Strategic Reserve

"I say Poirot, have you seen this article in Time?

But when I looked up to see why he was silent, I saw him across the remains of breakfast, glaring at his phone, apparently very displeased with a text message.

"Hastings mon ami, these officials, their foolishness is a constant of the universe.  If I had a louis d'or for every time they were too late in consulting me, you would be visiting me at a chateau in the Loire, instead of this merely adequate Quebec locus operandi."

This was rough stuff from the normally imperturbable sleuth - that message must have touched a sore spot.  Pouring another café in hopes of mollifying my friend, I thought to distract him with the article I had just read.  Sliding the magazine across the table, I suggested, "Take a look at this.  How does this rank in your experience of government incompetence?"

He sighed and glanced over the page, but instead of the reaction I expected, his expression darkened.

"Mon Dieu, some person more foolish than usual has let slip the very secret of my own correspondent!  The tumbrils will surely clatter on the cobbles of Montreal before this sordid histoire is complete!"

Now I was really shocked.  What could it be?  There had been nothing in the article to arouse any emotion in me more violent than mild amusement and some traces of cynicism.  But there he was, thoughts of Capital Crimes obvious on his visage.

"We should make an immediate visit to my correspondent in the bureau, but as this is too confidential to risk even the cabbie overhearing, I must inform you of some vital facts here, now."

But just as Poirot was beginning his explanation, the maid entered.  Sitting back hastily, we watched impatiently as she cleared away the breakfast things: remains of fruits in bowls, the now empty coffee carafe, and toasts of pain de campagne.  Finally the door closed behind her.  Poirot went hastily to the door, opened it, peered up and down the corridor, then quietly closed and carefully locked it.

Returning to his seat and the last of his café, he began.  "My dear Captain Hastings, perhaps you are aware from your service that there are substances absolutely key to the effective functioning of certain military and even espionage devices?  Par example, everyone knows of the necessity for neodymium; that secret has been public knowledge, at least among the cognoscenti, for a decade at the minimum.  But there are substances even more vital, even more secret, and the foolish article in the Time magazine has, perhaps inadvertently, but perhaps deliberately, verged on revealing one of these to the up-to-now happily ignorant public."

"Poirot, I can't imaging what you could be referring to.  The article was a bit of fluff.  Except for the ludicrous cash value, it was about nothing more consequential than those remains of toast just carried off by the maid."

"Ah, but there you are sadly but understandably very wrong.  The consequences may be most dire, if the loss is not recovered instantly, and more vitally, if the persons responsible are not compelled to silence on the subject."   After a brief pause he continued, "Surely you have been curious about certain large sums in those Provincial Budget documents I asked you to assist me with over the last week?  Those items with the benign but vague identities?  Also, how they have increased in variety and value so dramatically in the last two years?  You know of course of the immense value to certain nations of their exports of natural products.  Crude oil, of course, not only from the Middle Eastern nations, but also from Norway, Brazil, and others.  Minerals, such as the vital neodymium already mentioned, from China and certain African countries.  What you are not aware of, and the thing which is the absolute fulcrum of Canada's entire economy, is the subject of that dangerous article.  And even the New York Times has discussed it!  So everyone on the Upper West Side now knows!  Quel désastre!"

"Ask yourself, Hastings, why certain items were not present at our otherwise delightful petit déjeuner?  What was missing?  You remember, I know.  It was not so long ago that every table held a chalice full.  Cast your mind back, and I know you will remember.  That, mon ami, is why the Strategic Reserve exists, and is not just a myth.  That is why the crime is so vile, a crime against humanity itself."

He stood.  "Let us go quickly.  We two, perhaps only we two, can save Canada."

Addiction. Not always bad.

If you get hooked in your innocent youth:

Kaywinnet Lee Frye:  The Fall

there's no reason why it won't get much, much worse:

Life in Hell

 This is one of my favorite scenes from that show.  Pure sweetness.

Organic rodent control

Our house backs onto a hundred acres or so of oak scrub wilderness (part of Belmont Canyon).  So after our last cat died, the yard was slowly invaded by rabbits, squirrels, and the occasional raccoon.  Last year I resurfaced the deck, which meant I had odd stacks of very long lumber lying around.  One piece projected out over the yard, about 15 feet off the ground, and became a popular perch for a variety of birds, until this fellow showed up.  It was a perfect perch for a lazy predator - instead of circling endlessly, he could take his ease while keeping an eye out for his next lunch-on-the-hoof.

Eventually he got accustomed to me and my camera, and I could get as close as 10 feet before he'd bail (which is what he's doing in this shot).

I think it's a Red-Shouldered Hawk

Sadly, one hawk is not enough to make much of a dent in our rabbit population, though the raccoons have disappeared.  Also, he's not as tough as he looks - the local tiny songbirds gave him no end of grief (hilarious! I wish I had video of that) and he's been scarce for months now.

One squirrel turned out to be the most stubborn.  He's still out there, rolling a pinecone on the roof over my head every morning.

Family time, pt.1

Fiddle, TWEAK, adjust.

Lets see who has the coolest multitool arrangement?

This is what family time looks like when I take a rest with my daughter in the middle of a fragrant, flowers-and-bird filled Panamanian jungle.  So sue me.  (Cathy thought it was hilarious enough to take maybe 20 shots.  Let's hear it for digital!)

I lost.  Way too symmetrical.

Another mystery

Everyone likes to get away with things.  As Austen would say, it is a "truth universally acknowledged."*

For instance, programmers put Easter eggs in products.  The first PostScript Level 2 Dataproducts laser printer (from the mid-90's), prints out a lovely picture of the lead engineer's wife in a sweeping floor-length ball gown, if you fiddle the buttons right.  I had to dislike that guy, because his PS2 product beat mine out for the being the first by two weeks.  Also, my Easter egg was lame by comparison.

During the Korean war (sorry, "Police Action") air cargo crews used to smuggle beer and other contraband in-country, hidden in things like empty fuel drop-tanks or bomb casings.  They HAD to do this because the local Korean employees were also indulging in a little creative commerce.  Legitimate beer arrived on base in wooden crates full of beer cans.  The local staff would pop the crates on top of a washtub, and hammer stiff wires down through the cans, liberating the goodness inside without opening the crates.  So there was a shortage of legitimate beer, naturally leading to a supply-and-demand problem.

Now if there's one thing for which there's always been, and always will be a guaranteed demand, it's a scantily clad MOTAS.

Which bring me to this picture.

"DANGER" certainly.  But why is the GROSS WEIGHT blank?  She doesn't look over-gross to me, even for the 60's.

The "why?" need not be questioned, of course.  But what I always wondered, and never got a rational answer to, was the "how?".

This was almost certainly a military airbase (if I had to guess, I'd say it's El Toro) or a NASA facility (lots of which are located on mil bases).  It's night.  It's on the flight line.  There are fences and there are armed guards.  It's the height of the Cold War.  She's definitely out of uniform.  That plane resembles an A-4, which has barely enough room for the pilot and a toothbrush, so she didn't arrive in that.

I think I'll submit this to Car Talk as a Puzzler.  Maybe they can crowdsource a good answer.

*Speaking of Jane Austen:  Because I sometimes watch The Big Bang Theory, I was pointed to a web video production of a contemporary take on Pride and Prejudice at The Lizzie Bennett Diaries.  90-odd episodes, and pretty hilarious so far (after 25 episodes).  Recommended.  Kaley Cuoco's sister plays Mary (who is a cousin instead of a sister in this adaptation.) hence the connection.

Catching up

Long time no post. Lots has happened in the intervening months. (EXACTLY 2 years to the day, how about that?)

Commenting on my 4/15/2011 post, John Murawski asked if my dad had ever used the centrifuge at Johnsville in Philly. By sheer coincidence I was moving some image files around today and ran into this:

 It says AMES on the helmet and the suit, so this was almost certainly taken at NASA Ames, not Johnsville. Sorry, John.

[ Update: Hmm.  The capsule says Navy.  I would have thought a centrifuge at NASA Ames would say NASA on it.  So, I guess I have no idea where this was taken.  And probably the suit and helmet were merely brought wherever from Ames. ]

I have vague memories of seeing the centrifuge at Ames, probably in the late 60's. What I remember, though, is a framed certificate he had, congratulating him on his "unusual courage" in allowing his body to be subjected to extreme "eyeballs-in and eyeballs-out" G loads.

There's no real point here, just memories that floated up because of random coincidences.

Ruminants

This morning there was a new issue of FLYING in my dad's mail. As is my habit, I skimmed through it looking for something interesting. I usually skip over the accident reports, but today one caught my eye.

Specifically, the word "cattle" caught my eye.

Now, "cattle" is not a word I'm used to seeing in aviation accident reports (and I used to read "Aviation Safety" religiously, so I know whereof I speak). "Ducks", "Seagulls", "Geese", and similar: OK, they populate the reports pretty often, as anyone who knows the name "Sullenberger" must be familiar with. But "Cattle"? No. Not at all.

Anyway, the FLYING report indicated that this pilot, flying an R-22 (small helicopter) had landed after using it to herd some cattle from the air. He intended to leave immediately, after fiddling some corral gates, so he left the engine running. Apparently, a cow, never the most intellectual of creatures, was spooked by the engine and spinning main rotor, and leaped the fence.

Now, if YOU were just escaped from a corral after being spooked by a noisy machine, what would you do? That's right: run RIGHT TOWARD THE MACHINE. And collide (or, in the language of the accident report "make contact") with the spinning main rotor.

The collision caused the chopper to jump around a bit, scaring a few more cattle, who proceeded to run right into the chopper, causing it to "become momentarily airborne".

This did not end well. The summary report only mentioned that the pilot was uninjured (except, no doubt, for his "incredulity" gland, which must have suffered a severe sprain.) No mention of the cattles' injuries was included in the summary. The R-22 did not survive.

Poor cows.

Anyway, this reminded both of us of a tale from Dad's time in Korea. Apparently, returning from a ground-attack mission (flying F4U Corsairs), they were so low to the level of the local rice paddies, that various water buffalo on the dikes between the paddies were, shall we say, "too high to avoid". A little cannon fire solved that problem. At least there was no collision between the buffalo and the Corsairs, which would, no doubt, have been hard to explain to the squadron CO.

Dad claims they were probably North Korean cows.