A windshield decides to crack rather badly. Unless it’s a trick of the light, it *looks* like there are nodes in the failure pathways that are so hot they glow. Seems to be window heating elements arcing.
https://www.instagram.com/p/CP9O42jh0rH/
Photo at the link:
You can tell without even touching the link that this is the BBc because they insist on spelling “NASA” as “Nasa,” event though everyone else on the planet uses “NASA.” I imagine that the BbC has rules in place that they are supposed to use the preferred personal pronouns of everyone they report on, but for some reason they insist upon insulting NASA.
Bah.
And, oh, yeah, giant obsolete rocket.
So there I was yesterday, working on the computer, Buttons on a pillow next to me. As he often does, he was just laying there purring up a storm, happy to be alive and part of the team. Then suddenly, with no visible or audible prompting, he began growling and howling, raising a stink like he was *pissed.* His tail fluffed out. His eyes were wide open and dilated. This went on for seemingly forever, but probably around 15-30 seconds. Then… it stopped. Within a few seconds he was purring again… and drooling. Drooling *a* *lot,* for another quarter hour or so. Then everything went back to utterly normal.
Given how he was purring loudly at the time, I’m pretty sure he was awake when he went nuts, though he has been known to sleep-purr. But whether awake or asleep, it was *weird* to hear him pissed off. This is the first time I can recall *ever* hearing him actually angry; it’s just not his way. He is by nature a happy cat. I first thought that maybe he was in pain, something that came onto him suddenly; but poking and prodding afterwards elicited no pain response, and he has eaten and used the litter box just fine since then.
Another thought occurred: he’s around 12 years old, which is getting up there in years for a cat. Perhaps he had a senior moment… some form of dementia. A daydream of a threat, perhaps.
In any event: AAAAAAAARGH.
If I had $28 million to spend on an 11 minute flight to space… I wouldn’t. I’d save that money to fly to *orbit.* Or buy myself a SPECTRE-class lair somewhere in the mountains with a CIWS and a nuclear powerplant. But it is an undeniable social good that there are people rich enough to splurge on frippery like this; by blowing *vast* sums on adventures that us po foke could never dream of, the price of such ventures will come down due to increased investment. Those jackholes who want to limit income to $500K a year, or tax wealth out of existence, are working to make sure that trips to space, whether short joy-hops like this or emigrant flights to Mars or Ceres, never happen.
The Short PD.16 was a circa 1957 design for a twin engined turboprop cargo/passenger plane. The configuration was similar to the Fairchild C-119, and would have been, by modern standards, an unusual passenger aircraft. Slow, voluminous, with (in one configuration) a cargo hold stuffed with cars and an upper deck filled with people in *luxurious* seating by modern standards, probably deafened and rattled. Half a dozen of one…
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Once again, Bosnian Ape Society comes to the rescue with an insightful video full of good ideas:
It’s nice to see some physics textbooks getting real about the dangers of statistics:
These words do in fact form the beginning of the first chapter of the book “States of Matter,” a text by CalTech physicist David L. Goodstein, as documented by the following extract from a digital copy of the book:
That’s neat. Who knew that statistical analysis was essentially the Necronomicon?
NOW IT IS OUR TURN.
The reporters accent seems to kinda clash with the story.
I hate to “victim blame,” but who the frak wears a $20K gold chain to the gas station?
Speedbump.
