Wednesday, March 25, 2009
PORTLAND, Ore. — U.S. Navy researchers claimed to have experimentally confirmed cold fusion in a presentation at the American Chemical Society's annual meeting.
"We have compelling evidence that fusion reactions are occurring" at room temperature, said Pamela Mosier-Boss, a scientist with the Space and Naval Warfare Systems Center (San Diego). The results are "the first scientific report of highly energetic neutrons from low-energy nuclear reactions," she added.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
"For more than a year McCoy had kept the secret of the still. Only a Scot could have done it, one gifted with all the caution and canny reserve of his race. Little by little he had exhausted the principal supplies of ti, and for many months now he had been able to obtain no more than enough to operate his still twice or, rarely, three times each week. A small stock of bottles, accumulated one by one, were hidden where he concealed the still when not in use; by stinting himself resolutely, he managed to keep a few quarts of his liquor set aside to age. In this manner, which had required for some time a truly heroic abstinence, McCoy was enabled to enjoy daily a seaman’s ration of half a pint of grog.
"His temperament was an unusual one, even among alcoholics. When deprived of spirits, he became gloomy, morose, and irritable, but a glass or two of rum was sufficient to make him the most genial of men. Mary had been astonished and delighted at the change in him. He conversed with her for an hour or more each evening, laughing and joking in the manner the Polynesians love. He romped with the two-year-old Sarah and took delight in holding on his knees the baby, Dan. With his grog ration assured, there was no better father and husband on the island than McCoy."
Part Three of The Bounty Trilogy,
Charles Nordhoff and James Norman Hall
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
The overwhelming pain is less than I can bear.
The smallest fears threaten only my larger parts.
I’m too late to care if the appointment was missed.
She’ll never love who I am not.
The future creaks like a well-oiled doorway in a horror movie.
Tonight I will load my pistol and unload it.
The thoughtless harsh words I spoke to him never left my mouth.
My regrets of a lifetime have yet to be defined by my death.
Blindness seeks me, but I save vision insurance.
Murderers find me well prepared to defend.
Cataclysmic tremors of the earth belie not my adaptive foundation.
I will not, not.
I am what I am not, when resting in hell.
Salvation is a daily medicine
for what follows life as what traces the sound of a bell.