Advice From Will Rogers

Never squat with your spurs on

Will Rogers, who died in a 1935 plane crash, was one of the
greatest political sages this country has ever known. 
Some of his sayings: 
1. Never slap a man who's chewing tobacco.
2. Never kick a cow chip on a hot day.
3. There are two theories to arguing with a woman. Neither works.
4. Never miss a good chance to shut up.
5. Always drink upstream from the herd.
6. If you find yourself in a hole, stop digging.
7. The quickest way to double your money is to fold it and put it back into your pocket.
8. There are three kinds of men:

The ones that learn by reading. The few who learn by observation. The rest of them have to pee on the electric fence and find out for themselves.
9. Good judgment comes from experience, and a lot of that comes from bad judgment.
10. If you're riding' ahead of the herd, take a look back every now and then to make sure it's still there.
11. Lettin' the cat outta the bag is a whole lot easier'n puttin' it back.
12. After eating an entire bull, a mountain lion felt so good he started roaring.
He kept it up until a hunter came along and shot him.
The moral: When you're full of bull, keep your mouth shut.

ABOUT GROWING OLDER... 
First ~Eventually you will reach a point when you stop lying about your age and start bragging about it. 
Second ~ The older we get, the fewer things seem worth waiting in line for. 
Third ~ Some people try to turn back their odometers. Not me; I want people to know 'why' I look this way.
I've traveled a long way, and some of the roads weren't paved. 
Fourth ~ When you are dissatisfied and would like to go back to youth, think of Algebra. 
Fifth ~ You know you are getting old when everything either dries up or leaks. 
Sixth ~ I don't know how I got over the hill without getting to the top. 
Seventh ~ One of the many things no one tells you about aging is that it's such a nice change from being young. 
Eighth ~ One must wait until evening to see how splendid the day has been. 
Ninth ~ Being young is beautiful, but being old is comfortable. 
Tenth ~ Long ago, when men cursed and beat the ground with sticks, it was called witchcraft.
Today it's called golf. 
And, finally ~ If you don't learn to laugh at trouble, you won't have anything to laugh at when you're old.

Run or Walk?

Click here for a link to the video.

A War Story You Haven't Heard

Click here for a link to the video.

Cleaning Windows on World's Tallest Building

Click here for a link to the video.

About That Snow Flake

Click here for a link to the video.

Kimmel's Clip of the Year

Click here for a link to the video.

NASA's Rubber Room

From Gizmodo:

Inside NASA’s Mysterious Rubber Room

Walter Scriptunas II

Ever since learning about the Rubber Room and Blast Room deep below launch Pad 39A at Kennedy Space Center I had been hopeful that I would one day get to photograph this mysterious remnant of the Apollo Program. I had seen very few photos of this room online and by talking to friends at KSC I seemed to have confirmed that access to this underground bunker had been very limited over the years.

Following the end of the Shuttle Program and safing of the launch pads, access has become a little bit easier. There are two Rubber and Blast Rooms built to identical blueprints, one under launch pad 39A and another under 39B. Just recently, the rooms under 39B were closed off due to concerns from peeling lead based paints, which were commonly used during the era. Luckily for me, due to a different contractor building launch pad 39A, the Rubber and Blast Rooms were painted using non-lead based paint and is in much better shape allowing for the occasional visit. I would finally get the chance to enter the Rubber Room for an assignment with SpaceflightNow.

Launch Pad 39A was the starting point of all the Saturn V rockets to the moon except for Apollo 10. Before each mission, each astronaut was trained on how to use the room. An exploding Saturn V was calculated to have the power of a small nuclear bomb and an explosion would have completely destroyed the 36-story rocket and leveled the launch pad. NASA needed to come up with a series of contingencies to keep astronauts and pad workers safe in the case of a suspected problem that would lead to an explosion. One of these contingencies was a room located 40ft under the top of the launch pad. The room was accessed via a 200ft long slide from the base of the mobile launch platform.

In the event of a possible explosion, astronauts would have exited the capsule and entered into a rapid descent elevator that would have got them to the base of the MLP in 30 seconds (this doesn't seem very rapid to me). After reaching the base, they would jump into the slide taking them to the rubber room. After arriving inside the rubber room, they would take a few short steps over to the Blast Room, closing the armored door behind them. The room, with its floor mounted on a series of springs, has 20 chairs, enough for the astronauts and closeout crew and could be accommodated for 24 hours. Due to the fact that a fire would in most cases start at the base of the rocket and the time it would take for astronauts to reach the slide, the room was primarily designed for the close-out crew. The astronauts had another option of baskets and slide wires that would take them away from the pad and to safety, similar to what was used during the Space Shuttle Program.

Accessing the rooms was not what I expected at all. From the West facing side of the pad you enter into the Environmental Control Systems Room (ECS), this room is responsible for producing the clean air that is fed into the Mobile Launch Platform, Payload Change-out Room and other portions of the pad. After walking past a series of blowers and piping, you walk through a steel door and in front of you; you immediately notice the large bank vault looking door that leads you into the domed blast room. The room has two entrances, one that leads into the Rubber Room and another that leads into the egress tunnel that would takes you 1000ft West of the pad, which I passed when entering from the ECS.

My tour would start in the Rubber Room so I proceeded through the blast room and past another large steel door. Upon entering the dimly lit room, which added to the mystique of it all, I quickly noticed how the room got it name as the walls and floor are completely covered in rubber over a soft cushion that was meant to absorb the blast. The room has been virtually left untouched since the end of Apollo and is in surprisingly good condition. The rubber floor and walls are still soft to the touch and the floor is still spongy as I walked back and forth.

Inside, the chamber held 20 chairs, a toilet and carbon dioxide scrubbing equipment to keep the occupants alive until rescue teams arrive.

Although this room never had to be used, it still serves as somewhat of a time-capsule into the past. It was very cool to experience this room and make photos inside of it to share with those who have not seen it before.

I recently created a Facebook page devoted to my photography where you can stay up to date on recent shoots. Be sure to "like" the page so that you can stay up to date on what is going on!

Other awesome stories by Walter Scriptunas

A Ride Into History on the Cannonball

Parading Into Retirement

Shuttle Endeavour Powered for One of the Final Times

More Bets You Can Win

Click here for a link to the video.

One-handed Basketball Player

Click here for a link to the video.

Being More Productive

Click here for a link to the video.

Great Mechanical Principles

~ A Few Of The Greatest Mechanical Principles Of All Time ~

Here are 9 of the greatest mechanical principles and inventions,

which show the wonder of the human mind.

Simple animation to explain complex principles:

1: Aircraft Radial Engine
TOP rod is the 'master' rod, connected to the crankshaft. All the other rods connect to the 'master rod' base with their own 'rod bearing'



2: Oval Regulation

3: Sewing Machines (always was a mystery to me)

4: Malta Cross movement - second hand movement used to control the clock


5: Auto Change file mechanism

THIS IS HOW YOUR 4 SPEED MANUAL TRANSMISSION WORKS


6: Auto Constant Velocity Universal Joint
.ON ALL FRONF WHEEL DRIVE VEHICLES.



7: Gun Ammunition loading system

8: Rotary Engine - an internal combustion engine,

the heat rather than the piston movement into rotary movement


9: Boxter Engine - it's cylinders lined up side by side

VW & SUBARU & SMALL AIRCRAFT ENGINES

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

Balancing Nails - Could You Have Solved The :Problem?

Click here for a link to the video.

The Lowly Typewriter

Click here for a link to the video.

Great Views of Planet Earth

Red Stripe at it Again

Click here for a link to the video.

Fallon's "Night Before Christmas"

Click here for a link to the video.

Another Jingle Bell Version

Click here for a link to the video.

A Perfect Score

Click here for a link to the video.

Bowater Retiree Dinner?

Click here for a link to the video.

Where is Texas Going?

Click here for a link to the video.

A Big Fire Place

Click here for a link to the video.

Death of Paper

From techcrunch:

The Death Of Paper

RYAN LAWLER

posted yesterday

31 Comments

I entered a movie a few weeks ago by flashing a Passbook receipt. It was my first time doing so, and the process went about as seamlessly as one would hope. I just opened up the Passbook entry, showed it to the ticket checker and voila! Access was approved!

That movie theater experience is just one example where digital tools have overtaken the need for paper or printed receipts: I’ve taken to using mobile boarding passes when possible, rather than printing them out at the airport. I pay with Square Wallet whenever available, rather than having vendors print out receipts for me to endorse. I pay my rent, cable, phone, and all other utilities online. In the past two years since moving into my apartment, I’ve written a total of 24 checks. Just one per month, maybe less.

All small things, it seems, and things that I’m thinking less and less about. The behavior is becoming automatic, but it highlights a shift in the foundational layer of commerce and information exchange that we’ve undergone.

Most of the examples above are about how spending or commerce habits have changed with the help of Internet- and mobile-powered money exchange, but it’s not the only aspect of my life that’s gone digital. I haven’t bought a physical book for myself in I don’t know how long, instead purchasing and reading books on my iPad. And lest we forget, I write for a publication that appears only online. But I also only really access any other publications over the Internet — I can’t remember the last time I had newsprint smudging my fingers.

There are those who would argue that this is not necessarily a good thing, that there are real advantages to having and owning physical things, like books, for instance. Or actual analog photos, for instance. In a world filled with Instagrams, where the only place one ever sees photos of his friends is online, one of my favorite startups is Sincerely, which makes it easier for people to print out and distribute their digital photos to others.

And then there’s the environmental argument against — that we’re routinely destroying millions of square miles in printing out all sorts of goods, whether they be newspapers or receipts or airline boarding passes, all of which have pretty limited value after a certain amount of time, and most of which end up in the trash. (Or hopefully recycled.)

But there’s a bigger question about what happens to all this information as it’s digitized. And it’s not just books and information put on paper that fall into this category, but all matter of information as it goes from some physical, semi-permanent medium to online. I’m talking about films, which existed on projected reels and tape and then discs, to music, which at some point used to be etched into records, and then cassettes and CDs.

So much of what we know about the past has come from documents passed down to us, whether they be on stone tablets or cuneiform or, well, paper. What does it say about us as a culture that is slowly killing off this method of information transferral. In 20 years, if there are no physical books, what will future cultures know about us in 220 years, when digital memories are likely wiped away?

This is something I’ve been thinking a lot about over the last few years, but the death of paper is only beginning to seem like a reality now. When the nuclear apocalypse hits, will all our bits and bytes survive, or will evidence of our thoughts and culture just disappear into the ether?

[Images courtesy of Flickr users Salim Fadhley, Procsilas Moscas, and Annie Mole.]

Pearl Harbor Revisited

The story below, on the anniversary of Pearl Harbor, was surprising too graphic to be published in 1942. However, it is worth reading today.
From the Washington Post:

Hono­lulu after Pearl Harbor: A report published for the first time, 71 years later

Video: Betty McIntosh’s account of the attack on Pearl Harbor went unpublished until today. Now 97, she’s still sharp as a whip and speaks to The Fold’s Brook Silva-Braga about what she remembers from that infamous day and her later work as a wartime spy.

•   Text Size
• Print
• E-mail
• Reprints

By Elizabeth P. McIntosh, Published: December 6

On Dec. 7, 1941, when Japanese planes attacked Pearl Harbor, I was working as a reporter for the Hono­lulu Star-Bulletin. After a week of war, I wrote a story directed at Hawaii’s women; I thought it would be useful for them to know what I had seen. It might help prepare them for what lay ahead. But my editors thought the graphic content would be too upsetting for readers and decided not to run my article. It appears here for the first time.

For seven ghastly, confused days, we have been at war. To the women of Hawaii, it has meant a total disruption of home life, a sudden acclimation to blackout nights, terrifying rumors, fear of the unknown as planes drone overhead and lorries shriek through the streets.

229

Comments

• Weigh In
• Corrections?

Personal Post

(Courtesy of Elizabeth P. McIntosh) - Elizabeth P. McIntosh interviews a U.S. sailor in Hono­lulu. She wrote an account of the days after the Dec. 7, 1941, attack on Pearl Harbor, which her editors decided not to publish. It appears here the first time.

More from Outlook

Petraeus: Not a hero, but not a failure

Greg Jaffe NOV 30

His record is somewhere in between.

Meet your hologram

Jeremy Bailenson NOV 30

Our digital avatars need protection.

Five myths about Apple

Darrell Etherington NOV 30

Can it keep innovating? Can it keep growing?

The seven days may stretch to seven years, and the women of Hawaii will have to accept a new routine of living. It is time, now, after the initial confusion and terror have subsided, to sum up the events of the past week, to make plans for the future.

It would be well, perhaps, to review the events of the past seven days and not minimize the horror, to better prepare for what may come again.

I have a story to tell, as a reporter, that I think the women of Hawaii should hear. I tell it because I think it may help other women in the struggle, so they will not take the past events lightly.

I reported for work immediately on Sunday morning when the first news — Oahu is being attacked — crackled over the radio, sandwiched in a church program.

Like the rest of Hawaii, I refused to believe it. All along the sunny road to town were people just coming out of church, dogs lazy in the driveways, mynas in noisy convention.

Then, from the neighborhood called Punchbowl, I saw a formation of black planes diving straight into the ocean off Pearl Harbor. The blue sky was punctured with anti-aircraft smoke puffs. Suddenly, there was a sharp whistling sound, almost over my shoulder, and below, down on School Street. I saw a rooftop fly into the air like a pasteboard movie set.

For the first time, I felt that numb terror that all of London has known for months. It is the terror of not being able to do anything but fall on your stomach and hope the bomb won’t land on you. It’s the helplessness and terror of sudden visions of a ripping sensation in your back, shrapnel coursing through your chest, total blackness, maybe death.

The vision of death became reality when I was assigned to cover the emergency room of the hospital.

The first victims of the Japanese-American war were brought there on that bright Sunday morning.

Bombs were still dropping over the city as ambulances screamed off into the heart of the destruction. The drivers were blood-sodden when they returned, with stories of streets ripped up, houses burned, twisted shrapnel and charred bodies of children.

In the morgue, the bodies were laid on slabs in the grotesque positions in which they had died. Fear contorted their faces. Their clothes were blue-black from incendiary bombs. One little girl in a red sweater, barefoot, still clutched a piece of jump-rope in her hand.

Video: Betty McIntosh’s account of the attack on Pearl Harbor went unpublished until today. Now 97, she’s still sharp as a whip and speaks to The Fold’s Brook Silva-Braga about what she remembers from that infamous day and her later work as a wartime spy.

•   Text Size
• Print
• E-mail
• Reprints

Firefighters from the Hickam Air Force Base carried the victims in. The men had a red T marked on their foreheads, mute testimony of the efficiency of first-aiders in giving tetanus shots to ward off lockjaw. The body of a man with a monogrammed shirt, H.A.D., was marked DOA (dead on arrival), trundled off to make room for victims who were still breathing.

Personal Post

(Courtesy of Elizabeth P. McIntosh) - Elizabeth P. McIntosh interviews a U.S. sailor in Hono­lulu. She wrote an account of the days after the Dec. 7, 1941, attack on Pearl Harbor, which her editors decided not to publish. It appears here the first time.

More from Outlook

Petraeus: Not a hero, but not a failure

Greg Jaffe NOV 30

His record is somewhere in between.

Meet your hologram

Jeremy Bailenson NOV 30

Our digital avatars need protection.

Five myths about Apple

Darrell Etherington NOV 30

Can it keep innovating? Can it keep growing?

There was blood and the fear of death — and death itself — in the emergency room as doctors calmly continued to treat the victims of this new war. Interns were taping up windows to prevent them from crashing into the emergency area as bombs fell and the dead and wounded continued to arrive. I had never known that blood could be so bright red.

Returning to the city, I felt a mounting sense of fear as Honolulu began to realize that more was in the air than an Army alert.

I went to a bombed store on King Street, where I often, in times past, stopped for a Coke at the cool drug counter.

Seven little stores, including my drugstore, had nearly completely burned down. Charred, ripply walls, as high as the first story, alone remained to give any hint of where the store had been. At the smashed soda fountain was a half-eaten chocolate sundae. Scorched bonbons were scattered on the sidewalk. There were odd pieces lying in the wreckage, half-burned Christmas cards, on one, the words “Hark the Herald” still visible. There were twisted bedsprings, half-burned mattresses, cans of food, a child’s blackened bicycle, a lunch box, a green raveled sweater, a Bang-Up comic book, ripped awnings.

I ran out of notepaper and reached down and picked up a charred batch of writing paper, still wet from a fire hose. There was, too, the irony of Christmas tinsel, cellophane, decorations. A burned doll, with moving eyes, singed curls and straw bonnet, like a miniature corpse, lay in the wreckage.

That Sunday after dusk there was the all-night horror of attack in the dark. Sirens shrieking, sharp, crackling police reports and the tension of a city wrapped in fear.

Then, in the nightmare of Monday and Tuesday, there was the struggle to keep normal when planes zoomed overhead and guns cracked out at an unseen enemy. There was blackout and suspicion riding the back of wild rumors:Parachutists in the hills! Poison in your food! Starvation and death were all that was left in a tourist bureau paradise.

I talked with evacuees. From Hickam, a nurse who had dropped to the floor in the hospital kitchen as machine gun bullets dotted a neat row of holes directly above her; from Schofield, a woman who wanted me to send word to her sweetheart “somewhere in Honolulu” that she was still alive; from Pearl Harbor, a nurse who wanted scraps of paper and pencil stubs to give to the boys in the hospital who had last messages they wanted sent home; a little girl named Theda who had a big doll named Nancy and who told me in a quiet voice that “Daddy was killed at Hickam.”

At the office there were frantic calls from all sorts of women — housewives, stenographers, debutantes — wanting to know what they could do during the day, when husbands and brothers were away and there was nothing left but to listen to the radio and imagine that all hell had broken out on another part of the island.

It was then that I realized how important women can be in a war-torn world.

There is a job for every woman in Hawaii to do.

I discovered that when I visited the Red Cross centers, canteens, evacuee districts, the motor corps headquarters.

There is great organization in Honolulu, mapped out thoughtfully and competently by women who have had experience in World War I, who have looked ahead and foreseen the carnage of the past seven days and planned.

outlook@washpost.com

After her journalism career, Elizabeth P. McIntosh served in the Office of Strategic Services and the Central Intelligence Agency before retiring to Prince William County. She is the author of four books.

Read more from Outlook, friend us on Facebook, and follow us on Twitter.