Monday, September 22, 2008
Friday, September 19, 2008
Atom Smasher
I have something for you to check out that I think you would be interested in. First look up CERN. It is the particle accelerator “Atom Smasher” that just started its test runs. It is considered possibly the greatest scientific experiment of all time. They are looking for many things with subatomic particles, foremost among these would be the Higgs Boson “the god particle” - the theoretical substance that gives matter mass and gravity. In theory some byproducts of the testing could create wormholes, mini black holes, strangelets, new universes, new space travel fuels and processes, etc - and possibly show us up to 7 more dimensions that we currently hypothesize yet have no understanding. Oh yea, there is also a slight possibility that it could vaporize everything on the Earth. Figure I might add in that small mundane point. Good nerd stuff. This thing whorls electrons at opposing directions at nearly the speed of light. The loop that the electrons are traveling is 17 miles long and the electrons whip around that circuit 11,000 times per sec. That is just sick.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
KISMET
His name was Fleming, and he was a poor Scottish farmer. One day, while trying to make a living for his family, he heard a cry for help coming from a nearby bog. He dropped his tools and ran to the bog. There, mired to his waist in black muck, was a terrified boy, screaming and struggling to free himself. Farmer Fleming saved the lad from what could have been a slow and terrifying death.
The next day, a fancy carriage pulled up to the Scotsman's sparse surroundings. An elegantly dressed nobleman stepped out and introduced himself as the father of the boy Farmer Fleming had saved. "I want to repay you," said the nobleman. "You saved my son's life."
"No, I can't accept payment for what I did," the Scottish farmer replied, waving off the offer. At that moment, the farmer's own son came to the door of the family hovel.
"Is that your son?" the nobleman asked.
"Yes," the farmer replied proudly.
"I'll make you a deal. Let me provide him with the level of education my son will enjoy. If the lad is anything like his father, he'll no doubt grow to be a man we both will be proud of." And that he did.
Farmer Fleming's son attended the very best schools, and in time, he graduated from St. Mary's Hospital Medical School in London. He then went on to become known throughout the world as the noted Sir Alexander Fleming, the discoverer of Penicillin.
Years afterward, the same nobleman's son who was saved from the bog was stricken with pneumonia.
What saved his life this time? Penicillin.
The name of the nobleman? Lord Randolph Churchill.
His son's name? Sir Winston Churchill.
Someone once said: What goes around comes around.
Work like you don't need the money. Love like you've never been hurt. Dance like nobody's watching. Sing like nobody's listening. Live like it's Heaven on Earth. Be true to yourself. You will be remembered for what you were and the actions you did.
The next day, a fancy carriage pulled up to the Scotsman's sparse surroundings. An elegantly dressed nobleman stepped out and introduced himself as the father of the boy Farmer Fleming had saved. "I want to repay you," said the nobleman. "You saved my son's life."
"No, I can't accept payment for what I did," the Scottish farmer replied, waving off the offer. At that moment, the farmer's own son came to the door of the family hovel.
"Is that your son?" the nobleman asked.
"Yes," the farmer replied proudly.
"I'll make you a deal. Let me provide him with the level of education my son will enjoy. If the lad is anything like his father, he'll no doubt grow to be a man we both will be proud of." And that he did.
Farmer Fleming's son attended the very best schools, and in time, he graduated from St. Mary's Hospital Medical School in London. He then went on to become known throughout the world as the noted Sir Alexander Fleming, the discoverer of Penicillin.
Years afterward, the same nobleman's son who was saved from the bog was stricken with pneumonia.
What saved his life this time? Penicillin.
The name of the nobleman? Lord Randolph Churchill.
His son's name? Sir Winston Churchill.
Someone once said: What goes around comes around.
Work like you don't need the money. Love like you've never been hurt. Dance like nobody's watching. Sing like nobody's listening. Live like it's Heaven on Earth. Be true to yourself. You will be remembered for what you were and the actions you did.
Friday, August 1, 2008
Hi All
I’ve been well. Summer has been great. Watching the Ash-children play soccer has been a blast. We haven’t done much, but it has still been a good summer. We would like to go Michigan’s Renaissance festival later this month if the money is available. Damn, I’m such a nerd.
Ash-wife and I have started watching 2 series on DVD. Both Sci-fi. Stargate SG1 and Battlestar Galactica. It is a great escape for us. BSG is an extremely well written show. It actually won best-written show on TV. Even if you aren’t a sci-fi buff you still would likely love this show.
Later all.
Ash-wife and I have started watching 2 series on DVD. Both Sci-fi. Stargate SG1 and Battlestar Galactica. It is a great escape for us. BSG is an extremely well written show. It actually won best-written show on TV. Even if you aren’t a sci-fi buff you still would likely love this show.
Later all.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Biomancer - excerpt
Prime smacked the slave in the face. “Girl, look at me. How many times do I have to tell you that I like it better when you look in my eyes.” He gave her thin arms, which he held firmly to the mattress, a tight squeeze, warning her to be quiet. Her crying became whimpering. Tears ran down the side of her face from the corners of her eyes, filling her ears. Everything sounded hollow in her head, his voice, his heartbeat, the crackle of straw from the mattress as he pushed against her.
She found it was over quicker if she resisted a little, making him angry. His weight on her chest was oppressive. She had to breathe in gasps, which seemed to arouse him further. In his sick mind he likely thought that he was stimulating her. She thought of him and the guards that almost nightly chose her, dying a thousand deaths, a thousand torturous ways. Contemplating their deaths made it almost tolerable, almost. For some reason she was chosen more often than the other girls were. Two nights without being visited was a rarity. She just wanted it to end. If not for her brother being left alone in this horrendous place, she would have by now ended her own life to stop the pain that she had to endure. More than anything she just wanted it to end.
“What!” he pushed his chest in the air, rising above the slave, still thrusting. “What is that,” he said to himself, looking concernedly out the open window.
A small light could be seen in the yard. Someone was walking toward the log yard. Something was amiss, and he knew it. Guards didn’t use that path to travel between posts.
Prime stopped unfulfilled, got off the straw-filled mattress, and took a long swig of something from a black bottle. He tossed the empty container aside and picked a wrinkled robe from the floor, wadded it into a loose ball, and threw it at the girl-slave with malice. “Get back to your room, slave,” Prime demanded with a drunken slur.
Shakily she put on the robe from the corner of the mattress farthest from his lecherous reach, feeling the bruises forming on her stiff arms. Disconcerted she hurried from the room without a care for what had consumed his thoughts, yet grateful that something had.
Prime sluggishly got dressed. Pulling on his pants, he unbuckled his five-thong whip and set it on the room’s lone, wobbly-legged table. Off he went to the supply room, deciding to get something a little more destructive.
She found it was over quicker if she resisted a little, making him angry. His weight on her chest was oppressive. She had to breathe in gasps, which seemed to arouse him further. In his sick mind he likely thought that he was stimulating her. She thought of him and the guards that almost nightly chose her, dying a thousand deaths, a thousand torturous ways. Contemplating their deaths made it almost tolerable, almost. For some reason she was chosen more often than the other girls were. Two nights without being visited was a rarity. She just wanted it to end. If not for her brother being left alone in this horrendous place, she would have by now ended her own life to stop the pain that she had to endure. More than anything she just wanted it to end.
“What!” he pushed his chest in the air, rising above the slave, still thrusting. “What is that,” he said to himself, looking concernedly out the open window.
A small light could be seen in the yard. Someone was walking toward the log yard. Something was amiss, and he knew it. Guards didn’t use that path to travel between posts.
Prime stopped unfulfilled, got off the straw-filled mattress, and took a long swig of something from a black bottle. He tossed the empty container aside and picked a wrinkled robe from the floor, wadded it into a loose ball, and threw it at the girl-slave with malice. “Get back to your room, slave,” Prime demanded with a drunken slur.
Shakily she put on the robe from the corner of the mattress farthest from his lecherous reach, feeling the bruises forming on her stiff arms. Disconcerted she hurried from the room without a care for what had consumed his thoughts, yet grateful that something had.
Prime sluggishly got dressed. Pulling on his pants, he unbuckled his five-thong whip and set it on the room’s lone, wobbly-legged table. Off he went to the supply room, deciding to get something a little more destructive.
Bye
The time rolling,
The bell toiling,
Life embittered.
I am nothing.
Pain deep and blinding,
Taunting laughter reminding,
Strife rendered.
I am nothing.
Feeling’s filter not working.
Brain off-kilter.
Time slowing,
Thoughts lolling,
Should I do it?
I am nothing.
Decision hardened cold,
Darkness sold,
Off I go.
Damn-it I can’t even do this right.
One more try.
Bye.
The bell toiling,
Life embittered.
I am nothing.
Pain deep and blinding,
Taunting laughter reminding,
Strife rendered.
I am nothing.
Feeling’s filter not working.
Brain off-kilter.
Time slowing,
Thoughts lolling,
Should I do it?
I am nothing.
Decision hardened cold,
Darkness sold,
Off I go.
Damn-it I can’t even do this right.
One more try.
Bye.
My Tree of Woe
Hot - fuse burning fast,
Cold – days, my last,
The hell I feel, no one knows.
Off I go, to my tree of woe.
Hot – my soul chained
Cold – my essence drained
The hell I feel, no one knows.
Off I go, to my tree of woe.
Hot – my thoughts insane,
Cold – my words inane,
The hell I feel, no one knows.
Off I go, to my tree of woe.
Hot – the blood flows,
Cold – the blood goes,
The hell I feel, no one knows.
Off I go, to my tree of woe.
Hot – my last breath,
Cold – finally death,
The pain I do not show,
Off I go, to my tree of woe.
The hell I feel, no one knows.
Off I go, to my tree of woe.
Cold – days, my last,
The hell I feel, no one knows.
Off I go, to my tree of woe.
Hot – my soul chained
Cold – my essence drained
The hell I feel, no one knows.
Off I go, to my tree of woe.
Hot – my thoughts insane,
Cold – my words inane,
The hell I feel, no one knows.
Off I go, to my tree of woe.
Hot – the blood flows,
Cold – the blood goes,
The hell I feel, no one knows.
Off I go, to my tree of woe.
Hot – my last breath,
Cold – finally death,
The pain I do not show,
Off I go, to my tree of woe.
The hell I feel, no one knows.
Off I go, to my tree of woe.
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