Ultimatums and Idiocy

 Apparently, a substantial number of the staff at 60 minutes have written a check with their mouth their asses can't cover.  It's called insubordination, and it doesn't have to be tolerated. Contracts will be examined, and they might still get paid, but nothing says they have to be allowed at work. May their departures be noteworthy.

As My Mind Keeps Me Awake

Before I went to bed - as I was standing outside - I heard the sound of a multi-engine jet flying overhead, which is a common occurrence. In the past, before I moved to under a flight path, I never really paid attention to jets. After I moved, I noticed how I far the jet was from the apparent location that the sound revealed. It made me think of why, so as I thought, it came to me that at their altitude, and with their speed, the sound was arriving long past the current position of the jet. I had to look some things up, and built a spread sheet. 

Using the typical speed of commercial airlines, and their typical cruising altitude, I could use trigonometry to determine the angular difference between the sound and the location. While the parameters were basically wild-ass guesses, observation revealed the angular distance between the sound, and the jet, was pretty close to what was calculated. Still, on some occasions during the day, I couldn't find the jet, although I could hear it. This leads to the reason for this post, which became a compelling task when I woke at 1:30 am and couldn't fall back asleep. 

The atmosphere was mostly clear right after sunset, but the jet I was trying to find was pulling a contrail. As followed the contrail to the jet, faint navigation lights showed its location. From what I could see, the distance between the sound, and the jet, was greater than what I usually observe. This led me to realize the jets I couldn't find in the day were flying at an altitude where binoculars would be required to observe them; if they sky was really clear, and I managed to find them with binoculars. So, I'm thinking they're military jets. They're allowed higher altitudes than commercial flights. I might be wrong, but judging from the sound (which is fainter), and the fact even military transports are limited by air speeds similar to commercial transports, I think I'm right. 

I know some might be thinking calculus is more appropriate for calculating such things; and I think they're right. I don't know calculus, although I could probably learn it in some rudimentary way...if I was so inclined, which brings me to the second reason for this post. 

I was thinking of how Isaac Newton plotted the motion of planets. I can understand the method, but the demand for accurate timekeeping is necessary, and I wondered how that was done during his lifetime. I looked it up. It was using water-clocks, which are considered very accurate. 

Now I probably need to try to sleep, but I don't feel like it. I'll make a cup of coffee and see if that helps. If not, I'll wait a few hours and cook breakfast.

Changing the Blades

Yesterday, I changed the blades on the riding mower. The last mowing required two passes, so it was time. There was little left to parts of the blades, and the reason the cut was so incomplete was obvious. I'm usually more prompt in changing blades, but I was trying to get one more mow out of the blades. I'm good for about two months, and will change them near the end of the season. 

I have a relative, that out of the kindness of their heart, cosigned for their brother on a used pickup to help them get on their feet. It was a move not recommended by any of the family, and it bit them on the butt. The brother left town for work across the state, is not paying the note, the wreckers have roamed the neighborhood looking for the truck, and the sibling is still paying the insurance. The law doesn't offer much relief, and without the truck in possession, disabling it, and allowing it to be repossessed isn't an option. They're in touch, but it's the usual promises without results. I have no faith in the brother, and if I was so inclined, would stomp a mudhole in his ass.

It will be hot this week. The weather is influenced by the Gulf of America, and the high humidity makes the heat almost unbearable. Morning, and evenings, are the time to get things done. Both offer mosquitoes to annoy, and even without the sun, heavy sweating is sure to happen.

I can't offer much about the Middle East, except it resembles the constant strife recorded in the Bible. The more things change, the more they remain the same. 

The constant increases in prices is sure stretching my retirement income. Maybe I should find a cushy consultant job, where I can irritate the younger, smarter folks that are determined to make their own mistakes in a glorious disaster. 

Almost a Derecho

I woke this morning to what sounded like a giant kicking the side of my home. I had a pretty good idea what it was, since the weather folks stated a line of thunderstorm would arrive near sunrise. They were right. It was 4:00 am, but the storms were much subdued from anticipated. The time was a big factor, since the lack of daytime heating reduced their strength. Still, within minutes, the electricity went off, and the little rechargeable flashlight I keep next to my bed went out before I could reach the larger flashlight I keep in the kitchen. I crept into the kitchen, felt around for the flashlight, and was rewarded with sight once again. It gets real dark in the boonies without electricity.

The wind was howling, and the rain was pounding the side of the house. My dog was panicking, and regardless of my words of consolation, he stared at me with the look I should be doing something to make it stop. Oddly, there was little lightning, and the thunder was low in the distance. 

The heaviest of the showers didn't last but a few minutes, but the radar on my cell-phone indicated it would last for hours. So, I went back to bed. My wife, my dog, and I, soon fell back asleep. 

The sound of my printer self-checking woke me at 9:00 am. My dog soon needed to go outside, so I let him into the yard. Porch furniture was blown over, and there are a multitude of small branches scattered around the trees. My rain gauge showed only two inches of rain fell, so the road out of the neighborhood will still be passable.

Radar is showing another band of shower approaching from the west. It's looking like most of the rain will pass to the south, and with the air still unsettled by the past thunderstorms, it's likely the weather won't be so bad. I'll take that. We've had enough rain, and the grass doesn't wait for the yard to dry.

In Memory Of

Somewhere, there are the bones of thousands of soldiers that were never accounted for. How they died is unknown, and all that is left is the memories of those that lost a family member; and as time goes on, the memories fade. Few remember the bright, promising young man that left in 1943 to Europe, or the Pacific, and never returned. His peers are all gone, and any children are now grandparents, or great-grandparents. 

This is the day we remember all that never came home. For those that encounter someone that doesn't have a clue about his day, educate them. They enjoy their barbeque, or cold beer, and don't know the significance of the day that is for remembering those that died so they could be free.