A friend of mine has released the trailer for his latest movie, The Catch 23. The link to download the trailer is available here:
http://www.jayasun.com/catch23
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Friday, December 08, 2006
Saga of the old(new) digital camera
My dad's cheapness has been well documented. His latest foray into the dark underbelly of frugality was the "Christmas Gift" that I received at Thanksgiving: His old digital camera. By giving it at Thanksgiving he saved on postage and wrapping paper, a card, scotch tape, waiting in line, etc.
The reason I got the old camera is that he got a new one. Well, actually he got the next to new one, a 5 MegaPixel camera, last years model. It was cheaper than the latest one, and only had 1 MegaPixel less resolution. That 1 MegaPixel margin between old and new model is the entire capacity of the camera that he gave me. It is so old that when it was new, a MegaPixel was a big deal. It even says on the front: MegaPixel. I am surprised that it didn't appear in italics with an exclamation point:
MegaPixel!
My dad outlined his scheme to me over the phone, it was like listening to the confession of a hardened criminal mastermind.
"I tried to hold on to the old camera until it was on it's last photo, then give it away. That way I save on a new gift for you, plus I squeeze every last bit of good out of my purchase". "If done correctly, the gift camera will fail the first picture you try and take with it".
I imagine me loading fresh batteries into the thing and hitting the shutter button. Nothing happens, and a few seconds later, a wisp of acrid white smoke rises woefully from CF card slot. Pisser, I hiss to myself under my breath, while in Indiana, my father shoots card after card full of 5 MegaPixel Technicolor wonder, giggling.
Actually, he made several cardinal errors:
1. The camera still works, even after 200 photos. (No dad, you can't have it back!)
2. He forgot and left 4 NiMH batteries in the camera case. He told me that, and I quote:
"The batteries might be showing some age". Meaning, that roadkill squirrel brains are capable of generating more voltage than these batteries. He was wrong, I charged them and they work fine! Fine, I tell you. You can't have them back either. HA!
The problem with the camera is that it is so large compared to modern digital cameras that it is embarrassing to take pictures with it. I get comments. For example:
"How old is that camera? I have never seen one the size of a brick".
"Does that thing come with it's own power plant"?
"Wow, four batteries, from the size of the camera I thought that they would be D Cells"
So to avoid embarrassment, I preempt the comments by telling folks that my dad bought himself a new digital camera, and he gave me his old one. Then I whip out the brick and they laugh.
After taking half a dozen photos, the camera starts to get warm, as it draws 2 Amps out of the batteries. 2 Amps is enough current to damage internal organs .
The reason that I am bitter is that my dad gave my good Olympus OM-1 SLR camera to my cousin for Christmas several years ago. He claims that he forgot that it was mine, by I am not buying that, no sir. I think he needed a gift, and needed it cheap and did not have time to scour the highway for roadkill tools, plus it was too cold to forage for them. He went to the basement and -voila! There is was, the OM-1, and I was in Belgium, why would I care? Or more likely, would I notice? Or if I did, it would be long enough before I noticed the OM-1 was missing that I would think I had lost it myself.
Out of remorse (or on the off chance that I might not take him up on the offer, and he would be off free) he bought me a digital camera the next Christmas, an HP, arguably the worst digital camera ever made. The battery compartment door broke in the first two months I had it. I held the batteries in it with a paperclip and duct tape, and used it that way for half a decade. Why? Because, I am cheaper than he is, if such a thing is possible. I threw that camera away a year ago, tired of the batteries falling out and the duct tape sticking to my hands when taking pictures. If you put the thing in your pocket, it came back out with all of your pocket lint, change and gum wrappers stuck to it. It looked like a ball of pocket trash with a very bright flash. I have not missed it a bit, but I still miss that OM-1...
The reason I got the old camera is that he got a new one. Well, actually he got the next to new one, a 5 MegaPixel camera, last years model. It was cheaper than the latest one, and only had 1 MegaPixel less resolution. That 1 MegaPixel margin between old and new model is the entire capacity of the camera that he gave me. It is so old that when it was new, a MegaPixel was a big deal. It even says on the front: MegaPixel. I am surprised that it didn't appear in italics with an exclamation point:
MegaPixel!
My dad outlined his scheme to me over the phone, it was like listening to the confession of a hardened criminal mastermind.
"I tried to hold on to the old camera until it was on it's last photo, then give it away. That way I save on a new gift for you, plus I squeeze every last bit of good out of my purchase". "If done correctly, the gift camera will fail the first picture you try and take with it".
I imagine me loading fresh batteries into the thing and hitting the shutter button. Nothing happens, and a few seconds later, a wisp of acrid white smoke rises woefully from CF card slot. Pisser, I hiss to myself under my breath, while in Indiana, my father shoots card after card full of 5 MegaPixel Technicolor wonder, giggling.
Actually, he made several cardinal errors:
1. The camera still works, even after 200 photos. (No dad, you can't have it back!)
2. He forgot and left 4 NiMH batteries in the camera case. He told me that, and I quote:
"The batteries might be showing some age". Meaning, that roadkill squirrel brains are capable of generating more voltage than these batteries. He was wrong, I charged them and they work fine! Fine, I tell you. You can't have them back either. HA!
The problem with the camera is that it is so large compared to modern digital cameras that it is embarrassing to take pictures with it. I get comments. For example:
"How old is that camera? I have never seen one the size of a brick".
"Does that thing come with it's own power plant"?
"Wow, four batteries, from the size of the camera I thought that they would be D Cells"
So to avoid embarrassment, I preempt the comments by telling folks that my dad bought himself a new digital camera, and he gave me his old one. Then I whip out the brick and they laugh.
After taking half a dozen photos, the camera starts to get warm, as it draws 2 Amps out of the batteries. 2 Amps is enough current to damage internal organs .
The reason that I am bitter is that my dad gave my good Olympus OM-1 SLR camera to my cousin for Christmas several years ago. He claims that he forgot that it was mine, by I am not buying that, no sir. I think he needed a gift, and needed it cheap and did not have time to scour the highway for roadkill tools, plus it was too cold to forage for them. He went to the basement and -voila! There is was, the OM-1, and I was in Belgium, why would I care? Or more likely, would I notice? Or if I did, it would be long enough before I noticed the OM-1 was missing that I would think I had lost it myself.
Out of remorse (or on the off chance that I might not take him up on the offer, and he would be off free) he bought me a digital camera the next Christmas, an HP, arguably the worst digital camera ever made. The battery compartment door broke in the first two months I had it. I held the batteries in it with a paperclip and duct tape, and used it that way for half a decade. Why? Because, I am cheaper than he is, if such a thing is possible. I threw that camera away a year ago, tired of the batteries falling out and the duct tape sticking to my hands when taking pictures. If you put the thing in your pocket, it came back out with all of your pocket lint, change and gum wrappers stuck to it. It looked like a ball of pocket trash with a very bright flash. I have not missed it a bit, but I still miss that OM-1...
CCW Story Part 35: Todd shows his stuff at IPSC.
Lisa had 3 sets of cardboard targets, carefully measuring the distances between them and small rubber mats on the floor. She introduced herself, and explained the setup. “The white silhouettes are no shoot targets, you get points deducted for hitting them. The black squares of rubber are on the floor are so that you can drop you empty magazines without damaging them.” I examined the setup Lisa had created, with three white silhouettes, each with several brown silhouettes poking out from behind it, like cowardly burglars hiding behind a hostage. Each target had A, B, C, and D zones that delineated different scoring areas on the target. Outside, each competitor set his gun bag down with muzzle pointed away from the building, and one by one slipped their pistols into side holsters according to IPSC protocol. With holstered weapons, the competitors returned inside for the first round of the competition.
Todd and I discussed the tactics he would employ.
“I am here to hone my concealed carry skills, not to win the competition”. Todd said.
I respected Todd for his desire to improve his shooting skills. Arguably he was the best marksman of the folks I had met at the range, and had always followed every safety rule. I had never seen him, or any of the other range employees break any of the four firearms safety rules, ever. If a person is going to carry a pistol in public, Todd would make a good example of how to treat the rules with respect.
Decked out in safety glasses and ear protection Todd stepped to the line with his standard carry weapon, a Kimber 1911, in the holster he carried it in every day. The only change in his normal rig was that he had several magazine holders attached to his belt. As Todd, the first shooter of the match inserted a magazine loaded with .45 caliber match ammo into his Kimber 1911, a range safety officer declared the range “hot”. By IPSC rules, spectators were allowed to stand behind the shooter but could not move around while the range was hot.
Monday, December 04, 2006
Dog Digestive Problems!
Our dog has decided to stress test his digestive system. He ate 3 hard boiled eggs, shell and all. That was Saturday. All was quiet until this morning. He wimpered and whined like a 1950's experimental jet engine until he got out the door.
Once outside, he ran at full speed (24 Miles per hour) for his poo spot while I walked normal speed (5 miles per hour). Luckily the leash held as he kicked up dirt like a super stock modified tractor making a full pull.
At his spot, he assumed the position and held it with a very concerned look on his face. Normally he stares into the distance, and appears as if he is weighing the purchase of 1000 shares of Disney Vs. Microsoft stock.
Today however, the expression was that of someone strapped into the capsule atop a new Russian rocket design, while the countdown had just gone on a long hold.
After what must have seemed to him like a 2 hour countdown hold, but was only about 3 minutes, it was time to light the engines. Eggshells dissolve quite a bit when passing through a dog, although not enough for the dog not to notice them. He shook for a while, and vibrated and rattled at the point of Max-Q, or the moment that his payload reached the infamous "speed of poop".
Blastoff only lasted about 4 or five minutes, but was repeated on the way back to the house. It was a classic "round-two", an encore performance. This time his face looked like he was re-entering the atmosphere and was trying to remember if he had deployed his heat shield. It had obviously been damaged during his blastoff, and now he was feeling the burn.
I bet he will peel the hardboiled eggs next time.
Once outside, he ran at full speed (24 Miles per hour) for his poo spot while I walked normal speed (5 miles per hour). Luckily the leash held as he kicked up dirt like a super stock modified tractor making a full pull.
At his spot, he assumed the position and held it with a very concerned look on his face. Normally he stares into the distance, and appears as if he is weighing the purchase of 1000 shares of Disney Vs. Microsoft stock.
Today however, the expression was that of someone strapped into the capsule atop a new Russian rocket design, while the countdown had just gone on a long hold.
After what must have seemed to him like a 2 hour countdown hold, but was only about 3 minutes, it was time to light the engines. Eggshells dissolve quite a bit when passing through a dog, although not enough for the dog not to notice them. He shook for a while, and vibrated and rattled at the point of Max-Q, or the moment that his payload reached the infamous "speed of poop".
Blastoff only lasted about 4 or five minutes, but was repeated on the way back to the house. It was a classic "round-two", an encore performance. This time his face looked like he was re-entering the atmosphere and was trying to remember if he had deployed his heat shield. It had obviously been damaged during his blastoff, and now he was feeling the burn.
I bet he will peel the hardboiled eggs next time.
Friday, December 01, 2006
CCW Story Part 34: Downrange at IPSC.
The time came for us to proceed to the range. Where we normally stood in lane 2 of the firing line, there was now an opening for us to walk directly out onto the range.
It was an eerie feeling to stand and look back at the stalls where we had stood days before, sending round after lethal round through the very space I now occupied. I looked up at the angled ceiling baffles, which were peppered with holes; some of rounds, which struck near the edge, had passed clean through the supporting plywood. The backside of the baffles was made of steel, and was intact. The cinderblock wall was marked by stray rounds, farther downrange at the backstop, the remains of all of those thousands of rounds lay, looking like a jumbled heap of smashed grapes sculpted in lead.
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