Review of the BT Longhorn Saloon & Steakhouse (***½)

Posted on August 31st, 2009 in Brenham,Engineerboy,Restaurant Reviews by EngineerBoy
BT Longhorn Saloon & Steakhouse in Brenham, Texas

BT Longhorn Saloon & Steakhouse in Brenham, Texas

In Brenham, TX there are only a handful of non-chain, sit-down dinner restaurants, and the BT Longhorn Saloon & Steakhouse is one of our very favorites.  It’s high up in our dining rotation because of its combination of good food, friendly service, and kitschy atmosphere.

The Longhorn is located in historic downtown Brenham, and is just a block off of the main street, meaning that it’s convenient both to us Brenhamites whose day-to-day activities regular take us downtown (court house, banks, shops, etc) and to visitors, who typically tour the Blue Bell Creamery and then head downtown for dining and shopping.

It’s located in one of the historic old buildings (pictured at right), and the interior has soaring high ceilings, the floor is wood planking, the decor is upscale western kitsch, and they have a massive, beautiful wooden bar.

The service is also very friendly, and usually prompt, although they are sometimes slammed at the height of tourist season.  But even with a small wait, the food is worth it.  We’re addicted to their crab cakes, which comes with fresh wild greens and a delicious creamy sauce.  I typically have a steak, and it’s usually very good, and have also delved into other offerings and specials, like fish, pork chops, chicken, burgers, sandwiches, etc, and all have been very, very good.

Also, their offerings run from moderately priced fare like burgers and sandwiches, up to surf and turf with lobster and filet mignon, so you should find something that fits with your particular dining budget.  And although some of the higher-end items are pricey, the overall atmosphere is casual and friendly, but with some style and polish, so whether you’re dining mid-scale or upscale you should expect a very enjoyable experience here.

Wonderful Weagle

Posted on August 24th, 2009 in Commentary by EngineerBoy
wonder-weagle

Wonderful Weagle - the Gentle Guardian

We have three dogs, but Weagle is definitely the queen/alpha.  She was our first, and we got her from the pound when she was just six weeks old and was so tiny she could snuggle in the palms of our cupped hands.

Her name has evolved over time – her given name is Princess Buttercup, but when she was a puppy she had a distinctively Beagle-esque face and howl, and since her exact ancestry was unknown we figured she was some mix of Rottweiler, Beagle, and who knows what, and we started referring to her as Rottweagle (Rottweiler+Beagle), which eventually got shortened to Weagle. 

Weagle is now 8 years old – not ancient for a dog, but her muzzle is getting whiter, her bones are getting creakier, and she’s getting crankier.  But her primary directive is, and always has been, securing and protecting the pack.  She is ever vigilant for trespassers and ne’er-do-wells, and she has never quite accepted that the mailman clambers up onto our porch every single day, in a gross display of border aggression that she meets with strongly worded warnings.

She also is a creature of habit, and if the household routine doesn’t run on schedule, she lets us know with hoots and chuffs – and even barks, if things go completely off the rails (by her definition).  For example, if we stay up later than normal, she’ll go stand in the dining room and chuff at us, prancing and lowering her head like a Lipizzaner.  We can hush her up for a while, but she can get quite bratty about it, and her ultimate insult is to go to bed without us.   She doesn’t sleep, she just lays there petulantly so that she can glare at us when we finally do close up shop for the night.

And although Weagle is a gentle and loving soul with us, her pack-mates, I have no doubts that if an intruder were to enter our house with ill intentions, he’d have a lot of trouble on his hands, as well as blood on his clothes, and either he’d run off to live to fight another day, or Weagle would fight to the death to protect us.  There is something quite comforting and primal in knowing that our household is protected by such a vigilant and capable guardian.

Another example of this is that wherever we go, however our furniture is arranged, or if we stay elsewhere, Weagle always goes to bed laying so that her eyes (and teeth) are pointed at the door.  Always.  It took us a while to figure it out, because she would sometimes contort into such inefficient positions on the bed, but we finally saw the light and now factor her protectiveness into our sleeping logistics.

Which brings us to the inspiration for this post, which is an incident that occurred last night.  Yesterday (Sunday), we had a brief visit from The Girl, who came by for a quick pre-semester visit and to pick up a donated vacuum cleaner for the townhouse she just moved into (and out of the dorms).  Weagle *loves* when she comes to visit – in fact, if we tell her that Annalisa is coming to visit, Weagle will perk up, ears up, eyes wide, tail thumping, and begin pacing and counting down until her arrival.  And Weagle is at her most happiest when The Girl is here on the couch, and Weagle can lay up against her.  When Annalisa is here, the pack is complete, and Weagle can finally be content that she is protecting everyone.

The girl headed back to San Marcos yesterday afternoon, and we finished up some home projects, and went to bed at a fairly reasonable hour.  Weagle was in her normal position on the bed (up higher than the other mere dogs, of course), and we all settled in.  But then Weagle got up, jumped down off the bed, and started pacing around the house.  This usually means she needs one last trip outside, so we opened up the back door for her.

After 15-20 minutes she still wasn’t back, and when I peeked out at her through the window, she was laying in the middle of the back driveway – just…laying there.  This is *very* uncharacteristic behavior for her.  I called her in, and she hopped up and came right in, and I locked up the back and headed to bed.

But Weagle wouldn’t get back up on the bed.  She kept pacing around the house, not quite agitated, but also not relaxed either.  We figured that maybe she was having belly troubles, so opened the back door back up and went to bed, figuring she’d eventually get it figured out and come to bed.

But she didn’t.  Marie went to check on her, and she said that Weagle paced over by the front door, and kept giving her imploring looks and wags.  We figured that maybe she was waiting for The Girl to return, but Annalisa is quite the academic vagabond, so she’s always here then gone, or home late, so Weagle would not have had any reason to expect her back.

So we left Weagle to her patrolling, but after a while I was starting to get worried that something was seriously wrong, so I finally went looking for her, and she was laying in the dining room – a place where she never lays.  I pulled up a chair and tried to figure out if she was ailing in some way – note that her behavior was now unprecedented, she follows the household routine 100% of the time, so for her to not be in bed, but also not be outside tending to business, and just laying in an uncharacteristic spot was a worrisome combination of factors.

I started having fears that she might be feeling so ill that she was heading off alone, as animals tend to do.  But she seemed completely awake, alert, and not physically ailing in any way.  I left her in the dining room and went back to bed, but after another hour or so I had to check again, as her behavior was just so strange (for her).  She, again, seemed to be comfortable from a physical perspective, but wanted to stay right where she was.

I finally cajoled her into going to bed, which she did with some hesitation.  And, after another 30 minutes or so, Weagle jumped down again and ended up spending most of the night sleeping on the bedroom floor just inside the door – again, *very* uncharacteristic behavior.  But, from that point forward she (and we) slept through the night relatively normally, and I was prepared to chalk up her behavior as either her missing The Girl or her having some type of physical issue that wasn’t serious, just discombobulating. 

Today also happened to be garbage day, which means that one of the first things I did upon waking up was to head out the front door with garbage bags – and that’s when it all became clear to me.  The front door was not locked – in fact, it was slightly ajar, by about a half an inch.  It was still caught by friction with the door frame, so it wasn’t in danger of flapping open, but it was unlocked and slightly ajar.

Although we now live in a smallish country town, we’re city people, and we always lock up tight every night.  But somehow last night we missed checking the front door – but Weagle didn’t.  She had even paced over there with Marie and stood and wagged, but in the darkness it wasn’t easily seen.  So, Weagle had resigned herself to laying in the dining room, which also is on the route from the front door to our bedroom, and protecting us from our own forgetfulness by remaining in the potential path of any intruders.

I’ll stop here and say to those of you who feel I might be anthropomorphizing and/or reading too much into the circumstances, that you don’t know Weagle.  When I told Marie about the door, she also *immediately* knew that this is exactly what was causing Weagle’s restlessness last night.  Weagle is a constantly vigilant guardian, and over eight years of living together one gains insight into the behaviors of the other sentient beings of the household, and she was definitely trying to tell us about the door, and when we didn’t ‘get it’, she resigned herself to being extra-vigilant.

Needless to say, she got a whole lot of extra love and praise this morning, which she accepted with characteristic equanimity.

A Day in the Life of a Typical American, or how I learned to stop worrying and not be hypocritical about ‘socialism’

Posted on August 16th, 2009 in Commentary,Engineerboy,Health and Fitness,Politics by EngineerBoy
Keep the Government Out Of My Life!

Keep the Government Out Of My Life!

A day in the life of a typical American:

Your alarm clock rings, having been powered through the night with an uninterrupted flow of electricity generated by a power company that is a regulated monopoly.

Your alarm clock didn’t catch fire overnight, nor did any other product in your house, because their safety is regulated by consumer product watchdog agencies and federal trade regulations. 

However, if you had somehow had an accidental fire, you could have picked up your phone (regulated monopoly) and called 9-1-1 (municipal service) and had the fire department (municipal service) on site within minutes saving your home and possessions.

As you move through your morning routine in your house, which is still standing because it has been built to meet building codes, you turn on your television and watch the news and weather channels, both controlled by the FCC.

You get an accurate weather forecast from the NOAA, which has gotten detailed satellite imagery from NASA, and see that today will be rainy.  Fortunately, your drive to work will be unimpeded because the local flood plain has been scrupulously mapped and flood control reservoirs and runoff controls have been established to protect you from all but the most egregious conditions.

You eat your breakfast, which doesn’t kill you because of FDA controls, and maybe take your medicines, which also don’t kill you.

You get in your car for your commute, secure in the knowledge that your government-mandated seat belts, air bags, and anti-lock brakes will help protect you from the weather, and your tires meet the government codes for handling on slick streets – as do the tires of all the other cars on the road.

The roads do not wash away in the rain because they are built to meet government codes for roadways, and you check the clock – which is 100% accurate because it is synchronized with the atomic clock at the US Naval Observatory via the nationwide radio signal – and see that you’ll make it to work with time to spare.

You drop your kids off at public school, then you stop for gas, secure in the knowledge that the gasoline is free from impurities and meets the operating requirements of your vehicle, and will be delivered via a mechanism that is 100% compatible with every vehicle on the road by virtue of governmental standards.

You live through the work day in an office that meets OSHA standards, and have your lunch in a cafeteria where the food is safe by virtue of regular inspections and staff training mandated by the government.  You get your paycheck, as guaranteed by law for the work you have performed, and head for home.

Your drive home is not interrupted by criminal activity or civil unrest, because the local police officers, sherrifs, constables, and guard forces ensure the peace and tranquility of society.  Also, when you arrive home, you find that your house has not been ransacked, nor has it been confiscated by a foreign government, thanks to the protection of our armed forces.

When you get home you see you got a couple of birthday cards, and then spend a few minutes leafing through new magazines, all delivered by the US Postal Service.  You take your dogs for a walk on publicly maintained sidewalks down to the public park and walk around the public walking trails, and stop to drink water from the public fountains and let your kids play on the public playground equipment.

You spend the rest of evening watching television on a system made up of completely interchangeable and compatible components, because the government sets the standards to ensure interoperability.  Later you surf the internet, which was developed by the Defense Advanced Research Projects Administration (DARPA).

You put your kids into their flame-resistant pajamas, adjust the temperature of your home HVAC system, secure in the knowledge that it will not poison your family with fumes or gases due to the safety regulations developed and imposed by the government on such appliances.

As you sleep, your money sits safely in a bank earning interest, and your principle is guaranteed by the government.  And you know that tomorrow your currency will be accepted anywhere and everywhere as legal tender for all debts public and private, a guarantee backed by the government.

But keep the god damned government out of health care, I don’t want them intruding into my life because they can’t do *anything* right!!!

District 9 (***½)

Posted on August 15th, 2009 in Commentary,Engineerboy,Movie Reviews by EngineerBoy
Prawns a la Apartheid

Prawns a la Apartheid

If you are planning to see District 9, I urge you to stop reading reviews and just go see it.  It will best be seen with as little foreknowledge as possible, so that the film can be experienced without preconceptions.  I will warn you that this film is not for the squeamish, and the R rating is well deserved.  I don’t recall there being any sex or nudity, and the language isn’t all that bad, so you can infer from that where the R rating comes from – the violence, evil, and inhumanity.

You’ve been warned, the information starts flowing below – seriously, just go see it, then come back here.

Really, just go.

Okay, for those still reading, this film as that rare cinematic gem in that it is both completely unique and absolutely entertaining.  It took a few minutes to get my bearings as the film started, but I was quickly absorbed into the story and felt like I didn’t blink for the entire running time, except when diverting my eyes from the carnage on the screen.

We jump into the middle of a story where a gigantic alien spacecraft is hovering of Johannesburg, South Africa, and has been there for 20 years.  The aliens on board, numbering in the millions, were “rescued” by earthlings and put into a holding camp, which over the years devolved into a ghetto.  The aliens are referred to, derogatorily, as “prawns” because of their resemblence to roughly human-sized shellfish.  The prawns from the ship seem to be all be from a worker-class, and aren’t particularly smart, communicative, creative, or industrious.

They do have language, consisting of very alien-sounding clicks, grunts, and squeals, and they can understand English, and the human governmental workers that interface with the aliens can also understand their language.  The prawns are enamored of cat food, and the local Nigerian criminals are only too happy to provide it to them, at a price.  The Nigerians are also accumulating alien weaponry, even though each weapon is genetically locked and can only be fired by the aliens.

As the movie opens, the residents of Jo’burg are tired of having the aliens around, and a private conglomerate called MNU has been contracted to build a new settlement for the prawns 200 miles outside of town, and then forcibly relocate the aliens there.  Technically, the aliens have rights and there is at least a superficial attempt to try to make it all seem legal, but the aliens don’t really understand what an eviction notice is, so the logistics are kept on track by private mercenaries, who are only too happy to…uh…incent the prawns into cooperating.

MNU puts a man named Wikus Van De Merwe in charge of the move.  Wikus is a middle-management type, not really too bright or ambitious, not really evil, either…just sort of banal and thoughtless.  He doesn’t seem like he’s spent any time examining the awe-inspiring fact that humanity has discovered another sentient race, and that race is advanced enough to send a ship to our planet.  He seems about as engaged and caring as a farmer would be about his cows…yes, he cares, but only because it’s his job to care, and that care isn’t really very deep or profound.

Wikus and his team have to go through the formality of getting the prawns to “sign” their eviction notices, so that there is an audit trail showing that their forced move to the new camp is fully legal.  He goes about this job with the sort of manufactured enthusiasm that any middle-manager would have for an unpleasant and thankless task that nonetheless got him a small promotion of sorts.  He grins and bears it, tries to keep up a good attitude for his team, and even has a camera crew tagging along to document the relocation.

The crux of the story revolves around a particular alien who is definitely *not* a hive-minded worker.  He’s obviously a leader within the alien community, and he has a small son who he watches over with great fatherly care and devotion.  He’s also been on a 20 year mission to gather enough fuel to get his small command module to launch and get back up to the mothership so that he can rescue his people and go home.  He has just gathered the last of the needed fuel when he and his team are rousted by the MNU mercenaries for relocation.

Wikus, while involved in rousting this alien, becomes infected by an agent that starts a transformation of his DNA – to the point where one of his arms turns into one of the tentacled-flippers that the aliens have.  Interestingly enough, his DNA gives him the ability to arm and fire the alien weaponry, which makes him very valuable to MNU – valuable in the sense that he is a mass of tissue with DNA they can harvest to create hybrid soldiers capable of using the superior alien firepower.  However, the entity known as Wikus Van De Merwe is valueless, a complication, a glitch to be fixed as MNU moves forward to reap their billions in defense contracts.

And therein lies the story.  Wikus wants nothing more or less than to go back to being human, and to hold his wife again.  The head alien tells Wikus that if he helps recover the fuel and get them to the mothership, he has medical equipment that can re-humanize him.  MNU, however, will stop at nothing to recover the tissue culture known as Wikus Van De Merwe so that they can continue to harvest him.

The footage shot by the film-crew-within-a-film is used to book-end the movie in news report/documentary style, including interviews with key players, excerpts of newscasts, etc.  As you may have been able to infer from the above description, the storyline is quite unique.  The effects are outstanding – after a couple of minutes the digitally rendered aliens simply become characters.  The hovering mothership, the size of a city itself, looks real – or as real as such a site would look considering the unreality inherent in a city-sized alien ship hovering over a major metropolitan area for two decades.  And the weaponry is suitably dazzling and lethal.

Put it all together and it’s a movie unlike any I’ve ever seen.  There are parts that call to mind other movies – Aliens, Men in Black, Independence Day, Robocop…hell, even Office Space.  But it’s not slavish copies of those, it’s a unique pastiche of those kinds of films that came before it, but with the result being something completely fresh, and definitely worth fighting the crowds and paying the full price for an opening weekend viewing.

Michael Vick is Back in the NFL

Posted on August 15th, 2009 in Commentary,Engineerboy,Sports by EngineerBoy
An Eagle?  More Like A Vulture...

An Eagle? More Like A Vulture...

So, Michael Vick is out of prison after serving time for illegal dog-fighting, and is returning to the NFL as a member of the Philadelphia Eagles.  I believe that everyone deserves a second chance, and while I would prefer to have never seen or heard of this chump ever again, I can’t begrudge him the fact that he’s served his time and is going on with his life.
 
For a refresher on his recent history, see these previous posts:

Michael Vick Needs Psychological Treatment
Michael Vick Should Be Thrown To The Dogs

Although it’s rare, I’m sure that it’s possible for people to undergo fundamental changes in their psyche, and it may be the case that Vick has done exactly that – he had it all and then lost it all, and his fall from grace could have been enough to lead to a soul-searching epiphany wherein he achieved the enlightenment to understand that it is simply and completely wrong to  torture and kill animals that are trusting and innocent.

But I seriously doubt it.  Tigers rarely change their stripes, and people rarely change their fundamental nature.  Torturing dogs ranks up there with beating children in my book – not that the life of a dog is comparable to the life of a child, but that the mental state of a person who can inflict pain and horror onto a being that is completely dependent on, trusting of, and subservient to them is the same in both cases.

But, again, everyone deserves a second chance.  Many people who are violent to their own children are passing on what they learned at home growing up, and if they take steps to break the cycle that is an admirable thing.  Michael Vick has claimed that the torture and abuse of dogs was part of his culture growing up, and I hope that what has happened is that he has seen the light and realized that what he did was horrific. 

However, my fear is that his essential nature hasn’t changed, and all he has learned is that he shouldn’t have gotten caught dogfighting, and that he will simply find some other outlet for his narcissistic sociopathy that will lead to his re-downfall.  I am not wishing for this to happen, and hope that it does not…but I fear that it is the most likely outcome.  I just hope nobody else gets hurt in the process.

Just Say No to Coconut Welcome Mats

Posted on July 25th, 2009 in Commentary,Engineerboy by EngineerBoy
Say No to Coco on the Flo' by the Do', Scro

Say No to Coco on the Flo' by the Do', Scro

Over the years I’ve owned many coconut floor/welcome mats, and I have finally come to the conclusion that they are both worthless and evil.  First and foremost, they violate their own design purpose – they are supposed to help reduce the amount of crap that you track into your house, but when you buy them they *immediately* begin shedding little bits of coconut husk fibers, so that the area inside the “protected” door starts to look like the floor of the Shredded Wheat factory.

Secondly, the mats themselves are impossible to keep clean.  The fibers are so densely packed that any dirt or mud that gets into them is virtually impossible to get out through any means that doesn’t also start causing pattern baldness.  If you spray it with the hose, that seems to simply compact the dirt further down into the fibers.  If you use a pressure washer it will simply blast the fibers loose from the backing, which will eliminate the trapped dirt, but at what cost?

And a word of dire, dire warning – do not, under any circumstances, attempt to run a coconut mat through your washing machine.  Not even for a quick wash and rinse.  Trust me.  Really.  Trust me.

The reason I know this is that, like all men of progress, I was willing to take risks on behalf of my fellow men (and women) and learn hard lessons by not being too embarrassed to end up in a catastrophic failure of epic proportions.  Heed the following tale of warning.

Let me begin by saying that those of you who are smirking at the stupidity of attempting to clean a coconut welcome mat in the washing machine, and who confidently presume that such an activity could only end in tears, are suffering from a lack of imagination that is all-too-common, and which is a primary contributing cause of humanity’s failure to solve some of our most challenging problems, such as curing cancer or eliminating the designated hitter, because of our timidity in trying solutions that might seem idiotic at first, but whose true efficacy can only be measured by practical experimentation and the willingness of the experimentor to risk great failure while striving for great success.

In other words, I really fucked up.  We had family coming to visit for the weekend, and I was doing some early, proactive house cleaning to try to get ahead of the curve.  If you exit the back of our house, you will first step out into the laundry room and from there step out into the back yard.  We have three big, rambunctious dogs who have free access to the fenced backyard by virtue of a dog door through the back door.  And our dogs show no hesitation in tracking in anything and everything they step in, which is particularly irksome when it’s raining.

In order to try to control the influx of dirt and crap, we implemented a three-phase system.  Outside the dog door there are rubber mats, that are in a lattice-like pattern, meaning they are not solid rubber, but have regular openings that go all the way through.  These mats provide a wonderful first-stage cleaning station for our inbound dogs, because they have to traverse the mats to get to the dog door.  We have two of the mats stacked up and held together with zip ties in order to increase the capacity of the gaps to trap and hold dirt.  This step works really well and removes 60%-70% of the inbound crud.

Step two is (or was) a coconut mat on the floor of the laundry room, and step three is (or was) a coconut mat in the kitchen just inside the door from the laundry room.  This three-stage setup worked great, for a couple of weeks.  But then we noticed that, while the coconut mats were good at absorbing wet dog prints, they were also prone to releasing loose fibers.  Constantly.  So many fibers that if we vacuumed the mats they would clog the vacuum.  I began taking them outside and spraying them down to clean them, but that seemed to only more deeply imbed the dirt into the fibers, while also conveniently loosening more fibers to fall out later.

So, our three phase process was broken – dirt coming in from outside was being controlled, but the cost was coconut fiber husks everywhere.

What I didn’t know at the time was whether or not the shedding of coconut husks was an ongoing issue for these mats, or if it was some kind of shake-out that had to occur, and which would stop once all the loose fibers had been removed.  I figured I’d decide one way or the other by running one of the mats through the washing machine.  I planned the event carefully, and even accounted for the fact that it might fail miserable, and I was standing by to yank the mat out of the washer at the first sign of trouble.

So, I took one of the mats, put it in the washer, set it on a gentle cycle, and let it rip.  The basket filled with water, the agitation started, and stood there watching with the lid open.  The water got dirty very quickly, but there didn’t seem to be a huge number of fibers coming loose.  I watched it for about five minutes, and things seemed to be working, so I decided to wander away and do some more housecleaning and check on it every few minutes.

What I didn’t realize was that at some point between the five and ten minute marks would be when hundreds of thousands of little coconut fibers would all release at the same time.

When I came back, the washer basket was filled with free-floating little coconut fiber husks.  I immediately stopped the washer, flung the dripping, foamy rug out onto the back driveway, and scooped out as many of the fibers manually that I could.  I then ran the washer through a cycle to flush the pipes…or so I thought.

What actually happened is that the coconut fibers had clogged the drain line for the washer, so when the washer would drain, the water would simply back up the drain pipe and flood out onto the floor of the laundry room.  Our washer drain line is prone to clogging anyway, so I have a plumbing snake there, but couldn’t seem to punch through the clog. 

I finally determined that the clog wasn’t at the nearest elbow, but somewhere further down the line.  The line wasn’t fully clogged, just running really slowly.  I poured four large bottles of drain cleaning gel down the line and let it set overnight.  In the morning, voila, it was draining cleanly!  Happy ending, yes?

No.

I then went to the kitchen sink to wash dishes, and as I washed I noticed that the water was draining slowly – so slowly it started filling the sink.  If I stopped the water at the faucet, the sink would eventually drain, but it was s—-l—-o—-w.  Apparently, the coconut husks had managed to backwash up into the drainline for the nearby kitchen sink.  I resolutely applied the same solution to the kitchen sink as I had applied to the washer – four bottles of drain cleaning gel, and let them set overnight.

And in the morning, voila, no difference.  What?  How could four bottles of drain cleaner have failed?  I don’t know, but they had.  At this point, our visitors were set to arrive later that day, and plumbing problems plus houseguests is never a good combination.  I was at the point that all handymen dread – I was considering calling a plumber.

A point of order here – even I find it ironic that I would refer to myself as a “handyman” when I had just done something as stupid as washing a coconut door mat.  However, in my defense, I fully expected that the experiment could go awry.  I just underestimated the degree.

So, there I was, main drainline clogged with coconut husks.  An overnight session of drain cleaner had done nothing.  Incoming houseguests already launched and approaching target.  Expensive plumbers just a phone call away, but timeliness could be an issue.  I wracked my brain for one last attempt at fixing it myself.  My brain was racing – the clog was too far back for the snake to reach.  The husks were too tough for drain cleaner to eat them.  Time was too short for me to start disassembling plumbing.  What to do?

And I then had a wild thought – what if I try to boil it out?  Specifically, what if I boil two huge pots of water, then pour them down the slow sink?  I mean, even coconut husks would have to soften under the onslaught of boiling water, right?  Right??

Right!!!  It worked beautifually.  I boiled water in two of our largest pots.  While the water was boiling I let the sinks drain, so that there was not a lot of standing water to contend with.  When the first pot was boiling I poured it right down and waited.  Nothing.  However, I could sense (or maybe it was just hope) that this first pot of boiling water was softening up the coconut, making it looser and more amenable to being flushed away.  Once the first pot of water had mostly drained, and the second pot was boiling, I poured the second pot of boiling water down the drain.

And waited.  Fifteen seconds – nothing…twenty seconds – nothing…thirty seconds – audible burbling…forty-five seconds – visible burbling in the water…sixty seconds – blurp/whoosh, there it went!  Woo hoo!  It worked.

Yes, it worked.  But it was a close one.  In retrospect, trying to wash a coconut floor mat was one of my least bright ideas.  However, I feel I offset that stupidity with the boiling-water trick, and so this turned into a zero-sum event from the perspective of my handy-ness.

And to all you who are considering coconut floor mats – think again.  They don’t work.  They can’t be cleaned.  They can’t be bargained with, they can’t be reasoned with, they don’t feel pity or remorse or fear, and they absolutely will not stop shedding husks, ever, until you throw them out and/or douse their progeny with gigantic pots of boiling water.

You’ve been warned.

The Hangover (***½)

Posted on June 27th, 2009 in Commentary,Movie Reviews by EngineerBoy
We call this "The Loser Bench"

We call this "The Loser Bench"

It would not be possible for me to recommend “The Hangover” highly enough.  This movie is laugh-out-loud funny from beginning to end, and is driven by the script, the story, and the situations, not by “stars”.  Hollywood has gotten lazy about making deals instead of making movies, and have developed a pattern of putting A-list stars into films with mediocre scripts and huge advertising budgets, and just expecting us to show up because we don’t know any better.

Well, now you know better, at least about this film.  Parts of it are raunchy, but that’s not its purpose – the raunch is essential to the plot.  And the plot sounds hackneyed, but it is *not*.  This is the story of four friends who go to Las Vegas for a bachelor weekend to send off one of their group.  They plan to spend the night doing anything and everything, and then leaving it all behind because what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

The film starts conventionally, setting up the four main characters – Phil the school teacher (Bradley Cooper), who feels trapped by his wife and family and thinks nothing of pilfering his students’ field trip money to embiggen his Vegas stake; Stu the dentist (Ed Helms), whose harpy girlfriend is the distillation of every man’s worst nightmare; Doug the groom (Justin Bartha), the nice guy marrying the nice girl and whose nice families are nice; and Alan (Zach Galifianakis) the…the…cipher? …the…uh…weirdo? …er…pedophile? …um…genius??  Well, Alan is a puzzle as it’s hard to describe a man who is legally restricted from getting with 200 feet of a school (or a Chuckie Cheese), who learns card counting from a book and scores a bundle at the tables, who wonders if Caesar ever really lived at Caeser’s Palace, who blames Al Qaeda for society’s intolerance of masturbating on a commercial airliner, and who actually seems like a nice, if misunderstood (or un-understandable) guy.

These four borrow the prospective father-in-law’s classic convertible Mercedes and head across the desert to get their groove on in Vegas.  After they check-in to the hotel and do Jäger shots on the roof, the story flashes forward to the next morning, when Phil, Stu and Alan wake up to a Gordian knot of repercussions from the previous nights festivities.  Their $4,000/night suite is a wreck, a rooster struts and clucks among the carnage, there’s a baby in the closet, a tiger in the bathroom, and Doug is missing (and so is one of Stu’s teeth).

The rest of the film is the story of them trying to remember what happened so they can find Doug and get him to the church on time.  They piece the night together from clues and guesses, and retrace their steps on their quest for Doug.  And their path was long and winding, as well as outrageously hilarious.  I won’t go into any more details, but let’s just say that the movie deserves a second viewing, if only to catch the things you missed while you were laughing.

And it’s always nice to see the birth of a star – Zach Galifianakis shines throughout this film, in such a way that you can see that he has vaulted up the Hollywood pecking order on the strength of this performance alone, and should be able to leverage this appearance for a long and prosperous career, if that’s what he wants.  He doesn’t exactly steal the show, because the show is outrageous and over-the-top to begin with, but he definitely shines the brightest.  And the other central players should also see career boosts from this, although maybe not to the degree of Galifianakis.

Put it all together and you have a movie that is both intelligent and stupid, and is a true laugh riot.  Note that if you are easily offended by…well…anything, then you may want to skip this movie because there are a lot of offensive things in it.  However, they are not done for shock value, they flow naturally from the characters and storyline – but they are no less shocking.

And stay for the credits. 🙂

Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian (***)

Posted on May 25th, 2009 in Commentary,Movie Reviews by EngineerBoy
Honest(ly huge) Abe

Honest(ly huge) Abe

We had never seen the first movie in this series, Night at the Museum, but ended up watching it a couple of days before going to see the new installment, Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian.  We found the first movie to be enjoyable and forgettable, but funny enough that we decided to go out and see the sequel this weekend.

Battle of the Smithsonian is, quite enjoyably, more of the same, but on a larger scale.  Many of the familiar characters from the first film are back again, and a host of new characters are added.  Also, this film takes place across the campus of the Smithsonian museum buildings, and makes sure to pull some of the personality of the museum itself into the mix.  Smithsonian isn’t trying to hide a history lesson inside a Ben Stiller action-comedy, far from it.  There are historical references, many of which will fly over the heads of the young target audience, like Sputnik.

For example, at one point in the film a couple of the characters step into the life-size print of the famous Life magazine photo of a returning sailor kissing a nurse in Times Square.  The characters wander around Times Square chased by Egyptian spearmen, and eventually step back into the Smithsonian.  Unfortunately, one of the characters has dropped his cell phone in the crowds, and a young serviceman picks it up and shouts after him that, hey, mister, you dropped your…whatever this thing is.  Later, over the end credits, we see that same young serviceman working at an electronics bench in the 40’s, and his mother calling him to dinner from the other room.  He tells her just a minute, he thinks he’s onto something, and she shouts back with the unbending will of mom’s everywhere and says, “You put down whatever that is and you get in here right this minute, Joey Motorola!”  There was a row of about a dozen 8-10 year old boys sitting in front of us, and they all spun around and stared at us when we cracked up at that line.

There are also Tuskegee airmen, simian astronauts, gangsters, Tsars, emporers, huns, painting subjects, and even NASA mission control techs (played by Clint Howard, who has recognizably played such techs in many other films) that will resonate much more deeply with older audience members, but which also provide an extra layer of humor apart from yet another predictable round of slapping the monkey.

The story of the current installment is that Kahmunrah, the evil older brother Ahkmenrah, has come to steal the magic plate from his younger brother.  The plate is what brings all the museum characters to life between sunset and sunrise each night.  Kahmunrah knows that the plate can be used to summon the army of the dead and allow him to take over both the day and night-time worlds.  It’s up to Larry Daley (Ben Stiller) and his band of pals to stop him.

Let’s just say that hilarity ensues, some of it juvenile, some of it more refined, some of it falls flat, but overall this is a funny and enjoyable film.  It won’t win any awards for the story or the acting, although it might get some technical awards for the effects, which are beautifully done.  Don’t go in expecting great art or even classic comedy – this film is a fine Memorial Day break, worth the price of a ticket and concessions, and you’ll walk out smiling.

An Open Letter to the Producers of American Idol

Posted on May 21st, 2009 in American Idol,Commentary,Television by EngineerBoy

Dear American Idol Producers,

American Idol...Reborn?

American Idol...Reborn?

Sigh.  Another season has ended, albeit with a surprise ending (Kris Allen defeating Adam Lambert), but the finale wasn’t watched in my household.  Again.  We didn’t watch last year, either.  And although we watched most of the episodes this season, we still watched many fewer than last season.

Over the years there have been several consistent issues we have with the show which continue to drain our enthusiasm.  If you care to know them, here they are:

Issue #1: Obvious no-talents singing before the judges during tryouts
I can see you all huddled in your planning meetings, hoping to strike some more William Hung-like ratings gold by putting through idiots, freaks, sad losers, and people whose singing talent is measured in the negative range.  However, that schtick is old and played out and should be retired.  As the judges are so fond of saying, and what keeps me watching, is that this is a singing competition.  Having your screeners put through some croaking clown to sing before the judges is a ludicrous and transparent ploy, please stop it.

Issue #2: The endless, manufactured backstories
During tryouts, you pick supposedly interesting/appealing contestants and provide us with behind-the-scenes looks at their lives, toils, challenges, and troubles.  However, at this early stage these are anonymous singers, so the program would be much more interesting and lively, in our opinion, if you would simply stage the singing competition.  Now, when you get to Hollywood and start paring down the contestants to an identifiable bunch, we might like to learn a *little* something about them…but just a little.  The endless biographing and attempts to manufacture pathos and drama are irksome.

Issue #3: Kara DioGuardi
Who?  Why?  The best way to describe her is to paraphrase Shakespeare thusly:  “Kara is but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets her hour upon the stage and then is heard no more.  Her’s is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”  Kara did not have one moment that we saw this season that wasn’t useless, irritating, or both, or somewhere in between.  And don’t get us started on her “song”, which is addressed further down in this article.

Issue #4: Country week
Do you have to kowtow to that demographic?  Have you even stopped to consider how many viewers it drives away (like us) compared to how many it attracts for that one, single episode?  Country music is not what American Idol is about, period, so don’t try to put a pig behind the lipstick – it insults the fans of both kinds of music.

Issue #5: Golden Idol awards
Really?  Just shorten the damn show by 15 minutes.  Please?  Even 15 minutes of dead air would be preferable.

Issue #6: An even number of judges
This puts too much power in the hands of Lord Cowell.  Have three judges…or five judges…but not four.  Having Simon deciding ties also renders the new “Judge’s Save” useless, and makes it “Simon’s Save”.

Issue #7: Lip-synching
This is a singing competition.  If the guests can’t sing live, or the group can’t learn to sing together live, then skip it.  It taints the rest of the program to see such obvious lip-synching by the guests and during the group songs.  It would be like having a slam-dunk competition in basketball, and inviting revered, retired players to perform, but then having to lower the backboard and/or provide them with a springboard in order to actually dunk.  It’s demeaning to the performers and insulting to the viewers, so please stop it.

Issue #8: The horrible finale song
This is the worst issue of all.  When each new season starts, we already start dreading having to sit through the inevitably atrocious, amateurish, pathetic, soulless, empty, fawning, shallow, superficial song that is written for the last show.  There hasn’t been a single one that wasn’t a horrific affront to all things musical.  And it is the absolute wrong note to strike at the end of American Idol.  Over the course of the season, contestants improve.  The bar gets raised each show.  The songs and themes get better and better.  Tension builds.  Over the last two or three weeks each contestant has proven their worthiness, and each is a valid potential star.  They swing for the fences, and we all get swept along with them, big voices and big talents tackling big songs, the skill and expertise are awe-inspiring, the artistry is soul-enriching.  Until…like the giant, wet fart of an incontinent walrus….bbrrrppfppfppptttthhhh…that lame-ass final song.  *That’s* what we’ve been building up to?  A crappy and trite slice of pabulum not even fit for the discount bin?  Please, in the name of all humanity, please stop torturing us with this horrific ending.  Please.

I see today that the finale had all-time low ratings, and I can’t say that I’m surprised.  Listen, Idol Producers, your show is still solid.  You don’t need to do more non-singing-related bullshit, you need to do less.  Strip it down to a singing competition.  If you want to add something to it, make it about the singing and performing.  How about a jury night in Hollywood?  Bring in nine additional musical noteworthies/legends, make Simon the foreman, and have the jury decide on the final 24, or something like that? 

Make sure that the entire focus of the show is on the quality of the singers and of the songs.  Go back to the original three judges: Simon Cowell, Paul Abdul, and Randy Jackson.  If you end up having to make changes, please pick people who will be interesting and relevant, unlike Kara, who is neither.  And keep Ryan Seacrest, he continues to be an affable and unflappable host, the circus master who always seems to strike the correct note.

You have a great product, but it’s like you’ve taken a classic Rolls-Royce and tricked it out with fiberglass effects, tinted windows, neon running lights, and subwoofer in the trunk.  Strip away the cheap bling and flashy trash, and be what you are – a pure and classic singing competition.

The Moon, the Sun, and Cosmic Coincidence

Posted on May 10th, 2009 in Commentary,Engineerboy by EngineerBoy
Astronomical Coincidence

Astronomical Coincidence

The Sun is 400 times larger than the Moon, but it is also 400 times further away.  What this means is that, when viewed from the Earth, the Moon is *exactly* the correct size to perfectly obscure the Sun when they are aligned during a total eclipse.  As you can see in the picture to the right, the Moon covers the sun perfectly, leaving only the corona visible around the edges.

I have a compulsion, for lack of a better term, to understand things.  How they work.  Why they happen.  What they mean.  It took a few years for Marie to get used to me going into EngineerBoy-mode when she did something I didn’t understand, and so would begin quizzing her about it.  For example, if she drove a different route to a familiar destination I would ask her why she chose that route.  In the beginning, she interepreted it as me questioning her route choice – in the sense of doubting that it was the most correct/efficient route.

But what I was doing was actually paying her the compliment of knowing that she wouldn’t just absent-mindedly pick some unexpected route, and that there must be a logical reason for it, and I wanted to know her reasoning.  In retrospect it’s easy to see why it was annoying, because I did a poor job of couching the questions in any sort of way other than, “Why did you turn left there?  Aren’t we going to Place X?  We usually go *that* way, why would you choose to go *this* way??”.  That sounds like skepticism and doubt, and what it really is is the quest for information and knowledge, and the answer of “I just felt like taking a different route today” makes perfect sense, I just hungered to know “why?”.

Eventually she realized that I do that about anything and everything that I don’t understand.  If we pass by an interesting door and I can’t figure out how the hinges work, I’ll stop and assess it (within reason, given other pressing matters).  It’s not that I think the door is “wrong”, it’s that I don’t understand it, but it obviously works, and I want to *get* it.  I know that me understanding how a particular door works doesn’t really do anything other than satisfy my curiosity, and as long as it works that should be good enough for a random door.

And it’s not every door that I have to figure out, just those that seem to me to not fit what i already know about doors.  I’m the same way with people – when they behave in ways that I don’t understand, I have to try and figure them out.  For the most part it’s not about agreeing or disagreeing with the way a person behaves, it’s about being able to understand a person’s motivations to act in a way that doesn’t make sense to me, when it obviously makes sense to them, because they’re doing it.

So a lot of my curiousity comes from the fact that I freely acknowledge that I don’t know everything.  In fact, given the totality of human knowledge, and the unfathomable scope of all possible knowledge, I really don’t know anything much at all.

But if I can observe something, and understand all of its facets, and it still doesn’t make sense, that bothers me.  A lot.  And it doesn’t happen much – not that I am somehow able to figure everything out, it’s more that I’m usually able to see the line that separates things that I personally can’t explain and things which cannot be explained, period.

One of the things-which-cannot-be-explained-period is the relative visual size of the Sun and Moon.  There are two possible explanations for their perfect ratios.

1) Coincidence

or

2) Design

Both of those explanations leave me skeptical, frustrated, and continuing to search for answers.  As for it being a coincidence, the odds of all the factors occuring randomly are so astronomically high that I can’t blithely accept that as the answer.  If the Moon were slightly farther away from the Earth, or slightly closer, it wouldn’t happen.  If the Moon were slightly larger or smaller than it is, it wouldn’t happen.  If the orbit of the Moon didn’t have it line up perfectly with the Sun regularly, it wouldn’t happen.  If the Sun were slightly larger or smaller, it wouldn’t happen.  If the Earth’s orbit it kept is slightly closer to or further from the Sun, it wouldn’t happen.

But *all* of those things happen.  The odds of it being a coincidence are staggering.

But if it’s not a coincidence, that leaves purposeful design.  Well, whose design?  God(s)?  Aliens?  Ancestors?  Some combination of those?  I mean, it’s hard to argue with evidence – there’s the Moon, there’s the Sun, and a couple of times a year, there’s the demonstration during an eclipse.  We can all see it, we can all understand it from the purely physical aspect.  There’s nothing to interpret, because it happens, an event that all humanity can observe and which cannot be denied.  It’s not a fake, it’s not a stunt, it’s not a legend, it’s not a myth, it’s not Photoshopped.  It’s just there for all of us to see.

But if we are assessing the “design” explanation, then the phenomenon is clearly a message. It has meaning.  It says something.  But what?

If we start with just the facts, the message is obviously directed at inhabitants of Earth, because it is only from the perspective of the surface of the Earth that it can be seen.  But what is the message?  The actual obscuring of the sun by the moon doesn’t seem to convey much in and of itself.  What seems to be the important part is the exact fit during a total eclipse.

The closest explanation that I can conjure up is similar to a plot point from the film “2001: A Space Odyssey”.  In the film, there is a rectangular black monolith that is not a random object, it was obviously created by something intelligent.  The monolith is buried on the far side of the moon, such that man will not discover it until he has made enough technological advancement to actually go to the dark side of the moon and find it.

And once men uncover the monolith, it responds by beaming a signal elsewhere in the solar system, indicating that man had sort of stumbled across a tripwire that indicated that we had advanced enough to travel to the moon.  One element of the Moon/Sun eclipse phenomena could be that humans couldn’t understand until such time as we grasped the nature of the stars and planets, and even further, until we realized that the chances that the perfect fit is a random coincidence is nearly 0%.

So, okay, we did it.  We’ve figured out the stars and planets, at least at a basic conceptual level.  We understand the effects of gravity and the nature of orbital mechanics.  We’ve been to the Moon and back.  We’ve even sent man-made objects out of our solar system and into deep space.

But…now what?  The Moon perfectly obscures the Sun during a total eclipse, it’s improbable that it’s pure coincidence, we *get* it.  But, now what?  What does it mean that we understand it?  What should it be telling us?  What should we be learning from that?

There are some whose philosophy will allow them to attribute this phenomenon to a higher power, and thus endeth the inquiry.  However, to me, no matter who set it up or why, there has to be more to it than a simple display of god-like powers – that would seem so…conceited of him/her/it/them.

My take is that the purpose of this astronomical alignment is for us to understand two things:

Thing Number One
The first thing that this is trying to tell us that we are not alone.  There is someone or something else out there, and they are far more advanced than we are.  They were able to set the size and shapes of planets to the precise ratios such that, once our puny-but-ravenous human brains advanced enough to understand it, we would *get* it.

Thing Number Two
The second thing that this is trying to tell us is that, compared to the vastness of available knowledge, we know nothing.  Right now, humans know enough to see the phenomenon, to understand the mechanics of it, and to begin to question the meaning of it, but that’s it.  So, in this sense, it’s like a trail of breadcrumbs, designed to lead us to the desired destination (both physically and intellectually).  It’s saying, come on, take a few more steps, make a few more theoretical leaps, come out of our shell of earthboundedness and step into the wider universe.

In closing, I freely state that all of the above is pure conjecture and deduction and has a high probability of being completely wrong in every facet.  However, it represents my best interpretation of the undeniable facts.  The fact that there isn’t more discussion of and amazement about this phenomenon serves to both frighten and confuse me.  There are many who say, show me proof of a higher power and/or of other intelligent life in the universe.  Well, there it is.  There are many who say, I already knew about the higher power, I know that he/she/it is omnipotent, and so the phenomenon is nothing more than confirmation of what I already knew and no further introspection is needed.  Uh, really?

I will also freely state that there is a very small, but non-zero, chance that this phenomenon is purely a coincidence.

But I doubt it.

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