Mickey Say "Cheese!"
O.K. Now say "Peanut Butter!", O.K. Now say "Giant Cat!!!"
The early bird gets the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.
Cheese, by the way, is not a very effective bait for a mouse trap. Peanut
butter is a much more effective bait. A chunk of cheese can be removed and
eaten elsewhere, whereas a glob of peanut butter (like Peter Pan, JIF,
Skippy... you know, the kind with disguised sugars mixed in, a la: glucose,
sucrose, et. al) will smell delicious to vermin for years, even after most
of it is gone.
Welcome, The Happiest Place on Earth! Everything here is plastic, just like
me. I have no face, but I observe in the narrowest myopia. Everyone notices
me and takes a look, but never remembers having seen me.
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Two Moons of August, 2007 meet my two half moons in Disneyland's Enchanted Tiki Room
Bathroom
O.K. so my wife notices that there will be in August 2007 two full moons,
one at the beginning and one at the end of the month. She notices because
her body happens to currently coincide the full moon with her menstruation,
and she's upset that now the curse has changed from the beginning of the
month to the end of the month. I personally feel that it is so much
political boundary, mankind put labels on periods of time, like so many
walls, to help understand and communicate how to throw his brethren into
tiny mental boxes, such are represented by stacks of pigeon-holes at the
post office. And then by the arrogance of men, they decided to change them
about, renaming the months after themselves, and stealing days from other
months to show how important are Julius and Augustus Cesar. But we then
tend to forget that there are actually thirteen revolutions of the moon's
orbit by the time our polar axis returns to the same tilt. So, to remind
us of our geologic timescale folly, I captured my two half moons in the
bathroom of Disneyland's Enchanted Tiki Room, to share with all of you.
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Turn on your Heart Light
When I was little, my grandmother gave me a night-light that she had bought in the nineteen-thirties.
It has a painted plastic shell in the shape of Donald Duck, and inside is a small neon bulb that still shines today.
Recently I bought a novelty bulb with two metal plates inside, one shaped like a heart, the other shaped like cupid, and the bulb is evacuated of air and a small amount of neon is let into the bulb.
Each plate is attached to one side of the power mains, and the only connection between them is the low pressure neon gas.
As each alternate plate is energized, alternately at a rate of sixty cycles each second, the neon gas surrounding that energized plate is ionized and their electrons jump to a larger orbit.
When the electrons jump back down the quantum chasm they emit a distinctively monochromatic "neon red" photon.
Only one plate is energized at a time to electrically kick the nearby gas.
The power mains have a very accurate clock over a long period of time.
Many old analog clocks and even movie camera motors still rely on this accuracy to this day.
I use the neon Donald Duck nightlight to adjust the speed of my vinyl record turntable using the dots along the platter edge.
When they are apparently advancing then they are going slightly too fast and I trim down the speed adjustment knob.
Conversely, if they appear to be slow, the light flashes on time but the dots aren't catching up to the light flashes, indicating calibrating the speed up a hair or two is required.
When my camera is running on battery, it tries to approximate 60 Hertz (that's sixty cycles per second, named after the guy that thought to measure vibration in cycles per second), but the camera is either slightly ahead or behind the power mains, and what you see is one plate and then the other going dark.
Actually the plates are dark all of the time.
It's the nearby ionized neon trying to dump excess electrical energy that provides the glow.
If you look at this bulb with your eyes, or any neon bulb or tube for that matter, it appears to continue to glow, due to our persistence of vision, flickering cinema and animated cartoons, even the video screen you are watching this on rely on the effect of persistence of vision.
But the camera allows us to 'blink' fast enough to capture what then appears to be a slowly oscillating glow.
What the camera sees is not what we see because the clock of the camera is either slightly faster or slower than the clock that synchronizes the power mains, just as if you viewed the scale from a tiny drinking straw sized window fixed near the turntable's spinning edge, it would seem those many identically shaped dots could come into and out of phase as flashed by the rapidly blinking neon.
The Wizard of Indiana Jones
