Easier to park than a Caddy, too

I have no opinion on the authenticity or otherwise of the decor in Stalin's bunker, as depicted in a series of pictures on English Russia.

Whitewalls!

But I think whitewall tyres on an armoured vehicle are pretty darn sweet.

Whitewalls!

Whitewalls!

Reality show idea: "Pimp My BMP"!

The Case of the Vanishing Icons

One of the great entertainments that awaits you whenever you reinstall Windows is seeing what new and strange personality features your fresh install exhibits.

It happens almost every time, and usually within days, or possibly even hours, of the reinstall; some weird thing arises that you've never seen before, even if all you've done is reinstalled the same version of Windows on the same computer you were using before.

Munged icons are a pretty common Windows problem - the OS messes up the pointers to its cached icons file, so each class of file or folder gets a semi-random new icon. But this new install of mine just came up with a variation on that theme which is a new one on me.

Munged icons

Yes, it munged the Quick Launch icons!

(In case you're wondering: No, none of those icons match the programs they're connected to.)

No problem, said I. I opened TweakUI and used its "Rebuild Icons" option, confident that everything would now be fine again.

Very munged icons

Instead, I got this. Now all but one of the icons is invisible!

More "Rebuild Icons" attempts caused the single still-visible icon to change, and more and more icons on the desktop to disappear.

Well played, Windows! Well played!

The sad saga continues

The slow death of the Firepower fuel-enhancing-pill company continues, chronicled as usual by Gerard Ryle of the Sydney Morning Herald.

The latest instalment of this somewhat predictable story tells us that Firepower's pills - which, they of course now say they've changed, again - contain naphthalene, as seen in some other bogus fuel pills, and the previously mentioned ferrocene. Neither of these ingredients does anything remotely approaching what Firepower claim, as you'd expect. And yet it seems that Firepower really do have quite a lot of money.

It takes so long to unravel these claims, and so little time for the people who come up with them to switch to a new scam. Serial scam artists can be positively famous, and still end up hanging out with leaders of nations.

Until the average investor learns more about critical thinking, none of this ever going to change.

Today's dumbest quackery

The Oak Ridge Associated Universities' Health Physics Historical Instrumentation Museum has a marvellous online collection of Radioactive Quack Cures.

I was already familiar with radioactive water jugs, the most famous line of which was the "Revigator", from Theodore Gray's Periodic Table Table site. He's got a Revigator, which he was alarmed to note is still quite hot even now, about eighty years after it was made and lined with the uranium ore whose decay contributed "healthful" radon to the water inside.

There were plenty of other allegedly radioactive medicines and devices on the market not long after the discovery of radium. "Radium" was used as a pretty generic term for anything radioactive in the quack market, and it took over the "science magic" medical role previously occupied by electricity. But this definitely wasn't a change for the better. Most of the electrical quack devices, then and now, were at least harmless. The radioactive ones often very definitely weren't.

If you were lucky, there was no real "radium" in the tablets, water jug or pillow you bought. If you weren't, there was.

The thing that blew my mind about the Oak Ridge Universities site, though, is the revelation that radioactive quack devices are still being made!

We're not talking about brachytherapy devices here. Those are genuine and useful, though hardly a mass market product.

No, these are good old fashioned allegedly-radioactive things that you're meant to affix to your person, or apply to food or drink (or cigarettes!), to charge yourself up with those friendly little cartoon atoms from the '50s educational films.

It boggles my mind that anybody today would think that exposing yourself to significant ionising radiation could possibly be the sort of "general tonic" that's the hallmark of so much quackery ("general tonic" has been replaced by "strengthens the immune system", but the principle remains the same).

But here the darn things are.

Hot pottery, limb-soothing fabric, water treatment doodads... oh, and naturally a thing to make your car run better.

Almost all of the modern quack products, even more bizarrely, come from Japan. If you asked me to name the one place in the world where radiation wouldn't be believed to be healthful, I think I'd probably go for the Ukraine before Japan, but it's a close-run bloody thing.

I mean... what?

The other distinguishing feature of modern ionising radiation quackery, fortunately, is that these devices are definitely much less harmful than the worst of the old ones, and probably barely radioactive at all. The days of radon bulbs for your soda syphon are well past.

The modern products all just seem to be allegedly doped with a bit of thorium, a weak alpha-emitter that does indeed have radium and radon as decay products, but is really only worth worrying about if you're eating or breathing it.

Thorium-doped gas mantles for camping lanterns are still on sale in most countries, and they're about a zillion times less dangerous than whatever mode of transport you use to get to your camp site.

Still and all, though, the very existence of these products depresses me. Yes, I know about all of those surveys where 80% of respondents think the sun orbits the earth, and the popularity of Creationism, homeopathy and "detoxification" has also not escaped my notice.

I even know that some of the customers of these quacks may have formed a genuine, informed opinion against the linear no-threshold model, and thus believe for at least somewhat rational reasons that a slightly above-background radiation dose may be good for them.

But still.

Ionising radiation?

Seriously?

(See also: Can you make a nuclear explosion with your bare hands?)

Signs you may be the right man for the job

My little photo session for the Kittenwar book I just reviewed was somewhat delayed...

Inconvenient cats

...because there were cats in the way.

Inconvenient Millie

Millie finds the photo tent quite cosy.

(The other one is Joey, who features in the sparky video here.)

#000000 - for the environment!

A reader pointed out the questionably power-saving Blackle to me a couple of days ago; now it's hit Slashdot.

In brief: Yes, a CRT monitor uses more power when it's displaying light colours than when it's displaying dark ones. But no, there isn't likely to be any significant difference if your computer has an LCD screen.

A bit of searching (with evil white-screened Google...) turned up this page on the blog of one Mark Ontkush, who started the whole thing.

A reader of the first-mentioned post reports he actually tested a 19 inch CRT and LCD, and found, as you'd expect, that the LCD used less power in the first place but changed its power consumption not at all with the content of the image, while the CRT dropped from 83 watts to 60.

It's conceivable that an LCD might consume slightly different amounts of power when displaying different images, since it takes power to turn on all of those zillions of thin film transistors, three per pixel, that make up the image.

It might even use less power for darker images. I used to be under the impression that when an LCD pixel was fully "on" it was black, but that actually only applies to the old twisted nematic kind of LCD. Most LCD screens these days use newer flavours of LCD technology in which a fully energised pixel is white.

Ontkush's site also has this page, in in which a low-brightness design palette is put forward for much the same reason, and in which a (different) reader finds that the darker colours do indeed seem to reduce an LCD's power draw... by a lousy three watts.

There are some cleverer flat panels these days that modulate their backlight brightness according to the image being displayed. I don't know whether any computer monitors do it (I think it's still a home theatre thing), but it makes sense, and would cause darker images to consume less power.

Most LCDs these days have such super-bright backlights that to use them in most indoor domestic situations you should turn the brightness down to minimum manually anyway. Variable-brightness backlights probably won't be able to go any dimmer than that minimum manual brightness. LED-backlit LCDs (which are still very rare) may be able to go further, though; the minimum brightness at which a cold-cathode lamp will continue to work properly is quite a bit higher than the minimum brightness for a bank of LEDs.

The reader who brought Blackle to my attention had it brought to his attention by that internationally recognised bringer of totally reliable information, a multiply-forwarded e-mail. That particular e-mail, or one very like it, can be found all over the Web now, including the allegation that "Google created a black version of its search engine...".

Blackle is not, of course, actually a Google project. The domain's registered to some outfit here in Australia.

I've never been able to figure out how it is that these sorts of aimless fabrications get tacked onto much-forwarded messages. Somebody somewhere along the line had to make up the "Google created" factoid all by himself and add it to the text... but why?

Snopes is full of stuff like this. Sometimes it's obviously someone just making up a story to go with a funny picture because it entertains them to start a hoax or they want to reverse the political slant of a forward they just received, but just as often there's not even that much justification.

It's like a model of evolution. Messages mutate randomly as they pass through different people's hands, and the most appealing ones are then more likely to be forwarded-to-all by everyone's dimwitted coworkers and dotty old relatives.

(Thinking you're doing something For The Environment by darkening the palette on a Web page is also, of course, a pretty good example of slacktivism.)

UPDATE: I've got a power consumption meter now, and I've used it to see how much juice my giant Dell monitor consumes. The screen brightness setting made a big difference; what the screen was displaying made a small one. Read all about it!

A use for the "Vox Dei" stop

There's a short hymn by Franz Liszt called "O filii et filiae", from his oratorio "Christus".

It's a light and gentle choral piece, meant to be sung by only the female members of the choir, backed by the least alarming stops of the organ. You can hear a bit of it in this MP3.

I quite like the hymn, but that's mainly because I consider it to be the preamble to a simply excellent musical joke.

The punchline to that joke was provided by the celebrated Canadian organist Lynnwood Farnam.

Farnam produced exactly one composition during his 45 years on this planet. That composition, published after his death but apparently played by him on numerous occasions when he was seeing if a particular organ was prone to catching fire when abused, was a Toccata on "O filii".

I don't know about you, but I'm a fan of mash-ups. Pastiches. Crossovers.

"O filii" is about how Mary Magdalene finds the tomb to be empty, and so it's all hopeful and happy. Peaceful, mellow. God wants you to buy some sandals and a nylon stringed guitar and spread the Good News.

Farnam's Toccata is, to my mind, what happens when someone likes the chord changes in that hymn, but figures that they would be better presented at the volume of a Manowar concert and with more of an Old Testament, or possibly Norse, feel.

The Toccata's God is more the sort of deity who, if He absent-mindedly allows you to see one trillionth of His magnificence, will force you to start banging your head on the ground as hard as you can.

The piece opens with a chord entirely suitable for the arrival of your Sun Eater out of hyperspace. And then, if anything, it gets louder.

I, for this reason, think it's just hilarious if the choral "O filii" is followed by the Toccata. It's a sort of cosmic Good Cop, Bad Cop routine.

But you needn't take my word for it. Mark Quarmby, an Australian organist who'd be a hundred times better at playing keyboard instruments than me even if he'd never figured out any of that weird foot-pedal stuff, has an excellent rendition of the Farnam Toccata available for download on his Recordings page.

(I've taken the liberty of mirroring the MP3 here, to reduce the likelihood of all you yahoos melting down Mark's server.)

I've actually met Mark Quarmby. He's a university friend of my mother's.

He's an unassuming fellow. Not at all a member of the cape, beard and monocle school.

He looks like an accountant.

It's those ones you have to watch, you know.

Relieve any unpleasantness by inhaling alcohol!

Modern Mechanix is, of course, awesome. It's arguably even better than discovering a big box of Popular Whatever magazines from before the word "gadget" was in the dictionary in your attic, on account of how Modern Mechanix is not full of silverfish.

One of my favourite things about those old magazines is the advertisements.

Modern Mechanix has a category for particularly notable advertisements (and another whole category just covering the still-popular-among-the-terminally-hopeful field of Animals For Profit...), but the ads that entertain me most are the small ones that often run next to the ends of long features, in the back pages of the magazines.

The older magazines are lighter on the ads, but once you hit the Fifties it's pay dirt all the way.

There you are, reading a perfectly delightful piece about what we all had to look forward to if Uncle Joe lost patience with Harry Truman, and on the later pages you're offered the opportunity to purchase profitable lawnmower sharpeners, the new '51 Crosleys, and "easy to erect" log cabin kits!

No-money-down correspondence courses and new and used goods for sale, electricity books and proto-Dremels, and Hawaiian guitar lessons cheek by jowl with that indefatigable symbol of electronic hope, the metal detector.

And, of course, cigarette ads. "Tongue bite"? But what about my "T zone"?

This piece about ammonia doesn't have anything too hilarious in the ad department, but is a fine example of the refreshingly complete absence of safety warnings (if you don't count "spread some newspaper around to catch splashes...") typical of practical science articles of the time. If you weren't actually preparing literal nerve gas, the writers figured you could figure out entirely for yourself that boiling ammonia water is not something you should play with in your unventilated basement.

Look at the 1938 piece that teaches you "thrilling stunts" to perform with hydrofluoric acid. Aqueous hydrogen fluoride is not one of those toxic-but-not-as-big-a-deal-as-people-think substances like mercury. It is genuinely nasty stuff. But not a word of warning is breathed in the article. Wonderful!

There are, to be fair, slight warnings - "relieve any unpleasantness by inhaling alcohol"! - in the very enthusiastic 1933 piece about chlorine (for when nitrous just doesn't do it for you any more). It includes yet another thing you can do with potassium permanganate, and has some pretty good last-page ads, too!

And in a further disturbing attack on the magazines' usual commitment to personal responsibility, this 1932 piece on how to set up your home lab does, at the end, point out that you shouldn't taste your chemicals or pour acid on yourself.

Oh, and the other day I was watching one of those How The Fine Personnel of your Loving Government Protect You From The Evil Brown People shows, in which someone almost got away with smuggling drugs into Australia in soup cans, but failed because the cans didn't weigh as much as the labels said they should, and also didn't weigh the same as each other. Jeez, what a rookie mistake.

I wondered how hard it'd be to get your hands on a can-making kit. And now here one is!

(Old-fashioned soldered can ends would probably be a bit of a giveaway, though.)

It has been clearly explained to me that I am not allowed to further investigate this promising business opportunity. Or grow a huge beard.