Blowing in the wind.

The airport is listing the wind as 4 knots. I swear it's closer to 14 knots with gusts to 24 knots. It didn't bother me because with the circular route I take the wind is always at my back. But it was really blowing. The long hair black & white cat was out again today. Real friendly. Down the block was a new one. It must be the wind that brings 'em out. This one is a short hair with gun metal grey coat. He was friendly but stand offish.
Three cars, count 'em three, went through stop signs right in front of me without so much as a hesitation. Must be the wind. It's dangerous out there.
RioTom informed me yesterday that there's an airshow at March Field this week end. I think I'll miss it in favor of the music in Claremont. Besides airplanes are dangerous.
Constant danger is proof that we're all on this flight together.

Dick

It droppeth as the gentle strains of mercy... again

The weather man (woman) forecast rain for the morning and he (she) was right. Not hard but it started in the early morning hours and has let up somewhat but I'm not anxious to get caught out there in the rain. The picture, taken a few days ago, is to remind us the sunshine will return.
Yesterday I saw the long hair black and white cat again. The last time I noticed that he had large mattes in his side. They must be irritating but I don't think I should pick him up and take him home for the removal. He has a collar with a bell but no name tag.
I'm deep into the book by Cal Tech physicist Kip Thorne. "Black Holes and Time Warps". I'm in the black hole part. the most interesting thing about the book is his historical approach. He introduces successful as well as unsuccessful ideas chronologically so the trail to knowledge is clear. He also emphasizes the Charlie Anderson saying,"Nature gives up her secrets verrrrry reluctantly". Isn't science great? Thorne has been a part of the search for many years and knows all the participants intimately. Well not really intimately. After all he has long been married with a daughter which I'm sure resulted in a drift to the more conventional.
Or not.
Searching for the answers is proof that we're all on this flight together.

Black holes? I don't need no badge.

All black holes are defined by three parameters: Mass, spin and charge. So everything about density, temperature and all the other characteristics of the star from which the black hole was formed are lost forever. All lost to the singularity in the black hole and the nether land of quantum mechanics. Imagine a black hole made up of anti-matter, or neutrinos, or me. All the information would be only a memory. Could black holes form from the mysterious dark matter? Probably. Or from the even more mysterious dark energy? Since E=MC^2 we know that energy and mass are interchangeable and that it is repulsive so dark energy should add to the negative mass of the black hole. All this to sum up to Mass, spin and charge. No more, no less. But wouldn't it be great to see the mish-mosh of the interior of a black hole? Little strings flitting about at the speed of light. Would the resonances of virtual particles pop in and out of existence in there?
Badges have nothing to do with observation that we're all on this flight together.

Dick

Topography and symmetry.

Topography and symmetry. I've been reading a book by a female astrophysicist about the shape of space. Although short on technical matters she brings the reader right into the personalities and idiosynchronisities of her colleagues, most of whom I've met elsewhere. Not with such clarity. Just as I got totally involved in the book she started to discuss topography. Which is defined as 'precise detailed study of the surface features of a region'. Sounds simple enough. But brilliant me just can't seem to grasp the details of its use. It's in the same class as symmetry. Simple to define, difficult to understand (for me). I just can't figure out how to address a problem using these tools.
So today I put the book aside for consideration at some future date. While the ideas percolate I returned to a book I had started before by Kip Thorne who writes about black holes. More familiar than symmetry and far more understandable.
Topics impossible to understand are proof that we're all on this flight together.

Dick

Yesterday was Saturday so...

The weather is forecast to be warmer today but tomorrow should be 80 degrees Fahrenheit.
The only other thing I have to say today is that I have to add an event to the calendar. The Airshow at Chino Airport sponsored by the Planes of fame is May 15 & 16. Heavy metal war planes on display.
I am realizing that one of the ideas Einstein used to alter his perspective of gravity is that the Universe should be considered from a geometric point of view rather than looking at it a a field.
A geometric Universe is proof that we're all on this flight together.

Dick

There's bluegrass music in the air.

There's bluegrass music in the air so it must be Saturday. There are a lot of interesting events coming over the next few weeks. Today will be a static display of aeroplanes and auto cars at the Fallbrook Air Park. Other than the normal fly-ins there are no aerobatic demos planned.
May 1 is the Claremont Folk Festival. Intimate with a great mix of talent. Last year they even had a taiko group. The Brea Railroad Days are the same weekend. Real and model trains, even some steam! One day for each. The Railroad Days used to be in Fullerton but there weren't enough spare $$$ in Fullerton to pull it off anymore.
May 15 and 16 is the venerable Topanga Fiddle Contest where Deb had her public fiddle debut two years ago. Always fun but I think it's too much for me anymore. I'll try Claremont for the music this year.
Temecula has an old time event with music in there somewhere.
Then May 8 is the EAA Chapter One monthly meeting. The topic? Who knows?
Music (especially bluegrass/country) is proof that we're all on this flight together.
Dick

A mighty question.

I have a new question the answer for which I can search. Electromagnetic waves in Nature vary continuously in frequency from x-rays to microwaves. However we can see only a tiny fraction of the whole. The question is: Why have we evolved to see only such a tiny fraction of the Electromagnetic radiation. If we were able to see the entire spectrum we would be blinded by the cosmic radiation which flows through our eyes every instant of time. Our eyes automatically filter out the most prevalent of the rays and leaves the remainder for us to use to ponder the Universe. What is it about the detection system in our eyes which limits the portion of the spectrum we can see so drastically? The answer? I don't know. It isn't resonance somewhere because resonance could not explain both the long and short wave radiation with a hole in the middle. Which indicates it might be absorption somewhere by something to be determined. I leave the determination of the triviality to the the reader.
Conundrums are proof that we're all on this flight together.

Dick

I was singing in the rain.

When I started off on my morning walk I realized tat it had rained pretty hard earlier but rain didn't appear imminent. But I grabbed a bummpershoot just in case. Good idea. I had gotten no more than 100 yards into the walk and it started. Not hard but steady. I figured it would stop soon so I kept on going. I was about a quarter of the way around the blocks anyway.
My mind drifted as I walked and I thought about my new potential religion (Spaceism) in which we hold sacred the infinity of Grammas who knit our space in all ten dimensions together. Then I thought about the changing effect the letter H as on the letter P and then suggested that we use that effect to change the B sound to the Y sound when followed by a letter H. By Holy Decree hence forth I now order the sound of the letter B followed by the letter H to be be sounded as the letter G in fealty to the infinity of Grammas who knit our precious space together (BH=G).
Morning thoughts are proof that we're all on this flight together.

Dick

The alterable P.

We all know and love the sound of the letter P. And we all know how the sound changes when followed by the letter H. To an F? A redundancy. Why not the letter B? Almost a P in form and sound. I propose that the combination of the letters B & H be sounded like Y. As in 'why not'.
There are other possible redundancies, which are a trivial matter, I leave to the reader.
Redundancies are proof that we're all on this flight together.

Dick

A new friend.

There she was right at the beginning of my morning walk. I'd never seen her before and from her stance in the photo I guess she was finishing her morning toilet. She strolled right over and rolled right over in expectation of a belly rub and a chin shcrritch. So I did, I couldn't ignore her cuteness. She sniffed me to 'see' Budda and Tigger then off she went on her way.
New cat type friends are proof that we're all on this flight together.

Dick

The big splat and me!

This is what greeted me this morning glistening in the morning sunlight. There was a plethora (four or more) of them. As with the mushrooms there doesn't seem to be an obvious trigger to cause them to bloom.
I'm sure that all of us are familiar with the concept of the Big Bang which started our Universe. The latest proposal regarding the structure of the Universe is that there are large membrane like things called branes. We exist inside a brane. Think of a brane as a kind of a two dimensional string. One possibility is for two branes to collide resulting in our Big Bang. The assumption is that the Universe is formed at the point of the collision of two branes. However we know that at a micro level space consists of virtual particles popping and out of existence in pico seconds. The result is that multiple collisions occur simultaneously all over to entire brane causing the Big Bang to be spread out over the colliding branes. More of a Big Splat, really. The only change would be the distribution of energy at the time of creation of our Universe.
A Big Splat is proof that we're all on this flight together.

Dick

I'll start my own religion!

Lest we forget.

There's bluegrass in the air so it must be Saturday. Yesterday I wrote that space could consist of tiny 'packets' of space which are sort of crocheted together to make the space we all know and love. Which reminded me of my own Grandmother who spent many hours crocheting doilies. But I didn't carry the thought to its logical conclusion. Space could be an infinite group of little old ladies crocheting in unison to fabricate all of the space in the known Universe. Some how that's seems a better fit to reality than an old man in a robe on his knees with a Magic Marker pen marking off whatever He'd be marking off. That sounds too much like Scientology. Instead of just having my own church (The Church of The Holy Hologram) maybe I'll start my own religion worshipping the infinity of little old ladies who keep the Universe together. Call it Spaceism. Holidays could consist of those times when one whole row of of space is completed and they all move on to the next row of the Universe. Other holidays could coincide with events which distort space in certain ways. The little old ladies could be the nobilty of the Church.
Thought: Would warped space depend the effects of nearby bodies as according to Einstein or would it have to be inserted at the time that 'packet' of space was connected to the Universe? That could be one of the mysteries of my new religion.
My new religion would be proof that we're all on this flight together.

Dick

Good old Charlie Anderson.

The first boss I had out of college was a PhD in Chemistry named Charlie Anderson. He was familiar with rare earth chemistry because Iowa State, his alma mater, was a center of chemistry for the atomic bomb research known as the Manhattan Project. Charlie taught me all I know about emission spectrometry and most of what I know about mass spectrometry. One of the things I learned from him was a saying he frequently used, often in moments of an impasse at our work. He'd quietly whisper, "Nature gives up her secrets verrrrry reluctantly" and go on about his work. Bless his heart wherever he is today.
One of the secrets Nature has kept hidden from us so far is whether space is continuous or broken up into small pieces. The jury is still out on this one but one of the conjectures is that space, on the smallest dimension, is made up of small packets of space that are sort of crocheted together to make the space we know and love. Each packet is about one Plank length in size. I like that because it reminds me of my grandmother who spent her last years crocheting doilies which no one seemed to appreciate. From Gramma to space. There's something Karmic about that. It beats a picture of God on His hands and knees using a Magic Marker pen to mark off space.
Grammas are proof that we're all on this flight together.

Dick

Budda in a relaxed condition.

The photo is of Budda in a relaxed (normal) condition.
Someone suggested somewhat facetiously the President Obama nominate for Supreme Court.... Michell Obama. Black, woman and liberal (sort of). A triple threat to the right. Oh boy! Wouldn't that drive the right wing even further over the edge? There are other truly liberal judges in the country but none with the ability Michelle has to agitate the right wing. That's even better than what Sarah Palin does to the left. From whence cometh all the testosterone Sarah exhibits?
Relaxed cats are proof that we're all on this flight together.

Dick

I awoke to a clatter upon the roof.

The photo is of a truck that sticks out over the sidewalk. The owner thoughtlessly leaves it there every day along with three or four others scattered around the neighborhood. I always think of son Rick's suggestion that I stand there banging on the truck with my cane yelling until he moves the truck But I just haven't got the guts to do it. He's bigger than me anyway.
Early Sunday morning I awoke to a clatter upon the roof, paraphrasing and old poem. Although there were no RAINdeer it was raining like I hadn't seen/heard in a long time. Even Budda came back to see what was happening. He still hasn't figured out the time change. He's on my bed an hour early every morning to get me up with his howl. Where that came from all of a sudden is beyond me.
Hard rain is proof that we're all on this flight together.
Dick

A correction and more.

-
Yesterday I described the iconic P-51 Mustang as the P model. Blame it on the Parkinson's, I should have referred to the most advanced model as the D-model. The Mustang shown in the picture is the B-Model. Sorry about that. I tried to download a photo of the D-model but couldn't do it. Damn technology! Maybe it's karmic. I just read this morning that the owner of and the plane named Su Su were both damaged beyond repair at an accident last week in Florida. One less Mustang for us to admire. Once more, it's a shame we have to go to war to create such beautiful machines.
Yesterday I drove out to Historic Flabob Airport for the monthly meeting of EAA Chapter One. A Meyers 200 was on display as the Plane of the Month. A well maintained classic designed solely to beat the Bonanza, which it did handily but the company suffered reverses when the economy turned sour. The owner told the story of this particular airplane and the Meyers Aircraft Company. Then he followed that with a history of Historic Flabob Airport and its importance to aviation in general and Riverside in particular.
Historic Flabob Airport is proof that we're all on this flight together.

Dick

Meditation, prayer, or intense thought.

The photo is of an early model P-5211 Mustang. The iconic Mustang is the N model. This one is a D model. To me it looks smaller although I was assured that the wing spread and length are identical in both models.
There's bluegrass in the air so it must be Saturday. EAA Chapter One meets today for the first time on Saturday instead of Sunday.
Meditation, prayer, intense thought. Is there any difference? I think not. The same brain goes through the same motions (metaphorically speaking). I suppose there are some who would make a distinction but I guess the differences depend more on our individual backgrounds than on anything inherent to the process. The answers to the questions that are in all of us can be interpreted by any method we choose, the choice is very individual.
N model Mustangs are proof that we're all on this flight together.

Dick

The surgeon thought I was nuts.

The nodules on my thyroid glands are getting smaller so I guess meditating does have physical consequences. I had an arrangement with the doctor that I would submit to semi-annual ultrasounds if she promised not to stick me with needles, as in take a biopsy. I learned in the hospital after my incident that considering myself as the conductor of an orchestra and all the medical personnel as instruments in my group. That worked perfectly with a single exception. One of the younger surgeons just did not grasp what I was doing. I think he thought I was nuts. Besides being fun it worked. Anyway she suggested that we go to an annual inspection since everything seemed to be going OK.
The book I'm reading by Brian Greene has accomplished two things. First to clarify that entropy is a measure of randomness. I still have to think about it each time I encounter the word 'entropy'. But more importantly I think he answered my question about whether the space we live in is continuous or marked off into very short intervals. Picture God on His knees with a Magic Marker marking off the sections of space. If I understand what Greene is saying the Uncertainty Principle is responsible for the segmentation. The wiggle resulting from the quantum jitters results in the smallest length we can measure, hence the quantization of space. One less thing to worry about.
Or not.
Entropy is proof that we're all on this flight together.

Dick

I have nothing to say today.

This is a mock-up of the Apollo space Capsule in which the earliest of our astronauts escaped the surly bonds of earth one by one. Looking at the size of the vehicle, it must have been a lonely flight. This was taken at the Planes of Fame demo flight (a P-38 not the space capsule) last Saturday.
Other than that I leave the page empty because I have nothing to say today.
Empty pages are proof that we're all on this flight together.

Dick

Spherical bastards.

The photo is of the other P-38 Lightning which flew at the Planes of Fame on last Saturday. These are really huge machines second in grace only to the famous and beautiful P-50 Mustang. It is interesting to note that of the top ten aces during WWII, none were accomplished in a P-38. Probably because their primary missions were as fighter/bombers because of their carrying capacity. Two big engines resulted in big performance.
It's interesting to find out from whence some colloquialisms arise. And what some colloquialisms are. How about spherical bastards? Fritz Zwicky a famously caustic astronomer at Cal Tech whose appreciation for symmetry led him to call his colleagues spherical bastards. He explained that they were bastards any way you looked at them. Although his attitude probably cost him several technical prizes, Spherical bastards is the perfect description of today's toady politicians.... with very few exceptions.
Spherical bastards are proof that we're all on this flight together.

Dick

It's raining again out there.

It's raining again out there. It rained most of the night. It never rained hard, just a steady rain. As Shakespeare said about mercy, "It droppeth as the gentle rains from Heaven." But drop it did. It will be a few years, if ever, before we work our way out of the environmental damage caused by George Bush. What a shame. In the meantime we need it so let it rain on.
One of the benefits of being a member of the EAA is a subscription to their monthly magazine Sport Aviation. Last month they introduce d a bunch of changes to the magazine most of which I hold no quarrel. Mostly typical changes just to make a change. But the pinnacle of stupidity was to physically make the magazine 1 inch WIDER. No longer is it the same size as all the other magazines but 1 inch wider. To what end I ask. So now I have a stack of magazines with one sticking out. I'm no neatnik but that's a disaster waiting to happen. Correct it this month and next month we're back to square one.
Now that I've written that I realize it's so petty. Forget I said it.
GWB's rain is proof that we're all on this flight together.

Dick

Planes of Fame and the P-38 Lightning.

There are only 7 P-38s remaining in flying condition. Here were two of them. These pics are of 23 Skiddoo, the plane owned and flown by the Planes of Fame museum. Last year the P-38 recovered from the icy North and christened Glacier Girl was one of the group leaving three out of seven flying P-38s over the skies of Chino. It was heartwarming to see eight veteran P-38 pilots still alive at ages up to 80. These guys were all just a bunch of farm boys before being trained as pilots and sent off to free the world of evil. It was like an EAA Chapter One meeting on steroids!
P-38s are proof that we're all on this flight together.

Dick

There's bluegrass music on the air.

There's bluegrass music on the air so it must be Saturday. I have a hard enough time concentrating without the music but it's impossible for me to interpret quantum writings with bluegrass in the background. So I've given up reading for today so I don't miss anything important.
When I finish this I'll head out to Chino for the flight demo of the P-38 at the Planes of Fame. I'll take the time while I'm there to wander around among the rest of the collection of planes of all ages. It's a great museum of WWI & WWII aircraft mostly.
I was watching TV last evening when I heard a loud thump. Looking around, there was Tigger laying dazed on the floor. She seemed more surprised than anything. She had fallen off of the coffee table where she had been comfortably roosting. I guess she fell asleep. She didn't seem to be her regular self so I tried to check her out but she never has accepted much handling so I really didn't satisfy myself of her condition until I saw her moving around this morning. All's well that ends well.
Cats in the morning are proof that we're all on this flight together.

Dick

A pair of Air Combat planes and the Planes of Fame.

It's not even 8 am and a pair of Air Combat planes flew over in formation. They go aloft and fire at each other with lasers. A real aerial dogfight. Not quite the sound of freedom, but close. Each pilot flies with an instructor/pilot for help on the attack. Sounds like high G fun. Sort of a real time video game.
Tomorrow there will be a discussion and a flight demo of a P-38. This twin engine, twin boom thing of beauty is second only to the classic P-50 Mustang. I've been looking forward to this for some time so I'm glad it's here. It will be held at the Planes of Fame in Chino so it's a short drive and the museum is always worth a few hours. The few times I've attended one of these flight demos there was quite a turnout probably 200 or so. Mostly airplane jockeys from WWII judging from the color of their collective hair.
Dick Bong flying a P-38 became an ace in the Pacific theater during WWII proving that we're all on this flight together.

Dick

Cats eyes crying in the rain.

Although it is raining, the cats are not crying. The sentence just reads well. But it does bring up a question that has always bothered me.We all know that humans have a irises which are round. Optically that assures that we see everything is magnified equally in all around us. Other animals have different shape irises. As an aside, chameleons even have two eyes that move independently, that should confuse anyone (or anything). But chameleons seem to adjust to whatever their brains interpret.
But cats eyes and most reptile have irises that are vertically long and narrow under high light conditions changing to round irises under low light conditions. The directional magnification of what they see changes from high to low light conditions. I'm sure there is an evolutionary reason for this but it escapes me at the moment. Think for a moment about the optics of a vertical iris. Objects would be magnified in the horizontal plane but be unchanged in the vertical plane.
Confusion over the optics of a cats eye is proof that we're all on this flight together.

Dick