Why don't you write about it in your blag?

The world is a scientist

2010-07-04T12:11:00.003+01:00

The scene is this:

Lisa, an eight year old student, has grown a giant tomato for her nth grade science fare. When leaving school she realises she has forgotten something, and gives the tomato to her brother, Bart, to hold while she gets whatever she wanted. In her absence Bart sees the principal of his school bending down, and flings the genetically-modified-to-be-huge tomato at this principal. Lisa, obviously upset, seeks revenge on her brother, and attempts to determine if her brother is as smart as a hamster.

To test this hypothesis she sends an electrical current through a cake. The hamster, when tempted by the cake, bites it, and cowers after experiencing the shock. Bart, when faced with the same situation, tests the cake multiple times, and doesn't appear to stop.

The conclusion that Lisa draws from this is that, in this situation, the hamster is smarter than Bart.

I will borrow from Randall Munroe's work and say that all she determined was that Bart was a sciencist -

As a statement that might be amusing, but the proof is out there that the common man might just be a a scientist.

Consider the similarities between the results of excessive drinking and excessive exercise -- both can result in pain in the wake of the aforementioned engagements, sore heads and sore bodies.

Yesterday, I was outside running around outside and today my very soul[1] protests to any movement... I wonder if that happens every time.

--- --- --- ---

[1] The sole of my left foot

The shearing

2010-06-30T22:15:00.005+01:00

It happened a month ago. Words cannot describe the effect (I myself have not been able to write/talk about it until now) so I have commissioned an artist to illustrate the effect after some brief corroborative detail to set up the scene...

I awake, bleary eyed, tired, in need of caffeinated Barry -- was up late the night before eating mars bars and drinking coke. Mouth feeling like I was up late the night before eating mars bars and drinking coke and with oral hygiene being among my routines, I enter the bathroom and brush my teeth. Catching my glare off the mirror I notice that my beard is unnaturally scruffy, and proceed to trim it. Being bleary eyed I do not check the length setting of the beard trimmer... the following photograph illustrates the outcome.

Fig 1: Picture of author before and after the shearing.

Now, I too see the elephant here, so I'll tackle it head on first -- yes. I am smiling, and it is an optical illusion.

As traumatising as it was, beards grow back. However, I'll conclude with one soulful confession -- with a beard in need of trimming I've developed a fear of trimming beards.

Plane dead

2009-08-06T13:13:00.005+01:00

I can understand the motivation, in a detached sense of the word, behind, say, throwing eggs at people, rocks at trains, water bombs at people. But there are some things about the trade that seem... unreasonable.

I suppose it's natural for people to want to work up and get promoted no matter the industry. So in this one it may be reasonable to expect one to start small, eggs at passerbys at Halloween or so. Then the opportunity to work up presents itself over time; water bombs, eggs and name calling thrown not only at Halloween, and you grasp at it with quick fists.

A managerial position opens after a few years. Throwing rocks at trains is required. Dropping stones on cars is optional, but encouraged. You don't really have the qualifications and experience required but you tentatively try to bluff in your CV.

After a few years a national position opens and requires an industrious change in direction to the previously banal and predictable course. Lasers and airplanes, are what people came up. And this I absolutely don't understand.

Apparatus:

Laser
Passing airplane

Method:

Shine laser in eyes of pilot

Results:

Well... read on

All of these previous 'pranks' have one thing in common -- they're looking for a reaction. The only reaction that I can come up with for shining lasers in the eyes of pilots is illustrated in the two photographs below...

If this were to happen I'd love to be a fly on the wall to see the reaction of the attackers.

Maybe I have swine flu?

There is more to transformers than optimus prime, people!

2009-07-10T20:17:00.006+01:00

On the subject of manliness the answer to the following question must always contain at least one animal: "What did you have for dinner last night?" Chicken, cow, duck, donkey, pig. They're all good and acceptable answers but, complementary to this dead and cooked having-lived thing, variation is also important for his pledge towards valour.

Now Ireland, being boring, doesn't bear host many interesting animals, and has even fewer beasts that one would consider eating. So, the Irish man cannot satisfy his heart's need to assert his fortitude with an obscurity in his diet that would intimidate a medieval barbarian so he must seek elsewhere. But where? Where can the Irish man eat his fill of capybara? Where may he eat a leg of snow leopard? How can he hunt his hagfish? And where may he fish for his mesonychoteuthis hamiltoni?

Africa? New Ireland? America? Guatemala? Asia? Australia? India? New Zealand? The Irish man is ignorant of these locations.

The common man may not notice this but these places, these countries and continents aforementioned, they are not in Ireland. But, and again the common man, the pleb as he shall be forthwith known, may not be aware of inter-continental trade brought forth by the invention, evolution and progression of the traction engine, the modern steam engine, and the ability of this to provide for the modern-man's diet.

The English Market is a wondrous place, contrary to its name[1], and there exists a stall where all kinds of wondrous animal carcasses may be purchased -- crocodile, kangaroo, Gary[2], emu, dolphin (maybe), and even mythological creatures may be ordered by request.

Henceforth, hear ye all plebs, I declare Tuesday 'obscure-meat-day', where we join together with knife in hand, fork in the other, plate on table, food on plate, seasoning on food and feast on beasts slain for the good of humanity's digestion. Henceforth, we eat say we all! Henceforth we eat!

---

[1] Markets are normally chaotic. I like this one though.
[2] What's a Gary, Dave?
[3]So, I was reading my feedz the other day and came across this story. A man in Scotland was driving around and hit an eagle with his car, the eagle was diving for a rat or dog or baby or something. Anyway the eagle was dead and this man was not a waisting man, so he figured he'd take it home and cook it up. So he cooked the bird up and had it with his potatoes, haggis and veg and the next day was telling people in the bar about it, and one of the bystanders was a police man who informed the former that it was illegal to eat these birds, they are protected by her majesty's crown. To cut it out a bit he went to court over the whole incident and, fortunately, got a sympathetic judge who understood his point of view and only fined him the minimum for the crime, like £10 if I remember right. Afterwards, out of the ears of the law, the judge asked him what the eagle tasted like, and confided to the accused that he'd always wondered if it was good. The man replies with "It tastes somewhere between a duck and a swan." and walks out.

Games for sportsmen

2009-05-09T22:03:00.004+01:00

*buzz buzz buuuuuzz*
*buzz buzz buuuuuzz*
*buzz buzz buuuuuzz*
*buzz buzz buuuuuzz*

It's 7AM and our hero is tangled up in his duvet.

Niall: (aside) It's too early for my alarm.

Niall finds his phone and discovers it's his mother is calling him.

Niall: Bleughyaherrowhaddyawant?
D'Ma: Niall. It's mum here. How do you turn off this phone?
Niall: Wh'huh?
D'Ma: The phone. How do you turn it off?
Niall: Do you... wh... uh... Do you see the red button? Keep that prressed.
D'Ma: I read what?
Niall: Button.
D'Ma: I see a green one. That the one? Do I press that?

*beep*

Niall: Red.
D'Ma: The green one?

*beep*

Niall: No.
D'Ma: Which button then?
Niall: The red. Two buttons to the right of the green one.
D'Ma: But you said it wasn't the green one.
Niall: The red one.
D'Ma: OK. I see it. Thanks. How are you?
Niall: Amazing. Toodle pip.
D'Ma: What?
Niall: Bye. Enjoy Germany.

Scene Ends

....

Something has been bothering me for quite some time. Ever since the Olympics in Athens in 2004 when I saw adults competing for gold medals in professional synchronised swimming[1], in fact, something has been resting in the back of my mind. Resting and growing in confusion.

What is it, exactly, that qualifies one event as being a sport while another seemingly well structured activity remains in the limbo of and bears the encumbering stigma of a lowly game[2]?

Truly I don't know. In principal I can understand the distinction, of course, but if we were to take an objective step backwards and take a number of subjective out-of-species moments for a second ... how, as an intelligent genus, we have come to accept these avocations as professions is truly and utterly bizarre. Three examples...

Soccer: two teams of eleven people kick a round thing with their feet over a rectangle green field in a team effort to getting this round thing in their opponents' net thing more times than their opponents do to theirs.
Boxing: Two people wear these glove things on their fists and hit one another until one person can't handle it any more or they run out of time.
Quidditch: Two sets of seven wizards on broomsticks try to catch a small round flying ball thing with wings while at the same time a number of other ball things are thrown through round things to get points, and still more ball things are hit in the direction of the wizards to knock them down. Lots of rules[3].

I am not commenting here on the skill of the individuals who compete in these sports, as it is only in Quidditch that Ireland will ever win a world cup, but I comment on the goal and purpose of these games; the 'why bother' point.

As a past time they're great. As a hobby they're beneficial. As entertainment they can be gratifying. But... why do we take them so seriously? How have we allowed those who are quite good at them to be paid so much? That they are is an oxymoron of greatest misrepresentations. How have these sportspeople commandeered so much respect from the public while the inventor of Sky+ is unknown to us? Dammit, George Hook. You were right.

Now, Gloucester cheese rolling is a noble sport -- http://www.cracked.com/article_15209_10-most-insane-sports-in-world.html

---

[1] These three words should never follow concurrently in a serious and sensible sentence, nor should the latter two ever be depicted as being professional, but rather identically the opposite. Misguided, is a good one, daft is another.

[2]Consider the definition:

Game, n, animal hunted for food or sport.

I suppose the game/sport distinction is necessary for this definition otherwise it could in fact read...

Game, n, animal hunted for food or game.

which would be infinitely recursive.

[3] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quidditch#Fouls Blagging: No player may seize any part of an opponent's broom to slow or hinder the player.

Chris: You blag?
Niall: I do.

Fair is foul and foul ain't fair ...

2009-04-26T19:59:00.020+01:00

... when you hover through the fog with Ryanair.

Introducing "Macbêter" (the Sheffield play) a romantic tragedy based on the life events of NT, featuring critical adaptation by AH Horn!!1!

Act I Scene I
[Niall, Brendan and Mike are at their respective computers chatting over Google Talk]
Niall: I think we should go to Sheffield to watch some snooker.
Brendan, Mike: Yes.
[Exunt]

Act I Scene II
[The heroes have agreed to go to Sheffield to watch the world snooker championship, and have arranged transportation, tickets and accommodation. Niall realised he has lost his passport so calls Ryanair's helpline for assistance.
Having dialed the number and waited for like five minutes Niall finally gets through to someone on the other end]
Generic outsourced Indian customer service man one: Thank you for waiting. My name is Generic oursourced Indian customer service man one, how can I be of assistance?
Niall: Hiya, I'm an Irish citizen and will be flying from Dublin to Doncaster on Sunday. However I've lost my passport. Will I be able to fly with my national age card [an identification card saying you're over 18 for pub-access]?
Generic outsourced Indian customer service man one: Yes you will sir.
Niall: That's fantastic. Just to clarify I can fly with the age card?
Generic outsourced Indian customer service man one: Yes sir.
Niall: Thanks a lot. Have a good day for yourself.
[Hangs up]

Act I scene III
[Mike, who organised the plane tickets, has the facility to check himself and Brendan in online before even being at the airport (with their respective passport numbers). Niall, having found out that he doesn't need a passport to fly to the UK, phones the Ryanair helpline, once more, to determine if there's a means of exploiting this early check-in to save time. He phones the helpline and minutes of waiting pass ...]
Generic outsourced Indian customer service man two: Hello, I'm Generic outsourced Indian customer service man two. Thank you for holding. How can I be of assistance?
Niall: Hi there. I'm planning to fly to Doncaster from Dublin on Sunday with two friends of mine. They both plan to check in early online with their passport numbers, but I've only got a national age card. Is there any facility for early check-in with this?
Generic outsourced Indian customer service man two: I'm afraid not sir. Your friends may check-in early, but you will be required to do it at the check-in queue with your age card.
Niall: OK. That's great. Thanks for your time. You've been very helpful.
Generic outsourced Indian customer service man two: Have a good day, sir.
[Hangs up]

---

Act II scene I
[Time has come for the heroes to voyage across the country to watch the forces of the worlds greatest snooker players do battle for the title of world champion... more or less. Brendan, Mike and Niall are in a train on the ways up to Dublin.]
Niall: I'm so excited!
[Exunt]

Act II scene II
[The heroes have ventured from Cork through Limerick junction and other unseemly places, done battle with foes unmentionable, and lived to tell the tale. They met up with a friend in Dublin, Richard, and proceeded to a public house.]
Mike: Lets go to <insert random pub's name here>
Others: OK.
[<insert pub's name here> was full]
Mike: Lets go somewhere else.
Others: OK.
[The heroes find another pub, enter and order a coke, Smithwick's, Guinness and Budweiser.]
Niall: I'm so excited.
[Scene closes]

Act II scene III
[After a single drink in the pub the night before, the heroes were tireded from the journey, the heroes wake up in Mike & Richard's living room, ready and prime for the last leg of the journey. They rise at about 10AM. Richard, injured from a battle along the route, was unable to continue* to the final cycle, but the other heroes did vow to avenge his injuries on Sheffield.]
Niall: I'm so excited.
[They ride the Luas to the city centre and grab a convenient bus from there to the Airport. Brendan and Mike have both already checked-in and Niall sends them upstairs as there is no point on their queuing with him at the check-in counter. Niall walks to the counter.]

Act II scene IV
Niall: Hi there. I'd like to check into this flight, please. Here're my crediantials.
Generic clerk: That's good, sir. Now can I have your passport.
Niall: Yeah. Here's my identification [Niall hands the national age card].
Generic clerk: ... we don't accept that form of identification for travel.
[Niall, who is genetically unable to show any emotion of much sort on his face looks genuinely shocked]

* Richard wasn't ever going, anyway. Just Mike, Brendan and Niall.

---

Act III scene I
[Same scene as before. Act change to add drama to the play.]
Niall: Excuse me?
Generic clerk: I'm sorry, but that's our policy.
Niall: I called the helpline and asked, twice, if this ID would suffice for travel. Travel between the UK and Ireland does not require a passport, afterall. but I did specifically ask twice on the phone if it would do and was told it would, twice.
Generic clerk: I'm very sorry about that. But there's nothing I can do to help you. I'll call my manager over. If anyone can help you out she can.
Niall: Thanks. I appreciate that.
[The genuine clerk leaves his cockpit and finds his manager, and brings her to the party.]
Bitch: What's the problem?
Niall: [... explains the situation ...]
Bitch: Too bad. You can't fly.
[Niall's eyes, who were proved not to open wide, go wide.
Niall reiterates the fact that he was informed he could travel.]
Bitch: That didn't happen. The passport-only policy has been in for five years. Nobody would say that.
[Bitch leaves]
[Niall looks to Generic Clerk whose mouth was open in surprise. Niall then proceeds to go upstairs to Mike and Brendan.]

Act III scene II
[Niall finds Brendan and Mike in a café upstairs]
Niall: [... explains the situation ...]
[Brendan and Mike are shocked. Exunt]

Act III scene III
Brendan: Lets go down and sort this out.
[Goes downstairs and can't sort it out.]
[Niall says farewell to Brendan and Mike and returns to Dublin city to go home, and tells Brendan and Mike to enjoy the crucible's finest snooker.]

---

Act IV scene I
[Niall finds his way to the train station and collects his ticket and the train leaves. He plays with his phone the way down, playing involving texting obscenities about Ryanair to his friends.
On the journey a random old woman walks over to Niall's seat.]
Random old woman: You know if you collect the bottle caps from cans you can give them to a shop in Dublin and they'll donate them to a charity in Africa that'll make artificial limbs from them.
Niall: That's fantastic! Why don't we get told about these things?
Random old woman: I don't know. I really don't know.
[25 minutes into the journey the train stops, and it was dead for 45 minutes. Eventually an announcement is announced that tells the passengers that the train needs to be towed backwards for 10 minutes whereupon the passengers would join the passengers of the next train.]

Act IV scene II
[Train has been towed back to the previous station. The passengers of the train have exited. The second train hasn't yet arrived. The skys empty their sponges of rain to complete the patheticfallacy. The train arrives 10 minutes later.]

Act IV scene III
[The last hero is on the train back to Cork again and an announcement is announced telling the passengers of free tea and coffee and cold drinks to the passengers who were so delayed. Niall indulges.]

Act IV scene IV
[Niall arrives in Cork an hour and a half after he was meant to and purchases comfort-steaks, comfort-ice cream, and is currently sipping on a whiskey.]

---

Act V scene I
[Bitch dies a horrible horrible death]

End.

So ends the telling of the tale.

My dad told my sister when she was young that she could call someone 'bitch' if they really deserved it.

Customer service

2009-04-03T00:15:00.009+01:00

It has come to my attention that while the majority of my shopping experiences were non-eventful there have been a number (two have been noted here and here) which could be well described as noteworthy. Now, while these aforementioned events might also be tagged peculiar, with a slight bias towards the unpleasant bins of the spectrum, I give credit when credit's due, me, and present to you, my few readers, a rare manifestation of a casual shop.

I made toast with cheese[1] for dinner today but beforehand I headed down to the Sasanach Market for some ingredients. I grabbed some salami from some sausage stall and on the way out remembered that I needed to get some pasta so as I pass a convenient shop I stop and pick some op. I pass the pasta to the fellah behind the counter and he puts it into a bag (which he doesn't charge for, normally it's €0.25 for a plastic bag, a government levy to encourage reusable bagging) and gives me a free Aero chocolate bar[2]. So I get 500g of pasta, a bag and a (gone off[3]) Aero for €1.50. A lot can be said about the English, but the English market's savage.

If anyone feels inclined you can sign that petition against Heineken selling the Beamish & Crawford brewery here.

---

[1] Toast with cheese
Ingredients:

500/600g Pasta
2 large onions
2 peppers
3/4 cloves of garlic
150g chorizo/salami sausage
Cream
6 to 8 rashers
Black pudding
[optional]A few egg yolks
A bit of basil

Method:

Slice peppers, cut onions, crush garlic, chop chorizo, cut rashers, cut pudding (and half to make half-moon puddings) and finely grate cheese [and beat yolks, if using them].
Fry the rashers and the black pudding for a few minutes. Add the peppers, onions and garlic until they're soft and caramelised. [Allow the black pudding to spread through all the ingredients].
Boil the pasta in tall saucepan.
Add the chorizo and basil to the frying pan and leave fry for a few more minutes.
Drain the pasta when done.
Add contents of frying pan to saucepan, mix and add the cream and cheese

Serves a few, depending on gender, hunger and proximity to the source.
Note: Will not cure scurvy.

[2]But of course with my being a good and honorable Irish man I cannot contemplate eating this for another week and a half yet.

[3]Whether or not it was out of date is circumstantial. The actual 'best by' date was obscured by a permanent blue marker, but we feel safe in postulating it was past this date as it was advertising a competition which, after June '08, would no longer accept new entries.

Modern beamish-semantics pedantics

2009-03-20T21:21:00.008Z

It is up to the modern consumer to adapt to the market trends. This is true for most benchmark establishments, shops, banks, and educational services, to name a few. Go down a level and it too is true for clerks, bank tellers, teachers and managers. Descend yet another and it's true for farmers, labourers, and henchmen and it is also true to the customers -- the last roots on the tree from source providers to end-of-the-line patrons, so it is also necessary for the market to adapt to the trends of the modern customer.

Consider, then, if you will, the typical Irish pub. Inside it's dark. It's fresh with the smell of newly poured drinks, yet stale with the truth that the air inside has been circulating the murky nooks and crannies since the establishment of the establishment. The pub has seen all, you would think. But last night she took a double take and tumble and got took aback.

I'm sitting at a table with a Brendan and there be some Beamish and 7up on front of us. Now, I've seen many a movie where cocaine has been snorted with the credit cards, the notes, the sniffing tubes, the rubbing of nose after and the quick rising of the head. What I had never seen before last Thursday is a fellow stout drinker snorting, not cocaine, but the head of a fresh well poured pint[1]. Yes. It sounds exactly how it is, see photograph below (note, photograph might not be to scale, and the nose is in the head).

Three pints were treated by three men in this manner. After the fact the drinkers requested a re-heading. The first pint was semi re-headed, but the same request by second and third were rejected. My point is this -- how will this market adapt when customers clearly desire this new service and the breadwinner will not facilitate the service?

Ireland are playing for their chance at the grand slam today. They're playing Wales. If Wales win by more than 13 points they win the championship. If they loose they can risk coming 4th. High stakes, eh?

--- --- --- ---

[1] For the Irish stout-drinker's pedantic nature the pint should be double-poured. No joke. This involves two thirds to three quarters filling the pint glass with the stout, leaving it nearly settle and then topping it up. I have no idea why this makes it better, but it does.

Tea drinker's block

2009-03-14T22:52:00.006Z

Due to my current area of employment and my temporal location on this planet I have the handsome aspects of a pale Irishman who's stuck on front of a computer as our few hours of sunlight trickle through that alliterative atmosphere and flirts with the potential of nourishing our bodies with Vitamin D. This predicament leads to Ireland being the biggest consumer of tea in the world, per unit capita, and to my being a solid contributor to this impressive statistic. There has not really been much study in this area but I can safely postulate that tea's popularity is subliminally suggested by our government to quail the suicide rates during the long winters of misery and discontent all year around[1].

Now. I think it can be safely said that I drink at least 6-8 cups of tea a day. Dr. House leads me to believe that if one was to consume similar quantities of carrots they would turn orange. So why am I not the pleasing colour of a fine mug of Barry's Gold Blend but rather that of milk?This question keeps me up most nights, as well all deep questions should. I think more research is needed so I will be accepting volunteer applications for drinking tea. All welcome. This research only extends to Barry's tea. No inferior teas, such as Lyons, will be subject to this research.

--- --- --- ---

[1] See "Learn from Peig - How to laugh with life's ups and downs", by Peig Sayors, from the Peig Sayers 'Beating depression' series

Victory

2009-02-15T16:39:00.005Z

Subject to this blog I can now happily report that the price of the bus ticket I was referring to has subsequently returned to the (still extortionate) price of €5.20.

-------

Update (2009/02/23): I spoke too soon. Just recently got a bus and it was back to €5.70. We are not amused.

In memoium of red

2009-02-07T14:58:00.007Z

The Beamish and Crawford brewery in Cork was recently absorbed by Heineken, much to the dismay of the Beamish drinkers of Cork. While this was a worrying point in itself it was hoped that the change of brewing location wouldn't affect the taste too much. This quality factor is yet to be illuminated, but the hidden casualty of this transaction which has just now come to light was the fate of Beamish Red, lesser drunk (if possible) than Beamish proper but a smooth and enjoyable drink all the same.

An ale, but not an ale. Growing up under the dark shadow of its stoutier brother blew the pressures of brotherly tensions and rivalries soaring. Red first looked up to his brother and strove to be more like him -- starting by changing his head. This trend continues even today with ales in the south of Ireland; Smithwicks with a Guinness head remains a common variation which started with the sout-headed red ale from Cork. After this revolutionary proem to society, however, things did not remain good for Red. In his teens he fell victim to alcohol, drugs and gambling after failed attempts to measure up to Beamish. After years of struggling, rising and falling, legal proceedings and failed marriages, the straw finally sucked the final life from Beamish Red's last pint.

RIP Beamish Red.

Last Tuesday... Love!

2009-01-23T18:46:00.008Z

The scene takes place on the top of a staircase on the first floor. Brendan, Micheal, random girl and Niall are present (Niall is wearing a pair of nice jeans, apparently). Directly to the left of the staircase is a bathroom, then Micheal's room, a locked door and Mark's room. The group has gathered in the hallway.

Micheal: Where's my laptop battery? [Brendan had previously hidden it in his room somewhere]
Brendan: You're going to have to find it. [Micheal starts looking for it in his room] You're getting warmer... warmer... colder... warmer... warmer... [etc]
Random chick: I want to smoke. There anywhere up here I can smoke? I don't want to go downstairs [probably didn't want to risk the stairs I suppose - she did have extremely high heels. Looked like she was going to plant herself on the first floor all night for safety reasons.]
Brendan: You can use this room. It's Mark's room, but smoke out the window. [Brendan and her disappear into the room while Micheal and myself search for the battery]
Niall: Where is it? Gah. Maybe he didn't put it in here.
Micheal: Yeah. Man I hate that guy. Is he still in the room with her? She okay? [Jokingly referring to her current state of mind rather than physical well being. So Niall exits Micheal's room and peaks into Mark's room, where Brendan and the girl are chatting, the girl smoking at the same time. Niall returns to Micheal's room]
Niall: [Loud enough for his voice to carry] Yeah, don't worry. She's still okay.
[unseen to the audience, currently at Micheal's room, the girl snaps her head in Brendan's direction after hearing Niall's voice, eyes wide she stands up and stairs fish-like at Brendan in fear, then proceeds to leave. Niall and Micheal break down laughing uncontrollably for about five minutes after hearing her leave.]

---~~=====~~---

It was snowing this week. According to Wikipedia it only snows eight days of the year here, meaning we must make the most of it when it happens. To celebrate this miraculous auxiliary of brumal winter I stayed in my warm bed for two extra hours. Then I walked to college and talked about the fluffy stuff all day. It was great, but didn't stay.

Damned global warming. Why couldn't we just leave it alone? Even though petrol's now cheaper than ever apparently there's a refining shortage so the price of it is still going up. Damned economy. Why couldn't we just leave it alone?

Five flippin' seventy ...

2009-01-10T00:29:00.005Z

... for a twenty minute bus ride home! The bloody country's in recession for crying out loud. The price of fuel has dropped below a euro a litre for the first time in ages so you'd figure we'd be gifted a moment's financial repose by the conglomerates of our aggrieved nation. It's a fifty cent hike on the previous damned disbursement. After a $100 reduction in the cost of a barrel and even with their skimming by the 8-cent fuel levee scott free[1] the heads of Bus Eireann accommodate the good people of Ireland, in these their reclining years, on these the good people who maintain their business[2], by kicking them right in the wallet, five hundred and seventy times a journey. The drivers' wages are frozen by the weakening economy so why do they need so much more of our money? Apart from the obvious capitalistic (damned capitalism and statistics) reasons I honestly can't fathom why they had a good feeling about this. Nor have I heard how it was spun. Perhaps they thought we wouldn't notice, but let this angry blog bear witness that the controlled indignity that has been dealt to us has been espied.

----

[1] I assume buses use diesel.
[2] Heh. Business -> bus-iness -> bus-ness, Monsters!

Lemsips and whiskey

2008-12-13T12:19:00.005Z

I don't know what it is about me that attracts obscurity but I was shopping last Saturday afternoon ... and while it wasn't quite as bizarre as this episode it is the second most obscure shopping incident in as many shops. Here's the gist of the plot:

Niall is at a counter of a 18-20 year old clerk named Francis who is eying him up in a very suspicious way.

Francis: You know when you steal these cloths these little tags will sound an alarm when you go out the door unless they're removed.
Niall: Fascinating.
Francis: But I'm sure you know all about that, eh?
Niall: ...
Francis: When you've been working in shops as long as I have you develop an ability to spot serial shop-lifters from a mile off. Just be careful. For your own sake just don't try it.

Francis hands me the bag and I walk out of the shop.

When I was about six I went into a shop in my home town and was standing by the sweets, as six year olds tend to do. When nobody was watching I took one penny-sweet and ate it without paying for it, and lived in terror of being found out for about a year, when I acted again. The shop closed down soon after the second strike and for a while I was convinced that those two penny sweets were the difference between the camel struggling with his load and breaking his back. Unless this 'Francis' kid bore witness to these incidents of petty-theft and felt the need to confront me there are absolutely no other reasons, that I can see, for her suspicion.

Perhaps I'm being cruel though. Maybe I shouldn't be so quick to discount her psychic abilities. Maybe in the future in a moment of weakness I'll remember that conversation and either remove the tags myself, as per her suggestion, or buy the cloths. Who knows?

In other news... I have a crippling man-cold which is not a whole bunch of fun.

The dummies' guide to procrastination!

2008-11-21T22:53:00.016Z

Consider, if you will, the procrastinator. A simple person like you or I. What motivates him to avoid work? What is there to gain? How does he survive in the fast paced, survival of the richest, hard driven capitalist superpower that is today's world? One must always remember that procrastination isn't covered by your 'in-house training programmes'. There exists no committee whose only purpose is to regulate procrastination. No unit of acceptable procrastination levels exists. Not for public exposure and not for industrial productivity. The procrastinator is alone. Yet, he is an innovator because of this solitude and because of his removal from regulatory bodies; he makes his own way. This irony is always ignored by the procrastinator as he doesn't fight to survive, as he forever, by his own twisted motivations, invents new and progressive means of dissipating productivity to atrophy ... until the time is right.

But is the time ever right for the procrastinator to work? Is his belief that he might eventually relapse to workforce-fertility merely a tepid flirtation with responsibility, when procrastination knows it cannot live while responsibility survives?

Much of the latest research[2-4] shows conflicting views on the motivations and goals of the procrastinator. Because views and observations of the procrastinator are subjective, conclusions, apart from the ones the author draws in the following paragraph, cannot be drawn with the hard-rock foundations that journals of this calibre demand. This author, however, feels himself qualified, via the many proofs of his dedication and his years of expert contribution to the field of procrastination, to make one sound statement to the reader, and it is this: stop reading this and get some work done.

---

[1] 3nhance ur procrastination. Buy it online for $33.99. 50 procrasts. Lifetime guarantee. 30 day offer. Order now!
[2] Twomey et al, Tea Brewing Techniques, Journal of Industrial procrastination for recreational detachment, Cork, '08.
[3] Twomey et al, An ambulatory and ubiquitious blogging system, Journal of passive procrastination for today's world leaders, Cork, '08.
[4] Twomey et al, All about busses, Journal of public transport systems in cities around Ireland, Cork/Limerick, '08.

An Ambulatory and Ubiquitous Blogging System

2008-11-07T23:36:00.012Z

An Ambulatory and Ubiquitous Blogging System

N. Twomey (http://blagernet.blogspot.com/) BEE,
A. H. Horn (http://morebeerthanman.blogspot.com/) BEM

I. Abstract
A new blog is presented, which aims to confer, to esteemed peers and colleagues, matters recently undertaken by this author. Recent trends in society point to the necessity for an ambulatory, ubiquitous and scalable system for real time activity monitoring, classification, dynamic comparison studies and signal processing in the area of biomedical signal extraction. To the author's best knowledge a blog has never been proposed as a medium through which these may be explored. An Active Blogger System (ABS) is exhibited below and the experimental results naturally manifest into a self-evident development platform once the system is mapped to the Blogger domain.

Keywords -- blog, novel ambulatory techniques, RTOS, image processing, world peace.

II. Introduction

III. Scientific Methods
(In my typical blag starting format)So I started my PhD about a month ago, much to my, and (if she knew) my 6th class teacher's probable[1], amusement. I have a desk, computer, cup for tea/coffee, folder for papers and labs. Ohh the labs. The POWER[2]!

IV. Results
I start labs next week so I'll amend the report for then.

V. Appendices
[1] I often describe the attention I paid to primary school as 'un-proactive' or with my 'not being an entirely proactive student', which is completely true and deserved. Even with hindsight, the perfect but yet self-predisposed science, I don't know why, but my behaviour lead to my sister having a conversation with one of my primary school teachers about eight or nine years after my leaving the school (pseudonyms used), that went something like this:

My old teacher and my (older) sister (PN), Janice, meet randomly (my sister had her for some primary class too), and begin reliving all of life's events since Janice's time of departure from the school.
ex-Teacher: Oh, so you're doing a PhD in biochemistry. Wow. What's Naomi [Other sister's pseudonym for this narrative] doing?
Janice: She finished a joint honours degree in History and English two years ago, volunteered for a year got a diploma in social care and is now doing a masters in social work.
ex-Teacher: Very good. Always knew she'd go far. [With eyes closed and a sigh, bracing herself for what she might hear, she asks:] And Niall [That's me]. What's he doing?
Janice: Finished his leaving cert a few years ago and is now in his third year of electrical engineering and loving it.
ex-Teacher: Oh... I never thought he'd make it that far... [said with shock and honest faithfulness in her beliefs of me.][3]
Made me smile anyway.

[2] Power is defined as work done over time taken, so the power I mention above is not power, but work or energy, and this power (work/energy) is not in my hands but it is rather in those of the students who participate in the labs. That is to say I cannot pass or fail someone on their labs; they do. So as my power is defined by the work of each student, energy is obviously therefore uniformly proportional to power. Therefore, as energy = power the time taken can only be one second. Why these labs take three hours (648,000 seconds) is entirely beyond me. Must be parallax...

[3] I may have taken to my dad's way of telling stories... that is the basic direction of the narrative remains true, but all else is manipulated into corroborative chutney for smooth and enjoyable eye candy.

Inconceivable

2008-09-25T17:18:00.010+01:00

It's midnight. Niall is about to leave his house (lives at home). His father is by the front door as he is about to leave.

Father: Where are you going? It's midnight!
Niall: I'm going to Mark's to play chess.
Father: ... [See here for meanings of '...']
Niall: See you later.

Exunt.

True story. The implied undertones of the '...' were priceless, in particular in light of my actual desire to go to Mark's house to play (Jenga) chess, where he proceeded to beat me in deuce. Jenga-chess. It's an interesting game invented in Mark's house around 11 PM some evening (I will claim invention, having suggested the collaboration, but further rules, nuances and semantics were applied afterwards by more than I). The basic premise of the game can be described by the picture below --

At least once per chess move a Jenga block is removed and applied to the top of the tower. Strict rules from South Cork stipulate a 'you touch it, you remove it' rule in Jenga selection for towers under about 150% of the initial tower height; that is under 25 rows for a typical 48 piece Jenga set. If player A, lets call him Inigo, is playing player B, lets call him Westley, having both (foolishly and) initially started the battle left handed then proceed to move to their right hands and Inigo knocks the tower Westley is permitted two moves directly after its collapse (Strength and mind), but with these two moves Inigo cannot be placed in checkmate. This game is great, but further complicated by a chess game of the following standard --

Firstly the game took nigh on four hours to finish, and secondly both other players get two moves if the first knocks the tower... and in that game I knocked the tower twice. Stupid Steve and Mark ganging up on me!

Game goes well with KC's and driving.

Meteor texting program II

2008-09-19T16:56:00.007+01:00

So I was curious the other day and googled for 'meteor texting program' and was startingly amused to find my blog entry on the meteor texting program that I wrote to be the first hit! Olé!

It also just so happens that I've completed version 1.0 of the program (it had previously been on version 0.X), see end of post for details on how to download it (for free!). It's still released as a .0.X version as I want to provoke a number of possible bugs in the program out before releasing a proper version of the program. Anyway, here's a full list of its features:

sending text messages to individuals [can type continuously over as long a message as you want to send and the program will parse the messages into as many text messages as are required to send. Can select any number of individual recipients]
sending text messages to groups [same features as with sending messages to individuals]
text-merge functionality [If you wish to send a message to a number of people but with to use the recipients' name in the message you can type '<NAME>' into the text message and that part of text will be replaced with the name of everyone attached to the outgoing message. Don't use with groups or the name of the group will appear. i.e. sending 'Hi <NAME>' to Jack and Jill sends 'Hi Jack', 'Hi Jill']
text-message numbering system [The program automatically parses texts which go over the 160 character limit to as many sub-message as are required. However, the sending service sometimes sends the messages in the wrong order. To overcome complications on the recipient's side the sender can choose whether or not to number the outgoing text messages so the receiver will not have to jig-saw around the meaning. Some people don't like this so it can be turned off if desired from the options button from main menu.]
high-level message logging [This feature was added for me. If a bug occurred it was useful to know how to replicate it, but was difficult to get an accurate measure of how it was created. When functions are called they save details in a file called 'logger.dat', with which I can trace the events which lead to the crash. It's like a stack-trace]
individual phonebook management [You can completely manage your individual address book, can add, remove and modify contacts]
group phone book management [You can completely manage your group address book, can add, remove and modify contacts]
remembering the last user [The program uses a file called 'rememberme.txt' which contains the details of the user's number, pin and a number of other options which can be specified. This file can be used to 'load up' your own profile when opening the program.]
auto login options [If you would prefer to not be automatically logged into the program, and hence mymeteor.ie, you can specify an option in the options menu which will put your phone number in the number input box, and your *'d pin in the pin box. You can then either log into that profile or change the details. If you don't want anything to be remembered untick the 'remember me' checkbox on the login screen.]
AES file encryption [The 'rememberme.txt' file is encrypted with a 128 bit AES key which is recursively revised with each new data segment...]
task bar minimisation [By pressing the minimise button from the main menu one can minimise the program to the task bar. From here you can either double click to restore the program to its fullness or you can right click on it which'll provide a number of options, like restore, send message, exit etc.]
update management [To save the user of the program checking online for updates of the program a button was created which, when clicked, will inform the user if an update for the program is available. It can be found on the login screen and the options dialog from the main menu.]
Perpetual login [When starting the program, and indeed until the program is closed, the cookies that the program stores are maintained and revised over time so the session doesn't terminate. It even maintains the cookies over Windows sessions, so that if you hibernate your computer and then open it again it'll log into the same session for your convenience.]

Now, this program can be downloaded for free from here. To use it you need to first download some DLLs, then the latest version of the program from the first link. Put them both in the same directory and run the meteor.X.Y.exe program. It'll create the necessary files. If you're loading from a pre-.0.9 version you'll need to first delete the 'rememberme.txt' file to work the program, I changed the encryption standard from then. If you use an RSS feed reader you can subscribe to my meteor program here.

Enjoy, and please let me know if you like the program, find bugs with it, think it's pants, have recommendations for it etc.

The day that's in it.

2008-09-10T11:17:00.003+01:00

So I graduated yesterday. I thought I aught to look at least passively clean (for the mammy and her many many photographs) so I shaved. For the last few years when I have shaved I've used an electric thing and, cause of the occasion, the serial killer in me appreciated ritual that's involved in manually shaving and orderliness that's needed[1]. Anyway, I was visited briefly with an experience similar to that below in course of my wont ...

It was only for a fleeting moment but I had water, shaving foam, a razor and for a moment I was just staring at them. Mystified. Luckily I didn't jump at the razor in a dazed state of disorientation and panic.

To close the night I got some Middleton Very Rare at a bar of some description. At a tenner a shot it's towards the more expensive side in the list of drinks in which I've indulged (probably the most), but man was it delicious. Before this my favourite was Poit Dhubh, a Scotch from Skye[2]. It's €10 but it comes with Niall's two thumbs up!

----

[1] Very complicated stuff.
[2] To my undying shame.

Education, ballistics and noisy windows.

2008-08-13T21:56:00.002+01:00

So I decided to go buy some cloths there the other week in Limerick. I think it was the first time I bought cloths in a long time, so bear with me if this is a normal experience for cloth buying...

Niall is in a queue with two pairs of jeans in a large warehouse of clothing and is called forward to pay for his cloths.

Niall walks down the aisle thinking to himself and eventually reaches the empty till. Stacy is the tiller.

Niall: Hi there. How're you doing?

Stacy: Not too good now.

Niall: Oh?

Stacy: It's starting to itch now.

Niall: ... [Yeah, that's a literal method. Get over it.]

So I'm gonna take a break here from the narrative to stress just how much confusion was in the '...' I just expressed above.

Niall: ...

Stacy: First it was just sore, but now it's starting to itch.

Niall: ...

I think it's also funnier if I don't finish the conversation, but it was about five minutes long and most of my part was '...' with extreme confusion, and fear as she tried to get me to touch her arm. I was afraid to touch my cloths even. Glad I'd seen that house episode with the dodgy jeans.

Also my course is now 300 points.

And the laptop I used in work made noises when I moved the mouse or when anything on the screen moved.

All about busses...

2008-07-23T20:06:00.007+01:00

The anger of the Limerick-born bus driver isn't satisfied by taunting the spirit of the elderly. No. In this way they are separate from the Cork-based animal. Where a bus driver from Cork might drive slowly away from a bus stop with a chasing zimmer-framed old fellah in his rearview sights, not fast enough for him to give up the chase mind, the Limerick driver waits. While the Cork driver believes in the omnipotence and omniscience that is due his kind, Limerick drivers are positively cordial in their demeanor. But their anger is more cynically focused.

I generally try to get into work for about 8:30 - 8:45 which means getting the bus in either at 8 or 8:15 (ish). Since I've lived in Limerick (about 5 to 6 weeks now) the bus service has appeared adequate. A bus leaves for work every fifteen minutes, and from work every ten. However, I have noticed next to no correlation between the actual times of departure and the timetabled times of departure on a day to day basis.

To this end I've made a spreadsheet.

I'll agree that 13 data samples isn't sufficient to accurately determine the traits of the bus system. However...

On average it leaves two and a half minutes early and has a standard deviation of two and a fifth minutes. The only reason I know of the lower ones is because I've seen the bus drive into the sunrise... Thanks to second year mechanical engineering I know this isn't good. And note - I'm the second bus stop on the route meaning you could probably take a minute off all those times for a 'back to base' interpolation.

How can I possibly model this random process to optimally control in-bed time? This is madness, I'm sure you'll agree.

Best Possible result

2008-07-18T18:17:00.000+01:00

Find out Which Marvel Superhero Are You at LiquidGeneration.com!

I am so happy

Tea brewing techniques.

2008-06-13T21:23:00.009+01:00

So I was surfing the other day and found a website[1] that discussed a number of tea-brewing techniques so I've spent most of my time in Limerick so far trying them out.

-----------------

The magneto-reluctance method (MRM): This tea brewing technique consists of a primary boiling unit and secondary storage unit which are thermodynamically separate and no feedthrough is allowed. Water is boiled from room temperature in a black kettle. While waiting for the boiling process to complete a cup should be brought from the cupboard to the kettle. A single, uncreased and unvitiated teabag should be placed in the cup. Wait until boiling point has been reached and pour the water into the cup. Avoid splashing at all times. The use of industry standard welding gloves is strongly recommended as temperatures approaching 100C are common. With a spoon stir the contents of the cup until an appropriate strength has been reached. Add milk/sugar, as per your personal tastes, and enjoy.

The magneto reluctance method was first popularised by Ghengis Khan during the second war with western Xia and it is commonly believed that all modern tea-brewing techniques derive from this primitive method. It commonly reaches a normalised 3-3.5 in taste and texture measurements but reaches a 7.5-9 in speed(nipi)ness, with three-sigma process variation included in simulations. As with all engineering disciplines a trade off between the quality of the final product and design difficulty must be reached. This product is good for general low-end volatile applications, such as family tea etc.

The inverse differentially-graded method (IDG) is similar in ingredients to magneto-reluctance method, but highly expensive equipment is required for the creation of even a meagre IDG cup of tea. Skill comes with experience and brewing confidence can mature, in some cases, after a long two weeks intensive training. Many firms, such as Microsaft, expose only upper management to this as it is a costly training procedure. At the heard of this method is the theory of pre-identified cause being realised by the system's initial conditions. Place the tea bag on a clean solid surface. Place the cup over it and pour boiling water into the cup. Leave for a minute or two and re-boil the water in the kettle. As boiling point nears pour the water in the cup down the sink and fill the cup with water. Then place the teabag on the water in the cup and cover with a plate. Leave for five minutes (or until flavoured to satisfaction), and scoop the teabag from the cup with a spoon, making sure not to squeeze any excess water from it and not allowing the teabag to touch the wall of the cup.

Clearly, the pre-instantiation heat injection phase, (injection into the cup and teabag,) adds stability and noise filtering before flavour instillation. When brewed by an expert T&T levels can exceed 7 and 8, but even by the most skilled hand speed will always be slow. 3-4.5 are common among professionals. It has been advocated, by dubious journals, that the there is not a single taste difference between a cup of IDG and MRM, but the thought of effort-induced placebo effects is ludicrous! Simulations have never been able to identify why this makes a superior cup of tea, and routinely fall short of manufactured testbenches. It has been hypothesised that the high input contention and low feedforward currents tend to lower steady state power levels, resulting in a smoother sensation on the tongue, which of course, cannot be simulated.

The final method has been hailed by all modern critics as the "Mother of all cups of tea [...] ever"[2]. As with all leaps in technology it was discovered by accident, in Galway. A dyslexic episode swapped the words "pot" to "kettle" when discussing "making a pot of tea". The Integration by pots involves filling a kettle with lukewarm water and introducing two teabags at this stage. Heat and flavour is added integrally over the entire boiling process. Once the kettle boils the tea is ready for drinking. Use cups, milk and sugar as needed, but enjoy!

There you have it. Tea brewing techniques used by the professionals.

-----------------

[1] No references here dot blogspot dot tv. But there is no wobsite.
[2] "The mother of all cups of tea? Never!" -- John Smith
[3] This was brought to you in conjunction with this.

Lets get political

2008-06-13T13:34:00.003+01:00

Wow, we actually voted down the lisbon treaty. Well not quite yet, but even RTE are calling it a formality now. So now we get to the reasons that a treaty with the backing of every major political party in Ireland were in favour of it. (Sorry Mick Barry but the socialist party don't count)

Did anyone else find the pictures of the candidates supporting the treaty distasteful? On every yes poster there was a picture of a smiling TD saying how they love Ireland and Europe. As much as I disagreed with some of the no campaign posters they at least gave information and reasons for not supporting the treaty.

How could Brian Cowen NOT have read the treaty???? If I was running a campaign to get people to accept something I would at least try to know what I'm asking them to accept. It showed a lazyness that really shouldn't be part of a Taoiseach's agenda.

So really when the EU countries have to spend another year or so renegotiating the same deal they only have the major political parties in Ireland to blame.

Meteor texting program

2008-05-29T18:02:00.005+01:00

EDIT: I made a new homepage for the meteor program. It can be found here - http://twomers.aoeex.com/meteor/index.php and you can download it here -- http://twomers.aoeex.com/meteor/download.php

----------

So I finally went about sorting out that meteor program I wrote ages ago. To use it download these two things -- one and two. Extract everything to the same directory and run the meteor.X.X.X.exe application. More info on using it can be found here. I'm planning to write an O2 and Vodafone program too, in time. If anyone has any comments, questions, suggestions etc lemme know (either in comment form or email form).

Just to reiterate the warning on the last link --I take no responsibility for anything that may or may not happen as a result of using this software. I provide the program as-is with no guarantees but do my best to make it as functional and safe as possible.

I'm finished!

2008-05-26T17:09:00.002+01:00

Will make menial circuits for beer.
Will debug menial circuits for money.

Why i'm so tired

2008-05-14T18:10:00.002+01:00

Finally I start contributing. Why oh why does my course have so many exams. I have now finished 3 10 credit exams in 3 days. That was a lot of fun. I did one a week ago and with my continuous assessment, worth 20 credits, I have the 60 credits required to pass final year.

BUT!!

36+ hours of lectures 3 hour exams only count for 5 credits for me. So in fact I am only half way through my exams. In what universe is that fair?? Answers on a postcard to the elec eng department please :-(

Define and briefly describe what is ...

2008-05-08T18:55:00.005+01:00

Exams, huh? Boy they're fun? And control? More so than most! Still don't know why I thought it was a good idea to do it. Then there's medi... there's tomographic imaging, MRI analysis and operation, neuron communication, cardiac cycle, diabetes types, hyper(o)tension, muscle stimulation, medical device analysis, sigma deltas, ultrasonic imaging, God knows how many dimensional Fourier transforms, EEG, ECG configurations and noninvasive type 1 diabetes regulation which is much more complicated than you'd expect. There are five lecturers, each covering between 2-4 sections giving about 18 sections in total. There are six questions on the exam (do five), meaning that about 12 are redundant for exam purposes and we only know of one topic that's not coming up for sure.

I hate this course sometimes. Least I didn't do management!

Nat Geo

2008-04-29T19:40:00.012+01:00

The national geographic can, from time to time, teach the public important life lessons; like how, in detailed step by step stages, the Apache AH-64D Longbow is made (it's got about a 60 chopper per year throughput), and, of more interest to general public, that "Colossal Squid Thawing; Hints at Even Bigger Beasts". Isn't 1100 pounds enough? Towards the end of the article was the heading "Humans vs. Colossal Squid". Unfortunately the questions I've been wondering all this time haven't been answered.

Two l's in Randall, Mark. Two l's, and there are no balls of yours around.

UPDATE: A video aboot it
UPDATE 2: World's biggest eyes!
UPDATE 3: Photos and video.

Blog.

2008-04-26T11:51:00.003+01:00

I've decided that it might be fun to write a blog. To this end I've created a blog. This is entirely Mark's fault.