13 June 2020 - Plague Journal Day 93

We all are still sheltering in place, but I'm here to keep you sane and entertained.One could hardly ask for much more than that, now could one?

Today is Sewing Machine Day. Sewing machines are pretty amazing to me. If you look at them, the needle just seems to go up and down, in and out the same hole it made, so how does that turn into a stitch to hold the material together? The secret is what else goes on underneath when the needle pierces the fabric.
When my father was an engineering student, his girlfriend (who later became my mother, but that's another story) suggested that he design a sewing machine as a class project when his professor was in the coffee shop with the two of them. Fortunately for Dad, the professor told him not to do that - sewing machines are much more complicated than engines and transmissions and the other things he was designing. Who knew?

Anyway, here are some animated gifs to give a sense of what's happening down there, going from the first version of a sewing machine up through how the work these days, along with a picture of just the threads to see how it gets knotted.

It's complicated, that's for sure. Nice job whoever thought of all this!


Keep Calm and Stay Away.
I'll be back tomorrow.

12 June 2020 - Plague Journal Day 92

We all are still sheltering in place, but I'm here to keep you sane and entertained.
One could hardly ask for much more than that, now could one?

Have you noticed how the weekly COVID-19 numbers seem to decline daily and then at the beginning of the week they jump back up a bit? Even some of the news sources have noted it and opined that it's due to the weekend.
Yes, it is indeed due to the weekend. It's the 5 on 7 pattern where, basically, the logistics pipe is backed up. It is the "All work done by Friday" syndrome, also call the Robinson Crusoe effect.


On another travel-related side note, we visited the cemetery where Daniel Defoe, author of Robinson Crusoe, is buried. Bunhill Fields in London is just across City Road from Wesley's Chapel, and is the site of the graves of many other famous non-conformists as well. We had a very interesting conversation with a fellow there. You can read of it here if you like.


Today is Ghost In the Machine Day. The phrase came from Gilbert Ryle's analysis of Descartes' concept of the mind as separate from the body. Ryle opined that without the body there can be no consciousness. As I understand it, back in 1976 he discovered that he was wrong.


Keep Calm and Stay Away.
I'll be back tomorrow.

11 June 2020 - Plague Journal Day 91

We all are still sheltering in place, but I'm here to keep you sane and entertained.
One could hardly ask for much more than that, now could one?

Today is Cousteau Day - celebrated on the late Jacques Cousteau's birthday. Today he would have turned a ripe old 110, so salut, Jacques!

Interestingly, (well, it's interesting to me) we've been to the site of one of his explorations - the Lost Sea in Sweetwater, Tennessee!
Back many years ago, Heidi and I were on our annual Nth honeymoon and heading South on I-75. We kept seeing signs with a viking-esque ship saying not to miss the Lost Sea. We were pretty sure it had to be some horrible tourist trap. Still, the signs kept us wondering.
We stopped for dinner at a Pizza Hut in the greater Sweetwater metroplex (Yes, we actually went into a restaurant, sat down among strangers, and ate food we hadn't prepared ourselves. Times were very different then.) where we asked the waiter, a young local lad, whether we were correct that the Lost Sea was something to pass by.
"Oh no - you really should go," he told us. "It's really cool and you don't want to miss it."

Well, if a local says a local tourist trap isn't one, why not risk it, eh? and so we did.

Well I'm blowed if he wasn't right.
It was a spectacular tour of caves and caverns (including the remains of a Prohibition-era speakeasy) and a boat ride on an underground lake - the Lost Sea itself.
Oh - the Jacques Cousteau connection? He and his crew had done some diving in the lake, trying to find how big and how deep it was. They never did find the end nor the bottom. Ditto some Navy divers. For all we know, the Lost Sea goes all the way down, just like turtles. Who knows? Maybe it connects to Loch Ness? Stranger things have been made up than that.
So ... if you find yourself in the vicinity of Sweetwater, Tennessee, don't make the mistake of missing the Lost Sea. You won't regret the time you spend there.

Bonus celebratory information: Today is also Corn On The Cob Day! Why not enjoy a cob with someone you love?!

Keep Calm and Stay Away.
I'll be back tomorrow.

10 June 2020 - Plague Journal Day 90

We all are still sheltering in place, but I'm here to keep you sane and entertained.
One could hardly ask for much more than that, now could one?


Here's another in the series of things I've written. This is a poem I wrote when my niece, Kayla, came home from the hospital after being in the NICU for some time.

A New Life Greets The Dog

Home at last –
Later than hoped, yet sooner than feared –
Exhausted, exhilarated, her mother
Safely snuggles the new life.


Together, a family –
More anxious than he expected, yet happier than possible –
Beaming, approving, her father
Proudly welcomes the little girl.

Unwontedly calm –
More distant than expected, yet closer than he dares –
Sniffing, exploring, her puppy
Tentatively licks a tiny foot;
And she smiles.


Keep Calm and Stay Away.
I'll be back tomorrow.

09 June 2020 - Plague Journal Day 89

We all are still sheltering in place, but I'm here to keep you sane and entertained.
One could hardly ask for much more than that, now could one?

Well, today won't be entertained.
In my post for last Friday, I tried to process the whole murder of George Floyd and the ensuing protests (and, sadly, riots and anarchic violence from garbage masquerading as protestors).
At our company Town Hall earlier that week we saw the video produced by Viacom which was shown on most (all?) of their networks. It's incredibly effective, disturbing, and convicting. I really believe that no one could experience this and not come to the conclusion that this was an intentional act.

As Mr. Floyd is being laid to rest today, I thought I'd share this video here. Sorry for not entertaining you today, but this stuff is important.

Keep Calm and Stay Away.
I'll be back tomorrow.

08 June 2020 - Plague Journal Day 88

We all are still sheltering in place, but I'm here to keep you sane and entertained.
One could hardly ask for much more than that, now could one?

Let's continue the pattern started a couple days ago of posting things I had written for other purposes. Today I share a very short story - probably what would be called "flash fiction" these days - that was written many years ago, just because. See if you can follow the action to its somewhat unsavory conclusion.

HEMORRHOID DAYS

A madcap romp, wherein alimentary notions are analyzed -

right on down the line.

Contentedly ruminating over cottage fries and cottage cheese, Perry Stalsis took over.

"Down!," he cried, suddenly taken with himself, "Down into the caverns; the dark, moist, warm regions await, and we are no match for the flashing, smashing, grinding white of this diner!"

So down they went. Cottage (both fries and cheese) sped slickly down, driven by the force of Perry's impetus.

Arriving eventually in the dark caverns below, they found their resolve dissolving into an acidic sea of acerbicism (or what might be called acerbicity?).

Eventually, however, they were reduced to basics – floating, drifting aimlessly in the warm darkness; waiting and not waiting for whatever might next befall them.

Perry Stalsis, stalwart fellow that he was, would not keep them waiting too long: "Down again! There are tunnels a-winding below, and to stay here is death – there may be light at the end of the tunnel. Down!"

Once again, Perry's force moved their otherwise irresolute forms into motion. Somewhat more disorganized than before, they moved downward into the tunnel.

For a seeming eternity, they slowly wound their way through the crazily winding length of tunnel. It was as though they were in the interstices of a madman's conception of the Holland Tunnel (Southern Annex, of course), but, fairly undaunted, onward they went.

Internal dissension broke out, and flew as a wind before them; whither they knew not, nor even cared. Yet, they followed in its wake, scenting its eager expansion in their eroding sensibilities.

At last, there seemed to be a ray, no, a glimmer, of hope shining ahead.

An angry red, pulsating light shone briefly forth, only to be quickly dimmed nearly to extinguishment.

"Hurry!," cried Perry Stalsis, the only one seemingly still possessing the force of his will. "This is it! Our escape lies ahead!"

Forward they sped, packing hard close in their precipitous haste. And well it was that they did, for they were able quickly to pass by the fiery-red exit of the tunnel, only to fall, willy-nilly, into a cold pool of water.

Looking back, they saw the fiery-red tunnel exit being occluded; a loud rush of water hit, and they were draw down deep into the dark by some hard, sucking force!

The End

Keep Calm and Stay Away.
I'll be back tomorrow.

07 June 2020 - Plague Journal Day 87

We all are still sheltering in place, but I'm here to keep you sane and entertained.
One could hardly ask for much more than that, now could one?

Here's a poem I wrote many years ago in the alliterative style I associate with Norse skaldic and Old English poetry.

Prime

The ocean floor, salt and sand,

Lacking waves: no more a sea.

Drying earth breaks, cracks of death

Split the land: integrity deny.

Sea birds flocking, circle flight,

The ships afloat no longer feed.

Sun-drenched wind forms hill on hill,

Sordid mealtime: wolves at hand.

Thirst and hunger, arms of death,

Artifacts of bone supply.

Tiresome toil, warm soles by night,

Heat-sights: terror; bright heat: sleep.

Revived, it dies, the river's edge;

The Phoenix rising, seeks its life.

Seam of giving, flowing seaward,

Seeking new life, righting old.

Rushing whiteness, swirls around

Land is gone; Roiling: the world.

Sight dimming, fog inside.

Taste and sound no longer felt.

Deep breath heavy, damping thoughts,

To drink: salvation; to breathe: demise.

Current carries, seaward home,

No cares: floating: journey done.

Keep Calm and Stay Away.
I'll be back tomorrow.