Scuttlebutt

The idiot is me.

Waiting to cross Victoria Road in Drummoyne, Emma and I remark on the moon, now high in the darkened sky. I turn to Emma and say:

"It's the shadow of the Earth that makes that crescent shape. Incredible!"

Emma is likewise awestruck. We contemplate the greatness of God and his creation.

"Look! You can see my shadow on the side," I say, bending my body sideways and waving my arms above my head.

The taxi driver, having swerved out of the streaming traffic to stop at the curb next to us, must have thought me not in charge of my faculties as I urgently waved him on shaking my head and mouthing No, No, No.

My son has just made his debut in the blog-o-sphere. I don't have much contact with him during the working week, so it's great to read about his life via notaboutyou.net.

I'm encouraging all who know the lad to comment on his blog; he's very interested in knowing who might be reading.

Today, Emma and I raced our little Tasar (a 14-foot sailing craft) for the second time ever, and for the first time in two years.

On the whole, I found the day pretty demoralising; not because we did badly in the race, far from it. In fact, we exceed our expectations marvelously, somehow managing to stay ahead of some experienced sailors until the last lap of the course. The depressing bit was the damage that we caused to our boat, a centreboard, a sail, and the car; oh, and the bit about the finish line.

Can anyone recommend a car mechanic in the inner West of Sydney? Somewhere in the vicinity of Drummoyne, Russel Lea, Balmain, Rozelle, or Annandale would be ideal.

After reading Craig's blog post, There are no great sermons, I remembered that John Bunyan, author of Pilgrim's Progress, and a valued preacher, had something to say on the subject. The following extract is from Life of Bunyan by Rev. James Hamilton:

But popular as he was, he was not fond of praise. One day after he had concluded an impressive discourse, his friends pressed round to thank him for his "sweet sermon." "Aye," he bluntly answered, "you need not remind me of that; for the devil told me as much before I left the pulpit."

The Sun Tech Days Australia 2008 Conference is on March 4-6 in Darling Harbour. I'm thinking of going; does anybody have any feedback from past conferences? Is it worth going to?

Two cute kids, and some pretty remarkable restraint by the elder, in my opinion.

h/t Nixter

I may have been a little hasty in replicating the so-called sixth verse of the Australian National Anthem; apparently, it was not part of the original, at least that's the story according to Genesis Networks.

Just signed up for Mealopedia: my attempt to keep up with Emma's sterling culinary efforts.

h/t Craig

With Christ our head and cornerstone,
We'll build our Nation's might.
Whose way and truth and light alone
Can guide our path aright.
Our lives, a sacrifice of love
Reflect our Master's care.
With faces turned to heaven above
Advance Australia fair.
In joyful strains then let us sing
Advance Australia fair!

h/t Craig

Remember the song Stairway to Heaven by Led Zeppelin? I assume that the inspiration for that song from the story of Jacob's dream in the bible:

Then Jacob departed from Beersheba and went toward Haran. He came to a certain place and spent the night there, because the sun had set; and he took one of the stones of the place and put it under his head, and lay down in that place. He had a dream, and behold, a ladder was set on the earth with its top reaching to heaven; and behold, the angels of God were ascending and descending on it. - Genesis 28:10-12

That stairway represents God's mediation between himself and man. In the very first book of the bible we read of a means by which mankind, condemned to death by his rebellion against God, might once again commune peacefully with his creator.

Now flick forward in history about 2,000 years. Jesus says this to a guy called Nathanael:

"Truly, truly, I say to you, you will see the heavens opened and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man." - John 1:51

What do you make of that then?

I have two concerns about backups: a) getting my backed-up data off-site so that it would survive a burglery or fire at my home; and b) securing my data so that it is useless to anyone but me. I have solved both of those concerns with JungleDisk.

I heard about JungleDisk on the Security Now! podcast, Episode 123. I urge you to listen to the podcast, which can be downloaded from the Security Now! archive page on GRC.com.

Getting it off-site

JungleDisk creates a virtual disk drive on your machine, linked to an Amazon Simple Storage Service (Amazon S3) storage bucket. Whatever is saved onto that virtual disk, JungleDisk transparently transfers to Amazon, which charges only US 15 cents per gigabyte per month, plus some similarly-small fees per uploaded gigabyte.

JungleDisk has a built-in backup function, but it can also be used in conjunction with third-party backup programs. I continue to use my trusty SyncBack SE.

Securing the data

Before sending your data to Amazon, JungleDisk encrypts it using a key known only to you. Even Amazon would be unable to decrypt the data.

At only US $20 for a lifetime, multi-machine license, I reckon that JungleDisk is a no-brainer.

The greenies tell us to take our own bags to the grocery store in lieu of the plastic bags they otherwise pack everything into at the checkout. In my case, that is useless advice: at my place, the plastic bags that survive the trip home from the grocery store end up being re-used as bin liners.

If I don't get enough free plastic bags from the grocery store, I buy packs of plastic bags (from the grocery store) to serve the same purpose; and more plastic gets used in the process.

They're leaving: the family who own and operate Cafe Revive, across the road from the office in Clarence Street. With them goes my barista, Chris, with whom I have enjoyed many brief, but meaningless, moments of mindless chatter.

I'm upset. It's not just for the coffee that I pay my $2.80: it's also the relationship. To be recognised, and welcomed, and known, and appreciated by my provider of state-approved chemical stimulant is worth something to me. Apparently the new owners will look after us, but it won't be the same.

Emma and I are weird. Along with the traditional things on our wedding gift registry (cutlery, towels, sheets, etc), was an item best described as an old-person trolley. Perhaps there is an official name for them, but I don't know what it is. You've seen them pulled along behind their elderly proprietors in the supermarket. They stand upright on a little stand, about waist-height.

Tanya and Thai threw off the shackles of convention when they gave us the superb apple-green trolley that we took for it's premier trundle today, around Birkenhead Point. We packed it full of Christmas presents: Santa's little sack of goodies.

Stopping briefly to review the gift list, we were approached by a friendly septuagenarian:

"That's a nice one."

...she said, and I saw the gleem of envy in her aging eye.

"You can't have it; it's mine."

...I muttered as she turned away and doddled off.

We have a new set of peers, and we're already in the cool group.

TelevisionTunes.com has a collection of tunes from television shows. Remember Gilligan's Island?

An atheist recently brought to my attention the following poem, which, he said, sums up his attitude to Christianity and religion in general.

Abou Ben Adhem

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight of his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold:-
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the presence in the room he said,
'What writest thou?' - The vision raised its head,
And with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answered 'The names of those who love the Lord.'
'And is mine one?' said Abou. 'Nay, not so,'
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerly still; and said 'I pray thee then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow-men.'

The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names who love of God had blessed,
And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.

Yes, the end of the world will come. Probably before that, you and I are going to die. The question is, how do we solve this problem? How do we escape? Where is the Eject button? According to twenty nine members of a Russian sect, the answer involves killing oneself by explosion inside a remote underground cave.

"They are simple Christians," a local priest, Father Georgy, told NTV television. "They say: 'The church is doing a bad job, the end of the world is coming soon and we are all saving ourselves.'"

"...and we are all saving ourselves." If not by suicide, then by the amassing of wealth, the pampering of the body, the doing of good deeds, the building of a legacy. Jesus had something to say about that:

"For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it; but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it." - Matthew 16:25

"I am an atheist, out and out. It took me a long time to say it. I've been an atheist for years and years, but somehow I felt it was intellectually unrespectable to say one was an atheist, because it assumed knowledge that one didn't have. Somehow, it was better to say one was a humanist or an agnostic. I finally decided that I'm a creature of emotion as well as of reason. Emotionally, I am an atheist. I don't have the evidence to prove that God doesn't exist, but I so strongly suspect he doesn't that I don't want to waste my time." - Isaac Asimov

Mr Asimov should have stuck with his first thought. When we set aside reason, when we decide truth on the basis of what we feel, when we invent a universe according to our desires rather than reality, we waste two God-given resources: our brains, and time.

Atheists like to accuse Christians of believing nonsense because it suits them. The bible says that natural man suppresses the truth "in unrighteousness" because the truth is disdainful to him. Poor Mr Asimov is indeed wasting his time, his precious short time, before the reality of his perilous situation is revealed to him in full.

I watched a TV program last night on the ABC (Australian Broadcasting Commission) called "Grumpy Old Men", and today I'm inspired to publish my own grumble.

Buses: uncomfortable and noisy on the inside; worse on the outside. I call them growlers. They snarl their way along the city thoroughfares, and make my pedestrian experience a misery. Why can't the wretched things have their engines properly muffled? Or better yet, put electric motors in them, and remove two forms of pollution in one go.

I don’t know the origin of this e-mail, which I received this afternoon, nor it’s veracity; but perhaps it doesn’t matter.

Subject: From the Daughter of an Australian Soldier.

Last week I was in Melbourne attending a conference.

While I was in the airport, returning home, I heard several people behind me beginning to clap and cheer.

I immediately turned around and witnessed one of the greatest acts of patriotism I have ever seen.

My fiancee, Emma, submitted her last assignment today. At the conclusion of the Ethics class this evening, her honours year in Psychology will be finished. Congratulations to Emma, and my admiration for the dedication she has shown throughout the year.

Of course, her biggest challenge in Psychology begins in three weeks, when she marries me.

Tomorrow is November. I'm getting married in November.

I'm sick of hearing people asking for over-the-counter items (lunches, bus tickets, etc) with the words, "Can I get a...". Their mothers would be appalled. Would it really be so hard to say, "May I have..." or even "I'd like..."?

That's all. Thank you.

"We are all atheists about most of the gods that societies have ever believed in. Some of us just go one god further." - Richard Dawkins

Purview: the range of operation, authority, control, concern, etc.

From dictionary.com.