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean you can sometimes lose touch with reality. I was on my second verse when I happened to glance down and to my right. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the First-mate and the wheel-man craning their necks to watch me from the bridge-wing, it was too late to pretend I was sweeping the deck, anyway, I survived.
Later we docked at Balbao a day before going through the Panama Canal. Being an apprentice I finished up with the shore watch. This meant standing around the gangplank in full uniform while all the lucky ones went ashore. The captain had gone ashore to see the agents and was bringing back a pilot to help us through the canal the next day. On the dock side was a beautiful mango tree, laden with green mangoes. If there's one thing I'm still partial to its mango chutney or anything with mangoes in it. I decided to chance my arm and climb the tree. Being in full "square rig" made it hard going but I discovered that when I got up the tree I could fill my pockets and my hat with mangoes. Everything was going fine until I dropped a mango. That in itself wouldn't have been a problem but it hit the white dust cover on the pilot's hat just before he climbed the gang plank. At that point both the pilot and the captain stopped and looked up! I was spotted half way up a mango tree, in full uniform, with a hat full of mangoes. When the "old man" had calmed down I was ordered to give all the mangoes to the cook and for the next six months I was the only person on the ship who was not allowed any mangoes in my salads or even mango chuntney.

Found it!

2009-04-24T01:04:00.000-07:00

Many years ago when working at a Mental hospital I picked up the "In house" magazine and this poem caught my eye. It claimed to be written by one of the inmates but I'm not sure it was . We had a lot of people claiming to be the originators of specific things. I once met a patient who had detailed designs for a sextant. The drawings were good and he'd even got a new variation on the scales of the device the only trouble was he was about 100 years too late with the patent. We had another copying the King James's bible from cover to cover (a personal pennance?) He would write out the first page of "Begets" in a beatiful hand then scrunch up the paper and start again.
While some people had "wiring" problems occasionally you came across thoughtful little gems like this:-

The Man In The Looking Glass

When you get what you want in your struggle for self
and the world makes you king for a day

Then go to a mirror and look at yourself
and see what your face has to say

For it isn't your father, or mother or wife
who judgement upon you must pass

The one who means most in your life everyday
is the face looking back from the glass

You may follow the whole world down the pathway
of life and get pats on your back as you pass

But your final reward will be heartache and tears
if you've cheated the man in the glass.

Anonymous.... (so far)