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Oh no! Oogabooga. He’s read Ayn Rand. And Hayek. And Friedman. Get the pitch forks and torches!

Next thing you know he’ll be pushing ideas like Freedom & Personal Liberty. Ewww, that is so yesterday.

Then again, he is nominally a Republican. Supposedly exhibiting little overlap with cranky Ron Paulism.

Too bad if you ask me.

…

Presently watching — actually not watching — Antiques Roadshow with the Happy Wife. She can watch this show for hours. I don’t know. Oh, sure, occasionally I’ll look up and find myself as surprised as the object owner, who’s just been told that the piece of pottery she snatched from the dumpster years ago is now worth, at auction, $25K. Mostly, though, I find the hour-long show a tad tedious. But you know the proverb: Happy Wife, Happy Life.

Summer has finally arrived. A little late this year but no less welcome. Mid 70’s, sunny, and windless. Sunday I cycled with a few guys to Independence Mine near Hatcher Pass. Reminded me of how few big climbs my quads have done this year. Like none, until yesterday. After a brisk pace line over the first ten miles the climbing commenced. This involved a couple thousand feet (or more) of up, over about ten miles (or less), including grades >12%. Ouch. Near the top we stopped in at the A-frame for lunch. Everyone ordered soup, so so did I. The bowl of Four Cheese (w/bread) was decent. After that we enjoyed a 40+ mph descent, followed by a spirited pace line back to Palmer, where we started the ride. ~50 miles round trip. Nice.

Back at home, Happy Wife suggested Ginger for date night. I had the Mee Krob and an icy gin martini. Okay, two.

 

Seen in the Cleveland airport. Near gate A3, should you disbelieve that such a spectacle is really on public display, and feel the need to go there and see for yourself.

Cleveland heads are rejoicing that ol’ Gino didn’t channel his “Best in Class” giftedness into hairdooery!

Home Saturday in the wee hour, due to a two hour delay leaving Cleveland, thus a missed connection in Chicago, hence three hours at Bubbles wine & piano bar (presently) waiting a 7:30 flight to Seattle (upgraded to 1st!), a layover, and then the final push to the Last Frontier into the waiting arms of the Happy Wife at the gate. Unless she forgets to set the alarm. In which case the arms of the cabbie.

Traveling this week. Not looking forward to 1) red-eye out of Anchorage, 2) connecting in O’Hare, or 3)  the TSA gauntlet. I’ll be in Cleveland and one day in Columbus, on company business. Our latest grant is complete — Whew! The relief is a bit like having been trapped beneath a fallen tree and suddenly freed. We (contributors) had our doubts we’d get this one out the door, but we gritted our teeth and prevailed.

Play fair out there.

An op-ed at the New York Times questioned the necessity of Algebra. At one point the writer wonders:

What of the claim that mathematics sharpens our minds and makes us more intellectually adept as individuals and a citizen body? It’s true that mathematics requires mental exertion. But there’s no evidence that being able to prove (x² + y²)² = (x² – y²)² + (2xy)² leads to more credible political opinions or social analysis.

And I thought, Maybe, but maybe the reverse is true — are people with more credible political opinions and social analysis — such as myself! — more likely able to prove the two sides are equivalent?

Forget about the second term on the right hand side of equation #1 for a second. When you carry out the binomial expansion of the sum of the squares (left), and difference of the squares (right), only the middle term is different. Do this and prove it to yourself.

The middle terms of the left and right expansion appear in #2. Clearly the term on the left is greater than the one on the right by 4 units. In other words, to make the two binomial expansions equivalent, we need to add 4 units of (x² • y²) to the right side.

Now back to that second term. Carry out the square and you see it equals 4 times (x² • y²) (#3).

Which is exactly what we just showed we need to add to the right side to make it equal the left (#4).

Done. Q.E.D.

We usually think of Unintended Consequences as being bad consequences. But sometimes they are good. Consider a device that would undermine an anti-liberty government regulation. A device like a 3D printer, for instance. 3D printers make it possible to “print” a 3D object. Unlike a conventional printer that uses ink to print text or images on a 2D sheet of paper, a 3D printer, like the one demonstrated at the link, uses extruded plastic to construct (print) an actual 3-dimensional object of your design. Some guy recently used a 3D printer to make a receiver for an AR-15 rifle. Reportedly it worked perfectly.

Don’t like a government regulation that bans the sale of certain guns or parts? No problem, just print your own.

Of course, I wouldn’t put it past a committed statist to introduce legislation to ban 3D printers.

Hat tip: Instapundit

In Seward for a few days. Happy wife is attending a conference. And I’m not! So out for a ride with Otis. But first, a trip into town for an espresso and breakfast sandwich, where I was once visited by a Raven. Those of you who know me well, know of my affection for Ravens. And few places in the world are host to Ravens as large as those in Alaska. Corvus corax is big of brain. This guy sure was fond of the few bits of my breakfast sandwich I shared with him. Photogenic too. Look at the talons on that bugger!

Larger plz.

Back at the beach house I changed clothes and set out on Otis, headed for Exit glacier, pushed along by a nice tailwind, one I knew I’d be fighting on the return. But what a day! About halfway down the dead end road I got my first glimpse of all that remains of the aptly named Exit glacier.

Larger plz.

As you get closer to the park entrance it feels like a graveyard march through time. Small signs mark the retreat of the glacier starting in 1815. A few hundred feet further, 1899, then 1912, then 1950, etc.. In a hundred years or so there won’t be enough left to cool a summer drink. I’m pleased I was here to see this old guy.

Had a short conversation at the park service information center with a nice fella visiting from Mississippi. He was looking over Otis pretty carefully, said it looked like a nice ride. I assured him he is, then added, “On a day like today I could get lost in my head and ride all the way to America.” He laughed and asked, and what is this? I asked him to pardon my Alaskan provincialism.

He told me he doesn’t ride too much anymore. He appeared to be in his late sixties, maybe seventy. Said when he was 52 years old he was riding in a fast pace line when all of a sudden a dog appeared among the bikes, and he went down hard. Took extensive surgery and weeks in recovery to put him back together again. Made worse by the fact that his doctors discovered he had osteoporosis, something he’d been unaware of. Not two weeks out of rehab and he was back on the trainer again. Typical biker. I wished him and his wife well and told them to enjoy Alaska. They boarded the park shuttle and down the road they went.

I followed shortly after, happy for my ability to ride here, on a day like this.

Larger plz.

Back at the beach house. 32 miles. Nice.

Webcams at Brooks Camp, Katmai National Park & Reserve, Alaska.

A so far unpublished letter I sent to our daily rag:

UPDATE: Until today that is, here.

Hi. Say an average human pedaling an average bicycle together weigh two hundred pounds. And say our average speed on a roadway is somewhere between ten and twenty mph. We are no match for two tons of glass and steel moving at 40-60 mph. The other thing is, when you’re bicycling, it can be very difficult to hear and understand what people are saying, even when they’re right behind you. Much less someone in a truck with their window down speeding by at 55 mph. So please save your breath, as we cannot understand what I presume are the invectives some of you shout at us, that we get off the $%#@%^ road. Please familiarize yourself with the relevant laws in Anchorage governing bicycles on the roadway (AMC 9.38.020(a)), where I will remind you we are legally permitted to ride our bikes, even when — yes even when — there is an adjacent path. It’s a very clearly worded law. We thank you in advance for sharing the road, and seeing bicyclists.

Like the first time, this is the second time in one year I’ve wanted to throttle Bill Maher.

Happy Wife welcomes the arrival of summer with a Sangria (or two). The first day over seventy in what has so far been a record setting cool July. While the rest of America swelters. Lending credence to my hypothesis that hot summer air is a zero sum game, it can’t be everywhere at once, there’s only so much to go around, and this year so far it’s all been in America. Until Tuesday.

Wednesday I arrived at the bank of the Kenai River at 8:30 am and waited for my nettin’ buddies, Mike & Greg, to arrive with the boat. Looking out on the day I was reminded as I so often am why I live here. Mt Redoubt looms on the horizon. She blew her lid the year I moved to Alaska, 1989. Covered my driveway and filled my gutters with ash.

I want to see a larger version of this picture.

Mike selected the inflatable boat (Achilles) for this trip. The strategy was to have Greg and I net from either side of the boat while Mike kept us positioned or moving slowly with the motor, depending on the direction and strength of the tide. Tide swings in this part of the world fluctuate from 14-22 feet. It can be tricky, especially in the company of hundreds of other boats filled with eager netters. I’ve never seen anything like it this year.

Before we even got underway we discovered the bow of the Achilles was flaccid. Hole or bad valve? A Viagra joke was uttered. Either way, unfortunately the pump had been left behind, so Greg and I stayed with the boat riverside and chatted while Mike went to fetch the pump. About an hour later we were underway with a firm bow. Only to watch it go flaccid again within fifteen minutes. Oh well, other than annoyance of having to repeat over and over again to other boaters — “Yes, we’re aware it’s flaccid” — it was no big deal, being it is unnecessary for flotation.

Expectations were high when the tide finally turned, and water started pushing back into the river. Typically, this is when the salmon make their run into fresh water. We’d only landed one Sockeye before the tide turned, but a really nice one, a male, probably 12 lbs or better. The Kenai River is known for big Sockeye. On the day we came away with about a dozen fish, well short of what we expected (>25). Nobody else appeared to be doing much better. But what a fantastic day on the water it was.

From the killing fields into the coolers they went. The three of us cleaned and filleted ’em riverside.

Later, today, at home, I vacuum sealed my take and introduced them to our freezer. Save one fillet, which I will grill tonight. Life is good.