Moby English

From time to time "people" ask me what horrible thing occurred in my life to result in the pile of ripe prose before you. While I'm sure it's the accumulation of many things, mostly unrelated to winding mazes of twisty passages or evil HVAC systems. No, most of what drove me to start putting these "thoughts" to paper was wrapped up in my "education." (Promise, I'm done with quotes for this post. I only do that when I haven't been using my right pinky finger much...)

Included below is a sample transcript from my infallible memory regarding a conversation I had in 7th grade or so. This transcript is about as exact as I can make it, though my thoughts about this teacher may have softened a bit over the years and may be remembering that he was nicer than was strictly true. For example, the blood mentioned below is assumed to be my own blood, but could in-fact be from multiple donors and/or animals. How much blood does it take to soak a yeardstick end-to-end to the point where it obscures the numbers? Those of you that quickly answered, please read my Wal-eyed blog entry, and remember my shopping habits.

Begin Transcript ----------------------------------------------------------------

English teacher: So, Mr. Simon, what have you decided to bother me about today?

Me: I humbly beg your valuable time and incalculable wisdom in
explaining a basic principal of good writing that I cannot seem to
grasp, no doubt due to my native and profound stupidity.

English teacher: Yes, your stupidity IS profound, and I despair of
teaching you anything, but since I'm paid to talk to all of you
morons, you may continue to blather.

Me: Thank you kind educator, I am most grateful for your kindness in
this matter.

English teacher: Get on with it, or I'll hit you with this stick.

Me: Since I see the dried blood from last time I was slow to learn,
I'll get right to it. One of the items that you so rightly mark and
subtract points for on my papers is that I use long sentences. You
tell me that this creates poor lexical density.

English teacher: Yes, that's true. Good writers use short sentences
which are easily diagrammed. You occasionally use twelve to fifteen
word sentences, which a) I expect that you plagiarize and b) are just
poor writing.

Me: So, there is no possible situation in which regularly using longer
sentences would be considered good writing?

English teacher: No, and in your case you should stick to sentences of
three to six words, so you can understand them.

Me: So you are telling me that this never ending pile of slag called
Moby Dick, which you've forced us all to read is really REALLY crappy
writing, since Herman Mellville frequently uses fifty to eighty word
sentences, such as this one from chapter 2:

"With anxious grapnels I had sounded my pocket, and only brought up a few pieces of silver, --So,wherever you go, Ishmael, said I to myself, as I stood in the middle of a dreary street shouldering my bag, and comparing the gloom towards the north with the darkness towards the south --wherever in your wisdom you may conclude to lodge for the night, my dear Ishmael, be sure to inquire the price, and don't be too particular."

English teacher: Please step a little closer boy, my stick is only 3 feet long.

End Transcription-------------------------------------------------

For the next few years I ignored the content of the obviously substandard texts that teachers felt compelled to have me and my fellows read, and used the analysis taught in the very same classes to evaluate Homer, Melville, Swift and the like. In most cases, they received the grade of D or F but I cut some of them slack due to the problem of multiple translations and thousand years or so of writing via the telephone game.

You might think that immediately applying what I learned in these classes to the assigned texts would have won the hearts of each educator that I encountered, but for some reason it did not. So, I've learned to keep my distance from english teachers (about 3.5 feet) and am forced to practice here - safely out of reach, with the occasional 29 word sentence.

Speed Enforced by 50 quintillion watt radar

A recent road trip caused me to read many signs regarding how local law enforcement were planning to deal with my potential speeding, and I am now quite afraid of the massive radar arrays that these folks appear to have installed. Specifically, I'm referring to the signs which say "Speed Enforced by Radar."

Enforcement is a strong word with a short definition "Compel obedience to." In states and counties where the speed is merely "checked" by radar, I assume that they are using the normal radar guns which bounce a beam off of my car and use the Doppler shift to register my rate of travel, allowing the officer to see that I am safely under the limit and turn his/her attention to some other potential law breaker and NOT SEARCH MY TRUNK FOR MARMOSETS, SINCE I DON'T HAVE ANY IN THERE.

No, the folks that actually plan to compel my obedience to the speed limit using radar are the scary ones. To do that, you would need to use something called "radiation pressure" which is a minuscule force, even when you are measuring the output of something who's radiation you can feel as warmth, like the sun. As an example, if we were at a place where the energy flux from the sun were about the boiling point of water (373.15 Kelvin) the radiation pressure would be about 2 lbs of force per square mile. Slowing down a speeding car by 5 or 10 miles per hour is going to take a heck of a lot more energy than 2 lbs / square mile.

I don't want to do the energy calculations for the requirements of a radar gun capable of enforcing speed limits, but I'm reasonably sure that it would require a captive black hole and a pretty serious array of antennas, likely electromagnetically focused (or a shaped gravity lens -- if you have a captive black hole already, why not?) In any event, the resulting EM beam would almost certainly vaporize the car, the occupant and any marmosets that you then couldn't prove were ever in my trunk. It would also vaporize anything in it's path until it cleared the horizon, and small chunks of the moon if it happened to be in the way.

Where are podunk counties in Northern California getting this kind of technology? Why aren't we seeing huge swaths of the countryside charred to pure carbon by their speed enforcement technology? I expect everyone is as frightened by the threat of radar enforced speed as I am, and don't dare speed in these places.

You may note that I've not addressed the signs saying "Speed Enforced by Aircraft" which are really scary too, but pretty obvious as to their method. It seems wasteful to destroy a whole airplane that way every time you want someone to slow down, but at least it doesn't burn holes in the moon.