The scorching sun beats down on your shoulders and on the road, vapourising bitumen and making the road ahead and the hypnotising terrain look vaguely hazy. A blast of sand and black smoke hits your face as a truck speeds by. The blurry tarmac buzzing below the footrest is your only measure of speed. The wind blowing on your face brings tears to your eyes and dries your lips. Your head hums with the roar of the engine.
You see milestones rush past faster than you can count. Only then do you realise that the road and the terrain have entranced you so much and that you have grown so used to your bike's vibrations and noises that you are lulled into a dreamy, yet conscious sleep that your thought process has slowed down and your reactions are delayed, yet somehow strangely and deliciously in perfect harmony with the nature, the wind and the clouds.
On a subconscious plane, even when you are riding, you are sensitive to the fact that your motorcycle is your best friend, and that it will never get angry at you or shout at you or ignore you and ridicule you. You develop an almost human relationship with your motorcycle and care for it more than for yourself, at times.
Did you run out of fuel? There was definitely a momentary lapse now as the engine missed a beat, but it reassuringly surges back to life and keeps going. That was probably just the plug misfiring, or maybe a drop of condensation in the carburetor. Your mind dwells on this for a fraction of a second and then moves on... Or maybe the bike just voiced its protest in a way that only someone who truly understands his bike on a spiritual plane can comprehend.
The landscape is plain and devoid any striking features. Nothing seems to be moving in your vibrating rearview mirror, except the blurry horizon, which seems to be going further and further behind with every turn of the crankshaft. A piece of forged metal powers your bike and thoughts as you escape from the immediate past and apprehend about your distant future.
As you finally kill the engine and get off the motorcycle, the landscapes you saw are still playing again and again in your head and even if you close your eyes, you cannot shut it off. The engine isn’t running now, but your ears are ringing. This is going to take a while to wear off. The motorcycle still seems to be throbbing with life. Maybe its your imagination. But you hope its not...
The bike feels strangely peaceful and silent after hours and hours of spine shattering violence.
Your back is sore. Your hands are aching. Your palms are raw. Your eyes are red; your shirt is covered with grime and dust. So is your face. Your legs are cramped from too much riding and dehydration. Your backside is so numb you don't remember the last time you felt it alive. You are so exhausted you just want to crash and sleep for days on end. Yet, this is a feeling you would trade for nothing in the world, because you recognise it for what it is. You are filled with a feeling of tranquility and immense self satisfaction. You are filled with a sense of fulfillment that can only be compared to what you feel when you have reached a mountain top after hours of back breaking climb or when you have just finished listening to divine music. You are at peace with yourself and strangely detached from the rest of humanity.
You recognise it for what it is.
Motorcycling Nirvana.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Friday, October 31, 2008
On fishing
I feel sorry for fishermen who spend years and years fishing, without knowing that it’s not the fish they are after. To call fishing an occupation or a sport would be to not understand that it is much more than just that. Fishing is not a job or a recreational activity. Fishing is not even about the fish. It represents the biggest human addiction – Hope.
A lonely angler sitting meditatively with a fishing rod on a boat in the middle of a peaceful lake, with the line in the water is not the most exciting sight. But that’s missing the point. There is a lot more going on just beneath the surface. Fishing is a mind game. It’s a marathon battle between the fish and the man. It involves great deception, guile, trickery and imagination. But you don’t see that. You only see the angler cradling a motionless line in a still lake. You don’t see the enormous living constellation swirling and swooshing under the calm surface. You don’t see the countless layers and planes and currents being worked out in the mind of the man. It is an epic battle of survival played out in a deceptively motionless environment, and it is all played out in the mind. A good fisherman reads into the mind of the victim.
I’m not talking about commercial trawling here. Taking a 70 metre trawler into the middle of the ocean and hauling aboard thirty-five tones of salmon – that’s not fishing. That is taking a bulldozer to a brain surgery.
Fishing is a game of chess. You don’t just catch fish. Novices catch fish. Real fishermen reap fish. There is no luck or chance involved in it. The catch is the reward for tough mental exertion. So is defeat. It is a reward. Only a true fisherman can see that. Fishing is not about the fish at all. It is a state of mind. It’s the attention to detail, it is instinct paired with imagination. It is a mystical game of possibilities; an enquiry into circumstances. It is chaos theory. The water is not a dull, featureless expanse, but it is a living thing. It is a delightful world full of treasures and riches. It is constantly moving and changing, like there is electricity in it. The fish too, are as fickle and transient as the magical sphere they call home.
You are the stranger. You are the one sitting outside their world, on its roof. You are the piece that doesn’t fit; the awful intrusion in what is otherwise a picture of harmony. A true fisherman never wonders about the one that got away, and knows that, in another world somewhere, a fish would have extended him the same courtesy.
All you see is line going into the water, and your reflection on its calm surface. But who knows what treasures or dangers lurk on the other side of the mirror? What is joined to the line on the other end is limited only by your imagination. It is whatever you imagine it to be, till the instant you reel in the line and make it real, and bring it out into this side of the mirror. Into your world.
It’s not about the fish. There is never a dull moment while fishing. It is a glorious drama involving two mortal beings connected to each other by a fragile thread- one weak and frail and the other strong and powerful. The weak one waits patiently with guile and cunning for the other to take the bait and thrash around for his life. It is the quintessential philosophical conflict. It is mind versus matter.
A lonely angler sitting meditatively with a fishing rod on a boat in the middle of a peaceful lake, with the line in the water is not the most exciting sight. But that’s missing the point. There is a lot more going on just beneath the surface. Fishing is a mind game. It’s a marathon battle between the fish and the man. It involves great deception, guile, trickery and imagination. But you don’t see that. You only see the angler cradling a motionless line in a still lake. You don’t see the enormous living constellation swirling and swooshing under the calm surface. You don’t see the countless layers and planes and currents being worked out in the mind of the man. It is an epic battle of survival played out in a deceptively motionless environment, and it is all played out in the mind. A good fisherman reads into the mind of the victim.
I’m not talking about commercial trawling here. Taking a 70 metre trawler into the middle of the ocean and hauling aboard thirty-five tones of salmon – that’s not fishing. That is taking a bulldozer to a brain surgery.
Fishing is a game of chess. You don’t just catch fish. Novices catch fish. Real fishermen reap fish. There is no luck or chance involved in it. The catch is the reward for tough mental exertion. So is defeat. It is a reward. Only a true fisherman can see that. Fishing is not about the fish at all. It is a state of mind. It’s the attention to detail, it is instinct paired with imagination. It is a mystical game of possibilities; an enquiry into circumstances. It is chaos theory. The water is not a dull, featureless expanse, but it is a living thing. It is a delightful world full of treasures and riches. It is constantly moving and changing, like there is electricity in it. The fish too, are as fickle and transient as the magical sphere they call home.
You are the stranger. You are the one sitting outside their world, on its roof. You are the piece that doesn’t fit; the awful intrusion in what is otherwise a picture of harmony. A true fisherman never wonders about the one that got away, and knows that, in another world somewhere, a fish would have extended him the same courtesy.
All you see is line going into the water, and your reflection on its calm surface. But who knows what treasures or dangers lurk on the other side of the mirror? What is joined to the line on the other end is limited only by your imagination. It is whatever you imagine it to be, till the instant you reel in the line and make it real, and bring it out into this side of the mirror. Into your world.
It’s not about the fish. There is never a dull moment while fishing. It is a glorious drama involving two mortal beings connected to each other by a fragile thread- one weak and frail and the other strong and powerful. The weak one waits patiently with guile and cunning for the other to take the bait and thrash around for his life. It is the quintessential philosophical conflict. It is mind versus matter.
On Chopsticks
One of my greatest regrets is that I’ve never quite learned to eat with chopsticks. I guess it’s because no one has ever guided me properly on the matter of chopstick handling, but I’m sure it’s because I really can’t be bothered.
In my motorcycling circle, they speak of a Japanese mechanic who once had to replace a worn camshaft on a motorcycle. Now these shafts have a pattern of grooves on them, in which oil is carried around from the galleries to lubricate and cool the valves. In the old shaft, these grooves were worn out. So this mechanic mounted the old shaft on a fast turning lathe and poured molten steel on it straight from a furnace. He then quenched it by plunging it into oil at room temperature, to relieve it of internal stresses and give it more tensile strength. He then copied the groove pattern from a new shaft by making an imprint on a sheet of translucent paper using kohl, and then cut the pattern on the old shaft, turning it back within a micrometer of its old dimension.
It is an awesome story, and the whole painstaking exercise was hard, laborious and incredibly stupid, because it cost him Rs.850. And a brand new shaft is worth Rs.800.
In a list of Japanese inventions posted on the internet, there was a device that you’d have to strap on to your hat right below your ear and when its electrodes sensed a sneeze coming, it would automatically dispense a paper napkin right in front of your nose. Although why anyone familiar with the concept of handkerchiefs and pockets would go so far as to wear a hat and strap on a heavy and embarrassing apparatus still puzzles me.
Most Japanese people want trees in their homes. Most Indians do, too. That is why most Indian homes have Neem trees growing right in the center. But the average Japanese house is only 110 sq.ft in area, and there are about a gazillion houses in Tokyo alone. There isn’t enough room for two medium sized people, leave alone a tree. Faced with such circumstances, an average Indian would have done the sensible thing – chop down all the trees in the neighbourhood and forget the matter. But the Japanese? No. They had to wire, prune and file trees down to miniature sizes, and carry them around in little pots! Looking at a giant sequoia tree, would the average Neanderthal man have ever thought “Hmmm, I’d like a pocket sized version of that on my study desk”? No. Because the average Neanderthal man did not have study desks. The average Japanese Neanderthal man on the other hand not only had a study desk, he also had a palmtop on it which was connected through Wi-Fi to Honda solar powered DNA robots which were presently mowing his lawn. And he was already trying to decide whether to name the miniature invention Bonsai or Hentai.
See, that’s the thing with the Japanese. They want a smaller version of everything. When everything has become small, they’d then want smaller versions of the smaller things. They will take the smallest and simplest task and computerize the living daylights out of it and make it unwieldy. They can go to any lengths to do that. Believe me. The entire western civilization (west of Japan that is) is founded on the basic principle of making things easier. But the Japanese want to make things more complex. They just don’t understand the concept of too much trouble. Nothing is ever too much trouble for them.
Maybe that explains why they use chopsticks to eat rice. If there is a simpler way of doing things, the Japanese will NOT accept it. I mean, how else would you explain it? It’s not like they have not seen the spoon. They have. So they can’t even pretend as though they don’t know about the spoon and plead ignorance. No. The only other logical reasons that explain the continuing use of chopsticks are a) lack of greens in Japanese food and b) a huge mafia funded chopstick production industry. One look at the technological innovations coming out of Japan is enough to throw the lack-of-greens theory out of the window (Though it is still a mystery why a nation of such keen scientists cannot spot the one blaring intellectual anomaly in an otherwise flawless topography). Sadly, we have to live with the pitiless burden of proof, and hence a mafia-funded-chopstick-industry theory doesn’t hold water, either.
So, I think my theory stands unchallenged. I have finally solved the age-old riddle. I’ve cracked the code. In evolution terms, this is the equivalent of deducing the reasons for the extinction of the Galapagos apple snail. I deserve some award for this, surely. (I don’t know if there is such a thing as a Galapagos apple snail. I made that up.)
See, you can place a chopstick next to a spoon and crack all the witty jokes you want till the cows come home, but remember, in Japan, they are making just as many jokes about you and your spoon. You will never understand it, because you don’t understand their culture, and because their jokes are in Japanese.
That brings me to the question that has been gnawing at my mind ever since I began thinking about Japanese culture. If the Japanese go to such elaborate lengths to make things as complex as possible, why do they eat fish raw? So is Sushi really an Australian invention?
In my motorcycling circle, they speak of a Japanese mechanic who once had to replace a worn camshaft on a motorcycle. Now these shafts have a pattern of grooves on them, in which oil is carried around from the galleries to lubricate and cool the valves. In the old shaft, these grooves were worn out. So this mechanic mounted the old shaft on a fast turning lathe and poured molten steel on it straight from a furnace. He then quenched it by plunging it into oil at room temperature, to relieve it of internal stresses and give it more tensile strength. He then copied the groove pattern from a new shaft by making an imprint on a sheet of translucent paper using kohl, and then cut the pattern on the old shaft, turning it back within a micrometer of its old dimension.
It is an awesome story, and the whole painstaking exercise was hard, laborious and incredibly stupid, because it cost him Rs.850. And a brand new shaft is worth Rs.800.
In a list of Japanese inventions posted on the internet, there was a device that you’d have to strap on to your hat right below your ear and when its electrodes sensed a sneeze coming, it would automatically dispense a paper napkin right in front of your nose. Although why anyone familiar with the concept of handkerchiefs and pockets would go so far as to wear a hat and strap on a heavy and embarrassing apparatus still puzzles me.
Most Japanese people want trees in their homes. Most Indians do, too. That is why most Indian homes have Neem trees growing right in the center. But the average Japanese house is only 110 sq.ft in area, and there are about a gazillion houses in Tokyo alone. There isn’t enough room for two medium sized people, leave alone a tree. Faced with such circumstances, an average Indian would have done the sensible thing – chop down all the trees in the neighbourhood and forget the matter. But the Japanese? No. They had to wire, prune and file trees down to miniature sizes, and carry them around in little pots! Looking at a giant sequoia tree, would the average Neanderthal man have ever thought “Hmmm, I’d like a pocket sized version of that on my study desk”? No. Because the average Neanderthal man did not have study desks. The average Japanese Neanderthal man on the other hand not only had a study desk, he also had a palmtop on it which was connected through Wi-Fi to Honda solar powered DNA robots which were presently mowing his lawn. And he was already trying to decide whether to name the miniature invention Bonsai or Hentai.
See, that’s the thing with the Japanese. They want a smaller version of everything. When everything has become small, they’d then want smaller versions of the smaller things. They will take the smallest and simplest task and computerize the living daylights out of it and make it unwieldy. They can go to any lengths to do that. Believe me. The entire western civilization (west of Japan that is) is founded on the basic principle of making things easier. But the Japanese want to make things more complex. They just don’t understand the concept of too much trouble. Nothing is ever too much trouble for them.
Maybe that explains why they use chopsticks to eat rice. If there is a simpler way of doing things, the Japanese will NOT accept it. I mean, how else would you explain it? It’s not like they have not seen the spoon. They have. So they can’t even pretend as though they don’t know about the spoon and plead ignorance. No. The only other logical reasons that explain the continuing use of chopsticks are a) lack of greens in Japanese food and b) a huge mafia funded chopstick production industry. One look at the technological innovations coming out of Japan is enough to throw the lack-of-greens theory out of the window (Though it is still a mystery why a nation of such keen scientists cannot spot the one blaring intellectual anomaly in an otherwise flawless topography). Sadly, we have to live with the pitiless burden of proof, and hence a mafia-funded-chopstick-industry theory doesn’t hold water, either.
So, I think my theory stands unchallenged. I have finally solved the age-old riddle. I’ve cracked the code. In evolution terms, this is the equivalent of deducing the reasons for the extinction of the Galapagos apple snail. I deserve some award for this, surely. (I don’t know if there is such a thing as a Galapagos apple snail. I made that up.)
See, you can place a chopstick next to a spoon and crack all the witty jokes you want till the cows come home, but remember, in Japan, they are making just as many jokes about you and your spoon. You will never understand it, because you don’t understand their culture, and because their jokes are in Japanese.
That brings me to the question that has been gnawing at my mind ever since I began thinking about Japanese culture. If the Japanese go to such elaborate lengths to make things as complex as possible, why do they eat fish raw? So is Sushi really an Australian invention?
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
On Global Warming
These days I find myself worrying a lot about matters of global importance. Climate change for instance, I feel is too important an issue to be left to scientists and politicians. All that you see on the TV and hear on the news about global warming is what the politicians want you to see and hear. And the solutions that they promote may not exactly solve the problem. So, what is required here is a dry, scientific analysis of the situation.
Let us understand the phenomenon of global warming. In a nutshell, there is a layer of various gases around the earth called the "atmosphere". Carbon-dioxide is an important component of this "atmosphere" because it traps the heat from the sunlight and keeps the planet warm. But having too much Carbon-dioxide in the atmosphere is no good, because then the planet would get too hot. Consequently, the polar ice-caps and glaciers would melt, causing the sea levels to rise. This means some of the coastal places and islands would submerge in water. And polar bears would die.
This is exactly what is happening in the world today. Due to some reason, the sunlight trapped in the atmosphere is not able to escape back into space. And that is causing a lot of worry.
First, let us get a few basic things straight.
More Carbon-dioxide is bad.
Furry animals are good. We want more of those.
More water is bad.
Trees are good.
Heat is bad. We don't want any more warmth.
More land can be good or bad, depending on which side of the Norwegian Sea we are talking about.
All that remains now is to tie up the equation neatly.
The amount of carbon present in the world is more or less constant. The forms in which it is present vary greatly over time. Till a hundred years back, there was a lot of carbon trapped in the soil in the form of coal and petroleum. But over the years, it has been dug out and burnt up, and as a result it has been converted to gaseous form. It is this gaseous form which is harmful to the planet. As long as the carbon is in liquid or solid state, all is fine. But when more and more carbon is released into the atmosphere from the soil, it starts to be a nuisance.
A good plan to cool down the planet should also deal with the problem of carbon sequestration; that is conversion and storage of carbon dioxide in liquid or solid form, thus driving down the CO2 level in the atmosphere. So anything that converts the gaseous CO2 into liquid or solid form is good. Oceans, for instance. Carbon dioxide dissolves in the ocean water to form carbonic acid. Thus oceans help to clean up the atmosphere by condensing the carbon into a liquid form. Carbon dioxide reacts with calcium oxide to form limestone deposits. Amines react with carbon dioxide to form solid ammonium salt crystals. Trees use up CO2 to make chlorophyll in a process called photosynthesis.
Fact #1. Forests are good carbon sinks. They store carbon in a solid form (trees). But trees themselves are carbon neutral. That is to say, they do NOT actively clean up the atmosphere. Whatever CO2 they use up in photosynthesis, they return to the atmosphere by means of respiration, anaerobic decomposition and forest fires. So, a tree is just about as effective at cooling down the earth as furniture made from it, because both are merely carbon sinks. Human beings too are carbon sinks. A 100 kg man is equivalent to 66 kg of sequestered CO2. So having more human beings on the planet would mean lesser equivalent CO2 in the atmosphere. (But the disadvantages of having more human beings far outweigh the benefits. So let us ignore that option for a while.) Decaying animals and plants emit methane and carbon dioxide, which contribute to global warming. So why don't we seal off dead organic matter in airtight concrete blocks and bury them in the bottom of the ocean where it won't trouble anyone. More carbon sinks.
So the idea is to have less carbon floating about in the air, which means fewer solar rays would be trapped. That would cool down the earth. There are other ways of cooling the earth, too. I was about to suggest attaching huge cooling fins to the earth, but in the interest of practical science, I won't.
Then there is all this hype about having more Green buildings. Though I am not entirely opposed to the idea, I do think that green is a rather tasteless colour for a building. I prefer lighter shades of grey or beige. But then that's just me.
Let us understand the phenomenon of global warming. In a nutshell, there is a layer of various gases around the earth called the "atmosphere". Carbon-dioxide is an important component of this "atmosphere" because it traps the heat from the sunlight and keeps the planet warm. But having too much Carbon-dioxide in the atmosphere is no good, because then the planet would get too hot. Consequently, the polar ice-caps and glaciers would melt, causing the sea levels to rise. This means some of the coastal places and islands would submerge in water. And polar bears would die.
This is exactly what is happening in the world today. Due to some reason, the sunlight trapped in the atmosphere is not able to escape back into space. And that is causing a lot of worry.
First, let us get a few basic things straight.
More Carbon-dioxide is bad.
Furry animals are good. We want more of those.
More water is bad.
Trees are good.
Heat is bad. We don't want any more warmth.
More land can be good or bad, depending on which side of the Norwegian Sea we are talking about.
All that remains now is to tie up the equation neatly.
The amount of carbon present in the world is more or less constant. The forms in which it is present vary greatly over time. Till a hundred years back, there was a lot of carbon trapped in the soil in the form of coal and petroleum. But over the years, it has been dug out and burnt up, and as a result it has been converted to gaseous form. It is this gaseous form which is harmful to the planet. As long as the carbon is in liquid or solid state, all is fine. But when more and more carbon is released into the atmosphere from the soil, it starts to be a nuisance.
A good plan to cool down the planet should also deal with the problem of carbon sequestration; that is conversion and storage of carbon dioxide in liquid or solid form, thus driving down the CO2 level in the atmosphere. So anything that converts the gaseous CO2 into liquid or solid form is good. Oceans, for instance. Carbon dioxide dissolves in the ocean water to form carbonic acid. Thus oceans help to clean up the atmosphere by condensing the carbon into a liquid form. Carbon dioxide reacts with calcium oxide to form limestone deposits. Amines react with carbon dioxide to form solid ammonium salt crystals. Trees use up CO2 to make chlorophyll in a process called photosynthesis.
Fact #1. Forests are good carbon sinks. They store carbon in a solid form (trees). But trees themselves are carbon neutral. That is to say, they do NOT actively clean up the atmosphere. Whatever CO2 they use up in photosynthesis, they return to the atmosphere by means of respiration, anaerobic decomposition and forest fires. So, a tree is just about as effective at cooling down the earth as furniture made from it, because both are merely carbon sinks. Human beings too are carbon sinks. A 100 kg man is equivalent to 66 kg of sequestered CO2. So having more human beings on the planet would mean lesser equivalent CO2 in the atmosphere. (But the disadvantages of having more human beings far outweigh the benefits. So let us ignore that option for a while.) Decaying animals and plants emit methane and carbon dioxide, which contribute to global warming. So why don't we seal off dead organic matter in airtight concrete blocks and bury them in the bottom of the ocean where it won't trouble anyone. More carbon sinks.
So the idea is to have less carbon floating about in the air, which means fewer solar rays would be trapped. That would cool down the earth. There are other ways of cooling the earth, too. I was about to suggest attaching huge cooling fins to the earth, but in the interest of practical science, I won't.
Then there is all this hype about having more Green buildings. Though I am not entirely opposed to the idea, I do think that green is a rather tasteless colour for a building. I prefer lighter shades of grey or beige. But then that's just me.
Our problem is not drowning baby seals or submerging coastlines. Those are just the symptoms of the problem. The actual problem is that there is too much water in the world. Again, the extra water wasn't brought by aliens from outer space. Like carbon, it has always been present on the earth for millions of years. But what is worrying is that recently, it has started moving about. That is the real problem. Too much water let loose in the wrong places. That is to say, your real problem is not the children tripping over in the balcony or the foul smell in the house. It is the dead cow in your front yard. So we need to find a place to store the extra water drained by melting glaciers. In other words, where on earth can you hide a large glacier without anyone noticing it? Think... Water tables. There is water at atmospheric pressure under the ground in most places. It is known as the water table. But in deserts and arid regions, the water table is so low that even deep rooted plants cannot reach it. So there you are. Sweep the glaciers elegantly under the carpet. What's more, it fits like a jigsaw. Fill up the desert water tables with desalinated water. Use the melting glaciers to replenish the ground water in arid areas. Use it to make deserts more fertile. Use it to solve the portable water crisis of the third world. We'd have solved the global warming and drinking water crises of the third world in one fell swoop.
Place huge silica gel slabs in the middle of the desert, which soak up humidity from the atmosphere. Or just dip silica gel cubes in the ocean and throw them in the Sahara desert. If you store enough water to compensate for a glacier's melting and flowing into the Atlantic, it would be the algebraic equivalent of depositing a glacier in the middle of the desert. The net sea level therefore remains the same.
Fact #2. Methane is 72 times more effective than CO2 in trapping solar radiation. This means that one litre of methane will have the same effect on global warming as 72 litres of CO2.
A 1.8L petrol engine with a compression ratio of around 10 running at 3000 rpm will emit 90 litres of carbon-dioxide at a temperature of 900C, which is roughly equal to 54 grams of CO2 every minute. A cow releases 500 litres of methane into the atmosphere every day. That is an equivalent of 495 grams of methane at 1013Pa. Since methane is 72 times more effective than CO2 at trapping solar heat, a car would have to run for 660 minutes a day to match a cow. At 3000 rpm that would anywhere between 330 to 935 kilometres a day, depending on the gearing ratio and traffic density. And I am talking about the crudest of internal combustion engines - not the modern DOHC VTEC units with 5 valves per cylinder and twin spark plugs, with catalytic convertors attached to the exhaust - Those would produce even lesser CO2 than a butterfly breathing, and would be embarrassingly inferior to the average water buffalo in terms of greenhouse gas production.
(Are you even paying attention?!)
So, in what way is it fair to ask car owners to pay a green-tax and expect their vehicles to clear a Pollution-Under-Control test, and give tax concessions to farmers and livestock owners? Shouldn't cattle-owners be taxed 72 times more? Shouldn't cows and sheep pass flatulence-under-control tests? It is clear that we are ruled by a government which is more concerned about appearing to be environment-friendly than actually doing something about the climate situation, and doesn't want to lose favour with the large farmer vote-bank. So, we are required to pay taxes on motor vehicles. But if you really think about it, how can you stop a glacier melting by paying money to the government? How can you solve a climate change problem by throwing money at it? It's a bit like trying to stop the phone ringing by screaming at it.
Paying green-tax only makes the government richer. And the only question it will answer is what colour the leather seats in the MP's next premium car should be. It should stop.
Methane is more dangerous than Carbon-dioxide. It also reacts with steam to form methanol, which is a hygroscopic substance. That is to say, it absorbs water. So, methane from cows can be made into methanol, which can be used in place of silica gel in the deserts to soak up the extra water. So there is less methane in the atmosphere, less water in the north seas and more water in the deserts. Three birds with one stone. I am not talking about 2p savings here. I am talking about removing huge chunks off the carbon score-sheet. The kind that will set us back 5 to 10 years in the greenhouse timeline. Polar bears are good. Plastic is bad. Plainly, what we need are genetically engineered polar bears which eat plastic. That ties up the equation perfectly. That's the kind of innovation we want to see.
The problem essentially is that there is a thick layer of carbon-dioxide covering the earth which is trapping the solar radiation. What we really need is a... "hole"... in this carbon-dioxide layer through which heat can escape to outer space.
...
er....I think we can easily manage to do that. We have accomplished something similar before.
Fact #3. Melting icebergs DO NOT increase sea levels. Icebergs are chunks of ice floating in water. The reason why ice floats in water is because it is less dense than water. One litre of ice weighs less than one litre of water. So, when floating ice melts, its density increases and it occupies lesser volume. Water is densest at 4 degrees above zero. So, the sea levels would decrease as icebergs melt.
Comments?
Place huge silica gel slabs in the middle of the desert, which soak up humidity from the atmosphere. Or just dip silica gel cubes in the ocean and throw them in the Sahara desert. If you store enough water to compensate for a glacier's melting and flowing into the Atlantic, it would be the algebraic equivalent of depositing a glacier in the middle of the desert. The net sea level therefore remains the same.
Fact #2. Methane is 72 times more effective than CO2 in trapping solar radiation. This means that one litre of methane will have the same effect on global warming as 72 litres of CO2.
A 1.8L petrol engine with a compression ratio of around 10 running at 3000 rpm will emit 90 litres of carbon-dioxide at a temperature of 900C, which is roughly equal to 54 grams of CO2 every minute. A cow releases 500 litres of methane into the atmosphere every day. That is an equivalent of 495 grams of methane at 1013Pa. Since methane is 72 times more effective than CO2 at trapping solar heat, a car would have to run for 660 minutes a day to match a cow. At 3000 rpm that would anywhere between 330 to 935 kilometres a day, depending on the gearing ratio and traffic density. And I am talking about the crudest of internal combustion engines - not the modern DOHC VTEC units with 5 valves per cylinder and twin spark plugs, with catalytic convertors attached to the exhaust - Those would produce even lesser CO2 than a butterfly breathing, and would be embarrassingly inferior to the average water buffalo in terms of greenhouse gas production.
(Are you even paying attention?!)
So, in what way is it fair to ask car owners to pay a green-tax and expect their vehicles to clear a Pollution-Under-Control test, and give tax concessions to farmers and livestock owners? Shouldn't cattle-owners be taxed 72 times more? Shouldn't cows and sheep pass flatulence-under-control tests? It is clear that we are ruled by a government which is more concerned about appearing to be environment-friendly than actually doing something about the climate situation, and doesn't want to lose favour with the large farmer vote-bank. So, we are required to pay taxes on motor vehicles. But if you really think about it, how can you stop a glacier melting by paying money to the government? How can you solve a climate change problem by throwing money at it? It's a bit like trying to stop the phone ringing by screaming at it.
Paying green-tax only makes the government richer. And the only question it will answer is what colour the leather seats in the MP's next premium car should be. It should stop.
Methane is more dangerous than Carbon-dioxide. It also reacts with steam to form methanol, which is a hygroscopic substance. That is to say, it absorbs water. So, methane from cows can be made into methanol, which can be used in place of silica gel in the deserts to soak up the extra water. So there is less methane in the atmosphere, less water in the north seas and more water in the deserts. Three birds with one stone. I am not talking about 2p savings here. I am talking about removing huge chunks off the carbon score-sheet. The kind that will set us back 5 to 10 years in the greenhouse timeline. Polar bears are good. Plastic is bad. Plainly, what we need are genetically engineered polar bears which eat plastic. That ties up the equation perfectly. That's the kind of innovation we want to see.
The problem essentially is that there is a thick layer of carbon-dioxide covering the earth which is trapping the solar radiation. What we really need is a... "hole"... in this carbon-dioxide layer through which heat can escape to outer space.
...
er....I think we can easily manage to do that. We have accomplished something similar before.
Fact #3. Melting icebergs DO NOT increase sea levels. Icebergs are chunks of ice floating in water. The reason why ice floats in water is because it is less dense than water. One litre of ice weighs less than one litre of water. So, when floating ice melts, its density increases and it occupies lesser volume. Water is densest at 4 degrees above zero. So, the sea levels would decrease as icebergs melt.
Comments?
Thursday, September 25, 2008
The idiocy of our ways - Part I of many
The absolute last thing my caffeine addled mind needed to hear on a depressing Thursday morning was a pseudo-scientific tabloid article written by a two-bit Dutch researcher telling me not to use the car or light bulbs.
Now there is a point when a news item becomes less valuable than the paper it is printed on. Thanks to the cries of wolf by paranoid alarmists and attention seeking news channels, Global climate change and health warnings are rapidly becoming a shameful waste of recycled paper and ink.
We have endured two World wars, great economic depressions, millennium bugs, terrorist attacks, revolutions, floods, plagues and assassinations. The Mona Lisa was stolen, the Titanic sunk, the president of the United States of America was shot dead, trains were robbed, atomic bombs were dropped on Japan, volcanoes erupted and tsunamis struck and yet we survived.
Every day we are told about new ways in which we are going to die. We'd die of credit crunch in global markets, we'd be run over by melting glaciers, asteroids falling through the ozone hole. We are told that very soon space travel will be banned because we are littering Neptune's third satellite and polluting the outer rings of the solar system with our nuclear waste. We would also die of nuclear warfare brought upon each other by countries fighting for freedom, total world dominance and advertising space on the moon.
I have played football on muddy playgrounds in pouring rain, gone swimming in rivers, played with stray cats on the road, had motorcycle accidents, not worn a helmet, chewed on tin foil, climbed trees, fallen off walls, eaten sugar and butter, been out in the moonlight, been electrocuted, had contagious tropical diseases and not eaten fruits and green leafy vegetables...yet I don't remember having died.
But if today's edition of TOI were to be believed, if I leave the light bulb on, polar ice shelves would shrivel down, causing the entire north pole to be submerged in water, and Cairo being the northernmost remaining place on earth would be inhabited by refugee polar bears, which would then die of depression when they hear about the state of the global financial markets and rising crude oil prices, and the vanishing Brazilian rainforests would expose the Amazonian Tree Frog to harmful ultraviolet radiation which would burn cloud patterns on its skin, and this would push the dejected environmentalists to commit suicide by talking on cell phones while travelling above the city speed limit in cars without seat belts and sub-standard crumple zones, which would in turn leave the loggerhead sea turtle to fend for itself in a dangerous world fraught with life threatening, hazardous chemicals like coke, fried potatoes and cholesterol, and the lucky ones that escaped the gruesome death caused by eating Asian bird meat and passive smoking would quickly die due to a large black hole produced by a tubelight in a physics lab.
I don't remember a time when the world wasn't heading towards disaster. Every day there is a new evil that will end the world, killing us all. Every day there is something new to panic about. There is danger lurking in every household on every highway in every corner. Every day the same news channels find something new to keep us glued to the screens. If the world indeed was going to end because of a breakaway comet or because of magnetic cloud storms in the sun, just what the bloody hell are we supposed to do about it? Why do news channels keep haranguing about something that we can do nothing about? The world is going to end, so what can we do now? Finish dinner quickly? Lock the doors?
It's about as useful as the announcements made by the captain on a plane.
"We are now cruising at 690 knots at an altitude of 28,000 feet above mean sea level."
("What?! Did you say 690?! Jeez, that’s slow! I know birds that can fly faster than that! Step on it, man! Come on now...chop chop! And I'm gonna take a short nap now, okay? Wake me up when we reach 31,640 feet, will you? There is something rather important I have to do...")
That's not the only amusing thing, though. People who make doomsday predictions seem to do it in all earnest. They seem solemn and serious about it. Which if you think about it, is quite fair because a statement predicting the end of the world is usually not followed by sniggering. It is a statement of impending, inevitable doom. It is not funny or heroic. It is a grave declaration. And as declarations go, it is not open to debate or discussion. And that makes the situation a little tricky because there can be no dignified exit from it. If the world does not end on the said date, there is no way they can worm their way out of the ensuing embarrassment. The only way they can make a graceful exit from the situation is if the world really does end. And that's a shame really, because there would be no one left to appreciate the face-saving act. They never get to say "I told you so" to anyone.
And that makes it the most thankless job in the world.
Now there is a point when a news item becomes less valuable than the paper it is printed on. Thanks to the cries of wolf by paranoid alarmists and attention seeking news channels, Global climate change and health warnings are rapidly becoming a shameful waste of recycled paper and ink.
We have endured two World wars, great economic depressions, millennium bugs, terrorist attacks, revolutions, floods, plagues and assassinations. The Mona Lisa was stolen, the Titanic sunk, the president of the United States of America was shot dead, trains were robbed, atomic bombs were dropped on Japan, volcanoes erupted and tsunamis struck and yet we survived.
Every day we are told about new ways in which we are going to die. We'd die of credit crunch in global markets, we'd be run over by melting glaciers, asteroids falling through the ozone hole. We are told that very soon space travel will be banned because we are littering Neptune's third satellite and polluting the outer rings of the solar system with our nuclear waste. We would also die of nuclear warfare brought upon each other by countries fighting for freedom, total world dominance and advertising space on the moon.
I have played football on muddy playgrounds in pouring rain, gone swimming in rivers, played with stray cats on the road, had motorcycle accidents, not worn a helmet, chewed on tin foil, climbed trees, fallen off walls, eaten sugar and butter, been out in the moonlight, been electrocuted, had contagious tropical diseases and not eaten fruits and green leafy vegetables...yet I don't remember having died.
But if today's edition of TOI were to be believed, if I leave the light bulb on, polar ice shelves would shrivel down, causing the entire north pole to be submerged in water, and Cairo being the northernmost remaining place on earth would be inhabited by refugee polar bears, which would then die of depression when they hear about the state of the global financial markets and rising crude oil prices, and the vanishing Brazilian rainforests would expose the Amazonian Tree Frog to harmful ultraviolet radiation which would burn cloud patterns on its skin, and this would push the dejected environmentalists to commit suicide by talking on cell phones while travelling above the city speed limit in cars without seat belts and sub-standard crumple zones, which would in turn leave the loggerhead sea turtle to fend for itself in a dangerous world fraught with life threatening, hazardous chemicals like coke, fried potatoes and cholesterol, and the lucky ones that escaped the gruesome death caused by eating Asian bird meat and passive smoking would quickly die due to a large black hole produced by a tubelight in a physics lab.
I don't remember a time when the world wasn't heading towards disaster. Every day there is a new evil that will end the world, killing us all. Every day there is something new to panic about. There is danger lurking in every household on every highway in every corner. Every day the same news channels find something new to keep us glued to the screens. If the world indeed was going to end because of a breakaway comet or because of magnetic cloud storms in the sun, just what the bloody hell are we supposed to do about it? Why do news channels keep haranguing about something that we can do nothing about? The world is going to end, so what can we do now? Finish dinner quickly? Lock the doors?
It's about as useful as the announcements made by the captain on a plane.
"We are now cruising at 690 knots at an altitude of 28,000 feet above mean sea level."
("What?! Did you say 690?! Jeez, that’s slow! I know birds that can fly faster than that! Step on it, man! Come on now...chop chop! And I'm gonna take a short nap now, okay? Wake me up when we reach 31,640 feet, will you? There is something rather important I have to do...")
That's not the only amusing thing, though. People who make doomsday predictions seem to do it in all earnest. They seem solemn and serious about it. Which if you think about it, is quite fair because a statement predicting the end of the world is usually not followed by sniggering. It is a statement of impending, inevitable doom. It is not funny or heroic. It is a grave declaration. And as declarations go, it is not open to debate or discussion. And that makes the situation a little tricky because there can be no dignified exit from it. If the world does not end on the said date, there is no way they can worm their way out of the ensuing embarrassment. The only way they can make a graceful exit from the situation is if the world really does end. And that's a shame really, because there would be no one left to appreciate the face-saving act. They never get to say "I told you so" to anyone.
And that makes it the most thankless job in the world.
Monday, September 22, 2008
The Fury
There are things that make me want to grab the largest and sharpest axe I can find and bury it in the head of the first smug wannabe urban techie "specialist" self-righteous idiot that I come across.
What was that again, hair gel for your eyebrows? Taking personal grooming to a whole new level, are we? What dimension are you from? Do me a favour and die.
Man has travelled to space, built machines that recreate the birth of the Universe, explained gravitation and magnetism...yet look at the sort of things excite you: The latest mobile phone ring tones, a hundred pictures of tea cups, nostrils and office desks, all clicked at different times and with subtle variations of angle, bus schedules, mindless two-bit TV serials, this-or-that celebrity gossip. You disgust me. You, with your conditioner lotions and your iPods, your shop-to-earn $2.99 referrals, your pseudo-masculine plastic motorbikes and tupperware lunchboxes, earphones, cheesy handbags, office politics, streaked hair and plastic watches, you disgust me. All you plastic dolls with the same deadpan expression on your faces every day of the week, week after week, listlessly marching in a row towards the huge pyramid of slavery to the great monotonous drumbeat of obedience and prostrating under a God who is rumoured to be. All with the same mobile phones but each with a different ringtone that somehow makes you feel clever and special, and somehow gives you a unique place in the Universe and makes you irreplaceable. And how you smugly pat yourself on the back for it, you ignorant, misinformed, servile morons! Your slavish love for forwarded emails with pretty pictures of cute babies, furry animals and exotic places, glimpses of a life you've never had but you wish you had and know you can never have. You are pathetic. Pathetic. You are all the same. Sod off, you sleazy rat-faced scumbags. You, with your delusions of adequacy; I tell you, you can never be truly liberated until you have seen failure, starvation, neglect, filth and decay. Get out of your boxes, go out and see dying things. Rotting, foul smelling, gangrenous flesh. You don't become cool by having a goatee or wearing sunglasses, you shallow dunderheads. You will live a wretched life and you will grow old and die and decay and be eaten by worms, like everybody else. Be miserable, poor, damp and wretched. Die with an abject sense of failure and purposelessness. You will all inevitably perish one day, like a hundred million fruitflies, all rotting in a huge squishy pile of garbage, decaying in a squalid, organic soup of human waste.
Get on with it, get a real life, you wretched morons. Whatever. Just go away. You make me sick.
I feel I'm plastered onto the walls of a hexagonal pyramid, and when it rains, I'll flow down the stairs like synthetic oil and seep into the ground and never be seen or heard from again. I dont like where I'm coming from, but I like where I am going. This is madness, I swear!
Madness.
Trembling fingers, utter madness.
No more caffiene. I promise.
What was that again, hair gel for your eyebrows? Taking personal grooming to a whole new level, are we? What dimension are you from? Do me a favour and die.
Man has travelled to space, built machines that recreate the birth of the Universe, explained gravitation and magnetism...yet look at the sort of things excite you: The latest mobile phone ring tones, a hundred pictures of tea cups, nostrils and office desks, all clicked at different times and with subtle variations of angle, bus schedules, mindless two-bit TV serials, this-or-that celebrity gossip. You disgust me. You, with your conditioner lotions and your iPods, your shop-to-earn $2.99 referrals, your pseudo-masculine plastic motorbikes and tupperware lunchboxes, earphones, cheesy handbags, office politics, streaked hair and plastic watches, you disgust me. All you plastic dolls with the same deadpan expression on your faces every day of the week, week after week, listlessly marching in a row towards the huge pyramid of slavery to the great monotonous drumbeat of obedience and prostrating under a God who is rumoured to be. All with the same mobile phones but each with a different ringtone that somehow makes you feel clever and special, and somehow gives you a unique place in the Universe and makes you irreplaceable. And how you smugly pat yourself on the back for it, you ignorant, misinformed, servile morons! Your slavish love for forwarded emails with pretty pictures of cute babies, furry animals and exotic places, glimpses of a life you've never had but you wish you had and know you can never have. You are pathetic. Pathetic. You are all the same. Sod off, you sleazy rat-faced scumbags. You, with your delusions of adequacy; I tell you, you can never be truly liberated until you have seen failure, starvation, neglect, filth and decay. Get out of your boxes, go out and see dying things. Rotting, foul smelling, gangrenous flesh. You don't become cool by having a goatee or wearing sunglasses, you shallow dunderheads. You will live a wretched life and you will grow old and die and decay and be eaten by worms, like everybody else. Be miserable, poor, damp and wretched. Die with an abject sense of failure and purposelessness. You will all inevitably perish one day, like a hundred million fruitflies, all rotting in a huge squishy pile of garbage, decaying in a squalid, organic soup of human waste.
Get on with it, get a real life, you wretched morons. Whatever. Just go away. You make me sick.
I feel I'm plastered onto the walls of a hexagonal pyramid, and when it rains, I'll flow down the stairs like synthetic oil and seep into the ground and never be seen or heard from again. I dont like where I'm coming from, but I like where I am going. This is madness, I swear!
Madness.
Trembling fingers, utter madness.
No more caffiene. I promise.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Identify the bomb from among the following pictures.
Wrong, it’s the one in the second picture. So tell me, if I had to smuggle both of them into my office, which one would more likely be retained at the security desk in the suspicious-looking-items tray?
You can safely say that these are the average security guards in an average office complex in India. Do you know what the problem is with these guys? They probably think a bomb is a cylindrical tube with red, blue and yellow wires sticking out of it, garnished with a huge beeping, Casio style countdown timer, or a clock.
Really, how prepared is he to deal with a possible terrorist attack? Can he identify and disarm a bomb if he sees one? I am sure not. That raises the question; if they cannot do a thorough job why even bother doing it? Whom are they kidding? They look like a bunch of pathetic movie extras from the 70s, and can stop a terror attack as effectively as a couple of ducks can stop a hurricane.
Terrorists are usually trained on the rugged slopes of the Hindukush Mountains in the science of weaponry. These guys can assemble and take apart the most advanced explosive devices blindfolded. These bombs would then have been smuggled carefully across the border and meticulously assembled in carefully chosen old sheds where central intelligence with their trained sniffer dogs could not locate them. If such a terrorist really made his way to one of the fancy IT buildings armed with the latest in detonative charge technology with the intention of setting it off, guess who is going to stop him? A couple of high school drop-outs loitering around in the lobby in a ridiculous costume, cradling ancient weapons from the sepoy mutiny, a bunch of clueless morons who cannot tell an alarm clock from an RDX explosive device. A couple of guys suffering from a mid-life crisis and heavy obesity while sipping tea from a styrofoam cup and gossiping about the latest Vijay movie. Just how on earth are they going to deter a terrorist mastermind? You might as well have a scarecrow and a sack of potatoes at the gate.
The security rules for entry into IT office buildings were written by singularly the dumbest bunch of blockheaded cows you can ever see. You cannot carry an empty CD past the desk without signing a dozen forms and declarations, but they would let a kangaroo through if it was wearing a badge, with its face as much as drawn on it.
I'm the first to acknowledge the ability of utter stupidity in stumbling upon things that have been overlooked by meticulous scientific examination. History is fraught with examples. The Archimedes principle, Gravitation, Pluto, Radioactivity, America – all discovered by bumbling idiots who weren’t looking for them...So, it would hardly be surprising if a security guard accidentally discovered an explosive device in a bag. But more importantly, what happens next? What can he do with it, apart from holding it like he was holding a baby which had soiled its diapers? He can only report the “find” to the chief security guard. But even the chief security guard would appear like a Neanderthal man gawking at a mobile phone. Now, the cold, professional terrorist is not going to be terribly pleased with this. So, he will now open his jacket to reveal that he is armed to the teeth and will, after careful consideration, select a weapon from the vast array on his person. Finding themselves in a completely new situation, the other security guards would freeze in their tracks, unsure of what to do next. They will then start running helter-skelter like headless chicken because it’s the most natural thing to do in the situation. Also because they have no weapons to defend themselves with, let alone protect anyone.
What is needed in a situation like this is not some half-hearted attempt at "security". What you really need are modern techniques of bomb detection and disposal. Electromagnetic digital mapping sensors and metal detectors, remote operated bomb disposal robots, trained sniffer Alsatians, electronic jamming systems, surveillance cameras, radio control units, radars and satellite links. Explosive Ordnance Disposal experts with flame and fragmentation resistant Kevlar suits and carbon-fibre helmets. Legions of black cat commandoes with AK-47 assault rifles prowling around in the campus with their semi-automatic M4 carbines, grenade launchers and sub-machine guns. Tactically placed military snipers with range-finders and night-vision goggles. Howitzers, anti-tank and anti-aircraft guns. Helicopter gunships with air-to-surface missiles, and fighter jets armed with thermonuclear warheads.
Either that or nothing. You cannot have a security team that is “reasonably” effective against terrorists. It’s like wearing a life jacket that can reasonably prevent you from drowning – it just doesn’t work that way.
Bet u a hundred bucks you cant carry this into your office... (its an alarm clock, check it out on e-bay)
http://cgi.ebay.com/FA071-1-6-Accessories-Suicide-Bomb_W0QQitemZ330270892101QQihZ014QQcategoryZ27294QQssPageNameZWDVWQQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem
Wrong, it’s the one in the second picture. So tell me, if I had to smuggle both of them into my office, which one would more likely be retained at the security desk in the suspicious-looking-items tray?
You can safely say that these are the average security guards in an average office complex in India. Do you know what the problem is with these guys? They probably think a bomb is a cylindrical tube with red, blue and yellow wires sticking out of it, garnished with a huge beeping, Casio style countdown timer, or a clock.
Really, how prepared is he to deal with a possible terrorist attack? Can he identify and disarm a bomb if he sees one? I am sure not. That raises the question; if they cannot do a thorough job why even bother doing it? Whom are they kidding? They look like a bunch of pathetic movie extras from the 70s, and can stop a terror attack as effectively as a couple of ducks can stop a hurricane.
Terrorists are usually trained on the rugged slopes of the Hindukush Mountains in the science of weaponry. These guys can assemble and take apart the most advanced explosive devices blindfolded. These bombs would then have been smuggled carefully across the border and meticulously assembled in carefully chosen old sheds where central intelligence with their trained sniffer dogs could not locate them. If such a terrorist really made his way to one of the fancy IT buildings armed with the latest in detonative charge technology with the intention of setting it off, guess who is going to stop him? A couple of high school drop-outs loitering around in the lobby in a ridiculous costume, cradling ancient weapons from the sepoy mutiny, a bunch of clueless morons who cannot tell an alarm clock from an RDX explosive device. A couple of guys suffering from a mid-life crisis and heavy obesity while sipping tea from a styrofoam cup and gossiping about the latest Vijay movie. Just how on earth are they going to deter a terrorist mastermind? You might as well have a scarecrow and a sack of potatoes at the gate.
The security rules for entry into IT office buildings were written by singularly the dumbest bunch of blockheaded cows you can ever see. You cannot carry an empty CD past the desk without signing a dozen forms and declarations, but they would let a kangaroo through if it was wearing a badge, with its face as much as drawn on it.
I'm the first to acknowledge the ability of utter stupidity in stumbling upon things that have been overlooked by meticulous scientific examination. History is fraught with examples. The Archimedes principle, Gravitation, Pluto, Radioactivity, America – all discovered by bumbling idiots who weren’t looking for them...So, it would hardly be surprising if a security guard accidentally discovered an explosive device in a bag. But more importantly, what happens next? What can he do with it, apart from holding it like he was holding a baby which had soiled its diapers? He can only report the “find” to the chief security guard. But even the chief security guard would appear like a Neanderthal man gawking at a mobile phone. Now, the cold, professional terrorist is not going to be terribly pleased with this. So, he will now open his jacket to reveal that he is armed to the teeth and will, after careful consideration, select a weapon from the vast array on his person. Finding themselves in a completely new situation, the other security guards would freeze in their tracks, unsure of what to do next. They will then start running helter-skelter like headless chicken because it’s the most natural thing to do in the situation. Also because they have no weapons to defend themselves with, let alone protect anyone.
What is needed in a situation like this is not some half-hearted attempt at "security". What you really need are modern techniques of bomb detection and disposal. Electromagnetic digital mapping sensors and metal detectors, remote operated bomb disposal robots, trained sniffer Alsatians, electronic jamming systems, surveillance cameras, radio control units, radars and satellite links. Explosive Ordnance Disposal experts with flame and fragmentation resistant Kevlar suits and carbon-fibre helmets. Legions of black cat commandoes with AK-47 assault rifles prowling around in the campus with their semi-automatic M4 carbines, grenade launchers and sub-machine guns. Tactically placed military snipers with range-finders and night-vision goggles. Howitzers, anti-tank and anti-aircraft guns. Helicopter gunships with air-to-surface missiles, and fighter jets armed with thermonuclear warheads.
Either that or nothing. You cannot have a security team that is “reasonably” effective against terrorists. It’s like wearing a life jacket that can reasonably prevent you from drowning – it just doesn’t work that way.
Bet u a hundred bucks you cant carry this into your office... (its an alarm clock, check it out on e-bay)
http://cgi.ebay.com/FA071-1-6-Accessories-Suicide-Bomb_W0QQitemZ330270892101QQihZ014QQcategoryZ27294QQssPageNameZWDVWQQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Why I will not forget the 2008 Italian GP...
It was a sensational win in treacherous conditions for Sebastian Vettel and Scuderia Torro Rosso. But those who have been following F1 for a while will know that before the team became STR, it was known as Minardi. And it was not new to the F1 scene. In fact Minardi entered F1 in 1985, and the first Minardi racer was built as early as in 1979. F1 has, in recent days gone to deserts and Asian nightclubs. But till it was sold to Red Bull in 2005, Minardi was a relic from the past, a nostalgic reminder from a more civilised age. It was probably one of the last surviving traditional fixtures on the F1 calendar. It reminded you of Monza or Silverstone; worn down and unglamorous, but it made you feel at home. A bit like old wallpaper.
Not many would know that the first Minardi racer was evolved from a 1975 championship-winning Ferrari F1 car which was lent to them by the great Enzo Ferrari himself, or that it was a Lamborghini V12 that powered the Minardi in the 1992 season. But even a casual F1 fan would recognise some of the driving talent that Minardi has churned out over the years - Alessandro Nannini, Giancarlo Fisichella, Jarno Trulli, Fernando Alonso, Mark Webber, Jos "the boss" Verstappen (who over the years didn't entertain us as much with his driving skills as with spectacular crashes...)
Yet they never had the multimillion dollar corporate culture. They were a bunch of grease monkeys who assembled their car with worn out spanners in an old shed and went racing week after week. For 23 years they chased success, in vain. Always at the back of the grid. Always called the minnows. They never had the funding or the manpower that even the midfield teams enjoyed, yet they raced with passion and commitment. They did not care a toss about money or sponsorship. They were happy to just be there, just performing at the pinnacle of motor racing. Such was their motivation. Nuvolari would have nodded his head in appreciation. Ferrari did. In an age where drivers and teams fight in court over the points left over from the previous race and accuse each other of spying and foul play, Minardi were the among the last of the true racers.
Perhaps it was fitting that their first ever win came with Ferrari V8 power at Monza, the spiritual home of the Italian Ferrari fans, not far from their own HQ. This may never be achieved again. This may go down in history as Minardi's first and only win. Many years down the line, old Franz Tost may look up at the lone trophy in admiration, sitting alone in his drab Italian villa, and close his eyes to relive the glory and celebrations of that memorable September noon when Vettel sprayed champagne on the podium for the first ever time for Minardi, having beat all other cars on the grid, having led and won the race from pole position on pure merit. Its a moment that will be frozen in time.
Sebastian Vettel. He is not the first "raw, natural talent" seen in the past decade. Juan Pablo Montoya, Kimi Raikkonen, Lewis Hamilton and Fernando Alonso were all championship material, but were not exactly in the Senna/Schumacher/Gilles Villeneuve mould. It remains to be seen whether Vettel fulfils the promise.
I believe that Formula One should stick to the traditional circuits: Monza, Spa, Monaco, Silverstone, San Marino, Nurburgring, Montreal, Hockenheim and Interlagos. Maybe Estoril, too. The forest sections of Hockenheim and Nurburgring should be reopened. V12 engines and slick tyres should be allowed again. Michael Schumacher should drive for Ferrari and he should win all the races till the end of time. McLaren and Williams should fight it out for 2nd place. Lotus, Audi, Maserati, Tyrrell, Porsche and BRM should start racing again. And Minardi should win once in a while, even if the corporate prize money goes to Torro Rosso.
But none of these is the reason why I'll remember the Italian GP for a long time. Actually, it is because it was after a really long time that the German and Italian national anthems were played on the podium in succession
Not many would know that the first Minardi racer was evolved from a 1975 championship-winning Ferrari F1 car which was lent to them by the great Enzo Ferrari himself, or that it was a Lamborghini V12 that powered the Minardi in the 1992 season. But even a casual F1 fan would recognise some of the driving talent that Minardi has churned out over the years - Alessandro Nannini, Giancarlo Fisichella, Jarno Trulli, Fernando Alonso, Mark Webber, Jos "the boss" Verstappen (who over the years didn't entertain us as much with his driving skills as with spectacular crashes...)
Yet they never had the multimillion dollar corporate culture. They were a bunch of grease monkeys who assembled their car with worn out spanners in an old shed and went racing week after week. For 23 years they chased success, in vain. Always at the back of the grid. Always called the minnows. They never had the funding or the manpower that even the midfield teams enjoyed, yet they raced with passion and commitment. They did not care a toss about money or sponsorship. They were happy to just be there, just performing at the pinnacle of motor racing. Such was their motivation. Nuvolari would have nodded his head in appreciation. Ferrari did. In an age where drivers and teams fight in court over the points left over from the previous race and accuse each other of spying and foul play, Minardi were the among the last of the true racers.
Perhaps it was fitting that their first ever win came with Ferrari V8 power at Monza, the spiritual home of the Italian Ferrari fans, not far from their own HQ. This may never be achieved again. This may go down in history as Minardi's first and only win. Many years down the line, old Franz Tost may look up at the lone trophy in admiration, sitting alone in his drab Italian villa, and close his eyes to relive the glory and celebrations of that memorable September noon when Vettel sprayed champagne on the podium for the first ever time for Minardi, having beat all other cars on the grid, having led and won the race from pole position on pure merit. Its a moment that will be frozen in time.
Sebastian Vettel. He is not the first "raw, natural talent" seen in the past decade. Juan Pablo Montoya, Kimi Raikkonen, Lewis Hamilton and Fernando Alonso were all championship material, but were not exactly in the Senna/Schumacher/Gilles Villeneuve mould. It remains to be seen whether Vettel fulfils the promise.
I believe that Formula One should stick to the traditional circuits: Monza, Spa, Monaco, Silverstone, San Marino, Nurburgring, Montreal, Hockenheim and Interlagos. Maybe Estoril, too. The forest sections of Hockenheim and Nurburgring should be reopened. V12 engines and slick tyres should be allowed again. Michael Schumacher should drive for Ferrari and he should win all the races till the end of time. McLaren and Williams should fight it out for 2nd place. Lotus, Audi, Maserati, Tyrrell, Porsche and BRM should start racing again. And Minardi should win once in a while, even if the corporate prize money goes to Torro Rosso.
But none of these is the reason why I'll remember the Italian GP for a long time. Actually, it is because it was after a really long time that the German and Italian national anthems were played on the podium in succession
Thursday, August 28, 2008
In defence of the dark knight
This is the Altar of Zeus in Pergamon, Turkey.
It is a huge stone structure built in the 2nd century BC by Eumenes II to commemorate his father's victory over the Gauls. The sculptures on the walls of the altar depict the battle of Gods against the demons - A combat of Good and the Evil, Order versus Chaos. Light against Dark. They were meant, at that time, to represent a classic victory of righteousness over the dark forces of immorality. A heroic struggle, in whose tragic aftermath Eumenes was brutally assassinated at Delphi in 172 BCE. In that age, the Altar was a political symbol. It still is, if you have the right kind of vision, more than just a tool for political propaganda. It is a relic from a Godless age which signifies an attempt by the ancient ruling classes to reassure the people that Gods did exist and that they would protect them against the barbarians.
But look at the building itself. It is hardly awe-inspiring. It is no Taj Mahal or Great Pyramid. Some IT office-parks in India are better looking than this, you'd say. But to truly understand a symbol, you have to understand its context. Look beneath the skin. Tear down the facade and examine the skeleton.
It is so easy to miss the point if you aren't looking for it.
The Dark Knight is essentially a superhero movie. That's what it is. A superhero story told with the aid of breathtaking visual aids. And like all superhero stories, it is a conflict between good and evil. So what's different this time?
For starters, this movie deals with issues on a much higher plane. It recognises issues of varying and incredible complexity such as the importance of morality and values in society. It deals the choices people make and the consequences they suffer. The various characters could just have been voices in your head, representing courses of action available to you at any instant. The best thing about this movie for me is that it does not preach Goodness. Nor does it condemn Evil. It merely plays out a debate between the two, and lets you decide. Such are the shades of complexity. It argues that there is no right or wrong. It argues that in life there is seldom a clear victory or defeat, there are only compromises. And usually the one who wins in the end is the one who can rationalise the compromises he makes. By that yardstick, would you say Good won in this movie? The Joker died of course, but did he lose? Would you excuse Harvey Dent for believing that the only morality in a cruel world is chance? Would you blame The Joker for his circumstances?
To me the appeal of a movie lies in the kind of questions it raises. Batman was vulnerable and had no super-powers. What made him a superhero is not physical strength, but the strength he showed to make the choices he made. That's exactly why Harvey Dent failed to make the cut- because one doesn't become a superhero by trusting chance. But you don't blame Harvey Dent for his circumstances. He was only human, so you sympathise with him. You root for The Joker too, because deep down inside, you root for anarchy. Deep down inside you detest rules and refuse to recognise authority, and think that the voice of anarchy cannot be intrinsically evil. The absence of order need not be a bad thing, because it is the only way towards progress. But the question is, where does that leave Batman, the good guy? He is the conservative voice of moderation. He is the anti-change. The Status-quo. He has to be the refugee. He seems to be the piece that doesn't fit when the jigsaw is complete. So he has to be cast away.
The movie did have its share of shortcomings. Harvey Dent's character development was not emphasised, Bruce Wayne in the billionare-playboy-who-wants-to-divert-attention-from-his-secret-life role looked stiff and hardly as convincing as the plot makes him out to be. But all that is trivial compared to the otherwise exceptional quality of overall cinematic delivery. I have no complaints.
So, where would you place this movie? With the other superhero movies- Spiderman, Superman and The Fantastic Four? Or in the same league as The Matrix, Godfather or Apocalypse Now?
This is serious cinema. It is not for the casual viewer. If you liked the dark knight because Heath Ledger's character was spine-chilling or because the graphics were mind blowing, you are missing the point. You liked it for the wrong reasons then. Its a bit like admiring the Communist Manifesto because you like the gothic font.
Crime is an age-old theme. The symbols used in this movie - Batman, Two-Face and The Joker aren't new either. What this movie has managed to do is take ordinary but popular themes and create a drama of epic proportions on the subject of Morality. It is the cinematic equivalent of taking a few blocks of stone, mortar and gravel and building the Altar of Zeus, an artistic symbol of timeless beauty. But then again, its so easy to miss the point
It is a huge stone structure built in the 2nd century BC by Eumenes II to commemorate his father's victory over the Gauls. The sculptures on the walls of the altar depict the battle of Gods against the demons - A combat of Good and the Evil, Order versus Chaos. Light against Dark. They were meant, at that time, to represent a classic victory of righteousness over the dark forces of immorality. A heroic struggle, in whose tragic aftermath Eumenes was brutally assassinated at Delphi in 172 BCE. In that age, the Altar was a political symbol. It still is, if you have the right kind of vision, more than just a tool for political propaganda. It is a relic from a Godless age which signifies an attempt by the ancient ruling classes to reassure the people that Gods did exist and that they would protect them against the barbarians.
But look at the building itself. It is hardly awe-inspiring. It is no Taj Mahal or Great Pyramid. Some IT office-parks in India are better looking than this, you'd say. But to truly understand a symbol, you have to understand its context. Look beneath the skin. Tear down the facade and examine the skeleton.
It is so easy to miss the point if you aren't looking for it.
The Dark Knight is essentially a superhero movie. That's what it is. A superhero story told with the aid of breathtaking visual aids. And like all superhero stories, it is a conflict between good and evil. So what's different this time?
For starters, this movie deals with issues on a much higher plane. It recognises issues of varying and incredible complexity such as the importance of morality and values in society. It deals the choices people make and the consequences they suffer. The various characters could just have been voices in your head, representing courses of action available to you at any instant. The best thing about this movie for me is that it does not preach Goodness. Nor does it condemn Evil. It merely plays out a debate between the two, and lets you decide. Such are the shades of complexity. It argues that there is no right or wrong. It argues that in life there is seldom a clear victory or defeat, there are only compromises. And usually the one who wins in the end is the one who can rationalise the compromises he makes. By that yardstick, would you say Good won in this movie? The Joker died of course, but did he lose? Would you excuse Harvey Dent for believing that the only morality in a cruel world is chance? Would you blame The Joker for his circumstances?
To me the appeal of a movie lies in the kind of questions it raises. Batman was vulnerable and had no super-powers. What made him a superhero is not physical strength, but the strength he showed to make the choices he made. That's exactly why Harvey Dent failed to make the cut- because one doesn't become a superhero by trusting chance. But you don't blame Harvey Dent for his circumstances. He was only human, so you sympathise with him. You root for The Joker too, because deep down inside, you root for anarchy. Deep down inside you detest rules and refuse to recognise authority, and think that the voice of anarchy cannot be intrinsically evil. The absence of order need not be a bad thing, because it is the only way towards progress. But the question is, where does that leave Batman, the good guy? He is the conservative voice of moderation. He is the anti-change. The Status-quo. He has to be the refugee. He seems to be the piece that doesn't fit when the jigsaw is complete. So he has to be cast away.
The movie did have its share of shortcomings. Harvey Dent's character development was not emphasised, Bruce Wayne in the billionare-playboy-who-wants-to-divert-attention-from-his-secret-life role looked stiff and hardly as convincing as the plot makes him out to be. But all that is trivial compared to the otherwise exceptional quality of overall cinematic delivery. I have no complaints.
So, where would you place this movie? With the other superhero movies- Spiderman, Superman and The Fantastic Four? Or in the same league as The Matrix, Godfather or Apocalypse Now?
This is serious cinema. It is not for the casual viewer. If you liked the dark knight because Heath Ledger's character was spine-chilling or because the graphics were mind blowing, you are missing the point. You liked it for the wrong reasons then. Its a bit like admiring the Communist Manifesto because you like the gothic font.
Crime is an age-old theme. The symbols used in this movie - Batman, Two-Face and The Joker aren't new either. What this movie has managed to do is take ordinary but popular themes and create a drama of epic proportions on the subject of Morality. It is the cinematic equivalent of taking a few blocks of stone, mortar and gravel and building the Altar of Zeus, an artistic symbol of timeless beauty. But then again, its so easy to miss the point
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
On the deplorable state of TV advertising
Have you seen the ads for BSNL and Tata broadband connections, in which Preity Zinta and Kajol try to convince us that their respective internet connections are the best? Kajol tells us that she uses Tata Indicom, and urges us to do the same. Obviously, Kajol's vast knowledge of xDSL technologies and frequency bandwidths easily qualify her as an expert on broadband internet connectivity. So naturally, she is the person to consult if you are looking to get a broadband connection at home. And, if you want to get a landline connection, who better to guide you than Preity, who after painstakingly analysing the merits and demerits of all the other available options in the market, has arrived at the conclusion that BSNL is the best.
Look at these mobile phone adverts. Pay special attention to the people who are using the phones being advertised. Is this what mobile phone companies think their customers look like? Maybe.
Whereas in reality, the people who actually use these mobile phones look like this:-
Why then, are normal ugly people not featured in these ads? Don't ugly people form images on negative photographic film, and hence cannot be used in photo shoots? Are mobile phone companies which use good looking models in their adverts eligible for generous tax concessions under The Income Tax Act, 1961? Are Good looking models cheaper than the bad looking ones, so it is cheaper to produce an ad with good looking faces? Are ugly people rare to find? Is it far easier and quicker to find a good looking girl instead?
Maybe the beautiful models look like and represent the targeted demographic segment for the mobile phones, and since companies are forever competing with each other to grab the biggest possible share of the market, it stands to reason that a vast majority of people in India are extremely pretty girls.
Or maybe it was pure happenstance that for a long time went unnoticed. ("Hey!! By the way, did you notice all our ads have had pretty models in them?" "Whoa! Yes!! It had absolutely slipped my attention!")
But I think its because the people in the ad agency figure that people who watch the ad think that because a good looking girl uses the phone, they should also use it. A pretty person is more persuasive than an ugly person. That should obviously be true, because the last time I checked, Priyanka Chopra had convinced more people to buy toilet soaps than Stephen Hawking had.
Look at these mobile phone adverts. Pay special attention to the people who are using the phones being advertised. Is this what mobile phone companies think their customers look like? Maybe.
Whereas in reality, the people who actually use these mobile phones look like this:-
Why then, are normal ugly people not featured in these ads? Don't ugly people form images on negative photographic film, and hence cannot be used in photo shoots? Are mobile phone companies which use good looking models in their adverts eligible for generous tax concessions under The Income Tax Act, 1961? Are Good looking models cheaper than the bad looking ones, so it is cheaper to produce an ad with good looking faces? Are ugly people rare to find? Is it far easier and quicker to find a good looking girl instead?
Maybe the beautiful models look like and represent the targeted demographic segment for the mobile phones, and since companies are forever competing with each other to grab the biggest possible share of the market, it stands to reason that a vast majority of people in India are extremely pretty girls.
Or maybe it was pure happenstance that for a long time went unnoticed. ("Hey!! By the way, did you notice all our ads have had pretty models in them?" "Whoa! Yes!! It had absolutely slipped my attention!")
But I think its because the people in the ad agency figure that people who watch the ad think that because a good looking girl uses the phone, they should also use it. A pretty person is more persuasive than an ugly person. That should obviously be true, because the last time I checked, Priyanka Chopra had convinced more people to buy toilet soaps than Stephen Hawking had.
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