Hitachi says they’re on the way, soon. Finally, room for my cheesy SF movie collection in one place.
Routing Around It
In the context of the perhaps-imminent fall of the Canadian government, and the laughable chicanery of the San Francisco city government, Wretchard has an interesting post about how, once again, attempts to impose censorship are futile in the age of the Internet. Dean Esmay once wrote, with regard to the Swift Boat Vet story, that:
The Internet has detected the mainstream media as a form of censorship and simply routed around them.
It seems to be applying to real censorship as well.
Of course, while Colby Cosh was careful (it will be interesting to see if anyone from Ottawa goes after him), there’s an interesting question as to whether Winds of Change is a Canadian blog, because it’s run by Joe Katzman. Where is it hosted? Is Joe sticking his neck out legally, by posting to it from Toronto? Could other Canadians get into trouble by discussing it on Free Republic?
The absurdity abounds.
“Against All Odds”
This looks like an interesting new book:
Though the Lunar Prospector Mission was a small, inexpensive, unmanned, orbital mapping mission, the reader will, via the author’s experiences in conducting his mission, become intimately acquainted with the inefficient and self-serving activities of the entrenched NASA bureaucracy and the big aerospace companies. As such, the reader will come to understand how NASA’s increasing incompetence led to 1) the destruction of the space shuttles Challenger and Columbia and their crews, 2) the loss of the 1992 Mars Observer, the 1999 Mars Climate Observer, the 1999 Mars Polar Lander, 3) the never-to-be-finished International Space Station that is already five times over its $8 billion budget and a decade over its original schedule, and 4) many similar NASA failures that have cost the taxpayers tens of billions of dollars and have already taken 14 human lives.
[Sunday night update]
Keith Cowing isn’t impressed.
“Against All Odds”
This looks like an interesting new book:
Though the Lunar Prospector Mission was a small, inexpensive, unmanned, orbital mapping mission, the reader will, via the author’s experiences in conducting his mission, become intimately acquainted with the inefficient and self-serving activities of the entrenched NASA bureaucracy and the big aerospace companies. As such, the reader will come to understand how NASA’s increasing incompetence led to 1) the destruction of the space shuttles Challenger and Columbia and their crews, 2) the loss of the 1992 Mars Observer, the 1999 Mars Climate Observer, the 1999 Mars Polar Lander, 3) the never-to-be-finished International Space Station that is already five times over its $8 billion budget and a decade over its original schedule, and 4) many similar NASA failures that have cost the taxpayers tens of billions of dollars and have already taken 14 human lives.
[Sunday night update]
Keith Cowing isn’t impressed.
“Against All Odds”
This looks like an interesting new book:
Though the Lunar Prospector Mission was a small, inexpensive, unmanned, orbital mapping mission, the reader will, via the author’s experiences in conducting his mission, become intimately acquainted with the inefficient and self-serving activities of the entrenched NASA bureaucracy and the big aerospace companies. As such, the reader will come to understand how NASA’s increasing incompetence led to 1) the destruction of the space shuttles Challenger and Columbia and their crews, 2) the loss of the 1992 Mars Observer, the 1999 Mars Climate Observer, the 1999 Mars Polar Lander, 3) the never-to-be-finished International Space Station that is already five times over its $8 billion budget and a decade over its original schedule, and 4) many similar NASA failures that have cost the taxpayers tens of billions of dollars and have already taken 14 human lives.
[Sunday night update]
Keith Cowing isn’t impressed.
Good News, Bad News
The good news is that the Pope’s passing has knocked Terri Schiavo out of the news, when otherwise we could have continued to marinate in its aftermath for days. The bad news is that it also knocked everything else out, including Sandy Burglar. I had already predicted that no one would be talking about this tomorrow morning, because there’s no way to talk about it that reflects well on the media’s favorite (recent) administration–that of Bill Clinton. Now, it’s guaranteed–it will be all pontiff, all the time, maybe for a couple weeks until a successor is chosen.
I’m sure that many in the Washington press corps are breathing a sigh of relief to have an excuse to ignore the story. We can’t let them do it indefinitely–there are too many unanswered questions about which they’ve displayed too little curiousity.
“A Well-Lived Life”
That’s what Ann Althouse says, and I would agree. We shouldn’t be mourning his passing, which was as he wanted it–we should be celebrating his life. And as at a wake, (though it’s not, as far as I know, actually true) I have to tell a story about him that Tom Rogers, former president of the Space Transportation Association, used to tell.
It seems that often, the pontiff, weary with the cares of the world, would have trouble getting to sleep. On these occasions, one of the best cures for his insomnia was to take a ride around the beautiful city in which he lived, in the back seat of his limousine. On one of these occasions, he realizes that he’s been missing something from his life for many years.
He taps on the window to his driver, and says, “Mario, I haven’t driven a car since I was a priest in Cracow. It would give me so much pleasure if I could do it once again.”
Mario, of course, is aghast. “Your Holiness, it would be unseemly! You are the Pope!” To which the reply was, “That’s right, Mario, I am the Pope. You are the employee of the Pope. I shall drive.”
So they switch places, Mario with reluctance and the Pope with glee, and they head off for the driving tour of his life, past the Tivoli Fountains and the Coliseum, up and down the hills. Fortunately, it’s late at night, so traffic is light, and like most Romans, he pays little attention to traffic signals or speed limits. Inevitably, the sound of a siren greets their ears from behind, and so the Pope reluctantly pulls over, fearing the headlines the next day.
The patrolman gets off his scooter, walks up to the limo, taps on the smoked-glass driver’s window, and his face turns sheet white when it rolls down to reveal who is behind the wheel. He stammers, “A thousand pardons, your Holiness. I’m so sorry to inconvenience you. But can you please wait for just one minute while I contact my superiors”? And the pope nods beatifically.
He goes back to his scooter, radios the station, and says, “Capitano, I need some advice. I’m about to give a traffic ticket to a very, very important person.”
The radio crackles back, “What’s the problem, Luigi? Who is it? How important are we talking here?”
“I don’t know, Capitano, but whoever it is, has got the Pope for a chauffeur…”
“A Well-Lived Life”
That’s what Ann Althouse says, and I would agree. We shouldn’t be mourning his passing, which was as he wanted it–we should be celebrating his life. And as at a wake, (though it’s not, as far as I know, actually true) I have to tell a story about him that Tom Rogers, former president of the Space Transportation Association, used to tell.
It seems that often, the pontiff, weary with the cares of the world, would have trouble getting to sleep. On these occasions, one of the best cures for his insomnia was to take a ride around the beautiful city in which he lived, in the back seat of his limousine. On one of these occasions, he realizes that he’s been missing something from his life for many years.
He taps on the window to his driver, and says, “Mario, I haven’t driven a car since I was a priest in Cracow. It would give me so much pleasure if I could do it once again.”
Mario, of course, is aghast. “Your Holiness, it would be unseemly! You are the Pope!” To which the reply was, “That’s right, Mario, I am the Pope. You are the employee of the Pope. I shall drive.”
So they switch places, Mario with reluctance and the Pope with glee, and they head off for the driving tour of his life, past the Tivoli Fountains and the Coliseum, up and down the hills. Fortunately, it’s late at night, so traffic is light, and like most Romans, he pays little attention to traffic signals or speed limits. Inevitably, the sound of a siren greets their ears from behind, and so the Pope reluctantly pulls over, fearing the headlines the next day.
The patrolman gets off his scooter, walks up to the limo, taps on the smoked-glass driver’s window, and his face turns sheet white when it rolls down to reveal who is behind the wheel. He stammers, “A thousand pardons, your Holiness. I’m so sorry to inconvenience you. But can you please wait for just one minute while I contact my superiors”? And the pope nods beatifically.
He goes back to his scooter, radios the station, and says, “Capitano, I need some advice. I’m about to give a traffic ticket to a very, very important person.”
The radio crackles back, “What’s the problem, Luigi? Who is it? How important are we talking here?”
“I don’t know, Capitano, but whoever it is, has got the Pope for a chauffeur…”
“A Well-Lived Life”
That’s what Ann Althouse says, and I would agree. We shouldn’t be mourning his passing, which was as he wanted it–we should be celebrating his life. And as at a wake, (though it’s not, as far as I know, actually true) I have to tell a story about him that Tom Rogers, former president of the Space Transportation Association, used to tell.
It seems that often, the pontiff, weary with the cares of the world, would have trouble getting to sleep. On these occasions, one of the best cures for his insomnia was to take a ride around the beautiful city in which he lived, in the back seat of his limousine. On one of these occasions, he realizes that he’s been missing something from his life for many years.
He taps on the window to his driver, and says, “Mario, I haven’t driven a car since I was a priest in Cracow. It would give me so much pleasure if I could do it once again.”
Mario, of course, is aghast. “Your Holiness, it would be unseemly! You are the Pope!” To which the reply was, “That’s right, Mario, I am the Pope. You are the employee of the Pope. I shall drive.”
So they switch places, Mario with reluctance and the Pope with glee, and they head off for the driving tour of his life, past the Tivoli Fountains and the Coliseum, up and down the hills. Fortunately, it’s late at night, so traffic is light, and like most Romans, he pays little attention to traffic signals or speed limits. Inevitably, the sound of a siren greets their ears from behind, and so the Pope reluctantly pulls over, fearing the headlines the next day.
The patrolman gets off his scooter, walks up to the limo, taps on the smoked-glass driver’s window, and his face turns sheet white when it rolls down to reveal who is behind the wheel. He stammers, “A thousand pardons, your Holiness. I’m so sorry to inconvenience you. But can you please wait for just one minute while I contact my superiors”? And the pope nods beatifically.
He goes back to his scooter, radios the station, and says, “Capitano, I need some advice. I’m about to give a traffic ticket to a very, very important person.”
The radio crackles back, “What’s the problem, Luigi? Who is it? How important are we talking here?”
“I don’t know, Capitano, but whoever it is, has got the Pope for a chauffeur…”
Resquiescat In Pace, Take Two
Well, I was a little premature yesterday, but it seems to be official now. The College of the Cardinals will be selecting a new pope in a couple weeks. I wonder if there will be white smoke for a black pope? More on that later…