Arms and Armor

A couple bits of linky goodness…

Via comments on the always great BibliOdyssey, George Goodall’s Facetation blog. Per peacay, Mr. Goodall is “writing up his PhD thesis on technology and machine manuals of the Renaissance”. Recent post title: The Lure of Antiquity, the Cult of the Machine, and the Kunstkammer. Yes, please.

Via the Danger Room, helmet designs of WWI.

When the U.S. jumped into World War I, they brought Bashford Dean on to work on new helmet designs. Dean was the curator of the arms and armament department at New York’s Metropolitan Museum. So it’s probably no surprise that many of his 16 experimental models looks like they’re straight out of the Middle Ages, or the Renaissance. *

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Love reign o’er me…

You just never can tell. Sometimes the most inauspicious starting point doesn’t matter – great things happen anyway. I offer, as an example, one of my favorite Who albums: Quadrophenia. Strike one – rock opera. Strike two – joined at the hip to an attempt to market a conceptually valid, but technically unfeasible, package of hardware and content: quadraphonic sound. What should have been a gimmick turned out to be great stuff. Per Pete “Tear my nails off windmilling” Townshend:

Pete Townshend now looks back on the album with great praise. “The music is the best music that I’ve ever written, I think and it’s the best album that I will ever write.” *

Why post on The Who now? VH1 is going to show a Who documentary this Wednesday: Amazing Journey: the Story of The Who. Seeing the promo pictures got me thinking about them again – especially poor, self-destructive Keith (I looked at the photo credits, just in case).

One major quibble w/ the youngsters at VH1 – they describe a bit of Who iconography as, “classic The Who target”. Sorry, whippersnappers, my understanding is that the ‘target’ is more appropriately called an RAF roundel.

I ride a G S scooter with my hair cut neat,
Wear my wartime coat in the wind and sleet.

Like I said – World War II was still echoing loudly in 1960s Britain…

Happy Halloween…

…from Miss Halloween New Hampshire 2007.

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I spotted her this morning, tending her clutch of eggs in the autumn sun. The spiderlings need to get a move on – we are supposed to get a couple hard frosts this week.

Halloween movie recommendations (yes, I know, you didn’t ask):

And a picture of New England fall foliage:

Mr. Big Stuff

Air. I recently finished William Gibson’s latest: Spook Country. A bit part is played by the Hook, a Soviet-era heavy lift helicopter. I’ve long been a fan of the American CH-54/S-64 Skycrane – I built a plastic model of one years ago (you could run the winch line up and down by rotating the main rotor) and I find it’s minimalism appealing.

S-64 in firefighting mode – a shout-out to my friends on the West Coast.

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I have to confess total ignorance when it comes to big Soviet/Russian choppers, but not to worry – the Google can help! While nosing around for info on the Mi-6 Hook I found another great Soviet heavy lifter. Before we go there, though – the Mi-6 is big!

If you still doubt the size of this machine, consider this – the Mi-6 can carry twice as much as the largest American helicopter, the CH-64 Tarhe “Sky Crane” – in fact, it’s capable of lifting a Tarhe. The accompanying sign said that it had often lifted MiG-17s and MiG-21s; the Vietnamese would conceal their aircraft in servicing areas in the jungle and airlift them to a roughly prepared field for takeoff, then return them to the jungle afterwards. Most remarkable perhaps is the Hook’s ability to transport up to 120 people when it’s in its high-density seating configuration!*

Even larger and much more bizarre (therefore, cool in my book) is the Mi-12 Homer prototype. Two main rotors arranged transversely (left and right, rather than the front and back we’re used to) each powered by two engines. According to Wikipedia, the rotor/powerplant combo was lifted directly from the Mi-6 (get it? Mi-6 * 2 = Mi-12). Choppers start off as improbable objects – add in that Russian air thing (think ekranoplan) and you get:

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Land. I’ve been wanting to post on this bit of gorgeousity for a while. I’m very partial to the union (set-wise) of Africa and Garratt. Having grown up on a diet of Big Boys, Challengers and the like, Garratts are strange, alien and – you guessed it – way cool. How do I love this steam engine? Let me count the ways:

  • Beyer-Garratt 4-8-4 + 4-8-4 – the largest locomotive ever built for 50 lb (light!) rail. Meter-gauge!
  • May have crossed the bridge at Tsavo (in my mind, it certainly did)!
  • Shares a nickname with Walter Dalrymple Maitland Bell, who used a 7×57 (among other light calibers) on elephant.

The Kenya Uganda Railway No. 87 Karamoja:

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Beautiful model (be sure to click through and check out the 3-D view):

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Not Karamoja, but a Garratt at Tsavo:

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Sea. Via the Telstar Logistics blog, a pointer to John Konrad’s thoughts on the Pasha Bulker incident report. The Pasha Bulker ran aground June 8, 2007 on Nobby’s Beach, Newcastle, New South Wales (if you don’t know where New South Wales is – I’m not going to name the country – spend the rest of the day with an atlas, please). New vocab word for the day – hogged – and an incredible Flickrset. The gCaptain blog where Mr. Konrad’s post appears looks like something I’ll need to visit from time to time.

The title of the photo is “Correctly parked”.

Diecast fun

COOP’s post and Flickrset caused me to dig out my (very) old box of Matchboxes, Corgis, etc. I took one set of photos, but the sun isn’t above the big pine tree in the back yard yet – I don’t have any fancy flash equipment – so I’m going to start over in an hour or two. The pictures will be uploaded here; in the meantime, something to prime the pump:

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Burfday

Many things to post about (sub-prime mortgage mess, backing up PCs, dogs), but not much time. I did want to get this one out there though, just because it’s so much fun.

I had a birthday this past weekend. The daughter and her boyfriend took me out to dinner; I chose The Friendly Toast – a local alt.food establishment – big plates of food, ridiculous decor, and, as far as I’m concerned, comfortable.

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There were presents, oh, were there presents. Wrapped in brown paper and tied with brown wool – it makes me smile just thinking of it.

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Two nice books (Gorey and Airstreams) and two toys. Did you know that koalas, penguins and seals used to prey on cetaceans? True! The cuddly ones almost drove narwhals into extinction – something narwhals have not forgotten. Thus The Avenging Narwhal Play Set:

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Four interchangeable magic tusks! Three adorable animals to impale!

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Thanks J – the Tusked Avenger is on a shelf in my office using the crystal tooth on a koala.

The daughter gave me some temporary tattoos suitable for the elderly. I’ll post a picture when I apply one – I think the first up will be a snake coiling around one of those pill organizers with compartments for each day of the week.

Tuesday morning potpourri for $500, please, Alex

Stray thougts and links…

On The Pony Rule – like Ms. Phasmid, I have a full dreamspace. There are many classification schemes I apply to the dreams when I’m feeling meta – one that is actually useful is to divde dreams into Pony Rule/not Pony Rule. Not Pony Rule items are those that, with effort and a little luck (and maybe some sacrifice) are attainable – my ‘move into an Airstream‘ idea/dream/plan is a perfect representative of the genre. Pony Rule dreams involve either the suspension of physical laws (superpowerz!!1!) or factors completely outside my control. The ‘what would I do if I hit the lottery?’ fantasy is a good example – I have no control over it and it’s so improbable that it’s right on the edge of suspension of physics (someone does win, so it’s not over the line, but probability-wise, pretty darn close). Thus, that fantasy can be improved by application of “and a pony!”. It occurred to me this morning as I puttered around, that The Pony Rule has a theme song: Lyle Lovett’s If I Had a Boat.

The mystery masked man was smart
He got himself a Tonto
‘Cause Tonto did the dirty work for free
But Tonto he was smarter
And one day said kemo sabe
Kiss my ass I bought a boat
I’m going out to sea

And if I had a boat
I’d go out on the ocean
And if I had a pony
I’d ride him on my boat
And we could all together
Go out on the ocean
Me upon my pony on my boat

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Great APOD today – not so much for the picture; rather for the links to papers on Martian life. Extremophile bacteria using a hydrogen peroxide/water intracellular fluid mix! (Warning – .pdf link) More investigation will be required!

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It’s the time in the northeastern US when athletic fields start to be used by high school teams – practicing and, soon, playing. Here, women’s varsity soccer and men’s cross country have been in evidence. We do not have a football team, but the boarding school I used to work at sure did. I found this compare and contrast post very interesting – concussion vs. smoking dope. I am a fan of NFL football, but as you work your way back down the feeder system (NFL -> NCAA -> high school) things get a little more questionable; the risk/reward variables change pretty dramatically.

Plane trees and Pratt

We took the son down to Pratt yesterday for his first year of college. He is in the Industrial Design program and is – I think – quite excited. My emotions are a bit of a stew: sadness, excitement, worry, anticipation, and more. Even if I were good at sorting through this kind of thing (typically I’m not), it certainly isn’t going to happen on four hours sleep. The dogs, understandably, don’t really care that I spent 10 hours driving yesterday – their chief concern is the fact that they had a really boring day and would like to go for a run. Now. Again. More.

We did have yet another bit of cosmic synchronicity hit us on campus. The lawn where we were served a cookout dinner last night is lined by sycamore trees. Tree identification is not my strong suit – I know the locals (red maple, poplar, red oak, hemlock, and pals), but get me out of the New England woods and I’m in trouble. I knew sycamores, though. Why? Because Pluvialis mentioned plane trees and lime trees recently and I looked ’em up on Wikipedia. I had this suspicion that citrus (limes) might not be winter-hardy in Cambridge and was tired of not knowing anything about plane trees other than the assumed fact that they’re trees. If you don’t want to click through, here’s the key point – what are plane trees in Pluvialis’ neighborhood are sycamores here. While we were waiting in line for our picnic dinners, S (the boy’s mom) commented on the trees – the last time she was on campus was January and the foliage makes the area even more beautiful. I allowed as to how I thought they were sycamores; she looked at the leaves and noticed how maple-like they were. I wouldn’t budge and told her why I was pretty sure. Somewhere in my explanation, Jesus College in Cambridge was mentioned.

Aside – both the boy and I have been known to start with a reasonable sounding kernel and spin an increasingly baroque and improbable story out of it – absolutely deadpan. My son is much better at it than I am and does it to his mom regularly, but I’m a known offender as well.

At this point, S thinks I’m spinning a yarn. The Cambridge that springs to her mind is the one 30 miles away outside of Boston, not the one an ocean away. The existence of Jesus College is questioned, but before I can clarify, the man standing behind us (nice south-Asian accent) interjects, “Why yes, there is a Jesus College in Cambridge. I went there.” The sycamore identification went unresolved, but there is now general agreement that Jesus College exists and that the world is weirdly folded-up-on-itself small.

Two pieces of background info

A recent comment clued me to the fact that I haven’t provided much background info on some of the things I do (and post on) – assuming that both people who read my blog are already in the know. Seems like I may have more than a handful of readers, so I’ll try to fill in some of the blanks.

I’m a falconer. Click here for a good definition of what falconry is. I have a six year old male Red-tailed Hawk and a sixteen week old female Peregrine Falcon. Brick, the Red-tail, hunts rabbits, snowshoe hare, squirrel and pheasant; I plan to fly Luz, the Peregrine, on ducks on the salt marsh. My falconry bullet point list:

  • Falconry. Look at the word. Notice it does not contain the letter “d” or the letter “t”. I don’t know if it’s a local thing or not, but if I hear someone pronounce it falcundry one more time…
  • Q: You let the bird go? A: Yes. Q: And it comes back? A: So far. Every time we go hunting there is the chance that – if I haven’t prepared properly – I could come home without the hawk. Lost birds are no joke – falconers try like hell to find them – but that risk is a necessary part of the sport.
  • Q: So it’s a pet? A: NFW. I’m not all that sure what a pet is, to be honest with you. I have dogs – they work for/with me every fall when we go bird hunting and the rest of the year have duties around the house (basically, do as I ask) and are demo dogs when I teach dog obedience classes. There are periods each year when they are in charge – if they tell me there’s a woodcock in the alders I damn well believe them. Pets? I guess, but I don’t think of them that way. The birds? Definitely not. I make myself useful to the hawks when we’re out hunting; we strike a bargain – if the human produces slips (opportunities on game), then the hawk will stay interested.
  • Q: It brings the game back? A: No. (We’ll put aside some of the things I’ve heard you can do with Merlins). Carrying (flying off with the game) is a vice – a bad thing. They stay put and allow you to approach them (it’s called ‘making in’).
  • You may have gotten the sense already that falconry is a vocabulary-rich undertaking. True. Even better, much of the vocabulary has been essentially unchanged for hundreds of years – rich gravy for lovers of good words.

If you are interested in finding out more about the sport, permit me to recommend Stephen Bodio’s A Rage for Falcons. It’s a fantastic overview – not a how-to (those exist too), but a why-to.

Folks who don’t know from falconry, please understand that writing the paragraphs above was more than a little stress inducing. Folks who do know – if there’s something you don’t like, or that you’d like to add, please comment.

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My nom-de-blog, Dr. Hypercube – what’s up with that? First, I’m neither an MD nor a PhD. Also, not multidimensional (beyond three + time). A year ago, as I was starting to blog, I was also setting up a test network. I needed a bunch of host names and rather than do something boring, I decided to use monster names. It was a decent sized net (VMWare rules!); I went to the Kaiju Big Battel web site to replenish my monster supply. From there, it was no leap at all to Dr. Cube – my first modification, Dr. Tesseract, was just too obscure. Hey, presto – Dr. H!

Hooray for Kaiju: professional wrasslin’ moves + crazy monster suits + cardboard buildings in the squared circle = hilarity.

On the subject of anonymity – I thought originally that it might be a good idea. As I did more and more blogging, I cared about anonymity less and less. At this point, if you want to know my real name it’s about four clicks away.

Update – ‘The squared circle’ is the way pro wrasslers refer to the ring. Real wrestling (no make-up, completely trashed ears) is done on a mat within a circle. The pro show is done in a (modified for bounce, I think) boxing ring- a square. Those two factoids plus high school geometry yield a great phrase for the likes of Mean Gene Okerlund.