This Post is the Centre of the Internet

I've had this link kicking around for a while, but I don't appear to have posted it: The Association for Biblical Astronomy Official Geocentricity Site.  The entire site is best summed up with this quote: "It assumes that whenever the two are at variance, it is always astronomy—that is, our "reading" of the "Book of Nature," not our reading of the Holy Bible—that is wrong.".

I'd say I find it hard to believe that, in this day and age, many people take such an idea seriously, but a recent article in the New York Times (via Boing Boing) claims that "[o]ne adult American in five thinks the Sun revolves around the Earth, an idea science had abandoned by the 17th century."  Yeesh.

The question is:  besides being pig-headed (see quote number 1), are these people also highly narcissistic for believing that mankind is so special as to be the centre of the universe?

(Also found:  The Earth is Not Moving, the website of a geocentrist who needs to check his tinfoil hat.  For some reason the main page reminds me of Time Cube, only without the huge fonts; I kept expecting to be told that I was "educated stupid".)

Posted by g026r at 16:20 | 2 comments | Most recent by g026r

The City

(From Fifty-One Tales, by Lord Dunsany.  Originally published by Elkin Matthews, London, 1915.)

In time as well as space my fancy roams far from here. It led me once to the edge of certain cliffs that were low and red and rose up out of a desert: a little way off in the desert there was a city. It was evening, and I sat and watched the city.

Presently I saw men by threes and fours come softly stealing out of that city's gate to the number of about twenty. I heard the hum of men's voices speaking at evening.

"It is well they are gone," they said. "It is well they are gone. We can do business now. It is well they are gone." And the men that had left the city sped away over the sand and so passed into the twilight.

"Who are these men?" I said to my glittering leader.

"The poets," my fancy answered. "The poets and artists."

"Why do they steal away?" I said to him. "And why are the people glad that they have gone?"

He said: "It must be some doom that is going to fall on the city, something has warned them and they have stolen away. Nothing may warn the people."

I heard the wrangling voices, glad with commerce, rise up from the city. And then I also departed, for there was an ominous look on the face of the sky.

And only a thousand years later I passed that way, and there was nothing, even among the weeds, of what had been that city.

Posted by g026r at 00:00 | 1 comment | Most recent by g026r

Filling Space

Since I posted the last entry about New Brunswick being first for something, I may as well post this one: N.B. leads Atlantic Canada for oxycodone use.  To use a cliche, I am shocked — shocked! — by this news.

No real other content to mention in this post, other than that the picture of Stephen Harper in this article creeps me out.  I can't help looking at it and thinking of the Corinthian.

Mister Adam For His Madam Is Not

Apparently Environment Canada released a report detailing climate information about the different provinces and territories.  Some are obvious to anyone (eg. Nunavut has the coldest winters), but that's not the reason for posting this.

Nope, the reason for posting this is the Globe and Mail article on it, which is based largely around the surprisng fact that the winner for warmest summers was New Brunswick.  Surprising?  I think anyone who's spent a summer here could have guessed at that.  My favourite quote, though, is this one:  "New Brunswick had the hottest summers — but we always think of it as a foggy province"  I think that they've been looking at too many news feeds from Saint John and photos of picturesque fishing villages.

Ok, all sarcasm aside, it is an interesting list.  I'm really curious as to what the list would have been like without the three territories included — given that anybody could have pegged them as the three top locations for coldest year-round and coldest winters.

After The Fire

(From Fifty-One Tales, by Lord Dunsany.  Originally published by Elkin Matthews, London, 1915.)

When that happened which had been so long in happening and the world hit a black, uncharted star, certain tremendous creatures out of some other world came peering among the cinders to see if there were anything there that it were worth while to remember. They spoke of the great things that the world was known to have had; they mentioned the mammoth. And presently they saw man's temples, silent and windowless, staring like empty skulls.

"Some great thing has been here," one said, "in these huge places." "It was the mammoth," said one. "Something greater than he," said another.

And then they found that the greatest thing in the world had been the dreams of man.

Taking Up Picadilly

(From Fifty-One Tales, by Lord Dunsany.  Originally published by Elkin Matthews, London, 1915.)

Going down Picadilly one day and nearing Grosvenor Place I saw, if my memory is not at fault, some workmen with their coats off—or so they seemed. They had pickaxes in their hands and wore corduroy trousers and that little leather band below the knee that goes by the astonishing name of "York-to-London."

They seemed to be working with peculiar vehemence, so that I stopped and asked one what they were doing.

"We are taking up Picadilly," he said to me.

"But at this time of year?" I said. "Is it usual in June?"

"We are not what we seem," said he.

"Oh, I see," I said, "you are doing it for a joke."

"Well, not exactly that," he answered me.

"For a bet?" I said.

"Not precisely," said he.

And then I looked at the bit that they had already picked, and though it was broad daylight over my head it was darkness down there, all full of the southern stars.

"It was noisy and bad and we grew aweary of it," said he that wore corduroy trousers. "We are not what we appear."

They were taking up Picadilly altogether.

Database Switchover

This is just a warning:  I just switched from a MySQL backend to PostgreSQL — mainly due to the fact that I want to use foreign keys in one of my personal tables, and MySQL sucks for that.  In theory, everything should be working flawlessly, but since I had to do a bit of tweaking on the MySQL dump file, that's not guaranteed.  So: send me a message if you happen to hit an error.

Ye Olde Englifh Entry

Today's random bit of trivia is: "what's up with the word ye".  By which I mean the definite article usage (as in the entry title), not the archaic version of the second-person plural pronoun.

So, what's up with it?  Well, first off, in Old English/Anglo-Saxon the correct pronounciation is actually the exact same as the — any other pronounciation of is as historically accurate as using the letter f instead of s^*, or spelling magic as magicke.

But where did it come from?  Well, originally the letter took a runic form, called thorn, which is written þ.  The pronounciation of this letter?  You guessed it: th.

Ok, but how did we get from þe to ye?  Well, an alternate way of representing þ was to write y instead.  Therefore ye was the same word as þe and — following the dropping of þ from the English language post-Norman invasion — the.

There you go, that's my pedantic post for the month.  Although I should note that any potential errors are unintentional, since I'm not a linguist by training or trade.

* The letter that people confuse for f is actually just an elongated form of the letter s.  My use of it in the title is in no way an endorsement of actually using f instead of s.

Locked Groove

My brother sent me a link to this earlier today:  Record Playing VW Van.  (It's been out for a while, apparently, but I'm only seeing it now.)

Now, for starters, I'm not sure I'd want to play my records with anything called the "Vinyl Killer".  (Yes, that is its name.)  But beyond that, I'm curious as to how it works.

For starters, how does it follow the grooves correctly?  As it gets closer to the centre of the record, it's going to need to start turning tighter, and about the only way I can figure out for it doing so is to use the edge of the gooves as a guide.  Not sure about other people who still have vinyl kicking around, but I'm not exactly too keen about putting extra wear-and-tear on the edges of the grooves, especially given that the Vinyl Killer would likely require more force to move than your standard needle.  (How much force?  That would depend on the weight of the thing, and although it's listed as having its "[w]eight measured in volumetric sive" — whatever the hell that means — there's no actual weight quoted.)

That said, it is an amusing thing, but I don't think I'd let it near any of my records.  (Short of the silly/cheesey ones I bought for 50 cents or a dollar, and which were already scratched to hell to begin with.)  I'd also argue that anything that's sold with the warning "ne pas écouter vos disques rares avec le vinyl killer" defintitely isn't "essential for anybody who takes collecting vinyl seriously".

To be honest: at a price of $70USD or higher, I'm not sure who this is targeted at.

And, just to prove that mangling the language doesn't just happen when Japanese is translated into English:  ne pas écouter isn't proper French.  The verb should go between ne and pas, and should be conjugated.  Since we're dealing with a command, that would mean second-person plural (as vos correctly indicates), so the correct phrasing would be n'écoutez pas vos disques rares avec le vinyl killer.

A Losing Game

(From Fifty-One Tales, by Lord Dunsany.  Originally published by Elkin Matthews, London, 1915.)

Once in a tavern Man met face to skull with Death. Man entered gaily but Death gave no greeting, he sat with his jowl morosely over an ominous wine.

"Come, come," said Man, "we have been antagonists long, and if I were losing yet I should not be surly."

But Death remained unfriendly watching his bowl of wine and gave no word in answer.

Then Man solicitously moved nearer to him and, speaking cheerily still, "Come, come," he said again, "you must not resent defeat."

And still Death was gloomy and cross and sipped at his infamous wine and would not look up at Man and would not be companionable.

But Man hated gloom either in beast or god, and it made him unhappy to see his adversary's discomfort, all the more because he was the cause, and still he tried to cheer him.

"Have you not slain the Dinatherium?" he said. "Have you not put out the Moon? Why! you will beat me yet."

And with a dry and barking sound Death wept and nothing said; and presently Man arose and went wondering away; for he knew not if Death wept out of pity for his opponent, or because he knew that he should not have such sport again when the old game was over and Man was gone, or whether because perhaps, for some hidden reason, he could never repeat on Earth his triumph over the Moon.