Just add Astronauts and a Waylon Jennings soundtrack
Mood:  caffeinated
Now Playing: MacGyver Season 4
It has been said more times than I care to count that the space program owes as much to HG Wells as it does to Einstein. And the internet was created first in the minds of such visionaries as William Gibson and Phillip K Dick decades before it was made true by thier fans who said "What a cool idea, let's do it!"

Now the trouble begins, not with the ubergeeks who grew up reading cyberpunk and watching Bladerunner (and Star Wars, and Star Trek and... and...) but with the kids who... well, didn't. What abou the kids that idolized Evel Kneival? What happens when the kids who lived for their Hotwheels and Matchbox cars and harkened to the horn of General Lee grow up? What marvels will they introduce to the world? What ideas will the Dukes of Hazzard inspire?

Nascar? Monster Truck Rallies? The next obvious step in the evolution of the Space Program?

Say that last one again.

I give you: The Skyramp! Some brilliantly oddball engineers who'd watched Bo & Luke Duke jumping over Miller's Creek in the General Lee one too many times said "What if we built a way that you could jump into orbit!?" Then they set out to do it. And if that doesn't scare you... this will. They succeeded. Well in theory anyway. if nothing else a whole bunch of them banded together and formed Skyramp.org. It's impressively argued, though I'd be curious to hear the more engineeringly inclined (Kristin?) chime in on this.

It is possible that using existing technology, the future of space travel won't have to involve tiny spaceplanes duct taped to gigantic solid fuel rockets, or Apollo-like rockets bursting away from the gantry in a plume of fire and brimstone. Rather they could be launched Jetsonlike from a ramp, reaching speeds in excess of Mach 1.3 before they ever leave the rail. The ramp would be at a 75 degree angle up a mountainside or - more likely - up through an underground tunnel to keep the excessive G-forces off the astronauts. A downward launch could mitigate some fuel expenditure using gravity and you'd never need the $500,000,000 in rocket fuel per launch! You could fly to the International Space station for less than it costs to fly to Japan!

All of these things exist already, they just need to be put together and tested. Existing rocket sleds used by Lockheed and Northrup Grumman to test aerospace parts (not to mention pilots) for G-force strain can already reach the speed of sound and beyond and they haven't really pushed the technology as far as it will go. With a magnetic levitation system reducing friction on the rails to near zero (in use in Swiss metrorail, whose tunnel-trains exceed 300 mph!) and no worries about having the brake at the end (since you're wanting to fly off the end of the ramp) all the tedious mucking about with rocket boosters and tons of liquid oxygen and hydrogen would be eliminated! Sounds to me as though - once again - the simplest solution might just prove to be the best one.

This is a direction NASA should not ignore. I would hate to look back someday and see that this was an obvious idea we missed. All of the systems you hear spoken about to replace the retiring Space Shuttle program sound like steps backward or sideways. This would be a cheap alternative using largely extant technology. So why not at least try it?

I - for one - would love to see it. Besides, how cool would that be? Daisy Duke in space!
(insert wolf-whistle here)

"Just some good ol' boys,
never meanin' no harm
beats all you never saw
been in trouble with the law (of gravity)
since they day they was borne..."
-Waylon Jennings

----------------

Credit (or blame) where it's due: I first read about the Skyramp over on the SchlockMercenary blog and that inspired me to check it out. If you like smart space and science humor (and some fart jokes thrown in for good measure) I recommend Howard Tayler's web comic Schlock Mercenary.

Introducing... The Hoverdeck!
Mood:  d'oh
Incidentally, we may have recovered pretty quickly from the tempest, but my father in law up in the Hood Canal area expects to be without power until at least Wednesday!

Out here on the island, the storm blew the rain away at least temporarily, so I got to spend some time outside in the sun. That meant I could spend some time on the deck project.

Rather than tear the whole thing out and start over, I decided to save some money by removing the eyesore built-in benches and planters which were made the place look tres 1975 (which I suppose it is, but still...) and replace any bad planks and the rotten front step. I decided to start with the step, because it seemed like the easiest part of the task. Pull off the bad one and nail down a new one. Easy peasy.

Ever industrious (and looking for a reason to bust out the power tools) I set to with a will. I sliced up a new board for the step and turned to address the old one. It was so rotten I didn't even need the prybar, it just fell apart around the nailheads (sheesh!). It was only then that I realized that the stringers were rotten too. No problem, I can replace those too. I'm a handy guy, no problem, right? The guy that owned the house before us was no carpenter, that's for certain.

I pried the stringers off and beheld a sight no homeowner wants to see. After a momen'ts shock, I realized that I was looking at a 4x4 post that was supposed to be holding up that section of the porch, but was rotted away a few inches from the ground. By pulling away the skirting and employing my handy flashlight I discovered that our deck was basically levitating! The dork hadn't placed any of the posts in sandy holes, up on concrete pilings, pre-formed blocks or even bricks! The daggum thing had been built just sitting on the dirt!!! Over half the pilings were rotted away and just hanging there like little 4X4 wooden anchors!

Perhaps I shouldn't say the man was a complete loss. The thing feels solid when you walk on it, even now. It didn't sag, squeak or do any of the things that might have tipped me off that it was basically unsupported! Like I said, the front deck is - for all intents and purposes - a hovercraft!

Removing the flowerboxes and bench and hauling away that debris took the rest of the daylight I had left. So at the moment I have a cinderblock for a front step and yellow police tape cordoning off the most dangerous part of the porch. Next weekend we get to spend a romantic weekend building a new deck.

Oh joy!

At least the new one won't be painted battleship grey. We're going to stain it. And it will be seated firmly on preformed concrete bases, in accordance with county building code!

Sigh.
Scottie

Sunday Scottland
Mood:  caffeinated
Now Playing: 2112

Riding the storm out...
Mood:  a-ok
We've survived the worst of the storm. I was just commenting over on another site that the National Weather Service has apparently decided we're in an El Nina cycle. I've been told that the Farmer's Almanac agrees. (Who are those people, anyway?) So more wet weather for those of us up north and dry and hot for the rest of America for the summer.

Ick.

I don't want you to think we rode out the storm huddled in a corner of a bomb shelter or something. Nope! We went to Tacoma and grabbed a burger and bummed around at the Home & Garden show at the Tacoma Dome. Other than getting buffeted on the bridge by the crosswinds (white knuckles on the steering wheel) the day was pretty un-eventful.

Sunday comics will be up in a minute. I'm waiting for the color to dry. By the way; I'm not promising a comic a day, it's been crappy weather so I've been at loose ends when I would rather be doing things that require electricity, so I've picked up the pen. Can't say it'll be like that a whole lot... unless El Nina says otherwise, of course. (grumble)

Scottie & Kris

ScottLand

I am the Lorax, I speak for the trees...
Mood:  irritated
Now Playing: What was the old Washington Irving thing about thunder and bowling?
A quick post while we still have electricity to run this machine...
We've been without power for the better part of today into last night. If any of you left a message on our machine in the last 24 hours, it's gone. Our battery backup wasn't up to the task on that one.

The windstorm is apparently the worst to strike the Puget Sound region in 50 years, though it's nothing beside the storms we were used to back in Missouri and Nebraska. It took part of the corrugated roofing off our back porch last night. (not a pleasant noise to wake up to) The real fear isn't the roof of the porch, though, I can fix that. Unfortunately, the humous layer is relatively thin in Washington; meaning that those tall beautiful trees we're surrounded by have a relatively shallow rootsystem holding them upright. Last windstorm - which was susbstantially milder than this - saw a tree down that completely blocked the road in front of my house from the forested lot across the street. I had to go out and clear it with a handsaw and that wasn't much fun.

They really are beautiful trees... when they don't fall on your house, anyway.

Just keeping everyone posted... I'll sign off now, the power's fluctuating again.

Scott & Kristin

ScottLand
Mood:  lazy

A Great Lake of Ale...
Mood:  cheeky
It's February 2nd. The day after the Feast of Saint Brigid of Kildare. (I'd have posted this yesterday, but there were these vampires, you see...) It pains me that so few know of this saint who is venerated throughout the Gaellic lands of Ireland and Scotland. Why you ask? Well, she's highly apocryphal for starters, but so many of the best things in life are.

Sit back and allow me to spin you the yarn of Saint Brigid. Because it is true that God invented whiskey to keep the Irish from ruling the world. Don't believe me? Listen to this...

Saint Brigid had the basic Saintly upbringing. She was good and kind and talked to the animals. She was a chieftain(or king)'s daughter who early on displayed a knack for finding mischievous ways to be saintly. This is an early sign of sainthood, being a naughty child. Don't believe me? Read The Confessions of Saint Augustine sometime.

The prank that got her well on her way to sainthood was when her father had taken her to be sold to another king. While they were dickering over the price, she made off with her father's sword and gave it to a leper. Considering the general state of affairs in Ireland at the time, it probably didn't go over too well with her old man. The king she was supposed to be sold to saved her from her father's wrath.

Her dad let her run a dairy and Brigid gave away all the milk. He tried to marry her off and she took vows as a nun. Come to think of it, her dad was probably perfectly satisfied with this arrangement by that point. At least she wouldn't be arming lepers anymore.

When seeking land on which to build her abbey, she asked the King of Leinster (who is the man who had saved her only a few paragraphs ago) for only so much land as her cloak would cover. Miraculously, he cloak swelled and spread until it covered the entirety of the land of Curragh.

As abbess she continued to find ways to be good in the most questionable ways. Her abbey was on a main road and one day down the road came a group of Bishops and Cardinals, resplendant in their crimson finery. It was so expensive to maintain a large coterie of men around you that nobles and high-ranking churchmen often took to the road to tour their demesne. Of course, in keeping with tradition, those they visited were obliged to show the officials and their entourage all due hospitality for the duration of their stay. So it was that the nuns and monks of Brigid's abbey were expected to fete these visiting lords of Christendom.

Alas, It had been a lean year, and the appetites of the churchmen was great. In no time, the abbey's stores were depleted, especially the beer. When the barrels ran dry and the thirst of their august vistors could not be slaked, the nuns ran to their Abbess and asked what they could do. The Abbey larder was bare. But the wily Chieftain's daughter was not one to be caught out by gluttinous men who knew nothing of the ascetic ways of her order. Brigid sent novices to fill the pitchers from her bath and serve it to the cardinals and their men. It is known as 'the miracle of the beer', because apparently the water was miraculously turned into beer.

So our chieftain's daughter was either a deft hand at the bluff ("Why no your grace, the beer tastes fine to me" pretends to take a sip) or the bathwater really did turn into beer. I almost like the idea that she served a bunch of stuffy Cardinal-types tankards of bathwater better, but that says more about me than her, I suppose.

(I couldn't make that up if I wanted to...)

Whatever the case, she is definitely the most creative Saint on record, or at least has the most creative benediction of any prayer ever attributed to any saint I've ever heard of...

"... I would like a great lake of beer for the King of Kings. I would like to be watching Heaven's family drinking it through all eternity."

Patron saint of milkmaids, brewers and practical jokers everywhere, this is why Saint Brigid is also patron of my Renaissance Faire acting troupe. So if you are the sort of lad or lass that is given to raising a pint of ale from time to time; when next the bottom of your mug rises, give a moment's pause for Saint Brigid... and her bathwater.

Your beer will never taste the same.
-Scott

Stupid Vampires
Mood:  irritated
I must've ticked off the vampires somethin' fierce with that last posting. Really! I wanted to post something appropriate to celebrate the birthday of one of my favorite writers in true internet tradition with a "Through the Looking Glass" short story but NO! I was balked at every turn by... vampires! Technically saavy geeky bloodsuckers! God help us all, they've started feeding on the folks at Microsoft! Or maybe... you know that Bill Gates guy's always had a kind of pale look about him. Anyone ever seen him in the daylight?

Run away! Run away!

If this posting works, I'll post a comic strip. If not... well, none of you will ever get to read this and I'll be fending off legions of the undead, so there you go. That's life in the big city.

Sigh
Scottie

Holy Hotwings, Batman!
Mood:  incredulous
Now Playing: The Jolly Rogers


Say you’re being pursued by vampires. You borrowed their copy of Cocktail on DVD and they want it back, but you can’t find it, so you’ve been forced to flee. (It could happen, Vampires love Tom Cruise as a rule.) So the Legions of the damned are hot on your trail and you find yourself in a part of town where all of the Walmarts are fresh out of stakes and garlic and there’s nary a church to be found.

What’s a horror movie hero to do?

Order up some beer & hot wings and chat up the cute co-ed in the short-shorts. Because apparently if you’re being pursued by vampires and churches are rare, rest easy, friends. Hooters is now recruiting priests to bless their restaurants. That’s right, Holy Hooters! I couldn’t make this up if I tried.

According to the Waco Tribune, at a private ceremony held on Monday evening, Monsignor Isidore Rozycki has blessed that town’s Hooters… (The restaurant, people! This is a family show!)

"But I can only eat so many hot wings, Scott." you say? "At a church I can find secret Vatican force of vampire hunters
or pick up an approvedVampire Hunter's Kit . At the very least they have holy water!"

Wellllll... fine, okay. Sooner or later you’re going to have to leave the restaurant, whereupon you will be in no better shape than when you went in. Well, you won’t die hungry, I suppose. So, in the interest of keeping my readership alive, I have taken it upon myself to prepare a little primer on Vampire Slaying.

Step #1
Ask to see his passport or driver’s license.
If he’s an American Vampire, great. Proceed to step #2 with all due haste.
If your vamp has a foreign passport, you have a problem. In this age heightened cultural sensibilities, you’ll find yourself being slapped with a bloodsucker subpoena faster than you can say “Buffy” should you attempt to kill them in anything less than the ACLU-approved politically-correct manner.

Luckily, we can turn to Cecil over at the Straight Dope, who helped us out with our Zombie problem awhile back. He has compiled a listof the traditional manners of dispatching the undead in a manner which is sensitive to their country and culture of origin. Please feel free to print out Cecil’s list and keep it in your wallet for quick consultation, should your place of refuge’s traditional hour of last call fall before sunrise.

If all else fails, ask to see his or her Green Card. I hear the INS is looking into this problem already and would appreciate any help you might render in turning in any illegal undead you encounter.

Step #2
Dispatch the vampire.
There are several ways in which to do this. American vamps conform to the Bela Lugosi school and you can feel free to wail on him with the nearest sharp pointy stick, torch, chainsaw, plate of hot wings, buxom waitress, high-heeled shoe, or whathaveyou.

For cross-cultural extermination, I refer you to Cecil’s list, mentioned above.

Now there are those who would poo poo our fun, who would have you believe that the vampire chasing you is just misunderstood. Or perhaps make the specious claim that vampires are merely suffering from the rare disorder Porphyria, which is caused by a blood deficiency and (in extreme cases) causes facial and skin issues which sound compellingly vampire-like.

This simply doesn't hold up under scrutiny. I mean, please! Be logical! If a dude with fangs is actively seeking your blood and shying away from stakes, crosses, garlic and Hooters girls, then rest assured you have a legitimate prince of the undead on your hands. You may stake him and order another round with a clean conscience.

-Scott

"We should be careful to get out of an experience only the wisdom that is in it - and stop there; lest we be like the cat that sits down on a hot stove lid. She will never sit on a hot stove lid again - and that is well; but also she will never sit down on a cold one anymore." -Mark Twain.