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October, 2024:

Boodliyakisaki!

What I call “scraps” are short memories that pop into my head at odd moments, sometimes with a recognizable trigger, sometimes without. I was emailing with a friend of mine about Comet Tsuchinshan-ATLAS, and we were bitching about how faint it was, compared to comets Hale-Bopp (1997) and Hyakutake (1996.)

Hyakutake. Kind of rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it? Then, ping! there it was, a line from a big band-style song sung by a girl group like the Andrews Sisters:

“Hold tight, hold tight, Boodliyakisake!”

I don’t know where or when I heard it, but it rhymes (mostly) with “comet Hyakutaki.” So where did that come from? One challenge: I had no idea how to spell “boodliyakisaki.” I brought up DuckDuckGo and tried all kinds of spellings, and got nowhere.

Hmm. I started looking up songs titled with or containing “hold tight.” There are several. The lyrics sites turned up nothing remotely close to “boodliyakisaki.” Then another part of the scrap popped up: The song was about shrimp and other seafood. Huh? What? But that’s how scraps work: Focus on one and additional bits of it sometimes pop up.

Figuring out memory scraps can be hard. But this time I tried something new: I brought up Copilot and started a conversation. Here’s a copy/paste:


You

What song begins "hold tight, hold tight" and is about seafood?

Copilot

The song you’re thinking of is "Hold Tight, Hold Tight (Want Some Seafood Mama)" by Sidney Bechet. It was released in 1938 and became quite popular. The song has playful, double-entendre lyrics that celebrate various types of seafood.


Ohhhh…kay. Back to the lyrics sites. I searched for the song and several links popped up. It wasn’t “boodliakasaki.” It was “Foo-ra-de-ack-a-sa-ki.” With hyphens. Here’s a characteristic sample:

Hold tight hold tight hold tight hold tight
Foo-ra-de-ack-a-sa-ki
Want some seafood Mama?
Shrimpers and rice they’re very nice
Hold tight hold tight hold tight hold tight
Foo-ra-de-ack-a-sa-ki

Adding to the peculiarity is that some lyrics sites spelled the magic word a different way. I saw “Fododo-de-yacka saki” and another that I can’t find now. A little further research showed me that the Andrews Sisters had in fact recorded it in 1938. You can listen to the song on YouTube.

It may be a silly thing to write an entry about, but the real message I want to leave with you is that CoPilot found it instantly and gave me some context with citation footnotes. I’m still suspicious of AI-assisted anything, but in this case it worked like a champ.

And now I have a taste for shrimp, sigh.

Odd Lots

  • PLAUD recently announced their NotePin, a little AI device that hangs from a string around your neck. (I assume you could clip one to your lapel, which is what I would do.) I wrote about that concept in my SF and my magazine between 1984-1992. I called them "jiminies" after Pinocchio’s little advisor. Nice to see it become real!
  • This is clever as hell: A sizeable chicken coop without a floor that moves to a new grassy spot in the pasture every day and thus gives chickens fresh grass, fresh bugs, and exercise. Some are even solar powered, wow.
  • Here’s yet another reason to go low-carb and especially low-sugar: a study showing that high-sugar diets may inhibit neuron growth in the brain. I’ve been doing low-carb/sugar for 27 years now. I sure hope this study is correct!
  • Wegovy and similar weight-loss drugs may treat alcoholism and opioid addiction. More research needed, obviously, but boy, that would be HUGE if proven.
  • Lazarus 3.6 is now out. Built with FPC 3.2.2. Bugfix release, but why not have the latest?
  • The Moon is getting its own time zone—or at least a system of standard time that would greatly help calculations of lunar missions. It’s made complicated by the fact that gravitational time dilation is involved; i.e., the gravity of the moon is less than Earth’s gravity, which makes a lunar second shorter than an Earth second. Not much, but at the speeds of spacecraft, that tiny difference can really mess up a mission. [Note well: I got this wrong the first time, and corrected the error here. Alex Dillard pointed out my error and provided a long and detailed explanation of the problem in the comments. Definitely read his comment!]
  • Roy Harvey sent me a link to a BBC article about “knocker uppers,” the people who woke people up to go to work during the British industrial revolution by tapping on their windows with a long pole (especially for upper stories) or (egad) with little hammers. I guess the British never knew that “knocked up” meant “got pregnant” out here in the Colonies.
  • From my friend Pete comes a report of a study indicating that high cholesterol isn’t a heart disease risk if you keep your diet low in carbs and sugar. I’ve heard that in a few other places, but this is a real study, and I sure hope it’s true, as I’ve been low carb/sugar now for over 25 years.
  • Charlie Martin recently posted a number of superb astrophotos, including a picture of hurricane Milton from orbit. I can call them superb because astronomy has been a hobby of mine for over sixty years. Don’t miss it.
  • Carol and I did see comet Tsuchinshan-ATLAS from our front yard, but it was a bare smudge by naked eye, and only showed a trace of coma in binoculars. Yes, we live in Phoenix and light pollution can be intense here. That said, I’m pretty sure that comet Hale-Bopp (1997) and Hyakutake (1996) were lots brighter, and Hale-Bopp was visible for a very long time as comet appearances go.

Pay Attention to Your Stuff—or Else…

…you’ll forget what you have, and buy more of the same. This has happened to me any number of times down the years, usually for things like small tools and electronic components. But it doesn’t have to be physical goods. Yesterday I heard a piece on our local classical station KBAQ (AKA KBACH) that I had heard before. I like the third movement. The first two are melancholy (one is an adagio, a dirge-y musical form I simply will not touch) but the third is brisk, upbeat, and borderline sprightly. I thought, “Gee, I oughta have that on my mix thumb drive.” So I went up on Amazon and bought it.

The piece is Rodrigo’s Concierto de Aranjuez (1939) with Christopher Parkening on classical guitar, backed by orchestra. The performance I bought is not on YouTube, but can be had on Amazon here. I had to buy the whole album; they don’t sell tracks individually on that one. I bought the album anyway and simply won’t play the dreary parts. The third movement really is that good. I was a little surprised I hadn’t bought it before.

I downloaded it, unpacked the .zip, and extracted the third movement, which I dragged and dropped onto my mix thumb drive. When I put the drive back in its USB port on the Durango and went off to do some errands, I searched for the piece.

And found two.

Not of the same file. I found two performances by different artists. I had bought the performance by the Venezuela Symphony back in mid-May of this year. I stopped being surprised that I hadn’t bought it before, because I did.

Ok. Why didn’t I remember that I already had it? Just this: I have 584 tracks on that drive. With that many tracks (and in truth I don’t do a lot of driving) playing tracks randomly gives rise to statistical artifacts. it’s a virtual certainty that a few won’t come up very often. This one was at the far end of that curve: I bought it five months ago and it’s not come up even once since then.

Wotthehell; they’re both good, and now, with two performances in the mix, I may hear at least one of them semiregularly. That curve has an opposite end: I hear the Small Faces’ song “Itchycoo Park” it seems like every other day. (It’s from 1967, when my musical tastes were a lot less discriminating.) Once a month would be plenty.

The lesson here is that we live in The Age of Stuff. The first commandment in the Age of Stuff is Know Your Stuff. If you don’t know your stuff, you will almost certainly buy duplicate stuff.

One way to do this is to keep your stuff in some sort of order. I do that with books by having category areas on my bookshelves: History, Math, Science, Astronomy, Biography, SFF, and on down to things like Model Railroads and Global Warming. Every time I pull a book down, if I have a few moments to spare I scan the category. That keeps me from buying duplicate books.

Usually.

It also triggers memories of books that might be useful in whatever line of research I’m pursuing at the time.

Part of this is, of course, to keep your stuff put away in its usual places. I bought a second small ratchet screwdriver set once because the original one was tossed under a pile of odd lots on my workbench and not seen for literally several years.

I try to keep my workbench clear these days.

Know your stuff. Review it now and then. Keep it in order. You think that’s easy? Try it sometime!

The Ratchet of Doom

The last ice age might have killed us all. All of us, then and now and for all time. It might have been the end of all multicellular life on Earth. We came close. Way close. I’ve always been surprised that almost no one else talks about this. (I’m reading a book that talks about it—a little. I’ll review it as time permits.)

I’ve been planning to write about this for at least five years, when the idea first occurred to me. I didn’t because almost nothing gets Certain People more screamingly upset than challenging any least part of the Climate Catastrophe narrative. If reading this makes you furious, please go somewhere else. I’ve decided that it’s about time to bring it up.

The bullet we dodged during the last ice age was the level of carbon dioxide in our atmosphere. As you may know from high school chemistry, cold water absorbs more gas than warmer water. Cool the oceans down, and the oceans will suck up a lot of atmospheric gas, including carbon dioxide. And what do ice ages do? They cool the planet, including the oceans. A lot.

At the depth of the last ice age, atmospheric CO2 went down to 180 parts per million. We know that at about 150 ppm CO2, photosynthesis just stops. Plants die, and in a plant-based ecology like the one we live in, so does almost everything else.

The missing CO2 was dissolved in the oceans, and as the oceans warmed, the CO2 returned to the atmosphere. This is pretty simple stuff. But there’s a problem: CO2 is also being removed from the atmosphere, constantly and permanently. This happens in a number of ways, but a lot of it goes into the carbonate shells of ocean plankton and other carbonate-shelled species. The organisms die (as everything dies eventually) and their shells sink to the sea bottom and stay there.

What this means is that every time we get an ice age, there’s less CO2 in the air to begin with, and therefore less CO2 in the air once it dissolves in the colder oceans. If a future ice age takes that atmospheric CO2 concentration down lower than 150 ppm, it’s all over for life on Earth. I call this the Ratchet of Doom.

But…but…we fixed that, right? Yes, we did. But if homo sapiens hadn’t evolved an industrial civilization, the next ice age could well have destroyed the ecosphere.

There’s a well-known graph of atmospheric CO2 concentration over the last 500 million years. It’s interesting, as it graphs CO2 concentration against temperature. Take a look:

Geological Graph of CO2 in the Atmosphere

This is usually used to demonstrate that CO2 levels are not closely related to global temperatures. But it also demonstrates that we are living in an age where the CO2 levels in the atmosphere are about as low as they’ve ever been. The little uptick at the end of the purple line is us, now. We’re up a little, sure. But compared to earlier geological history, not by much.

There’s another graph that highlights the effects of the ice ages on CO2 levels. I have some quibbles with the scale of the concentration line, but if you look closely, you’ll see that each ice age’s peak brings the CO2 line down a little lower. That’s what gave me the idea: That a planet’s ecology brings CO2 levels down gradually but inexorably. At some point those levels cease to be able to support photosynthetic life.

CO2 Ice Age Variation

Obviously, we are no longer in this particular danger. We’ve released some of the carbon that was laid down during the aptly named Carboniferous age. My point is that it was a pretty narrow escape, which got narrower with every passing ice age.

I’ve often wondered (and this is mere speculation that can’t be proven) if the Little Ice Age was actually the infancy of a Big Ice Age, which we aborted by burning coal, oil, and methane in quantity. The upturn of temperatures is weirdly coincident with the time period when the Industrial Revolution rose to full roar.

It’s possible to argue that more CO2 is beneficial in terms of crop yields and even good weather, or at very least not dangerous. Again, I’m reading a book that makes all those points in detail far better than I ever could, and I’ll review it when I can.

The Ratchet of Doom is no longer ticking. Let all of us who believe in the future—even the distant future–at least be glad of that.

Weekwander

I spent a week in Chicago (or started out there) to gather with old friends, some from grade school, some from high school, and one (my friend and Best Man Art) from Kindergarten. I rented a smallish car (a 2024 Corolla Cross, which I had not heard of before) and Art and I forged west to the town of Galerna, in northern Illinois on the Mississippi River. My old friend Rich (whom I met in third grade, as best I recall) has a place there. For three days we drank wine and ate cheeseburgers, played whiffle golf around Rich’s substantial house, watched the stars from his front porch, and laughed our asses off over old stories of school, The Fox Patrol in Boy Scouts, college parties, the Resurrection Hospital dish room, where most of us worked at one time or another, and much else. Rich took us all (there were six present) on a pontoon boat tour of Galena Lake near his house.

I’ve read in many places that bonding with friends is one of the best ways to keep your brain cells alive and functional, and now that we were all in our 70s, I took great comfort in that. Rich has been holding these gatherings for almost 20 years, and (especially in the last 10 or 12 years) the group has shrunk from 15 or more down to seven or eight, of which a couple couldn’t make it this year. Each time one of the group passes on, we plant a tree on the slopes of the hill near Rich’s house in their honor.

After we returned from Galena, I visited with my father’s youngest cousin Mary Ellen, and her daughter Mary Kate. They’ve been friends for a very long time, and both helped me piece together the Duntemann family tree back in the ‘90s. We laughed and remembered old times, like the freshman ROTC Military Ball that I was required to attend, and did, with my cousin Mary Kate on my arm. She was a beautiful girl (still is, in my eyes) and I hope it wasn’t a sin that I quietly neglected to tell anybody that she was my cousin, including all my nerdy friends who attended the ball alone.

Honor is good. I honor all my friends, alive or dead, as I will as long as I’m here in God’s beautiful and extravagant creation—and maybe beyond.

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The day I flew back from Chicago (October 2nd) was our 48th wedding anniversary, and Carol and I celebrated and had a nice dinner out together. Again, friendship underlies our relationship, and has always done so, across our 48 years as spouses and 55 years as best friends. Friendship, as I’ve said many times here and elsewhere, is the cornerstone of the human spirit, the anchor to which all other positive forces that act upon relationships are anchored. Marriage works—if you work at it, as Carol and have always done and will always do.

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Some time back I was threading my way through parts of the Scottsdale-Thunderbird shopping plaza where I don’t often go, and saw that the restaurant Casa Greeka was evidently closed. My guess is that COVID did them in, as it did in so much else. Their theme was Mexican-Greek fusion. I never ate there, but I did wonder what people of Greek heritage thought of the name. The proper name would (perhaps; I’m not Greek) be Casa Greco.

But it got me thinking about food fusion for a bit. How about this: A restaurant specializing in Irish-Hawaiian fusion, called Lovely Houlihan’s. Don’t fret if you don’t get the joke. It’s for old people.

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Yes, it’s true: I’m finally closing in on the last bits of my new novel, The Everything Machine. It’s the cornerstone Drumlins story, and will reveal (most of) the mystery behind the thingmakers and the alien minds that created them. If you must genre-tag the novel, I call it a Space Western, with a side order of airships and a whiff of Dieselpunk. Should come in between 120,000 and 125,000 words, which is 25,000 words shorter than The Cunning Blood. After I get that published, I’m going to work on nonfiction for a bit, starting perhaps with a Square One introduction to Windows programming with Lazarus/FreePascal, drawing on my parts of The Delphi 2 Explorer. I already have 7,000 words on that book, which I set aside in 2021 when I began The Everything Machine. There’s a lot to cover, especially for a beginner audience, and I don’t know how long it will be. I won’t know (as usual) until I finish it. Wish me luck.