Salocin

Apparently, the US has investigated the potential creation of various. weapons on rather dubious premises. Among the top 10 were weapons that would make soldiers 'sexually irresisible to each other', a so-called 'love bomb'/'gay bomb'. They also considered a bomb which would make the enemy sensitive to sunlight, and a bomb that would give them bad breath... Whether this last one was really to 'identify them when they tried to blend in with a crowd' or merely to cause significant social unrest when they returned home (and potentially destroy their morale by making them sexually unapproachable) remains a matter of national security, no doubt.

Didn't really know what to call this entry, since I've been without a proper internet connection so long, I've been a little out of touch, and I was going to talk about a bunch of stuff.

Ok: so defining about 5 days as "so long" is a bit of a stretch, but in this day and age, connectivity withdrawal can be quite severe. The real frustration was that I have a perfectly functional broadband router in the house, and two computers. My personal computer is still fried (more on that later) and the company laptop has this super duper firewall that has a "gateway enforcement policy" which means that if you want to connect to the internet, you have to log into the company VPN. To log into the VPN requires a specialized software, a secret IP address, group ID, a group password, a personal login, a personal password, a PIN number and a special SecureID key fob that has a number on it that changes every 90 seconds, which counts as an additional password. Clearly, this is a process designed to fail, and I was lacking some element of the witchs' brew (the key fob), and so I had a fully functional laptop, quite capable of connecting to the internet, but wouldn't let me use the internet to connect to anything. Just to be safe. 4 passwords, I ask you...

So I complained bitterly to the local administration (which is outsourced), and they referred me to IT (which is outsourced), who referred me to second line support (which is outsourced to Ireland). The Irish, being a friendly and sympathetic people, even at 7:30am on a Tuesday morning, immediately understood my plight, and uploaded a different profile to my firewall, which allows me to totally circumvent the gateway restriction, because it now thinks I'm an engineer. Unfortunately, it took 2 days to upload, and arrived at about the same time as the key fob with the changing pseudo-random number password, so I didn't need it by then, but I was grateful for their sympathy and their willingness to help.

In other drama, I was simultaneously trying to get a new power supply for my IBM thinkpad. While I was getting that, I also asked for another keyboard, since they have a tendency to get sticky when the user has a tendency to type and eat at the same time. [ there's this great saying that almost all the problems with computers nowadays are caused by the same faulty piece of hardware, and it's easy to find, because it's always between the keyboard and the chair ]. IBM are lovely, especially since I mortgaged my house to buy their full on-site bend-over-backwards-for-you warranty, and it's still valid. So they sent me the keyboard and power supply. Unfortunately, the courier was a bit slow, so Thursday of last week became Wednesday of this week, and when I got home, I found a note saying that my packages had been left in the cupboard outside the door.

That would be the cupboard that doesn't lock, is open to the public and empty.

Anyway (long story short), I eventually found the 2 packages, and I have to admit that I've been anxious to get them. You see, when the computer packed in, I restarted it immediately on battery power and it worked fine, but the power supply no longer seemed to work. But how can I be sure if it's the power supply itself or the bit inside the computer that the power supply connects to that's being so politically correct it doesn't function? So I was excited to finally find out if my computer still works. I unwrapped the power supply to find that they'd sent me the transformer, with the long cable that plugs into the computer, but not the power cable that plugs into the mains. That's OK, because I have lots of those. Only none of them seem to be moulded quite right to fit into the socket in the power supply that they've sent me. So I'm barely a millimetre away from having power to my own laptop, but it's still a bridge too far.

And damn that's frustrating.

In other news, I'm reading through the Philip Pullman trilogy (The Northern Lights, The Subtle Knife and The Amber Spyglass) at tremendous pace. In 4 days, I'm halfway through the third book. Admittedly, it's the second time I read them, but it's been long enough that I can be forgiven for revisiting them. I've had this great idea about a second hand book website that's no doubt been done a hundred times before, but I've chosen to enjoy the temporary enthusiasm and misguided belief that I've discovered an innovative and category-killing new paradigm for the 3 days that it will undoubtedly last. Maybe it'll become a website one day, I'll let you know.

I'm looking for good books to read - and I don't necessarily mean fantasy or scifi - I'm a fan of Paolo Cohelo, Dickens and Nick Hornby, so anything that's well written will do. But before you go there, I can't read Zadie - I found White Teeth terribly boring, even though everyone keeps raving about it. But if you have suggestions, please let me know - I seem to have a strong literary appetite these days.

Time to pour another Whisky. Ahh... Internet... It's good to be back.

I got back from work just in time to go to the first heat of the bands competition in Windsor Arts Centre today. It's a bit weird going to venues on your own, because it's the kind of thing that you expect to do with friends, but at the end of the day, if you don't know anyone in a town you've just moved to, and there's something going on at the local arts centre, you might as well go along, and so that's what I did.

As the first band moved into their second song, I got a little worried. The lead singer was having trouble with the high notes, and while the beat was Ok and the lead guitarist was good, the rest of the music was just falling apart at the seams. But it got better...

I went back upstairs to the bar, in the hope that some alcohol might improve my appreciation of the music, and met some people at the bar. In particular, I met Richard, Drums/Percussion for the Betts, the last band to play that evening. They and their friends turned out to be an interesting bunch, and when I went down to hear them play, they turned out to be a great deal better than the first band I heard, which raised the level of the entire evening. What's more, they played their own music, which was a plus. They're quite Oasis-like, and (at least in comparison to the first group I heard) very solid in the way they play - they've got a group feel to them, rather than 4 performers on stage doing their own discordant thing. That's a bit harsh, but there you go.

So the first band sucked, The Betts were good, their website really sucks, but you can see it anyway by clicking here (all the pictures are broken), and if you're into discovering amateur bands that are still refining their musical repertoire, then you could do worse than make the effort to go and hear them if they're playing near you.

It's a good thing to have the arts centre nearby. The people who go there are more open to meeting new people, and this whole new-in-town joke is getting old fast, so it's nice to go to a venue where you're welcome and people like to speak to newcomers. I'm pretty sure you'll be hearing more about the arts centre in the months to come.

When I first bought my IBM, 30-or-so months ago, I also purchased a 3 year on-site warranty with what was then a significant proportion of my net worth. 2 motherboards, 2 keyboards, one power supply and 5 house-calls from IBM technicians later, and I'm coming around to the perception that this was a good investment.

IBM are sending me a new power supply, it'll be here by Thursday. While they're at it, they're sending me a new keyboard to help fix a couple of dodgy keys on my current one. If the new power supply doesn't do the trick, I'll have to find a way to accommodate an IBM technician during the working week. I have 5 months of this kind of service left under the contract.

Just when I thought everything had returned to its natural state, broadband internet restored, a flat surface on which to rest my Thinkpad and so on... Disaster strikes.

With no apparent warning, and a gentle pop/fizzle sound, the power to my IBM Thinkpad cut off abruptly. The battery power failed to catch the ball, and the screen went blank amidst the gentle smell of burning plastic.

After a moment of reflection, I pulled the power cable out, pulled the battery out, gently dusted the battery terminals and put it back in, then booted up with no problem off the battery. I then tried to plug the transformer back in, and ... nothing happened. Not only did nothing explode, but the computer completely failed to recognise that I had plugged it into the mains - I was still on battery power.

So I examined the transformer, realised that this is where the burning smell was coming from, and that the cable that comes out of the computer end was slightly melted right where it enters the transformer, so I unplugged it again, and imagined swearing violently (I don't really swear very often out loud, but the full lexicon of obscenities from several languages resides happily in my head, where it is rehearsed at opportune moments such as these).

On the one hand, it may be just the transformer, in which case I have a few days of computerless existence and all will return to normal. But if it were just the transformer, then why did the computer cut out? The battery is supposed to kick in if the power fails...

On the bright side, hard-disks auto-park these days. Some 10 years ago, after a similar power failure, I'd have been trying to scrape data off the disk surface with a wooden spoon (I exaggerate slightly, but I'm upset, so I'm allowed).

This post has cost me 8% of my now gradually-reducing battery power. That's all folks.

There's a scene we all know from Pulp Fiction in which John Travolta's character, having just returned from a trip to Europe, is explaining some of the differences between the European way of doing things (mayonnaise with fries, for example) that he thinks is 'the funniest thing' about the continent...

I started thinking about this when I was in Brussels 'Gare du Midi' - one of our major train stations and the terminus for the Eurostar and Thalys high-speed trains. I was walking around, wasting time waiting for a train home, when I came upon a vending machine. It took me a minute to figure out why it seemed so weird to me, but then I noticed ... between the orange juice and the Coca-Cola, was an entire row of beer cans. Now I've always known that vending machines in Belgium will provide the thirsty with beer and the hungry with waffles (I kid you not) but then taht starts me thinking... Why is it that anglo-saxon countries seem to have these draconian measures preventing their populations from drinking - it's as if, without these regulations, Britain and certain American states would immediately disintegrate into drunken revolution and public group vomiting sessions. And if you've lived there, and seen what happens between 10:45 and 11pm, you know I'm not kidding.

Vincent: … but you know what the funniest thing about Europe is?
Jules: What?
Vincent: It's the little differences. A lot of the same shit we got here, they got there, but there they're a little different.
Jules: Examples?
Vincent: Well, in Amsterdam, you can buy beer in a movie theater - and I don't mean in a paper cup either. They give you a glass of beer, like in a bar. In Paris, you can buy beer at McDonald's. Also, you know what they call a "Quarter Pounder with Cheese" in Paris?
Jules: They don't call it a "Quarter Pounder with Cheese"?
Vincent: No, they got the metric system there, they wouldn't know what the fuck a "Quarter Pounder" is.
Jules: What do they call it?
Vincent: "Royale with Cheese."
Jules: "Royale with Cheese." What do they call a "Big Mac"?
Vincent: "Big Mac's" a "Big Mac", but they call it "Le Big Mac".
Jules: "Le Big Mac." What do they call a "Whopper"?
Vincent: I dunno, I didn't go into a Burger King. But you know what they put on french fries in Holland instead of ketchup?
Jules: What?
Vincent: Mayonnaise.
Jules: Goddamn!
Vincent: I've seen them do it. And I don't mean a little bit on the side of the plate, they fucking drown them in it.
Jules: Uuccch!

Right now, in the UK, there is an ongoing debate about the liberalisation of the laws that control the consumption of alcohol. Specifically, they're talking about removing the 11-o'Clock limit on licensed premises.

At the moment, if you're drinking in a pub, at 10:45, a bell will be rung, or the pub manager will thump the bar and yell, 'last orders'. That means that you have 15 minutes to order from the bar before they shut it down for the night. They have no choice, it's the law. So up shuffles a representative from every group in the bar, and the alcohol flows, for the next 15 minutes, even faster than it has for the last 3 hours. Once the bar is closed, these same laws insist that the licensed premises be empty by 11:15. That means that these pints of beer have to be drunk in about 15 minutes. So everyone drinks them as fast as they can, go into the street, and gradually degenerate as the alcohol seeps into their systems.

The fear that comes with the liberalisation idea is that the British have had to time their drinking to finish at 11pm ever since the last world war, and that this is so deeply ingrained that if you were to relax the rule, they'd still start drinking at the same time, they'd get just as drunk just as fast, but there would no longer be a way to get them to stop come 11pm. Instead, they'd just keep drinking, reaching levels of inebriation that have previously been unattainable on a normal day. Hence the resistance to the whole concept of relaxing the licensing laws.

What's more, the clubs and very rare bars in England that do actually have the right to stay open until 2am are in the enviable position of having far too little room to cater for the huge crowds of people who would like to continue drinking on a Friday or Saturday night. This results in very long lines outside these select establishments, with extremely unpleasant and arrogant bouncers whom you have to be very polite to (or just have a folded 20 pound note in your hand) in order to get them to let you in. These bars can charge lots of money to let you have the privilege of continued alcohol past 11pm, because there are no alternatives. If everything gets liberalised, they're going to see their business tail off a little, and they'll lose the ability to charge at the door, because, hey... alternatives with pleasant staff, minus the 500-pound gorilla in the monkey-suit to suck up to at the front door.

So what will happen when the laws finally do get relaxed (because I'm pretty sure they eventually will be)? Will the British people find the ability to control their drinking, or will London become like so many overrun foreign tourist resorts, with teenagers throwing up against the side of buildings and bouncers breaking up additional alcohol-and-testosterone-fuelled confrontations? Will there be an adaptation period and then an adaptation in drinking habits? As social experiments go, this could be interesting to watch. From a distance.

Find out what weblog writers are saying about any particular author. From Ben Hammersley.