Warren was quite proud of his exhibit on wind energy. His inclusion of working turbines was also helpful in his manoeuvring the display into position. His only regret was that he had paid so little attention during the lesson of wheels.
Many people are aware of the United States Air Force’s ultra-secret Area 51 facility. What you might not know is the United Kingdom has its very own compound where sensitive technology, and it is rumoured alien devices might be found. Yes, of course I am talking about Area 5.1. What it lacks is high tech mystique, it more than makes up for in old world charm. Well, that’s what the website says any way.
I have said on several occasions that I think that whole fire thing has been a mixed blessing, and I am currently reserving my judgement on the wheel. Ug and I were discussing this in the cave the other day and while some technological advances seem positive, most in the end have downsides.
I am not a complete technophobe. On balance I think fire and that wheel thing have worked out pretty well. What intrgues me, however, are the new technologies and the terms relating to them. Developers and designers of computing and communications, especially, have either used the absolute obvious in assigning terms (screen saver), or have used a slightly convoluted vocabulary. Since when was data personified? Yet we are expected to wait while our files are “populated.”
Some terms, such as “icon,” I find interesting. In religious terminology an icon is a portrait of a saint or angelic figure which imbeds symbols related to the figure such as Peter’s crossed keys. Religious icons often have pronounced eyes and are said to be windows into heaven. Computer icons to are Windows (pun intended) into the inner world of cyberspace.
It was as I was shutting down my computer this morning that I was confronted with a deep theological truth. There on my screen was a solemn warning that what was unsaved might be lost. What more can I say when even my computer sums the world up so succinctly?
Ellie had been sent to her room to finish her homework.
“And don’t let me catch you messing about,” Mum had said.
Well getting caught playing about, well playing, was the last thing Ellie intended on doing.
As she made her way upstairs, she made a pitstop in her little brother’s room and took the “nanny cam” bear and placed it strategically in the hallway overlooking the stairs. She then proceeded to split her screen between her game and the cam image and set about trying to better her top score. If Mum started up the stairs, all would be books and spelling words in Ellie’s room.
When will grown-ups ever ‘do their homework’ about kids and technology? she mused as she hit the 40th level.
Unn awoke and scratched at his beard. It was cold, and the embers of the fire near the cavemouth were barely glowing. He added some dry moss and attempted to blow them back into life, but his efforts were futile. He dreaded the thought of having to trudge through the snow to his brother’s dwelling to ask for fire yet again. But need prompted him to go see Urn anyway. Unn and clan’s three women that lived with Urn, watched in admiration as Urn struck stones together and sparks emerged. Urn was one bright troglodyte.
Well it’s time for Jim Adam’s Song Lyric Sunday again, and I know I offer up some pretty obscure historical pieces and folk songs from time to time. So why should today be any different?
Old Joe Clark is an American folk song. The lyrics are said to refer to Joseph Clark, a Kentucky mountaineer who was born in 1839 and murdered in 1885 (Wiki). Wikipedia notes that there are about 90 stanzas in various versions of the song. The song amassed its large number of verses as it was used as a type of a party song where each member would add a verse to build on what the previous singer had said before.
There have been noted releases of the song by Woody Guthrie and the Kingston Trio, as well as the attached Rosinators’ version.
Old Joe Clark’s a fine old man
Tell you the reason why
He keeps good likker ’round his house
Good old Rock and Rye
Fare ye well, Old Joe Clark
Fare ye well, I say
Fare ye well, Old Joe Clark
I’m a going away
Old Joe Clark, the preacher’s son
Preached all over the pain
The only text he ever knew
Was High, low, Jack and the game
Old Joe Clark had a mule
His name was Morgan Brown
And every tooth in that mule’s head
Was sixteen inches around
Old Joe Clark had a yellow cat
She would neither sing or pray
She stuck her head in the buttermilk jar
And washed her sins away
Old Joe Clark had a house
Fifteen stories high
And every story in that house
Was filled with chicken pie
I went down to Old Joe’s house
He invited me to supper
I stumped my toe on the table leg
And stuck my nose in the butter
Now I wouldn’t marry a widder
Tell you the reason why
She’d have so many children
They’d make those biscuits fly
Sixteen horses in my team
The leaders they are blind
And every time the sun goes down
There’s a pretty girl on my mind
Eighteen miles of mountain road
And fifteen miles of sand
If ever travel this road again
I’ll be a married man