I was out for a walk and on my way home. I was thinking about what I would fetch with me to work for consumption later that day. I decided on broccoli and swiss cheese, a plebian but satisfying repast, and was visualizing the process of placing said ingredients into a ...Into a what? I realized that I had no idea what you call those things that come from stores that have plastic bottoms and snap-on tops into which one places his broccoli. I wasn't even sure they had a name, or that their name was uniform over different manufacturers. And yet, a noble vegetable such as broccoli can hardly spend a significant portion of its post-preparation life in a thing-without-a-name! I decided that it was a PLUCO. NASA has nothing on me. They can have their VERLORT. My broccoli would henceforth accompany me in my Portable Lunch Containment Object.
PLUCO is one of my few neologisms to catch on locally. It's short, easy to pronounce, not readily confused with the names of other kitchen-dwelling things, most of whose names I also don't know. Hmmm. I feel more acronyms coming on.
I knew I had arrived when someone asked me "what's in your PLUCO today?" When I hear a spontaneous "Do you want me to enplucofy that for you?" I shall alert the lexicographers.
31 July 2007
Infrequent Flier
I like California. Even though I live on the East Coast, I used to go to California fairly often - once and sometimes twice a year. Business, usually, with a few extra days of vacation at the beginning or end of the trip. As airline fares decreased, my trips to CA decreased proportionally.
No, that didn't make sense, but it's true. I, for whatever squishy human reason, don't like to be "cheated." Is a trip to California worth $500? Is it worth $400? Sure. Unless, that is, somebody else is paying $490 or $322. When I know the fare is what it is, I really don't mind paying it if it seems more or less reasonable. When I know I'm being charged more because of arbitrary reasons, restrictions, or "yield-management" programs, the East Coast starts looking more attractive to me. Does it cost the airline more to carry a passenger if he's not staying over Saturday night? Of course not. Misplaced sense of fairness or not, I won't pay it. And I won't go to bizarre lengths to meet their restrictions. I just think to myself "evil airline scum" and make alternative plans.
Which is not to say that I never fly or that I never go anywhere. Sometimes I do manage to get what seems to be the cheapest fare. (Mysteriously, I have no moral qualms about other people paying more than I do.) I just travel less frequently because I won't pay more, and won't invest the effort to pay less.
But I think I may have just been grounded...
One airline has mooted the notion of charging extra for "preferred" seats in the coach section. (Me pay to fly first class? Are you out of your mind?) 'Til now, when I walked up to the ticketing counter, all 6'4" (193cm) of me, the agent, not necessarily part of the "evil airline scum" axis, often spontaneously offered to seat me in an emergency exit row or other "preferred" seat. With surgery as the alternative, the answer was "Sure, thanks." Do I really and truly need the extra legroom? Maybe not. But it does help, and assures that I won't get stuck in the airplane after landing, discommoding the passengers next to me or perhaps providing entertainment for the cleaning crew. Is being tall a "handicap?" With regard to airline seating it could be considered one. One could argue that the ticketing agent is simply using common sense in offering these seats to unusually tall people. Certainly if one has a recognized handicap, the airlines are required by law to "accommodate" it to the extent necessary and possible. I'm sorry sir, the wheelchair row will cost an extra $50 just doesn't fly. (Yes, I did just write that.)
So what, then, of my idiosyncrasy of being unwilling to pay if others don't? Will I pay $15 to sit in an exit row, a boon that costs the airlines nothing and makes me willy-nilly a part of the emergency evacuation crew? Have I not regaled you with tales of the scenic wonders of the East Coast?
I truly don't know if I'm part of the problem that the airlines are having. Perhaps I have but one counterpart in California who won't travel east for the same eccentric reason. If so the country remains balanced and the airlines (evil scum that they are) laugh at us. But are there millions of us? Certainly everyone hates the airlines! Are they losing a serious percentage of discretionary flyers, potentially almost pure profit, because the airlines make travel so irritating and unattractive? Are they smart enough to have done surveys of non-flyers to find the answer? I'd like to think so, but "smart" and "airlines" don't seem to go together.
No, that didn't make sense, but it's true. I, for whatever squishy human reason, don't like to be "cheated." Is a trip to California worth $500? Is it worth $400? Sure. Unless, that is, somebody else is paying $490 or $322. When I know the fare is what it is, I really don't mind paying it if it seems more or less reasonable. When I know I'm being charged more because of arbitrary reasons, restrictions, or "yield-management" programs, the East Coast starts looking more attractive to me. Does it cost the airline more to carry a passenger if he's not staying over Saturday night? Of course not. Misplaced sense of fairness or not, I won't pay it. And I won't go to bizarre lengths to meet their restrictions. I just think to myself "evil airline scum" and make alternative plans.
Which is not to say that I never fly or that I never go anywhere. Sometimes I do manage to get what seems to be the cheapest fare. (Mysteriously, I have no moral qualms about other people paying more than I do.) I just travel less frequently because I won't pay more, and won't invest the effort to pay less.
But I think I may have just been grounded...
One airline has mooted the notion of charging extra for "preferred" seats in the coach section. (Me pay to fly first class? Are you out of your mind?) 'Til now, when I walked up to the ticketing counter, all 6'4" (193cm) of me, the agent, not necessarily part of the "evil airline scum" axis, often spontaneously offered to seat me in an emergency exit row or other "preferred" seat. With surgery as the alternative, the answer was "Sure, thanks." Do I really and truly need the extra legroom? Maybe not. But it does help, and assures that I won't get stuck in the airplane after landing, discommoding the passengers next to me or perhaps providing entertainment for the cleaning crew. Is being tall a "handicap?" With regard to airline seating it could be considered one. One could argue that the ticketing agent is simply using common sense in offering these seats to unusually tall people. Certainly if one has a recognized handicap, the airlines are required by law to "accommodate" it to the extent necessary and possible. I'm sorry sir, the wheelchair row will cost an extra $50 just doesn't fly. (Yes, I did just write that.)
So what, then, of my idiosyncrasy of being unwilling to pay if others don't? Will I pay $15 to sit in an exit row, a boon that costs the airlines nothing and makes me willy-nilly a part of the emergency evacuation crew? Have I not regaled you with tales of the scenic wonders of the East Coast?
I truly don't know if I'm part of the problem that the airlines are having. Perhaps I have but one counterpart in California who won't travel east for the same eccentric reason. If so the country remains balanced and the airlines (evil scum that they are) laugh at us. But are there millions of us? Certainly everyone hates the airlines! Are they losing a serious percentage of discretionary flyers, potentially almost pure profit, because the airlines make travel so irritating and unattractive? Are they smart enough to have done surveys of non-flyers to find the answer? I'd like to think so, but "smart" and "airlines" don't seem to go together.
Planet Formation
One of the hot areas in astronomy right now is "planets." In just a bit over a decade our state of knowledge has gone from "Earth is a planet, we think other stars have planets, too" to "Wow! Look at all them planets!" Quite a bit of progress! Concomitant with our enhanced knowledge of the existence of extrasolar planets has been the increase knowledge of how they are formed. When I was in grade school planetary distances followed Bode's law for reasons unknown, and the asteroid belt was formed from the breakup of some planet that should have been there. We can now observe circumstellar disks, we believe planets are formed in only millions of years, and in general are making rapid progress in understanding what's going on.
I am not an astronomer, although I try to pay attention. Always looking for a way to contribute to the art, it occurs to me that we have a perfect model for planetary formation under our beds. Disregarding subtle differences - gravity, atmospheric pressure, chemistry, and the like, doesn't it seem like dustbunnies have a lot in common with protoplanets? Maybe it's time for some serious academic writing.
Joni Mitchell sang "We are stardust." (I think Carl Sagan must have said it too; I hope he didn't sing it.) Planets, dustbunnies, all stardust!
I am not an astronomer, although I try to pay attention. Always looking for a way to contribute to the art, it occurs to me that we have a perfect model for planetary formation under our beds. Disregarding subtle differences - gravity, atmospheric pressure, chemistry, and the like, doesn't it seem like dustbunnies have a lot in common with protoplanets? Maybe it's time for some serious academic writing.
Joni Mitchell sang "We are stardust." (I think Carl Sagan must have said it too; I hope he didn't sing it.) Planets, dustbunnies, all stardust!
Do You Like Bread?
Neither a rhetorical question nor a colloquialism, that is a real Q that you should ask yourself. If you are like the majority of U.S. citizens, you are anywhere from somewhat overweight to, well, somewhat more than overweight. If you like bread, "never mind." But if you don't, or if you're simply indifferent as am I, here is a valuable diet hint:
Make your sandwiches without bread. Not only will give this you a frisson as you violate the hoary definition of "sandwich", it will save you 25 calories per slice. If you think this isn't terribly significant, consider that, ceteris paribus, if you normally eat a sandwich on alternate days, you will lose about three pounds a year. If you are an average-size person and start this regime in your teens, you will completely disappear before you're old enough to stop worrying about your weight.
Pretty good diet hint, eh? If you're thinking "how do you make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich without bread," you are clearly lacking in ingenuity.
Make your sandwiches without bread. Not only will give this you a frisson as you violate the hoary definition of "sandwich", it will save you 25 calories per slice. If you think this isn't terribly significant, consider that, ceteris paribus, if you normally eat a sandwich on alternate days, you will lose about three pounds a year. If you are an average-size person and start this regime in your teens, you will completely disappear before you're old enough to stop worrying about your weight.
Pretty good diet hint, eh? If you're thinking "how do you make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich without bread," you are clearly lacking in ingenuity.
29 July 2007
Save Gas With Your GPS
Along with many other Toyota Prius owners, I have become a gas-saving weenie. I drive at the speed limit, I don't use my brakes, I don't rush to the next red traffic light. In fact there are a bunch of subtle and not so subtle tricks I and anyone can use to increase mileage. Most of them are equally valid for ordinary (non-hybrid) gas guzzling vehicles. In many cases, they are more valid, since if you have a Prius you're already saving about half on your gas bill. Here's one I invented: I've never seen it advertised elsewhere, and it will go a long way to paying your subscription to this blog. Brought to you with the cooperation of the CATWOKE* folks and the PriUPS website, I offer a valuable gas-saving notion.
The First Light is the Killer
Try an experiment: Get your car up to 55 mph and, when able safely to do so, take your foot off the gas, put your eye on the odometer, and coast down to 15 or so mph. How far did you coast? Half a mile? Three quarters? If you get 20mpg and have to stop for a light instead of letting the car's inertia carrying you forward, you've just reduced your mileage for that gallon by 2 to 4 per cent! Are traffic lights evil or what? Of course, you rarely have to come to a screeching halt for a light. When you commute, you pretty much know their timing and sequence along your route and modulate your acceleration so as to minimize braking. Of course you do!
But what about the first light? When you get off the highway you have no idea where that light is in its sequence, and sometimes - not often - but sometimes, you do have to come to a screeching halt.
Not any more!
Your GPS Knows Where - and When - You Are
A well-known but only modestly appreciated feature of GPS units is their timekeeping precision. This is actually a fundamental characteristic of the system: without nanosecond time precision, metre**-level geographic positioning would be impossible. The point here is that your GPS will give you accurate time, not to the minute, but to the second (or nanosecond, if you need it).
A well-known but largely ignored feature of traffic lights is that they run on timers or, sometimes, computer control. Their controllers, in turn, get their timing from the electric grid, which is precise to the microsecond and whose long-term accuracy is as close to "perfect" as can be arranged.
Put these two facts together and realize that you can look at your GPS and know when the light is going to change. With this foreknowledge, you can modulate your speed a mile or two before you get to the light so as to arrive before it turns red or after it turns green. You will never have to stop for that light again!
Some Details
Some of you are way ahead of me, and have already figured out how to calculate the light schedules. If you haven't, it's pretty simple. Unless you want to stop and watch, which is sort of cheating, just drive normally and, using your GPS, log the times the light turns red. After you've accumulated a handful of times, jot them down and look for a pattern. For example, my traffic light nemesis happened to turn red every minute and a half when there were cars waiting in the cross direction, and would turn green when the sensor decided they had all left the intersection. The actual times were 00:00 (right on the hour), 01:30, 03:00, etc. All I had to do was either speed up a tiny bit or slow down somewhat more and I could make sure I didn't get to the light in the first 30 seconds or so after these times.
Objections?
But Richard - this is mathematics! I can't do math in my head!
Yes you can. If you are reading this, you are probably a human being. That's one of the things they can do. (If you are not a human being, please be sure to see www.ieti.org ).
But Richard - I don't have a GPS!
Go get one. If you're a taxpayer, your share of the $10 billion and counting invested in the system is already up there in space. A cheap GPS, even if you don't need one for navigation, is a useful thing to have. (And see follow-up, below.)
But Richard - this is ridiculous and you're being a jerk worrying about such minutiae.
I always have a problem with compound statements like that. No, it's not ridiculous, and yes, perhaps I am being a jerk, certainly not for the first or last time. However, this trick works, it saves gas, and if you already have a GPS it will cost you nothing. Moreover, according to recent medical findings, the brain exercise may save you from premature mental decay with its attendant healthcare costs.
I love the idea, but my traffic lights have no discernable pattern.
Your traffic light is a spawn of the devil and there is no simple remedy.
*Citizens Against the Waste of Kinetic Energy**I spell the distance of one metre, a little bit more than a "yard," as metre, even though my computer puts a little red line under it. A "meter" is a device used to make measurements, e.g., a voltmeter. A metre, little red line or not, is a distance in my blog.
Follow-up 28 July 2006
If you have a Prius with the navigation system, you do have a GPS. Although none of the standard navigation screens will give you GPS time to the second, see this blogitem for an inconvenient way of finding it.
The First Light is the Killer
Try an experiment: Get your car up to 55 mph and, when able safely to do so, take your foot off the gas, put your eye on the odometer, and coast down to 15 or so mph. How far did you coast? Half a mile? Three quarters? If you get 20mpg and have to stop for a light instead of letting the car's inertia carrying you forward, you've just reduced your mileage for that gallon by 2 to 4 per cent! Are traffic lights evil or what? Of course, you rarely have to come to a screeching halt for a light. When you commute, you pretty much know their timing and sequence along your route and modulate your acceleration so as to minimize braking. Of course you do!
But what about the first light? When you get off the highway you have no idea where that light is in its sequence, and sometimes - not often - but sometimes, you do have to come to a screeching halt.
Not any more!
Your GPS Knows Where - and When - You Are
A well-known but only modestly appreciated feature of GPS units is their timekeeping precision. This is actually a fundamental characteristic of the system: without nanosecond time precision, metre**-level geographic positioning would be impossible. The point here is that your GPS will give you accurate time, not to the minute, but to the second (or nanosecond, if you need it).
A well-known but largely ignored feature of traffic lights is that they run on timers or, sometimes, computer control. Their controllers, in turn, get their timing from the electric grid, which is precise to the microsecond and whose long-term accuracy is as close to "perfect" as can be arranged.
Put these two facts together and realize that you can look at your GPS and know when the light is going to change. With this foreknowledge, you can modulate your speed a mile or two before you get to the light so as to arrive before it turns red or after it turns green. You will never have to stop for that light again!
Some Details
Some of you are way ahead of me, and have already figured out how to calculate the light schedules. If you haven't, it's pretty simple. Unless you want to stop and watch, which is sort of cheating, just drive normally and, using your GPS, log the times the light turns red. After you've accumulated a handful of times, jot them down and look for a pattern. For example, my traffic light nemesis happened to turn red every minute and a half when there were cars waiting in the cross direction, and would turn green when the sensor decided they had all left the intersection. The actual times were 00:00 (right on the hour), 01:30, 03:00, etc. All I had to do was either speed up a tiny bit or slow down somewhat more and I could make sure I didn't get to the light in the first 30 seconds or so after these times.
Objections?
But Richard - this is mathematics! I can't do math in my head!
Yes you can. If you are reading this, you are probably a human being. That's one of the things they can do. (If you are not a human being, please be sure to see www.ieti.org ).
But Richard - I don't have a GPS!
Go get one. If you're a taxpayer, your share of the $10 billion and counting invested in the system is already up there in space. A cheap GPS, even if you don't need one for navigation, is a useful thing to have. (And see follow-up, below.)
But Richard - this is ridiculous and you're being a jerk worrying about such minutiae.
I always have a problem with compound statements like that. No, it's not ridiculous, and yes, perhaps I am being a jerk, certainly not for the first or last time. However, this trick works, it saves gas, and if you already have a GPS it will cost you nothing. Moreover, according to recent medical findings, the brain exercise may save you from premature mental decay with its attendant healthcare costs.
I love the idea, but my traffic lights have no discernable pattern.
Your traffic light is a spawn of the devil and there is no simple remedy.
*Citizens Against the Waste of Kinetic Energy**I spell the distance of one metre, a little bit more than a "yard," as metre, even though my computer puts a little red line under it. A "meter" is a device used to make measurements, e.g., a voltmeter. A metre, little red line or not, is a distance in my blog.
Follow-up 28 July 2006
If you have a Prius with the navigation system, you do have a GPS. Although none of the standard navigation screens will give you GPS time to the second, see this blogitem for an inconvenient way of finding it.
A Fan Letter to the Atlantic Ocean
Dear Mr. (or Ms.) Ocean
They say the world is getting smaller. Perhaps the distance between LA and Calais is shrinking every day, and we here in NJ are the center of a sandwich whose payload grows ever thinner. But your puissant waters are our protection, and so far they've been doing a great job, may they forever remain incompressible!
It seems that over there, on your Eastern side, they've been busy. Too busy. I just read a story about some people going around in a van looking at road signs. It seems that in Germany some towns have too many of them. Stupid ones, like "no cars" in front of roads where there's barely room for a pedestrian. The van people's job was to assess the value of each sign and have the useless and confusing ones removed. When they were done, they had selected quite a few for removal, noted that some needed cleaning, and found that some were "partially hidden by trees and bushes." No problem over there in Germany! "
The officials made plans to alert the local Ordnungsamt, or Department of Order, to instruct residents to trim their foliage."
The officials made plans to alert the local Ordnungsamt, or Department of Order, to instruct residents to trim their foliage."I know your concerns lie far beyond those of mortal men. We occasionally tickle you by swimming in your extremities, and you occasionally mock us by playing with the ships and submarines we have the temerity to use to explore you. I guess I can't expect you to assume this mission with any zeal or exclusivity, but even so you've been doing a great job and I hope you'll continue to do so. That mission is simply this: If anyone from Germany wants to pass over your great expanse with the idea of promoting the idea of starting an Ordnungsamt in the United States, demonstrate to him your fishes.
Thanks, Dude! (Or Dudess!) We love you!
Very, very respectfully indeed,
Richard
12 July 2007
Mulch Madness - The Winner!
Q: Why is a straw hat like a kiss on the telephone?
A: Because it isn't felt.
On 03 July I wrote a blogitem as the lead up to the the declaration of the winner of the Mulch Madness Contest. Yesterday, The Fourth of July, in addition to holding my annual BBQ party for friends (food) and their small human children (a pool with a deep end if necessary), I measured, to the best of my ability, the remanent heap'o'mulch so that a winner might be declared. Today I reduce the measurement to cubic furlongs, compare this official datum with the entries, and declare a winner.
The Prize
After much reflection, I selected a suitable prize. The criteria were:
It had to be funny.
It had to be worth something. A do-it-yourself bag of mulch, especially after it rained at the party, wouldn't do.
It could not require "shopping." I've had my fill of that for the year.
The Mulch Pile Itself
Volumetric measurement of an uncontained mulch heap does not lend itself to great precision. I have no large container of standard volume, and even if I did, I would have no easy way of packing it with mulch. Attempting to weigh the mulch would be futile even if I had the apparatus, as it varies strongly by water absorption. Accordingly, I unlimbered a tape measure and assessed the heap's dimensions as best I could. I had help and witnesses, lest the losers accuse me of manipulating the results. I managed to destroy the tape measure in the process of determining the circumference of the pile. This was not pique caused by my inability to find a tape measure calibrated in furlongs. As I reached its end it was done in by a simple twist of tape.
As you can see, the heap is somewhat conical in shape, but not axisymmetric as would be expected from a proper cone. I took the following measurements in inches (furlongs):
(Hence diameter of base: 485"/Π=154" (.0194)=D)
Height from ground to flat top 44" (.00556)=h
Slant height from left to top: 80" (.0101)
Slant height from right to top: 58" (.00732)
Diameter of flat top: 77" (.00972)=d
For an initial approximation, I calculated the volume (V) assuming it was the frustum of an axisymmetric cone (V = 0.2618*h*(D^2+D*d+d^2))
V = .2618 * 44 * (23716 + 11858 + 5929) = 478,000 cubic inches or 9.62*10-7 cubic furlongs.
The Entries Considered
1/4 heap: I left this one in because it was valid, but it's clear by inspection that the 1.3 cubic Prii response is closer, so this loses by comparison.
3.6 billion thimblefuls: Here we have a dilemma. How many cubic furlongs is a thimble? Metric thimble or English? The entrant didn't specify. Equally problematic, mulch is a granular, largely scale-free material, and if one actually tried to measure its volume by thimble, he would find that a large proportion would not fit in the "instrument." We investigate further and find in the first line of the very first Googled item states "There are no standard thimble sizes." In addition to the common thimble used for sewing, "thimble" is a term of art in scientific fields and I've found references of 1.5ml to 120ml, a volume ratio of almost 100 to one. I contacted the entrant requesting disambiguation but received only silence. In good conscience, then, I must discount this entry since the 1/4-heap entry is by definition off by no more than 4 to 1, and actually somewhat less.
75.7 cubic cubits: Finally one for which I don't have to think. Google says "75.7 (cubic cubits) = 8.88664538 × 10-7 cubic furlongs", which differs from my own fairly imprecise measurement by less than 10%.
1.3 cubic Prii: This entry would be a potential winner since the heap'o'mulch and the car are at least similar in scale. The official Prius dimensions are (Height/Width/Length) 58.1"*67.9"*175.0", or 1.389*10^-6 cubic furlongs if it were truly rectangular. Multiply this by 1.3 as the entry specifies to get 1.806*10^-6 cubic furlongs, which is roughly twice the actual mulch measurement. This forces one to answer the question of whether there is enough non-rectangularity to a Prius to account for about half the volume of the space it would occupy were it rectangular. Carl Zeiss Inc. manufactures coordinate tracing machines that, along with some complicated mathematics and a computer, can determine the volume of irregular objects. I don't own one. I could have carefully sealed all the Prius openings, placed it in the pool, and measured its displacement. Unfortunately I ran out of silicone sealant before I could even finish all the doors, much less the trunk and engine compartment, so I decided to eschew this option. I could possibly call Toyota on the telephone and find their design department and ask them, but I don't speak Japanese and hate the telephone. Even worse, this would be research. I finally decided to look at the Prius and at the mulch pile and at the Prius and at the mulch pile and... When I was done, I concluded that the 1.3 Prii estimate, albeit a very reasonable one, is probably about 50% high, while the 765.7 cubic cubits answer is only 10% low.
Given the disparity between the other answers and the closest one, I thankfully decided that I didn't need to refine my measurement to account for the lack of symmetry.
The Winner
Accordingly, it is my pleasure to award the prize to "Rick." who, as you will see from his entry, is 
I had Rick and another entrant separately pose with the prize, although it had not been officially awarded yet. It has been now, and I shall send it to him. By odd coincidence, Joan, Rick's straw-hatted companion for the day, left that hat at my house, and I shall return it to her in the same package as the prize, which is an exploding penguin for the television set.
I neglected to ask Rick if he even has a television set. I wouldn't care to speculate either way. And I swear that my judging of the entries was not in any way swayed by the fact that awarding it to Rick would save me postage.
The Entry
I have printed this verbatim, with no editing other than font and line-length changes. THIS is how you enter a mulch-pile-estimation contest. Good work, Rick!
The pictured mulch pile is described as having the footprint of a car. Given the shovel in the picture, it appears to be a small car. Going to the Internet (you can find pretty much anything on the Internet) we find the dimensions of a VW Beetle as 4.08m by 1.72m by 1.50 m. Moving to more familiar measurements, we get 8.93 cubits by 3.77 cubits by 3.28 cubits. With some correction to account for the fact that neither the mulch pile nor the VW Beetle are true rectangular parallelepipeds, we get an initial estimated mulch volume of 82.81861 cubic cubits (use of Excel permits extreme precision if not extreme accuracy).
Now we need to consider the actions which may reduce the size of the mulch pile before July 4:
Gravitational compression will certainly occur, though it is a fairly slow process. Additional compression may occur if there is rainfall before July 4. If there is wind, particularly wind without rain, some of the mulch will blow away. And finally, if perhaps least likely, some wheelbarrow loads of mulch may actually be removed to the garden. We examine each of these factors.
The pile will settle over time. While measures of mulch density are available on the Internet (unfortunately they range from "near 0" kg/m3 [see this article] to 33kg/m3 so they are of minimal practical use), values for mulch's resistance to compression forces were not immediately available. Since the mulch pile is new and thus loosely packed, we assume compression of about 1 inch 1/18 cubit per week. So over the three weeks until July 4, the pile looses 3/18 (= 0.167) cubits in height (other dimensions are not significantly affected by gravity).
While rainfall data for Kinnelon were not immediately available, Morristown's average rainfall in June is 0.228 cubits. Correcting for three weeks instead of the entire month gives 0.159 cubits of rain. We estimate that this will cause another 0.11 cubits of height loss.
Wind data is scarce. However, there is a 1:200 chance of a hurricane hitting New Jersey (the Internet again). June is not a common month for hurricanes; only 6.5% of hurricanes that hit New Jersey occur in June. So overall, there is a 0.03% chance of a hurricane affecting the mulch pile. Of course, in the unlikely event of a hurricane the mulch pile would be significantly affected, likely losing 50% or more of its volume. So the hurricane effect is estimated at 0.03% x 50% x 82.81861 cubic cubits, or 0.013 cubic cubits.
If any of the mulch is actually used, it will be removed from the pile by wheelbarrow. The volume of a typical wheelbarrow is 170 liters (the Internet seems fixated on metric units for some reason). This comes to 19.3 pecks or 1.78 cubic cubits. While reports indicate that the hostal units have actually removed some mulch from the pile to date, we must consider the time demands of party preparations in the coming weeks. We estimate the probability of mulch removal via the wheelbarrow mechanism at 5%, so the contribution is 0.089 cubic cubits.
All together, this gives an estimate for final July 4 mulch volume of 75.72247 cubic cubits.
09 July 2007
The Wages of Short
A thoroughly unproductive Sunday spent reading newspapers and magazines*, lolling in the back yard, and munching on the leftsover of some great parties nonetheless led to the revelation of a valuable, memorable, and hopefully true factoid: 
*OK, perhaps not totally completely unproductive. Physics Today had an article on the unexpected observation of a "pair-production" supernova!
08 July 2007
Channeling Colonel Hall
Col. Hall was the commanding officer of Fort Baxter, Kansas. He would enjoy now and then a conversation with the silver-tongued, conniving Sgt. Bilko. Bilko convinced his colonel that he was being helpful and working in the best interest of the fort, the army, and the soldiers. Bilko, of course, was in the process of fleecing one or all of the above in some preposterous scheme, usually involving gambling. Colonel Hall, charmed by Bilko, would let him get away with it all, at least during the conversation. But when Bilko left the room, Hall was overcome with a nimbus of realization and looked straight at the camera:
"What is he up to?" Cut to commercial.
What is the World Up To?
Something is Going On. When Sgt. Bilko, metaphorically represented by the United States Postal Service, keeps handing me free goodies, I know he's Up To Something. And, like Col. Hall, I just don't know (yet!) what it might be, and, like Col. Hall, I'm getting nervous. The three dollar bills sent to me in transparent plastic envelopes was the first part, at least in the chronology of my blog. The second was the lovely little blue box with the dollars and (who knows?) the dye pack. The third? A few days ago, I received a $100 gift certificate to Neiman Marcus.
"Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action, Mr Bond."(Auric Goldfinger channeling Ian Fleming.)
There is a bit of spurious drama in the above list. I did not actually receive the gift certificate itself. I had to work for it. Instead of getting the gift certificate outright, the marketing brochure from Lexus that offered this boon had to be "validated" first. That's right: I was to be forced to test-drive a luxury car. Only after this harrowing experience was I to be permitted to fill in a code on the Lexus web site that would result in my gift certificate arriving in "six to eight weeks." I was up to the challenge.
Luxury
Luxury is a word that, for me, has less association with "creature comfort" than it does with "cleaning the lake" à la Monty Python. Not that there's anything wrong with creature comfort! I'm just too cheap to pay for it. Therefore, even though Lexus offers a hybrid vehicle similar to the Toyota Highlander that I've been considering to augment my fleet of generators, it had never occurred to me to purchase one. Sustaining as I did this earnest plea to scrutinize a luxury vehicle, I felt I should give it a try, either to validate my vulgar predilections in vehicular purchase, or, against odds, to convince myself that the Lexus hybrid is for me. I searched the web for the nearest Lexus dealers and came up with two. I selected the one in Englewood with Col. Hall in mind.
Entering the dealer"ship" I found myself in a different world. Salestrons wearing suits and ties! A friendly receptionist. A refined and placid atmosphere. They sell cars here? Pressing on, my jeans- and T-shirt-clad self held high the marketing brochure and declared my mission. A representative was summoned, and, after formalities (askance look, collection of name and phone number), we went for a jaunt. I believe the vehicle was a "RXh 400h AWD." And a nice vehicle it was. My insistence on "blue" doesn't carry over to dealer demos, and this was a shiny and very clean black. No need to detail the test drive: Normally my main concern is "Do I FIT." (I'm not a candidate for a Porsche any time soon!) The answer in this case was "Yes." Plenty of headroom and legroom, two items that are occasionally problematic. I was pleasantly surprised by the agility and turning radius. I'm not used to SUVs and this was not as clunky as expected. Nice acceleration, too—the hybrid system is good for more than emergency electrical power, it seems. Would I be happy with one of these? Sure! Would I buy it in preference to the hybrid Highlander?
Stay Tuned
The Lexus and the Highlander are essentially the same vehicle, or so I understand. However Toyota is revamping the Highlander for model year '08, and both the standard and the hybrid are due to be available in just a few months. My choice, therefore, would be between a brand new model Highlander, and a several-year-old model Lexus for a higher price. You can see which way I would lean. However, I have not yet seen the specifications for the Highlander. Conceivably it will embody a fatal flaw, such as being unavailable in blue or having a battery pack with an unusable voltage. Other potential customers for either vehicle might not regard these issues as seriously as I do, and if they start snapping up the Highlanders, one might find that the price of the Lexus has suddenly decreased, and despite the ritzy showroom they're "ready to deal." Realistically? I see myself folding into the Highlander in due course.
My Fourth Col. Hall Moment
Was it enough to get a free Neiman Marcus gift certificate? If three times is "enemy action," what is four? As I was contemplating which Lexus dealer to attend, I had a sudden realization:
It was Friday. The last business day of the month. The last business day before July! Chocolate shops often close for vacation in July. There is a chocolate shop in Englewood, almost walking distance from the Lexus dealer. Today would be its last business day before vacation. And that means...
Chocolate sale! 20% off!
THEY are up to something. I hope I figure it out before it's too late.
NP: Instead of a musical selection, I have been listening to a demo from ODIOGO, pronounced "Audio-Go." The company purports to supply one's blog as a podcast, in a manner similar to what I have been doing with my MP3 link. However, instead of having to read it myself, Odiogo has a computer that converts text to speech that will create the MP3 file on my behalf. Their demo is surprisingly good. At least it seems so to me, but I haven't listened to a lot of text-to-speech experiments in recent years.
I'm keen to try this out. If I succeed, you will see a second audio link below the MP3-LISTEN link in the left column. If you have the time and the patience, listen to them both and see what you think.
"What is he up to?" Cut to commercial.
What is the World Up To?
Something is Going On. When Sgt. Bilko, metaphorically represented by the United States Postal Service, keeps handing me free goodies, I know he's Up To Something. And, like Col. Hall, I just don't know (yet!) what it might be, and, like Col. Hall, I'm getting nervous. The three dollar bills sent to me in transparent plastic envelopes was the first part, at least in the chronology of my blog. The second was the lovely little blue box with the dollars and (who knows?) the dye pack. The third? A few days ago, I received a $100 gift certificate to Neiman Marcus.
"Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action, Mr Bond."(Auric Goldfinger channeling Ian Fleming.)
There is a bit of spurious drama in the above list. I did not actually receive the gift certificate itself. I had to work for it. Instead of getting the gift certificate outright, the marketing brochure from Lexus that offered this boon had to be "validated" first. That's right: I was to be forced to test-drive a luxury car. Only after this harrowing experience was I to be permitted to fill in a code on the Lexus web site that would result in my gift certificate arriving in "six to eight weeks." I was up to the challenge.
Luxury
Luxury is a word that, for me, has less association with "creature comfort" than it does with "cleaning the lake" à la Monty Python. Not that there's anything wrong with creature comfort! I'm just too cheap to pay for it. Therefore, even though Lexus offers a hybrid vehicle similar to the Toyota Highlander that I've been considering to augment my fleet of generators, it had never occurred to me to purchase one. Sustaining as I did this earnest plea to scrutinize a luxury vehicle, I felt I should give it a try, either to validate my vulgar predilections in vehicular purchase, or, against odds, to convince myself that the Lexus hybrid is for me. I searched the web for the nearest Lexus dealers and came up with two. I selected the one in Englewood with Col. Hall in mind.
Entering the dealer"ship" I found myself in a different world. Salestrons wearing suits and ties! A friendly receptionist. A refined and placid atmosphere. They sell cars here? Pressing on, my jeans- and T-shirt-clad self held high the marketing brochure and declared my mission. A representative was summoned, and, after formalities (askance look, collection of name and phone number), we went for a jaunt. I believe the vehicle was a "RXh 400h AWD." And a nice vehicle it was. My insistence on "blue" doesn't carry over to dealer demos, and this was a shiny and very clean black. No need to detail the test drive: Normally my main concern is "Do I FIT." (I'm not a candidate for a Porsche any time soon!) The answer in this case was "Yes." Plenty of headroom and legroom, two items that are occasionally problematic. I was pleasantly surprised by the agility and turning radius. I'm not used to SUVs and this was not as clunky as expected. Nice acceleration, too—the hybrid system is good for more than emergency electrical power, it seems. Would I be happy with one of these? Sure! Would I buy it in preference to the hybrid Highlander?
Stay Tuned
The Lexus and the Highlander are essentially the same vehicle, or so I understand. However Toyota is revamping the Highlander for model year '08, and both the standard and the hybrid are due to be available in just a few months. My choice, therefore, would be between a brand new model Highlander, and a several-year-old model Lexus for a higher price. You can see which way I would lean. However, I have not yet seen the specifications for the Highlander. Conceivably it will embody a fatal flaw, such as being unavailable in blue or having a battery pack with an unusable voltage. Other potential customers for either vehicle might not regard these issues as seriously as I do, and if they start snapping up the Highlanders, one might find that the price of the Lexus has suddenly decreased, and despite the ritzy showroom they're "ready to deal." Realistically? I see myself folding into the Highlander in due course.
My Fourth Col. Hall Moment
Was it enough to get a free Neiman Marcus gift certificate? If three times is "enemy action," what is four? As I was contemplating which Lexus dealer to attend, I had a sudden realization:
It was Friday. The last business day of the month. The last business day before July! Chocolate shops often close for vacation in July. There is a chocolate shop in Englewood, almost walking distance from the Lexus dealer. Today would be its last business day before vacation. And that means...
Chocolate sale! 20% off!
THEY are up to something. I hope I figure it out before it's too late.
NP: Instead of a musical selection, I have been listening to a demo from ODIOGO, pronounced "Audio-Go." The company purports to supply one's blog as a podcast, in a manner similar to what I have been doing with my MP3 link. However, instead of having to read it myself, Odiogo has a computer that converts text to speech that will create the MP3 file on my behalf. Their demo is surprisingly good. At least it seems so to me, but I haven't listened to a lot of text-to-speech experiments in recent years.
I'm keen to try this out. If I succeed, you will see a second audio link below the MP3-LISTEN link in the left column. If you have the time and the patience, listen to them both and see what you think.
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