2007 — Day 71 - rushing from rationality

I'm not an over(t)ly political chap. (It would do my blood pressure no good if I was.) But when you find a news item like this and your mind works the way mine does, you may well be reminded of the plot line of Heinlein's 1939 story If this goes on— set in America in the year 2100 (we should be so lucky) — this being a different America; one that is ruled by a corrupt and despotic religious dictator who stays in power (don't they all?) through clever use of advanced psychological techniques and a dedicated military clique.

If you follow that link (down, as it were, the Rabbit Hole) you'll find many (many!) comments feeding back to the paper, including the delightful I have a problem with Gravity. I find the science behind it too hard to understand and complicated. Nowhere is there a 'theory of gravity' in the Bible. So, it must not exist. In fact, most of physics is unproven to my (or Scripture's) liking. Physics should be removed. Biology too, with all that nastiness and sex. Don't even get me started on Math.

What's that DVD on the doormat?

It looks like a refinement, in some ways, of Heinlein's futuristic insight blended with "Blast from the Past" or, maybe, that HG Wells 1899 story When The Sleeper Wakes5, namely:

Meanwhile, the young paper person shovelled everything except the main section of today's Guardian through the letterbox, too. So we also have:

CSS (curdling slowly but surely)

In happier news, Ian in NZ has indeed commented on my latest navbar — it's lucky for me he only saw it after I'd disabled the resizing that was making it twitch all the time. But Junior's been searching around for a better emulation of the OS X docking bar and has sent me the following link to an Italian JavaScripted solution which is quite boggling. I particularly liked the Red Pepper ghosts.

13 January 2007  


5  My "Ace" paperback edition (bought sometime in 1966, sorry for the lack of precision) has developed that wonderfully evocative pulp paperback smell which, in my case, reminds me of a holiday in Majorca in the late 1960s, but that's another story. This novel was reportedly Heinlein's favorite, by the way.