And now, your San Diego Wind Turbines

What happens when all thirty-two NFL teams are renamed with political correctness in mind.

Although “Oakland Occupiers,” all things considered, isn’t half bad.

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Strange search-engine queries (395)

What kind of Monday would it be were it not for this weekly excursion into ever nook and cranny of the system logs? (Answer: It’s Monday. Don’t push your luck.)

In 1936 Gov. Ernest W. Marland declared martial law around the state capitol in a dispute with Oklahoma City officials over drilling on state property:  
Oklahoma City officials in a dispute? How is that even possible?

Mazda 626 GD struts compatability:  Truth be told, I don’t think there’s anything actually compatible with those GD struts.

vevrier:  You kidding? I hardly know ‘er.

maria bartiromo pantyhose:  You kidding? I hardly know ‘er.

my ankle:  How does it look compared to, say, Maria Bartiromo’s?

gruesome police photos of Bill’s accident:  Oh, come on. Have a little respect for Bill.

“phil mcgraw’s penis”:  Oh, come on. Have a little respect for Phil.

bugatti relation to fitzsimmons:  For one thing, VW Group doesn’t own Fitzsimmons.

how do i know if transmission lock up system mulfunctions:  First, ask yourself: Is our car moving?

this package is sold by weight not by volume:  Which is why there isn’t a song by the Band called “The Volume.”

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A song to remember me by

Not that I’m going anywhere anytime soon, but I wanted all this on the record.

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Routine bites hard

Somehow I can’t imagine this being real, and yet something inside of me wants it to be:

Joy Division Divorce Attorneys

I wonder if they handle bizarre love triangles.

(From 33 1/3 via BoingBoing. Yes, it’s three years old.)

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Quote of the week

One of Morgan Freeberg’s Memos for File:

Aristotle once said something that defined a state of being “educated,” as having the ability to “entertain a thought without accepting it.” There would be no point to calling this out if everyone could do this. I suppose it’s never been too common of a human talent, in any setting. And so for those participants who wish to display themselves as cosmetically smart, but lack this particular skill Aristotle was describing, there is another desire that takes shape right after the fidelity is pledged to this emerging consensus — to shed from the discourse any contrary thought that might rival for the position as an emerging consensus. They start to eliminate ideas, under the guise of entertaining them. They mock, they interrupt, they distract by way of loaded phrases like “let’s move on,” they engage in all sorts of logical fallacies, they “debunk” myths that aren’t really mythical. They ostracize, or threaten to ostracize. What all these things have in common is: They seek to shape the emerging consensus by eliminating information rather than by gathering it, which is a tip-off that this consensus is being shaped by way of ignorance, rather than by learning.

And you can spot these individuals rather quickly: they’re the ones who say that we need to have a “conversation” about some topic or other. You may be sure, ninety-nine times out of a hundred, that said “conversation” will be one-sided.

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Watchers being watched

What’s the worst thing about nude beaches? If your answer is “being observed by pervs,” you’ll probably nod ruefully at this:

The “Naturist Village” at Cap d’Agde on the Mediterranean coast of southern France, is right in the middle of its busy season. That means 45,000 holiday-makers coming and going every day — many of them families with children.

And wherever there are naked people, there will be voyeurs, camera crews and other undesirables. Authorities at the popular and high-end resort, however, have gone to extraordinary lengths to ensure the safety and privacy of their lucrative visitors.

Among the measures taken: A full-time security team of 25, a three-man unit with a guard dog patrolling the perimeter of the private village day and night, 24-hour video surveillance on the outside of the resort, and a system of electronic swipe cards to get in and out.

You have to hope that the security operation didn’t mistakenly — or worse, deliberately — hire a bunch of pervs.

Before you ask: No, I’ve never been to a nude beach. Then again, beaches are hard to come by in the middle of the Plains.

(Via Nudiarist.)

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From the Mystery LP desk

Judy by Judy CollinsYou may or may not recall Judy, this late-Sixties compilation of early Judy Collins tracks, issued on Elektra Records as DS 500, which I duly added to my then-burgeoning collection along with a couple of other contemporary releases of hers. (Here’s the track listing from Discogs, where it’s listed as a promo.) AudioPhile USA, which specializes in “rare & collectible vinyl records,” recently had offered a copy of it, since sold, and in its listing quoted Bruce Eder of AllMusic Guide thusly:

This somewhat mysterious album — apparently a promotional item — is identical in content to the 1969 compilation Recollections: The Best of Judy Collins, with a different title and cover art (and minimalist back cover design) being its distinguishing characteristics. As with Recollections, this is a look back at Collins from her all-acoustic, folk music beginnings, which were already behind her in the wake of In My Life, Wildflowers, etc., and the pop hit “Both Sides Now”. It’s as valuable a vinyl account of her early period as one had in 1969, other than the original LPs.

It’s only mysterious if you hadn’t done the background research, which I did in 1970 upon acquisition of this LP, noting its similarity to Recollections, which was all over local stores, and the odd catalog number: Elektra LPs back then had a 4000 series for $4.98-list LPs, 5000 for $5.98, and a 7 prefix for stereo. (Recollections was EKS 74055.) I duly hauled out my typewriter and pounded out a letter to Elektra, asking what gives, and had Judy gone schizo or something? (Hey, I was sixteen and unrefined.)

She had not, Keith Holzman of Elektra — founder Jac’s younger brother — assured me; this was a special-products release issued through the Columbia Record Club. Had I bought this from Columbia? I had. Question resolved.

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Perhaps not entirely symbolic

The Love Tree

Says a real-estate agent of my acquaintance:

Story goes … everyone who has lived in this home has moved in single and moved out married. These two trees have intertwined as they have grown and are known collectively as the #lovetree.

I don’t know about you, but were I in the market right about now, and had I the wherewithal, that might almost be enough to get me to buy, all by itself. But that’s just the kind of doofus I am.

Besides, I know the houses in this neck of the woods, it’s a style I revere, and it’s an open house tomorrow (25 August).

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And it will remain half empty

I took a statin for a year or two, which failed to budge my cholesterol number from the upper 190s, and which made me achier than a weekend’s worth of yard work. So gradually I weaned myself away from the drug, and cholesterol immediately dropped to 165, where it’s been, give or take a couple of points, ever since.

Which means that, this risk factor now eliminated, I can do something that I probably didn’t really want to do after all:

Who in their right mind purchases grapefruit juice — besides the poor, misguided fools (such as I) who thought their enjoyment of Izze’s sparkling grapefruit juice would transfer? It tastes like distilled pus. Or the juiced musk of an African civet.

Hey, at least it’s distilled.

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Two wheels, no waiting

Tom Donhou, who builds bicycle frames in London, observed that it’s quite possible to do 60 mph on a bicycle if you have a steep-enough hill at your disposal. Well, been there, done that. But what I did is not a patch on Donhou’s accomplishment with a custom machine — basically one of his stock frames, slightly shortened, with handlebars dropped and a 104-tooth chainring — and an aerodynamic boost based on the time-honored principle of drafting.

He made it up to 80 or so before running out of road, and by “road” we mean a two-mile runway that hasn’t so much as a hint of grade. A test on a dyno suggests a possible speed of over 100 mph.

This isn’t the fastest anyone’s ever been on a bicycle — Fred Rompelberg once knocked out 167 mph over the Bonneville Salt Flats — but for what is essentially backyard engineering, this is a remarkable achievement.

(Via Mashable.)

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Serenity then

There was once an episode of Seinfeld called “The Serenity Now.” This has nothing to do with it.

What we have here, basically, is a picture I’ve had sitting on the drive for years and didn’t think anything about until good old File Maintenance Time.

Female cast of Firefly and Serenity

From left to right: Kaylee Frye (Jewel Staite); River Tam (Summer Glau); Inara Serra (Morena Baccarin); Zoe Alleyne Washburne (Gina Torres).

Random factoid: Serenity, the film, according to Wikipedia, cost $39 million to make; it earned $38,869,464 at the box office. I figure they probably sold $130,536 worth of posters.

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Can we bar these tools?

It was just this week that I was kvetching about crapware being installed, or trying to be installed, with routine software updates. Apparently this is going to be the rule, rather than the exception, from here on out:

When people download software from SourceForge, or any major repository of Open Source software, they expect the software to be trustworthy. (baring unintentional bugs)

They do not expect the software to be a source of “drive by installer” style malware, spyware, adware, or any other unrelated/unintended software.

SourceForge’s new owners, Dice, have consciously and deliberately moved to a model violating this trust.

With their recent changes, users downloading from SourceForge now receive a special closed source installer which attempts to foist unrelated third party software onto them.

In terms of sheer enormity, this is like PBS replacing Charlie Rose with Jerry Springer.

Oh, and guess where OpenOffice sends you to download the suite? Yep. Supposedly this is opt-in — the developer need not submit his package to this kind of wrapping, if he’s willing to forgo the revenue that supposedly would be generated therefrom — but bad downloads eventually crowd out good ones, à la Gresham.

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A cleansing to be desired

Someone perhaps named Sienna Christensen sent me something with the subject line “Report: August 23, 2013 – Preferred celeb cleanser.” Now I can think of several celebrities who could stand some cleansing, and a few who probably should be decontaminated according to hazmat protocols, but unfortunately, that’s not what Ms Christensen is pushing:

Stop listening to the voices of discouragement.

There’s a new powerful combination that’s proven over-and-over to help the celebrities trim down quickly for their next movies.

And best of all, the combo is being offered as a free trial for a limited time.

Not to mention a whole lot of white text which you’re not supposed to read, but your spam filters are.

The last visible line of text:

Lilly-Stevens Software Engineering and Distribution Center 8 White Tail Lane, Mansfield, MA, 02048

I’m not sure I’d want my name on something like this — that is, if that were my name.

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City of the Dislocated Shoulders

Dave Schuler looks at Chicago, just up the road:

Without the jobs in meatpacking, steel, light manufacturing, transport, or those associated with being the center of retail empires, Chicago is still wicked, crooked, and brutal but it is no longer proud, no longer strong. There is no future for Chicago as a place where the pale and slender young men and women flit from bistro to boutique. Or even the fashionably sun-kissed ones.

There are two possible reactions to this. We can either surrender to the fate that decay brings and be willing to become Nineveh on Lake Michigan, crumbling and forgotten, or we can make Illinois a welcoming place for making things, wresting things from the soil, industry, and commerce. And deal tirelessly with the problems those things bring along with them.

This metaphor slightly misses the mark, since Nineveh wasn’t left to waste away: it was sacked. Former vassals of the Assyrian empire were more than happy to pay back Nineveh for slights received. And let’s face it, Rahm Emanuel ain’t exactly Ashurbanipal.

Still, that’s pretty much the dilemma facing the soon-to-be Fourth City, and there are times I get the feeling that everyone south of about Kankakee would just as soon it detached itself from the rest of the state and floated into the lake.

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Meanwhile in Trollhättan

Some dead car companies never die:

National Electric Vehicle Sweden (NEVS), the Chinese backed company formed to buy the assets of Saab, says that it has hired 300 workers for the factory in Trollhättan, Sweden and that it hopes to start making cars again there by the end of this year. Mikael Oestlund, a spokesman for NEVS, said that the Trollhättan plant is “practically ready” to begin production of the 9-3 sedan. That production is dependent on coming to agreements with suppliers. Also, some of Saab’s former suppliers failed when the automaker went under and replacements for those parts must be found. “We are not there yet and therefore we are not able to make the decision of start of production,” Oestlund said.

Yet another Saab story! I think we’re being, you should pardon the expression, trolled.

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Demotional rescue

I reached the tipping point — or maybe the tipping point-zero — in two separate instances on two different software packages on two different machines yesterday. However, I maintain one standard response to such things: “Like hell you will.”

Apache is now distributing OpenOffice, formerly, and I’m thinking that they might want to take their name off it. I installed 4.0.0 on the work box not so long ago, and was rewarded for my efforts with feature bloat and unnecessarily complicated toolbars. That sort of thing I’m used to. But then it started to crash on a regular basis. I figure any spreadsheet software that fails on an effort to insert four lousy lines — no formulas or anything — into a 16k single-sheet document needs to die, and pronto. I banished the offending version and went back to 3.3.0, which I still had in a directory somewhere.

At home, things were even more drastic. DivX, a nice little package of codecs and converters and whatnot, has been pestering me for updates for some time now, and when I gave in, they threw up a whole new splash screen telling me how wonderful this new toolbar was. Now I look upon toolbars approximately the way I look upon cold-air intakes: they might have been useful twenty years ago, but they’re not getting near my engine. I duly unchecked the box, which also threatened me with a whole new search engine, and a new splash screen came up with the option greyed out — but still, technically, checked. Out you go, DivX, and never darken my drives again. I suppose I’ll have to sacrifice a few video clips, or wait until VLC’s next act of codecsterity, but I am not giving anyone the chance to load any more garbage on this box than is already there.

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